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 CRffiSUS'S WIDOW 
 
 a iRovci 
 
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 DORA RUSSELL 
 
 Author of "Footprints in the Snow," "The Vicar's Governess,' 
 
 "Annabel's Rival," "Beneath the Wave," "Quite True," 
 
 "The Miner's Oath " etc., etc. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 JOHN AND ROBERT MAXWELL 
 
 MILTON HOUSE, SHOE LANE 
 
 FLEET STREET 
 
 MDCCCLXXXni 
 
 [All Eights Reserved ]
 
 Digitized by tine Internet Arcinive 
 
 in 2010 witii funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/crsusswidownovel01russ
 
 V 1 
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 CHAP. TACE 
 
 I. THE PAST AND PRESENT I 
 
 II. THE GREAT LEVELLER 1 9 
 
 III. THE WIDOW 36 
 
 IV. LADY SEAFORTH 42 
 
 V. NELLIE 61 
 
 VL MARGARET 69 
 
 VII. THE OLD LOVE 78 
 
 vin. " HIS EVE " 90 
 
 IX. NELLIE'S LOVERS I04 
 
 > 
 
 rO X. ROSELAND 121 
 
 ^ XI. MARGARET SETTLES IT I40 
 
 ^ Xn. IN WHICH NORA FORGETS HERSELF . . 156 
 
 ^ xin. Nellie's temptation 170 
 
 to XIV. Margaret's decision 177 
 
 ? XV. wedding garments 189 
 
 v5 XVL THE EMPTY ROOM 202 
 
 XVn. CHOOSING A HOUSE 223 
 
 K XVIIL THE OLD ROMANCE 237 
 
 XIX. THE HOUSE IN THE GLEN ... .257 
 
 S 
 
 ^ XX. STRATHEARN 274 
 
 ^ XXL BORROWING 291
 
 TiLLOTSON & Son, Bolton.
 
 Crcesus's Widow. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE PAST AND PRESENT. 
 
 He lived in a great house, the rich man 
 whom his friends and neighbours jestingly 
 called Croesus. He was very rich, as this 
 jest-name implied, for he had money and 
 houses and land, and there was nothing in 
 all the world that could be bought which was 
 not his. 
 
 But there are some things that no wealth 
 can buy — can a man " add one cubit unto his 
 stature " ; or stop the stealthy footprints of 
 approaching age ? Neither could Mr. John 
 Trelawn buy — what perhaps he prized the 
 
 YOL. I. B
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 most on earth — the love of the woman to 
 wliom he had been married for five long years. 
 
 She was sitting waiting for him, this woman, 
 on the evening when this story of her life 
 begins. She was young still ; young, fragile, 
 and dark- eyed ; and she sighed wearily as she 
 sat alone waiting for her husband, for her 
 thoughts had wandered far away from the 
 present to the past. 
 
 Let us for a moment look with her down 
 that long vista. We shall see a girl then ; a 
 girl in her fresh bright youth, though youth 
 and hope were about all the good gifts that 
 fortune had given her. She was the daughter 
 of a man who had failed in business, and had 
 started afresh with diminished capital and 
 credit. Anxious days and anxious nights had 
 succeeded. With a sickly wife, two handsome 
 girls, and a boy to provide for, carking care 
 had followed and pursued Mr. Henry Sudely, 
 of Warbrooke, like a shadow. But he had one 
 true friend ; a friend bound to him alike by 
 bonds of near relationship and love. This was 
 his only sister — a sister many years his senior 
 who had done well in life, and had (in her day) 
 made the most of her charms, and was now
 
 CROSSUSS WIDOW. 3 
 
 Lady Stainbrooke, the wife of General Sir 
 Thomas Stainbrooke, K.C.B. 
 
 Thus, when Lady Stainbrooke returned from 
 India, after spending the best part of twenty 
 years there, she was able materially to help her 
 oppressed brother, ^Ir. Henry Sudely. 
 
 She went down to her native town, War- 
 brooke, to stay with her relations, but she did 
 not enjoy her visit. She had left her brother 
 a stout, jovial-looking, prosperous man, and on 
 her return she found him bent, white-haired, 
 and careworn. 
 
 " Can it possibly be you, Henry ? " she said, 
 gazing at Mr. Sudely's worn face in astonish- 
 ment ; and " Henry " was also looking at her 
 the same moment in sad surprise. 
 
 Twenty years had made a great change. She 
 was an old woman now ; old, brown, and 
 withered, with a front of false hair placed low 
 on her wrinkled forehead, and she also dressed 
 very eccentrically, bringing out "gowns" (as 
 she called them) which she must have had for 
 thirty years. But she was kind, and had a 
 sense of humour and a sharp tongue of her 
 own, of which she made abundant use. 
 
 She felt very sorry for her brother. He had
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 been almost a boy in her mind all through the 
 years of her absence, and to see him so care- 
 worn and changed touched her worldly and 
 hardened heart. 
 
 " I will take your two girls by turns and get 
 them off, Henry," she told Mr. Sudely. " Sir 
 Thomas will not object, as they are both pre- 
 sentable, and, poor man, he likes to be seen 
 with pretty girls still ! " And Lady Stainbrooke 
 laughed. 
 
 Thus it was arranged that Nora Sudely lefi 
 her father's house and went to live with her 
 aunt, Lady Stainbrooke. She had never seen 
 her uncle-by-law. Sir Thomas Stainbrooke, and 
 felt rather nervous when the cab in which her 
 aunt and she were driving stopped before the 
 house, in town, which Sir Thomas and Lady 
 Stainbrooke had taken for the season. 
 
 " Now, my dear," said Lady Stainbrooke, as 
 they approached Warwick Square, where this 
 house was situated, '* I am going to give you a 
 little advice. I wish Sir Thomas to like you, 
 and therefore you must flatter him and make 
 yourself pleasant to him, for however old a 
 man is he is always open to flattery." 
 
 Nora Sudely laughed— a girl's fresh, glad laugh.
 
 CECESUSS WIDOW. 5 
 
 **Very well, aunt/' she said; ''and do you 
 flatter him too ? " 
 
 '' I'm married to him, my dear, so I've no 
 occasion to do so," replied the old lady, drily. 
 
 But when a few minutes later Nora was 
 introduced to the General, who was a little, 
 shuffling, rheumatic old man, she thought it 
 would be almost impossible to flatter him. 
 
 '' This is Nora Sudely," screamed Lady 
 Stainbrooke at the utmost extent of her voice, 
 so as to reach her husband's deaf ears. 
 
 The General bowed, and then smiled blandly, 
 ^nd showed both rows of his yellovv^, false teeth. 
 
 "Hope you're well?" he said. ''Glad to 
 see you — always glad to see a pretty face, ha, 
 ha, ha ! " And Sir Thomas laughed a peculiar, 
 cackling, hollow laugh, which somehow or 
 other set your teeth on edo-e. 
 
 Nora Sudely laughed too, and looked with 
 astonishment at the first General she had ever 
 seen. 
 
 " Hope your fatlier and mother are well 1 " 
 •continued Sir Thomas. 
 
 '* They are both very well, I think," said 
 Nora, raising her voice to its highest pitch. 
 
 " What do you say ? " asked Sir Thomas,
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 coming nearer to Nora. ''I don't exactly catcb 
 wliat you say — I've a cold, and that makes me- 
 a little deaf, I think." 
 
 '' You have always a cold, then," screamed. 
 Lady Stainbrooke. 
 
 ^' What are you screaming about, madam ? '*' 
 said the little General, sharply. ''Ladies 
 should never scream — they look ugly, horribly 
 ugly, when they scream." 
 
 " They shouldn't have deaf husbands, then," 
 retorted Lady Stainbrooke. 
 
 '' I'm not deaf generally, madam," answered 
 the General. " I've a cold ; I suppose you 
 sometimes have a cold ? " 
 
 "Very often," replied Lady Stainbrooke, 
 grimly. " But I want you to hear this even 
 in spite of your cold, as you call it. Nora 
 Sudely, as you know, has come to stay 
 with us, and you must try to make her visit 
 agreeable." 
 
 "Charmed to do so, I am sure," said the 
 General, once more looking approvingly at 
 Nora. "Any man would be charmed to hava 
 such a pretty young lady to stay in his house." 
 And the General once more emitted the hollow,, 
 cackling sound which he called a laugh.
 
 CROESUS S WIDOW. 7 
 
 "Thank you for tlie compliment, Sir 
 Thomas," said Nora Sudely. 
 
 " No compliment," said the old soldier. *'It s 
 truth — I like pretty women; always liked 'em/' 
 And he gave his frightful cackle again. 
 
 " We must take her about a little ; we must 
 take her to the opera," said Lady Stainbrooke. 
 
 "Certainly," said the General; "any time — 
 •sooner the better." 
 
 "There, my dear," said Lady Stainbrooke, 
 turning to Nora ; " you see what it is to have 
 a good-looking face ! If I had told Sir Thomas 
 that any angular, copper-tinted relation of 
 mine was coming to stay with us, he probably 
 would have sworn at me ; but he's quite de- 
 lighted to have you." 
 
 " What are you mumbling about, madam ? " 
 •said Sir Thomas, looking at his wife, for he 
 hated not to hear what was going on. " You 
 are one of those women who are always 
 mumbling or screaming. Now, if you spoke in. 
 a steady, even-toned voice, even with my bad 
 ■cold I could hear you." 
 
 " Very well, I'll try," said Lady Stainbrooke, 
 who was anxious for her niece's sake not to 
 quarrel with her irate little spouse.
 
 8 CRGESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 *'I sliould be pleased to ride witli you, Miss 
 Sudely," said the General tlie next minute, 
 gallantly, "but the confounded climate of India 
 still affects me, and I'm a little stiff in the 
 joints." 
 
 *' You are too old to think of riding," shouted 
 Lady Stainbrooke. 
 
 " Nothing of the kind ! Speak for yourself, 
 madam. Many men, a great many years my 
 senior, ride, but we old soldiers. Miss Sudely — 
 we get battered with hard service before our 
 time." 
 
 " Yes," said Nora, very loudly ; " but it's a 
 noble profession." 
 
 ''I think so," said the General "It's a 
 gentleman's profession — not a vulgar, money- 
 making, pettifogging business such as some 
 men, born of good families, now follow. Yes, 
 Miss Sudely, I'm glad you like soldiers." 
 
 Poor old man ! He was aches and pains all 
 over, yet he had his vanity still, and liked 
 (as his wife had told her niece) to be flattered 
 and made much of. 
 
 With this quaint old couple, then, Nora 
 Sudely found herself domiciled a few days 
 before she had reached her nineteenth birthdav.
 
 CPtCESUSS WIDOW. 9 
 
 She did not find it very lively. Lady 
 Stainbrooke had only a very small circle of 
 acquaintance, for all the General's family and 
 almost all his old friends had passed away 
 during his lengthened sojourn in India. But 
 some old Indians like himself came occasionally 
 to dine at the dull house in Warwick Square. 
 Then Nora would sit and listen to dingy tales, 
 the actors of which had mostly disappeared ; 
 she would hear gossip that had tickled ears 
 which now were deaf, and stories of the mischief 
 wrought by bright eyes novv' dulled or closed. 
 It was a strange life for a young girl, and while 
 Lady Stainbrooke and her friends were chuckling 
 over lost reputations, Xora Sudely was dreaming 
 her first bright dream of love. 
 
 She had not left her father's house heart- 
 whole. About six months before Lady Stain- 
 brooke's arival in England Nora had made the 
 ■acquaintance of a young painter who had gone 
 to Warbrooke (the town where the Sudely 's 
 lived) for his summer holiday, and for the 
 purpose of sketching some of the neighbouring 
 scenery. 
 
 Nora Trelawn, now sitting in her husband's 
 grand house, waiting for his return, saw in the
 
 10 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 past at tliat moment a picture wliicli love had 
 painted on her heart. 
 
 A girl, bright, sparkling, and happy ; and a. 
 man, earnest, impassioned, with a profile like 
 a Greek model, standing before her, in a soft 
 evening in June. He was holding her hand,, 
 and words, if not of love, at least of tenderness, 
 were on his lips. 
 
 The girl turned aside, half coquettishly. 
 
 " Ah," she said, *^ I daresay you have often, 
 made these pretty speeches before ? " 
 
 " Never," answered the painter ; " my loves, 
 liave all hitherto been ideal ones." 
 
 *' Very different to the real one," laughed 
 the girl. 
 
 " Yes, very different," he replied, candidly.. 
 '^Your face is not quite perfect, you know, 
 Nora, and you are a brown little girl instead 
 of a pink and white goddess ; but to me you 
 are — " 
 
 '' Well, what, sir ? " 
 
 "Beautiful," said the painter: "for I see 
 your sweet soul in your face." 
 
 A brief love scene — a rift of light still shining 
 through the dull, grey, monotonous colouring.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 11 
 
 ivhicli now for five long years liad surrounded 
 ricli John Trelawn's young wife. And how 
 did these love passages with the handsome 
 painter end ? 
 
 They ended thus. Nora Sudely went, as 
 w^e have seen, to live with her aunt, Lady 
 Stainbrooke, and Lady Stainbrooke meant 
 •conscientiously to keep her word to her brother, 
 and get his penniless girl married as best she 
 could. But one day, at the opening of the 
 Academy, Nora stood so long before a picture 
 in which her aunt saw nothing particular to 
 •admire, that Lady Stainbrooke j)^^^ o^ lier 
 gold-rimmed glasses and glanced at the number 
 and the artist's name in her catalogue. 
 
 '' Humph ! " said Lady Stainbrooke, " W. 
 D. Yyner. Well, I don't think much of him, 
 at any rate ! " 
 
 " He is a friend of mine, and a very clever 
 -artist," said Nora Sudely. And her face flushed. 
 
 "He may be a great friend of yours, my 
 ■dear, but he's not a great painter, I can tell 
 him, with my compliments," answered Lady 
 •Stainbrooke. 
 
 As these words passed her lips both Lady 
 -Stainbrooke and Nora heard a liojht short lauorli
 
 12 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 from someone in tlie crowd beliind them. Nora 
 turned round, and her face flushed more deeply 
 still as she did so. 
 
 *' Mr. Yyner ! You here ! " she said, and she 
 held out a little trembling hand. 
 
 *' Yes," he answered. "So you and this lady 
 were criticising my daub ? " 
 
 It was the handsome artist who had stood 
 hand-in-hand with Nora on that bright evening 
 in June, which she remembered only too well. 
 He had left Warbrooke, promising to return,, 
 but before he had done so Nora had quitted 
 her father's house ; nevertheless the memory 
 of Mr. Yyner had not faded from her mind. 
 
 And now, as the two stood exchanging 
 greetings amid the London crowd, the girl's^ 
 dark eyes shining and smiling in the artist's- 
 face, Lady Stainbrooke, glancing from one tO' 
 the other, at once guessed their secret. 
 
 "My aunt. Lady Stainbrooke," said Nora^ 
 timidly. " Mr. Yyner.'' 
 
 "So you think I shall never be a great painter, 
 Lady Stainbrooke ? " said Yyner, smilingly 
 looking at the old lady after his introduction. 
 
 Lady Stainbrooke felt a little disconcerted. 
 Mr. Yyner v/as such a good-looking man that it
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 13 
 
 seemed impossible to a woman to say anything 
 rude to him. She therefore did not hesitate tc 
 make a little invention. 
 
 " You mistook my observation, Mr. Yyner," 
 she said, graciously. " It was the painter of 
 this picture " (and she pointed with her glasses 
 at a picture hanging nearVyner's) "that I said 
 would never be great." 
 
 " Yet he is great," answered Yyner, some- 
 what grimly. "But," he added, "will you come 
 and look at another picture of mine ? I don't 
 think much of this one myself" 
 
 The two ladies followed Yyner's tall, slight 
 form until he stopped before a very striking 
 picture. Here was a vnld sea coast, and two 
 brown, stalwart, excited fishermen hauling in 
 a capsized boat. 
 
 " These rough subjects suit me best,'* said 
 Vyner, folding his arms, and standing looking 
 fixedly at his work. 
 
 Lady Stainbrooke put up her glasses, and 
 also examined the picture. 
 
 "This is good," she said, at length; "very 
 good." 
 
 The painter smiled. Praise was sweet to 
 him, as it is to us all ; but it was sweeter
 
 14 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 still because it fell on Nora Sudely's ears. 
 
 Then Lady Stainbrooke looked at the painter 
 himself, examining him critically through her 
 gold-rimmed glasses, as she had examined his 
 picture. 
 
 "I took my niece to the National Gallery 
 the other day, Mr. Vyner," she said. " I'm 
 an old-fashioned woman, and I like the old 
 painters." 
 
 Vyner was now in his element. His large, 
 handsome grey eyes lit with enthusiasm when 
 he spoke of the old masters and their great 
 works, and Lady Stainbrooke listened well 
 pleased to his energetic words. 
 
 "We are pigmies," he said, "we modern 
 men beside these giants. Ah ! Lady Stain- 
 brooke," and he stretched out one of his white, 
 nervous hands, " if I could but pourtray my 
 dreams." 
 
 Lady Stainbrooke nodded her head, 
 
 " That is ever the cry of genius," she said ; 
 " the imagination outstrips the manual power. 
 But, young man," she added, "if you have 
 the divine fire — the gift which no application 
 or study can give you— you will succeed." 
 
 As Lady Stainbrooke spoke, the painter was
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 15 
 
 standing before her with his head erect, and 
 with his eyes fixed apparently on something 
 far away. Perhaps some ideal picture was 
 passing before him — some grand brain shadow 
 that his hand could never produce. At all 
 events^ after standing in this rapt attitude for 
 a few minutes, he gave a restless sigh, and 
 looked once more at Lady Stainbrooke. 
 
 "I've been unsettled lately," he said, '^un- 
 settled and restless. I have not done my work 
 as I should." 
 
 " Perhaps you're in love," said Lady Stain- 
 brooke. 
 
 " Perhaps I am," answered Yyner, with an 
 uneasy little laugh ; and he glanced at Nora's 
 bright, blushing face as he spoke. 
 
 " Well," said Lady Stainbrooke, ''as I am 
 not, I would not at all object to some lunch." 
 
 The painter escorted the ladies to the refresh- 
 ment-room, and was very attentive to Lady 
 Stainbrooke. Her ladyship made herself highly 
 agreeable to him, and invited him to call upon 
 her at her house in "Warwick Square. Then, 
 as she drove home with Nora after they had 
 parted with Yyner, she heard all about him. 
 He was poor — a struggling man — and no
 
 1^ CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 absolute declaration of love had passed between 
 him and Nora. 
 
 But the girl felt, as she told her aunt this, 
 that he cared for her. This kno^Yledge, or 
 rather hope, was very sweet to Nora's heart ; 
 but it did not at all suit Lady Stainbrooke's 
 views. 
 
 The next day Yyner called at Warwick 
 Square, and her ladyship saw him alone. Nora 
 had been sent out on an errand for her aunt, 
 and the painter had received a little note, 
 asking him to visit Lady Stainbrooke at a 
 certain hour. 
 
 ■ *'I wished to see you, Mr. Y}Tier," said 
 Lady Stainbrooke, holding out her hand to 
 him with a very good imitation of frankness, 
 "because I hear there has been some romantic 
 nonsense between you and my niece, Nora 
 Sudely." 
 
 Yyner's fine skin coloured faintly at this 
 attack. 
 
 *' I admire Miss Sudely exceedingly," he 
 said. 
 
 " Ah yes, my dear sir," said Lady Stain- 
 brooke ; "but you cannot live on admiration, 
 nor love either, for that matter. In fact, the
 
 CT.GESUS'S WIDOW. 17 
 
 truth is that I have sent for you to appeal to 
 your honour as a gentleman not to disturb the 
 girl's peace of mind any further by the sight 
 of vour g-ood-lookinof face. She is eno^ao-ed to 
 be married to my friend Mr. Trelawn, who is a 
 very worthy and a very rich man, and the less 
 you see of Nora now the better." 
 
 " Engaged ! " repeated the painter, and the 
 colour faded away again from his handsome 
 face. 
 
 " Yes, engaged," repeated Lady Stainbrooke, 
 Cjuite calmly ; "and it is a very good thing, too. 
 My brother is miserably poor, and his girls are 
 penniless ; and what would become of them if 
 they did not marry ? You see I am quite frank 
 with you, Mr. Yyner. I like you, and shall be 
 glad to see you here by-and-bye, and to hear 
 of your success. But let me get my young 
 lady married first. Nora herself thinks it is 
 better not to see you, and I am sure you will 
 not wish to make her unhappy." 
 
 The painter rose to take his leave. 
 
 " Certainly not," he said ; but even Lady 
 Stainbrooke's heart misgave her when she saw 
 the grey, haggard look which stole over the 
 man's face as he said these words.
 
 18 CRGESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 As lie descend ed the staircase, another 
 gentleman was ascending it. He knew him 
 by sight. It was John Trelawn, commonly 
 called Croesus. A stout, big man, with a pale,. 
 beavy face^ and a very large nose, was John 
 Trelawn. Not one for a young girl to fancy,, 
 nor a fitting mate for a bright, sparkling woman 
 bke Nora. But he was rich. The struggling 
 painter thought this bitterly as he went down 
 stairs. Pdch ! And what was beauty, genius,, 
 tender love even, to that ?
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 THE GKEAT LEVELLER. 
 
 Xady Stainbrooke's little scheme prospered. 
 Nora Sudelv was not eno^ao-ed to Croesus when 
 Lady Stainbrooke told the painter this piece of 
 news, but Nora Sudely was engaged to Croesus 
 very soon afterwards. 
 
 *' My dear," said Lady Stainbrooke to Nora, 
 upon her return from the errand on which her 
 ladyship had sent her to keep her out of the 
 painter's way, " I've had a visit from your 
 friend, Mr, Vyner. EeaUy, he is a very agree- 
 able young man. You remember I asked him. 
 if he was in love yesterday at the Academy. 
 Well, I made a very shrewd guess. He has 
 just been telling me all about it. It is some 
 parson's daughter in Suffolk — an absuid affair 
 it seemed at first — no money on either side.
 
 20 CUCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 and as I told him, living on love went out with 
 the Flood ! But the strangest things happen. 
 This girl has come into a small fortune, and so 
 the affair is settled.'^ 
 
 Nora Sudely listened to these words, and the 
 bright colour faded out of her cheeks, and the 
 love-light out of her eyes. She stood before- 
 her aunt, white and troubled, for a few 
 moments — a slender girl, trembling, pale, and 
 heart-stricken — and yet the old woman kept to 
 her purpose still. 
 
 ** Aunt," she said at length, trying to speak 
 calmly, " is this true ? 
 
 "True, my dear?" repeated Lady Stainbrooke. 
 " I can, of course, only vouch for its truth as far 
 as the young man told me, and I can't see any 
 motive he could have, unless it was true. 
 By-the-bye, he told me also that he admired 
 you very much, and altogether made himself 
 very agreeable." And Lady Stainbrooke gave 
 a little laugh. 
 
 Nora asked no more questions after this. 
 She did not speak again of the painter; bat Sir 
 Thomas, a day or two afterwards, said to his 
 wife — 
 
 " That mi is losing her looks — -she has lost
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 2t 
 
 lier vivacity, her charm — what is the matter 
 with her, madam ? " 
 
 '' She wants change," replied Lady Stain- 
 brooke. *^ AVe must take her more about." 
 
 So, when Mr. John Trelawn called the same 
 afternoon, to ask his old friend, Lady Stain- 
 brooke, to dine with him at Eichmond, her 
 ladyship gladly accepted the invitation. 
 
 '* The fellow is stupid, and a snob," said Sir 
 Thomas. 
 
 " The fellow is rich, and that makes up for 
 everything now-a-days," answered his wife ; 
 ''and besides, he is an old friend." 
 
 This latter recommendation, in one sense of 
 the word, was true. When Lady Stainbrooke 
 had been a handsome young girl in her native 
 town, John Trelawn's father had lived and 
 made a great fortune there. Queer stories 
 about the commencement of this fortune were 
 not want in 2: ; but the fact remained that vast 
 ironworks and vast wealth belonged to Mr. 
 John Trelawn, senior, before he retired from all 
 earthly business. 
 
 He left one child only — John Trelawn,, 
 commonly called Croesus. This John Trelawn, 
 then had known the handsome Miss Sudely in
 
 22 CECESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 Ms awkward boyhood. The handsome Miss 
 Sudely had married an officer and had left 
 Warbrooke while John w\as at school, but still 
 he had known her. Trouble had come to the 
 Sudely's in the years that had rolled away 
 mncQ then, and greater wealth to the Trelawns. 
 Old Trelawn had been gathered to his fathers, 
 and John Trelawn (Croesu?) was a middle-aged 
 man when Lady Stainbrooke returned to her 
 native town, but still when they met they 
 remembered, or pretended to remember, each 
 other. They remembered each other's names at 
 any rate, and Lady Stainbrooke made herself 
 very agreeable to Croesus. 
 
 Then Croesus came up to town, and was glad 
 to meet Lady Stainbrooke there. They were 
 in fact mutually useful to each other. John 
 Trelawn knew no one in London ; and though 
 Lady Stainbrooke had not a large acquaintance, 
 still she had some friends, and she liked John. 
 Trelawn's opera boxes, his dinners at Eich- 
 mond — in truth, his wealth. 
 
 And so she fixed that he was to marry her 
 ■niece, Nora Sudely, and he did marry her. 
 The girl was not a willing victim, but she 
 yielded to her aunt's representations.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 23- 
 
 '^ Think how poor your father is, child ; 
 think of what will become of you if 3'ou do not 
 marry," urged Lady Stainbrooke ; and so, sad, 
 silent, almost broken-hearted, Nora Sudely 
 accepted her fate. 
 
 She married John Trelawn because she be- 
 lieved that the man she loved was about to be^ 
 or was, married to another woman. Sha 
 married John Trelawn because he was rich, 
 and because she could help her father and her 
 ailing mother, and her young brother and 
 sister. But she never was the same woman 
 again. 
 
 John Trelawn bought a grand new house ia 
 South Kensington ; he bought a villa by the 
 river ; and sometimes he took his young wife 
 down to the big house at Warbrooke, where 
 his father had died, and they entertained Nora's 
 family and his old friends there ; but everything 
 always seemed very dull to Nora. 
 
 She tried to do her duty, and indeed did it, 
 as well as she was able, but she was not happy. 
 A nameless dreariness and dulness always 
 possessed her. Her sister married well, her 
 young brother entered the army, her mother 
 died in comfort, and years passed away, but
 
 '24 CR(ESL\S'S WIDOW. 
 
 no cliiklren came to lier, and there was no 
 brightness in her life Nora told herself, and she 
 often wondered why people cared to live, and 
 why they fretted and fumed about things that 
 seemed of so little worth. 
 
 At last one day (on her birthday) John 
 Trelawn presented his young wife with a set 
 of such rich and costly diamonds that it was 
 scarcely possible for any woman to see them 
 and know that they were hers without delight. 
 
 So at least said Lady Stainbrooke, who had 
 helped to choose them, and it must be admitted 
 that Nora felt a slight glow of gratitude and 
 affection for " John," as she gazed upon his 
 magnificent gift. 
 
 He gave them to her in the grand house at 
 South Kensington. Sir Thomas and Lady 
 •Stainbrooke dined with them on the same day, 
 •and after dinner her ladyship (haying partaken 
 veryfreely of "John's" champagne) said to Nora— 
 
 " Ah, my dear, you may thank me now, I 
 think, that by a little innocent artifice I parted 
 you from a beggarly painter." 
 
 Nora's face flushed, and slie put her hand 
 quickly to her side. Then she asked, almost 
 calmly —
 
 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 25^ 
 
 " "Wliat artifice did you use, aunt ? " 
 
 *'I invented a young woman, that was all," 
 replied Lady Stainbrooke, with a little laugh. 
 
 " Then Mr. Yyner never told you that he 
 was engaged — never told you anything at all, 
 I suppose ? " said Xora, still calmly. 
 
 Lady Stainbrooke nodded her head. 
 
 " He told me he admired you, and I told 
 him — had the sense and discretion to tell him — 
 that you were engaged, Nora, and you see how 
 well it has all turned out. You have every- 
 thing — diamonds — in fact, everything a woman 
 can desire." 
 
 "Except happiness," said Nora, in a low tone, 
 and she left her aunt — left her diamonds Ivino- 
 
 ^ o 
 
 in their grand new velvet cases ; and the old 
 w^oman, as she looked at them with her blinking 
 eyes, acknowledged to herself that John Tre- 
 lawn's champagne had been too much for her, 
 and had stolen awav her wit. 
 
 *' I should never have told her," she thought ;. 
 but Nora said nothing more to her aunt about 
 Mr. Vyner. 
 
 Yet a few months later (for the fxrst time 
 since her marriage), she met him. Nora vras 
 at the Academv with some friends, and in the
 
 •26 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 
 
 crowd, just as she had seen him long ago — her 
 eyes fell upon his never-to-be-forgotten face. 
 
 She held out her hand to him, and for a 
 moment or two no word was exchanged be- 
 tween them. Then he said : 
 
 "It is a long time since we met — Mrs. 
 Trelawn. 
 
 "Yes," answered Nora, ''a long time indeed — 
 and," she added quickly, her pale face flushing, 
 "you — you are not married, then V 
 
 " No," answered Vyner, and his face, too, 
 flushed. 
 
 " My aunt — Lady Stainbrooke — told me long 
 ^go — before my o\vn marriage — before my 
 engao'ement, in fact — that you Avere about to 
 be married," hesitated John Trelawn's wife, 
 with trembling lips and moistening eyes ; 
 ^' otherwise, Mr. Vyner — " 
 
 She said nothing more, and for a minute 
 "Walter Vyner made no reply. He stood 
 there, looking at the once bright iiice 
 which years ago had been his sweetest ideal 
 of womanliood. It was a bright face no 
 longer. Nora Trelawn was scarcely pretty 
 now, with large, sad, dark eyes, and a 
 weary look somehow all over the small.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 27 
 
 regular features, that tlie painter remembered 
 so attractive and charming. 
 
 " So ! " he said presently, still looking at 
 Nora, ''that old woman spoilt two lives, then V 
 
 *' She spoilt mine," said Nora, in a low tone ; 
 *' but — we must not speak of it now." 
 
 All around them was the crowd. Other 
 tragedies and comedies were perha2DS being- 
 played on the same stage, but Walter Yyner 
 and Nora Trelawn thought not of these. They 
 only remembered when they had stood hand- 
 in- hand, that summer evening long ago, and 
 dreamed of a future that was not to be. It 
 was but a common story, but as the painter 
 kept watching Nora's face, he knew he had 
 been regretted with no common regret, and 
 loved with an abiding love that had not passed 
 
 away. 
 
 • • . * • 
 
 They never met again for years. W. D.Vyner 
 rose in fame after 'this, and John Trelawn 
 (Croesus) bought one or two of his pictures and 
 bung them up in his big houses, but never 
 noted how often his young wife's dark eyes 
 would wander to the canvas on the walls 
 which Walter Vyner's hand had made to live.
 
 •28 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 And so years passed on. Croesus grew 
 ridier and stouter, but there was no other 
 change. They had been married five years on 
 the eveninjx when Nora was sitting: waitin<]c for 
 her husband — waiting for him, but not tliinking 
 <3f him— thinking of the past which Lady 
 Stainbrooke's little artifice had spoilt. 
 
 Presently a heavy footstep was heard on the 
 staircase outside. John Trelawn's wife heard 
 it, and moved slightly, for she knew it was 
 her husband's. A heavy footstep, and a heavy 
 man ! A big, dull man was John Trelawn, 
 thouQ:h no fool, and kindlv-hearted withal, and 
 at times he would indulge in a ponderous sort 
 of jocularity, which his numerous satellites 
 unfailingly pretended to enjoy. 
 
 He came into the room now, and laid one of 
 his large hands on his wife's shoulders. 
 
 "Well," he said, "and how wags the world 
 with you, my dear ? " 
 
 Nora smiled faintly. 
 
 " Do you expect anyone to dinner, John ? "" 
 she asked. 
 
 "I met Martin and Prosser," answered Croesus, 
 " and the poor devils looked hungry, and I took 
 compassion. They'll be here directly," continued
 
 CR(ESUS'S WIDOW. 29 
 
 •Croesus, looking at his watcli, " so I must be 
 •oft' to decorate." 
 
 He left the room with a kindly nod to his 
 wife, and by-and-bye Martin and Prosser were 
 ushered in. 
 
 Martin and Prosser were little men, just in 
 the same sense that John Trelawn was a great 
 man. Martin and Prosser were poor, and John 
 was rich, and that made the difference between 
 them. They had known John Trelawn all 
 their lives, aad they smiled and sighed faintly 
 with envy as they entered the big house and 
 saTv on every side the signs of great wealth 
 that it contained. 
 
 *' How well Croesus is looking," said Martin, 
 facetiously, to Nora. 
 
 " In S23lendid condition," echoed Prosser. 
 
 Nora just answered them, and that was all. 
 ^lie did not care for these early companions of 
 John Trelawn, and one of her objections to the 
 large, dull house at Warbrooke, where they 
 then were, was that such men w'ere never out 
 of it. Still, she could not quarrel with John 
 for being kind to his old friends, but somehow 
 iihe did not like to live at Warbrooke. 
 
 " I will go and see if Mr. Trelawn is ready
 
 30 CPvCESUS's WIDOW. 
 
 for dinner," she said, and so left the room, and 
 Martin and Prosser looked at each other and 
 smiled as she disappeared. 
 
 '' Uppish ! " said Martin. 
 
 *' Set a beggar on horseback," suggested 
 Prosser, with a shrug. 
 
 Meanwhile Nora had gone up the broad 
 staircase, and was rapping at her husband's 
 dressing-room door. 
 
 There was no response. Then she opened 
 the door and went in. John Trelawn was lying 
 on the soft carpet in the middle of the room,, 
 with his face downwards. Nora screamed and 
 ran forward. She lifted his head and turned 
 his face round, and when she saw the dull, 
 half-closed eyes and the ghastly colour of his 
 skin, even inexperienced as she was, she knew 
 what had happened. 
 
 In a moment — in the midst of his wealth,. 
 in the prime of his life — he had been struck 
 down ; the rich man had gone up to dress for 
 dinner, and the grim foe had been waiting for 
 him upstairs. Yes, there was no mistake — 
 Croesus was dead !
 
 CHAPTEK III. 
 
 THE WIDOW. 
 
 The sudden death of Croesus made a great 
 sensation in Warbrooke. A poor man's elegy 
 is soon sung, but our respect at least attends a 
 rich man to his grave. 
 
 ** Terrible ! " said Martin, with a shudder 
 remembering that he also was mortal. 
 
 "When he had everything," sighed Prosser, 
 whose pecuniary difficulties had made him find 
 life at times certainly trying. 
 
 What Martin and Prosser said was echoed 
 by the whole town. John Trelawn had made 
 few enemies, and even these were awed and 
 silent when they heard the news of the rich 
 man's sudden death. 
 
 And the widow ? The dark-eyed woman, 
 who had never heard a stern or unkind word
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 from liis lips. What did she think and say 
 as she sat in the darkened room, where the 
 still form lay — the empty shell of the kindly 
 soul that had given her nothing but love and 
 costly gifts, ever since she promised to be 
 his wife; — promised what her heart could not 
 fulfil ? 
 
 It was all over now, and there was bitter 
 regret in Nora's heart for her own shortcomings. 
 
 She sat there remembering how good he had 
 been, how unfailingly generous and considerate. 
 He had grudged her nothing, and she had 
 grudged him even a little love — even a bright 
 smile or two — for she had been sad, though 
 uncomplaining, all their wedded days. 
 
 But she was not allowed to sit long alone 
 with her dead. By the first express after the 
 news of John Trelawn's sudden death reached 
 her, Lady Stainbrooke hurried down to War- 
 brooke to comfort and attend uj^on her afflicted 
 niece. Her ladyship no doubt believed (and 
 she was a shrewd old woman) that she would 
 have done the same if Nora had been poor. 
 But she would not. In that case she would 
 have said, " Poor, dear Nora — how sad I " 
 and sent her a five-pound note. But in the
 
 CECESUS'S WIDOW. 33 
 
 case of Croesus's widow, lier sympathy was 
 active, was gushing. 
 
 *'Poor child, poor darling ! " she said to Sir 
 Thomas, but Sir Thomas did not respond. Sir 
 Thomas, indeed, had never taken very kindly 
 to Croesus. He came of a different class. His 
 father had been a distinguished general while 
 Croesus's father had been working in a leather 
 apron at a forge. And the pride of birth clung 
 to the old soldier. Croesus mio;ht be rich, 
 " And you women think more of that than 
 anything else," sneered Sir Thomas Stainbrooke ; 
 but Croesus was not a gentleman, and this Sir 
 Thomas could not forgive. 
 
 The j^oor old rheumatic man, close on the 
 brink of the grave, clung to the badges of his 
 order still. He, Sir Thomas Stainbrooke, was 
 not in truth so fine a 2:entleman as rouo-h John 
 Trelawn, lying in his darkened room at War- 
 brooke, once had been. At least he had not 
 been so honest, so pure of life, so true to his 
 word, and to the woman he had wed, as 
 John Ti'clawn. But these were not Sir Thomas's 
 ideas about the term of gentleman. He read 
 that word in a different sense. To him it 
 meant to be well-born, to be brave, to pay 
 
 VOL I. c
 
 ,34 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 your debts of liouonr, and for the rest — . Ah 
 well ! Sir Thomas, like many another man who 
 calls himself a gentleman, was not very par- 
 ticular. His mind was prejudiced and very 
 narrow. His love had been gallantry, and his 
 faith — if he had any — was the echo of some 
 jDarson's words. 
 
 But the big ugly man who had died so 
 suddenly at AVarbrooke had been larger-minded 
 than this. He had made no professions, but 
 he had given freely and generously of the good 
 gifts which fortune had showered upon him. 
 There were many to regret him as well as his 
 dark-eyed wife. His name had figured largely 
 enough in charity lists, but there were other 
 charities without lists which had benefited still 
 more largely by John Trelawn's honest hand. 
 
 So when they carried him to the great family 
 vault, where the first John Trelawn (the 
 founder of their vast fortune) lay in state, there 
 were some true mourners at least who follow^ed 
 the second John Trelawn to his long home. 
 There were other mourners, whose hearts were 
 racked with anxiety beneath the black silken 
 scarves which they wore so decorously. These 
 were the relatives of the dead man — those who
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 35 
 
 had hopes that they were not quite forgotten 
 ill the will, which it was understood was to 
 be read after the funeral was over. 
 
 But when the will was read, only disappoint- 
 ment awaited them. John Trelawn had left 
 the whole of his great fortune to his wife, " In 
 token of the tender love, respect, and affection 
 which I bear her." In these words he be- 
 queathed enormous wealth to the woman who 
 was sitting upstairs, sad and listless. For Nora 
 had declined to be present when her husband's 
 will was read. She had not recovered yet from 
 the shock of his sudden death. His familiar 
 presence still seemed to haunt her — she could 
 scarcely realize that she was to hear the loud 
 voice and the heavy footfall no more. 
 
 But the news of her new wealth soon reached 
 hor. Lady Stainbrooke did not wait even for 
 the lawyer to finish John Trelawn's will, until 
 she hurried from the room, and went to the 
 widow. 
 
 *' My dearest child," she said, embracing 
 Kora with effusion, " I was determined no one 
 else should tell you. Your dear husband — - 
 John, my old friend — has acted in the noblest 
 manner. He has indeed shown how much he 
 
 c2
 
 3G CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 loved you, for lie lias left you everything." 
 
 Nora's pale cheeks slightly flushed, and that 
 was all, when she heard the announcement. 
 
 " It is a great position," went on Lady 
 Stainbrooke, with elation. "Nora, you have 
 everything before you now — you can marry — " 
 
 ''Aunt, aunt, hush!" interrupted Nora, 
 putting up her hand. 
 
 " Well, it is a little too soon to speak of it," 
 admitted Lady IStainbrooke, " and naturally 
 you must now feel great respect and affection 
 for the memory of dear John, after hearing the 
 contents of his will. Lm so delighted, my dear 
 chikl ! Nothing: is so consolinci: as monev, and 
 it would have been so dreadful if any of these 
 poor relations of his had got anything. There 
 would have been nothing but disputes in that 
 case. Now it is all right, everything is yours ; 
 and I hope, my dearest girl, you'll live long to 
 enjoy it." And once more Lady Stainbrooke 
 kissed her widowed niece. 
 
 Then Henry Sudely — Nora's father — came 
 into the room. He was a grey-haired man, with 
 the marks of care upon his face, and he also 
 went up and kissed his rich daughter. 
 
 " Your aunt has told you, then ? " he said.
 
 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 37 
 
 ■*'Well, my dear, it's a great fortune — may 
 it bring yoii happiness." And Mr. Sudely 
 sighed. 
 
 He was thinking how a little of this wealth 
 — ^just a very little of it — would have lightened 
 his heavy burdens long ago 1 Since Nora's 
 marriage he had not wanted money, but he 
 could not forget the sorely-pinched days which 
 jDreceded it. They had made him old before 
 his time — old, grey-haired, and bowed ; and 
 their memory came back to him now in stransfe 
 contrast with his daughter's enormous wealth. 
 
 Nora kissed her father tenderly, and pressed 
 his hand. Then, when Mr. Sudely told her 
 how John Trelawn's will was worded, she 
 became much affected. 
 
 *' Poor John!" she said. " Poor, poor John !" 
 
 She scarcely said anything more than this, 
 but her heart was fidl of self-reproach and 
 sorrow. How little she had appreciated his 
 great love — how little she had given in return ! 
 She kept thinking this while her aunt and her 
 father were talking of John Trelawn's money, 
 and of Nora's future life and position. 
 
 "She will make a great match," she heard her 
 aunt say presently, in an undertone ; and as
 
 38 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 tliese words fell on her ears, a tliought — a 
 memory — wliicli she instantly tried to banish,, 
 flitted for a moment across Nora's mind. 
 
 During the next few days this thought, 
 this memory, often recurred to her. But she 
 always checked it. It seemed to her, indeed^ 
 almost a sin to think of any future happiness 
 which mi^fht be in store for her, so soon after 
 her kindly husband's death. 
 
 But as time went on, and weeks passed 
 away, her life naturally clianged. For one- 
 thing, she left the dull house at Warbrooke and 
 went to the pleasant one in South Kensington, 
 which John Trelawn had left to her. Her aunt 
 and Sir Thomas came to stay with her here ;, 
 for, as Lady Stainbrooke said, it was not good 
 for her to be alone, and it was also very con- 
 venient to her ladyship to live free of expense 
 with her widowed and wealthy niece. 
 
 This arrangement also gave Lady Stainbrooke 
 a position in society which she had not before 
 attained. The story of John Trelawn's enormous 
 wealth had crept into the papers, and when it 
 became known that all this vast fortune wa^- 
 left to his dark-eyed young widow, many a 
 scheming mother sought an opportunity of
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 39 
 
 •making the clark-cyed yoiiDg widow's ac- 
 <j[iiaintance. 
 
 She in fact became known in society as 
 ^^ Croesus's Widow." This name was given to 
 her very shortly after her retm^n to town, and 
 the house in South Kensington where she lived 
 soon l)eo:an to he re^'arded with oTeat interest. 
 
 o o o 
 
 The first person who called her Croesus's 
 Widow was young Lord Seaforth. Lady Sea- 
 forth, his ^vidowed mother, was Nora's next- 
 door neio'hbour at her house in South Ken- 
 
 o 
 
 •sington ; had been, in fact, her next-door 
 neighbour for several years w^hen John Trelawn 
 <lied. 
 
 But Mrs. John Trehiwn — however rich — had 
 been a person of no consequence in Lady 
 Seaforth's eyes. She would shrug her shoulders 
 iind turn away her head disdainfully when she 
 saw John's thorouohbreds standins: at his door, 
 
 " Some rich people I know" nothing of," was 
 her description of the Trelawns, if any of her 
 set incj[uired who vrero the owners of the 
 thoroughbreds. She, in fact, would have 
 nothing to say to them ; never looked their 
 way, and utterly ignored that such people as 
 the Trelawns existed.
 
 40 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 But in tlie five years of Nora's wedded life 
 young Lord Seaforth, the only son of tliis 
 proud dame, had been running a career which 
 threatened to bring his family's lofty name 
 into the Bankruptcy Court. Nora remembered 
 the young lord, a handsome lad, riding up to 
 his mother's door in his first uniform. He was 
 about four-and-twenty now, and the shadow of 
 his life had fallen on that once bright face. 
 
 Lord Seaforth was no long^er a handsome 
 lad. He was a young man with a worn, pale 
 face, and wearied-looking eyes, and a bitter- 
 tongue. Yet sometimes the sweet boyish smile 
 of old stole round his lips to gladden his mother's 
 anxious heart. For Lady Seaforth loved her 
 son with a tender and devoted love of which 
 she rarely spoke. He was her only child — the 
 one babe born to her before her lord had thrown 
 aside all ties and lived such a life that his wife 
 and he could only part. 
 
 The late Lord Seaforth died suddenly abroad,, 
 and the young lord, when a boy of seven, 
 inherited estates already hampered and mort- 
 irao-ed to an almost ruinous extent. But during^ 
 the long minority they had partially recovered, 
 and when Lord Seaforth entered the Guards
 
 CJRCESUS'S WIDOW. 41 
 
 lis had a fair iacome as well as an old title ta 
 begin life with. 
 
 Alas, in five years the income was muddled 
 a^'ay, and the old name no brighter ! A reckless 
 father had been succeeded by a reckless son. 
 There is no good in telling how the money 
 had gone, but it was gone : in diamonds, in 
 ■expensive pleasures, in a hundred follies. Lord 
 Seaforth at twenty-four was an impoverished, 
 embarrassed man. Some were richer at his 
 expense; but he had lost everything — his 
 belief in human nature, his bright, high spirits, 
 his good looks — all, in fact, that made life 
 worth livinoj for. This was about his state 
 when Nora Trelawn returned to her house in 
 South Kensington a widow ; when her proud 
 neighbour. Lady Seaforth, first began to think 
 of her ; when voung; Lord Seaforth first srave 
 her the name of " Croesus's Widow."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LADY SEAFORTH. 
 
 Between Nora's drawing-room and Lady 
 Seafortli's there was a well-built, substantial 
 wall. But, one sunny afternoon in April, six 
 months after John Trelawn's death, let us — 
 invisibly — be present at the same moment in 
 the two drawing-rooms. 
 
 AVe must, by all the laws of etiquette, give 
 her ladyship the precedence, and stand for a 
 few moments silent and unobserved in the 
 somewhat old-fashionedly fitted-up room, where 
 a tall, handsome, fair-haired, and still young- 
 looking woman was sitting on a faded yellow 
 satin couch, crying bitterly. 
 
 This was Alice Elizabeth, Viscountess Sea- 
 forth ; and before her was standing a young 
 man, with a frown upon his brow, and angry 
 words upon his lips. This young man was-
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 43 
 
 Murray, Viscount Seaforfcli, and the mother 
 was telling the son some bitter truths. 
 
 " It has simply come to this," she was saying : 
 ** I shall have to break up my establishment, 
 and go abroad to starve ! And when I think 
 how the money has been wasted — what wretches 
 have got it — " 
 
 "Abuse does no good, you know, mother," 
 interrupted the young lord. 
 
 "No," answered Lady Seaforth, biting her 
 lips ; " but it is hard — very hard — to keep 
 patience with you." 
 
 " Perhaps. I admit I'm a good-for-nothing," 
 said Lord Seaforth, and he began walking up 
 and down the lono' drawino^-room. 
 
 The mother's eyes followed him. As they 
 <lid so, a softer look stole into them, for she 
 was recalling his bright boyhood, before the 
 shadow had fallen upon his face. She looked 
 at him for a few moments, and then she rose, 
 dried the tears that still wet her long^ brown 
 lashes, and, going softly behind her son, she 
 slid her arm throuo'h his. 
 
 o 
 
 "Murray," she said, "there is only one thing 
 that you can do — you are young, you are 
 ^ood-looking — you must marry for money."
 
 44 CRGESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 '' Precisely," said Murray, turning round and 
 lightly kissing liis mother's cheek. " Find me 
 the unfortunate woman, mother, who will have- 
 me, and I shall be charmed." 
 
 Lady Seaforth did not speak for a moment ;. 
 then with a certain hesitation of manner, which 
 showed her own aversion to the scheme that 
 she was about to propose to her son, she said : 
 
 .'^ There is a lady next door, Murray — a 
 widow — she is not of our class, for her wealth 
 came to her, I am told, through commerce ;. 
 but still she is rich — very rich — and for her 
 position a very ladylike-looking person." 
 
 " Her appearance is of no consequence," said 
 Lord Seaforth, shruoroiDo- his shoulders. 
 
 *' Yes, yes, it is," said his mother, with an 
 impatient sigh. 
 
 " Not a whit," answered the young lord,, 
 scoffingly. "It is her money, not her face, I 
 want ; so it is of no consequence how ugly she 
 is." 
 
 '' She is not ugly," continued Lady Seaforth. 
 ** Nay, she is good-lcoking. A dark-eyed 
 woman, with rather a sad expression — yes, 
 decidedly good-looking I call lier. Her name- 
 is Trehawn — Mrs. Trelawn."
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 45 
 
 " But is she really rich — very rich?" inquired 
 Lord Seaforth. 
 
 " Immensely rich, I am told," answered liis 
 mother; ''something about thirty or forty 
 thousand a year. In fact, Mr. Trelawn always 
 went by the name of Croesus." 
 
 " And Croesus's widow is next door ! " said 
 Lord Seaforth, throwing up his arms with a 
 mock theatrical air. " What a huge piece of 
 luck ! When will you introduce me, mother ?" 
 
 '' I have only just made her acquaintance," 
 said Lady Seaforth. "The truth is, it was 
 rather an awkward affair for me to do, as these 
 people have lived next door for four or fivo 
 years ; but of course I never thought of them 
 before." 
 
 " Of course ! Not, I presume, until the fair 
 lady became Croesus's widow, and therefore an 
 object of interest to a tender mother with a 
 beggared son." 
 
 *' You need not sneer, Seaforth. It could 
 not be very agreeable to me, you must know, 
 to make the acquaintance of these people ; but 
 for your sake — " 
 
 *' 'J'hat is quite understood. But why do 
 you speak of them as these people ? Surely
 
 46 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 there are not two rich widows to choose from ? " 
 
 " Her aunt, Lady Stainbrooke, is staying 
 with her. Lady Stainbrooke is the wife of an 
 oh.1 general, and — well, I must confess I think 
 that she is the most objectionable feature of 
 the whole connection." 
 
 At that moment, on the other side of the 
 wall, in Nora's drawing-room. Lady Stain- 
 brooke w^as saying — 
 
 *•' My position, my dear, makes me quite her 
 equal. It is very civil of her to call, certainly ; 
 but as her son is in the army, and my husband 
 is an old soldier, there is nothing remarkable 
 in it." 
 
 ''I think she has no right to call upon me 
 as a widow, when she did not call upon me as 
 a wife," replied Nora, gravely. 
 
 " You forget, my dear, that I was not with 
 3^ou in poor dear John's lifetime," said Lady 
 Stainbrooke, complacently. " And poor dear 
 John himself — well, of course, he was very nice 
 and generous — but still he was not exactly — 
 how shall I put it ? — not exactly fitted for 
 Lady Seaforth's society." 
 
 " He was good, he was noble," answered 
 Nora, warmly, and her face Hushed, '' and that
 
 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 47 
 
 is better than an old liiQ-li-sounclino: title. It 
 is a liberty, I think, of Lady Seaforth to call 
 upon me now." 
 
 *' Nonsense, child, nonsense," said Lady 
 Stainbrooke, good-naturedly. '' I had the 
 highest opinion of poor dear John — did I not 
 give my dearest child to him, so I must have 
 had ? But there are grades in society that 
 cannot be forgotten, and that must, and do, 
 influence everyone. Naturally, now you take 
 a different position with your large independent 
 fortune, to what you did when your husband 
 was alive. You are elegant-looking, you are 
 young, and you are rich — why, my dear, you 
 could marry any one ! '' 
 
 "But I do not mean to marry any one,'* 
 answered Nora. " Not even a spendthrift 
 young lord, aunt." And Nora gave a little 
 lausfh. 
 
 Nevertheless a day or two after this Nora 
 accepted Lady Seaforth's invitation to dine 
 with her alone. Her reason for doing this, 
 however, was not to meet the spendthrift 
 young lord. But when Lady Seaforth called 
 to invite her, she casually asked Nora if she 
 were going to the private view at the Academy,
 
 48 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 which was to take place the day following 
 Lady Seaforth's visit. 
 
 "No, but I would like to go," answered 
 Nora ; and then Lady Seaforth, in the interest 
 of her son, offered to take Nora ; and Nora 
 felt, therefore, that if she accepted this kindness 
 from her newly-found neighbour that she could 
 not very well decline to dine with her ladyship 
 the same evening, when she assured Nora that 
 they would be quite alone. 
 
 " I know you will not care to meet any one 
 just yet," said Lady Seaforth, in her calm, 
 gracious way ; *' but if you will take pity upon 
 an invalid like myself, for I am for from 
 well to-day, and dine with me this evening, 
 I shall be very pleased. I fear my son is 
 en^ag:ed, or I should have asked him, but he 
 told me he was going somewhere or other." 
 
 Nora accepted this invitation. But when 
 she entered Lady Seaforth's drawing-room, 
 dressed in her deep mourning, a tall, slim, 
 graceful young man rose to receive her as well 
 as Lady Seaforth. 
 
 " Permit me to present my son to you," said 
 Lady Seaforth. '' Seaforth, this is Mrs. Trelawn/' 
 
 Nora bowed and smiled. She knew this
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 49 
 
 young lord very well by sight. She had seen 
 him as a gay and handsome boy, and she had 
 seen him when his gaiety had all passed away, 
 •and when his face had grown worn, cynical, 
 •and sad. 
 
 But she spoke to him now for the first time, 
 and she spoke to him with the ease and sweet- 
 ness which made one of her charms. She was 
 indeed glad to know him, and though she was 
 only his own age she somehow regarded him 
 as very much younger than herself. She was 
 one of those women who can feel perfectly 
 friendly with a man without feeling the re- 
 motest wish to attract his admiration or peculiar 
 regard. So before the well-served dinner 
 which followed was over, Lord Seaforth had 
 made up his mind that Croesus's widow was 
 charming, that she was a dear little woman, 
 and that if she hadn't a penny, a man might be 
 glad to win her, and make her his Avife. 
 
 The mother looked on well pleased. She 
 saw her son was interested and amused, and 
 she gladly watched the old sweet boyish smile 
 that she now so seldom saw steal over his lips. 
 
 '' He may learn even to love her," she 
 thought, wistfully, later on during the eveninor.
 
 50 CRCES'JS'S WIDOW. 
 
 But when the evening was over, Lord Seaforth, 
 havincr escorted Mrs. Trelawn to her house 
 next door, went back to his mother's drawing- 
 room, and the shadow which now his face so 
 often wore had once more returned to it. 
 
 *' Well, what do you think of her ? " asked 
 Lady Seaforth. 
 
 The young man laughed, and shrugged hi» 
 shoulders. 
 
 " She's too nice a woman for me to think 
 of," he said. ''Not the style, in fact. I want 
 something that wouldn't cost so much — some- 
 thing or someone who wouldn't expect so 
 much. No, Croesus's charming widow won't 
 do for me ! " 
 
 *' What nonsense," said Iiis mother. 
 
 *' Sad fact," answered the young lord. And 
 then he went to his club, and in his careless, 
 thoughtless fashion told some of his chums 
 when he aot there about "Croesus's Widow." 
 
 Thus the name was given to her. When 
 Nora went the next day to tlie private view at 
 the Academy, people looked after her, and at 
 her, as they had never looked before. It began 
 to be whispered, in fiict, that the young widow 
 with Lady Seaforth was about the richest!;
 
 CECESUS'S WIDOW. 51 
 
 i-Qclepenclent woman in London. Lady Sea- 
 forth's motive for appearing with her in public 
 was, of course, well understood. Other dowagers 
 with spendthrift sons sighed enviously when 
 they saw the young lord join his mother and 
 Kora, and saw the soft blush on the rich 
 w^idow's cheeks as she listened smilingly to the 
 young lord's cynical and often bitter criticisms 
 ■on those around him. 
 
 *'You wish to destroy my illusions, I see, 
 about the ' world of beauty and fashion,' " said 
 Nora, with some archness of manner, in answer 
 to one of these remarks. 
 
 "The 'world of beauty and fashion' destroyed 
 ull my illusions some years ago," said Lord 
 Seaforth. " Would you believe it, Mrs. Tre- 
 lawn, I was once the most amiable, believing, 
 and gushing of young men 1 " 
 
 Nora laughed. 
 
 '' I remember you," she said, ''a bright-faced 
 boy." 
 
 Seaforth launched also. 
 
 " That bright face," he said, "was the indi- 
 cator of the brightness within. I was a jolly 
 boy, wasn't I, mother ? " 
 
 Lady Seaforth answered with a sigh. 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY
 
 52 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 *' I hope you will yet live to be a liapp7 
 man, Seaforth," she said. 
 
 Seaforth shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " You hope that I'll be a very rare specimeri 
 of my race, then, mother," he answered. 
 ** Happiness after a certain age is, in my 
 opinion, unattainable. What do you say,, 
 Mrs. Trelawn ? Do you believe that either 
 men or women arc ever happy after twenty ? " 
 
 For a moment Nora was silent. Her memorjr 
 went back to the few bright days of her owa 
 life, which had all been before she was twenty. 
 She sav/ again, at that instant, the handsome 
 painter's face ; and the evening haze, rising 
 from the meadows as it had done in the brief 
 hours of her love dream, when her soul had 
 been absolutely flooded with happiness and 
 hope. 
 
 Her fixce softened, and some of its girlish 
 charm came back to it as this vision of byegone- 
 hours passed before her. For a minute or twa 
 she looked so like the Nora Sudely of old, that 
 a man who was watching her almost started,. 
 and his heart began to throb as it had not 
 throbbed for years. 
 
 This man was Walter Yyner — W. D. Vyner,,
 
 CROESUS S WIDOW. 53' 
 
 the famous painter now — tlie lover wlio had 
 stood liand-in-liand witli Nora in tlie Warbrooke 
 meadow's long ago, and who had just learned 
 that she was a widow ; that all John Trelawn's 
 vast wealth had come to the dark-eyed girl 
 whose love had once been his. 
 
 The painter stood still, watching Nora. He 
 saw her smile on the young lord by her side, 
 and he heard some lady whisper, " It is a good 
 thing for Seaforth." 
 
 But, almost as he heard that whisper, Nora's 
 eyes fell on the fine face which had seemed so 
 perfect to her girlish fancy. She visibly started 
 as she recognised Yyner, and the painter saw 
 the flush that rose to her cheeks as she bowed 
 to him and moved forward so as to take his 
 hand. 
 
 *' You are in town, then," said Yyner, with 
 some embarrassment. 
 
 " Yes," answered Nora. And then she added, 
 softly, ''You must come and see me, Mr. A^yner; 
 my aunt. Lady Stainbrooke, is with me." 
 
 " I bear that old lady no love," said the 
 painter, and his expression chauged as he spoke, 
 "but — I shall be glad to call upon you." 
 
 " Do come," said Nora ; and then, remem-
 
 54 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 berinr that she was walkino^ with Lord Seaforth, 
 she introdiicecl the jDainter to him. 
 
 The two men bowed coldly ; and Vyner bit 
 his lips, and Lord Seaforth's pale face slightly 
 flushed as she did so. 
 
 "I have already had the honour of an in- 
 troduction to — this gentleman, I think," said 
 Vyner, in anything but an agreeable tone of 
 voice. 
 
 " Yes — I have met Mr. Yyner," said Seaforth, 
 with a certain discomfort in his manner, which 
 was very unusual with him. 
 
 Scarcely anything more was said. Yyner 
 took oft' his hat and passed on with a frown 
 upon his brow and an angry feeling in his 
 heart. Yet he did not leave the room where 
 JS^ora was. He stood lookino; at her from a 
 •distance — lookim^ at her and thinkiuor res^ret- 
 fully of the past. 
 
 '' It's the old sweet face," he thought ; " the 
 sweet, trustfal, honest face which would have 
 kept me straight all my life if I'd had the luck 
 to win it. But now — what is the use of going 
 near her again — now, when it's too late." 
 
 He made an impatient gesture, and the 
 frown deepened upon his forehead as the last
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 55 
 
 reflection passed through his miucl. Too Lite ? 
 and yet Nora's dark eves had bricrhtened and 
 her cheeks flushed a welcome when her little 
 hand was clasped in his ! 
 
 In the meanwhile Lord Seaforth was still 
 walkiug with his mother and Mrs. Trelawn. 
 hut the vouno' lord's manner had chani^^ed 
 somewhat since that brief interview with the 
 painter. He vras silent for some minutes after 
 they parted with Yyner, and then almost 
 abruptly he said to Nora — 
 
 " So you know Yyner, the painter, do you ? 
 Have you known him long ? '*' 
 
 *'Yes, for years," answered Nora, gravely. 
 
 a 
 
 I knew ]\rr. Yvner before mv marriao-e. 
 
 ''Indeed !'"' said Lord Seaforth, as if surprised. 
 Then he added, after a moment's thought^ 
 ''But of late years I suppose- — you know nothing 
 or little about him — except as a painter ? " 
 
 " I have been proud of him," said Nora, and 
 her dark eyes sparkled; "proud of the old friend 
 who has won the fame that he once dreamed 
 of — who — who is now what he hoped to be — 
 when I knew him as a airl." 
 
 Seaforth made no reply to this. But he 
 grew so absent in manner that Lady Seaforth
 
 56 Croesus's widow. 
 
 proposed to Nora that tbey sliould leave the 
 Academy. Lady Seaforth was afraid of wearying 
 lier beloved son of the lady whom she wished 
 to be his wife ! 
 
 Seaforth escorted his mother and Nora to 
 their carriage, and then called a hansom and 
 drove straight to one of the entrances to 
 Regent's Park. There he dismissed his hansom, 
 and proceeded direct to a seat under the shadow 
 of some trees, where he expected a friend would 
 be waiting for him. 
 
 This friend was waiting for him — a young 
 girl fair to look upon — who started up with a 
 glad smile of welcome on her rosy lips as he 
 drew near. 
 
 " Well, Miss Nellie," he said, holding out his 
 hand, '^ I hope I have not kept you waiting ? " 
 
 '' Indeed you have," answered '' Miss Nellie," 
 still smiling. '*' I have not the honour of pos- 
 sessing a watch, you know, but I think it 
 must be a little past four now." 
 
 Seaforth looked at his watch, and then gave 
 a sort of impatient sigh. 
 
 "It is past fiYQ, my poor Nellie," he said, 
 *'but I really could not come before. I took 
 my mother to the private view of the Academy,
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 57 
 
 and who do you think I saw there, Nellie ? " 
 
 The girl shook her head. She was looking 
 up in his face — looking as women look on the 
 foces they love. 
 
 '' How can I tell ? " she said. 
 
 " Vyner, the painter," continued Seaforth. 
 ''He spoke to a lady who was with my 
 mother — and, little Nellie — somethinnr leaked 
 out, you know" (and Seaforth took the 
 girl's hand, and drew her down on the seat 
 from which she had risen when he approached 
 her), '•' something which perhaps I ought to 
 have told you before — only it seemed no 
 matter." 
 
 "What is it. Captain Seaforth ?" asked ''Miss 
 Nellie," and her colour faded a little as she 
 spoke. 
 
 " Only a little, little thing, Nellie," answered 
 Lord Seaforth, " and really no earthly conse- 
 quence to us. But lest at any future time you 
 should think me a liar or a q:(\v deceiver, I 
 ought, perhaps, to tell you that my honourable 
 and respected parent, now lying in his grave — ■ 
 who ruined me before he retired to it, by-the- 
 bye — was one of that order whom a certain 
 Tommy is said to have loved."
 
 58 CTtCESUS's WIDOW. 
 
 ''Miss Nellie" looked up as if she did not 
 'anderstand all this. 
 
 "To explain more fully," continued Lord 
 Seafortli, " I have the misfortune to be, 
 Nellie — well, for one thing, little Ijetter than 
 a beggar." 
 
 '' Oh ! I'm so sorry, so sorry," said Nellie, 
 and she nestled her little hand more closely 
 into his, and looked at him with sweet, wistful 
 eyes. "But — but, this will make no difference 
 to me ? " 
 
 " AYon't it, though ? " answered Lord Sea- 
 forth, trying to speak lightly. "All women, 
 you know, love the gauds of this world — and 
 you are a little woman, I suppose, like the 
 rest?" 
 
 " Not like the rest if they care for monev 
 more — more than — " 
 
 "More than love, do you mean, child ? So 
 you care for love most of all, Nellie — really 
 most of all ? " 
 
 "Yes," half- whispered the girl, and she 
 -coloured all over her fine soft skin. 
 
 " And you love me — a worthless fellow like 
 me ? Ah, Nellie, you are a foolish, foolish 
 little girl ! "
 
 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 59- 
 
 '* Do YOU mean iDCcause you are poor ?" asked 
 Nellie, yet more wistfully. 
 
 *' Because I am poor, and because I am 
 worthless, and because I have not even told. 
 you the truth, Nellie, about my position in 
 life," answered Lord Seafortli. 
 
 *' How do you mean ? Please tell me what 
 you mean ? " 
 
 '' Yyner, the painter, will tell you — will tell 
 your sister most likely to-day, that I have been 
 sailing under false colours. Don't look so 
 frightened, Nellie — it's nothing awful 1 have 
 to relate — simply that instead of being Captain 
 Seaforth, as you have known me, I am Lord 
 Seaforth ; and Awner heard my title to-dav.''' 
 
 " Lord Seaforth ! " repeated Nellie, and she 
 started up, turned quite pale, and stood lookino- 
 in the young lord's face. 
 
 *'At your service — but you don't seem to 
 like the new name, Nellie, as well as the old ? " 
 
 *'No, no, no!" exclaimed the girl, and sho 
 put out her hands with a gesture of pain and 
 anger. "Now I know what you mean —I am 
 foolish to care for you, you think — when, when 
 we are so far apart ? " And she burst into- 
 passionate tears.
 
 =60 CTwCESL'S's WIDOW. 
 
 *'Nay, nonsense, IN'ellie ! " said Lord Sea- 
 fortli, and lie also rose, and put his arm around 
 ber. *'Husli, child, darling, do not tremble 
 so — we will talk it over — we will see what we 
 can do — only don't distress yourself ; don't 
 ^cry, my dear, dear little Nell."
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 KELLIE. 
 
 Befoke the interview between Lord Seaforth. 
 and *'Miss Nellie" ended, Lord Seaforth had 
 persuaded her to forgive him for having de- 
 ceived her, or rather allowed her to deceive 
 herself, about his name. 
 
 The error into which she had fallen was very 
 easily accounted for. One morning ''Miss 
 Nellie" and her dog, a handsome collie, were 
 crossing the roadway near St. George's Hospital, 
 when the unfortunate collie was knocked down 
 and run over by a hansom cab. The young 
 man seated in the cab heard the girl's shriek, 
 as she saw what had happened, and he at once 
 jumped out, and helped to lift the ]30or dog 
 up, and carried it to its young mistress, who, 
 forgetting everything but her favourite's suf- 
 ferings, knelt down on the pavement, and laid 
 the poor brute's head tenderly on her lap.
 
 62 CRGESUSS WIDOW. 
 
 *' I am so very, very sorry," said the young 
 man (Lord Seaforth), ''but I fear the dog is 
 done for, and if you will allow me I'll get him 
 taken away, and put an end to him at once." 
 
 Then the girl (Miss Nellie) looked up in- 
 dignantly, and Lord Seaforth saw how pretty 
 she was. 
 
 *' Do you mean take him away to be killed ?" 
 said "Miss Nellie." "Kill my poor, poor- 
 man " (and she once more bent over the injured 
 dog, who looked up in her face, and tried to^ 
 lick her hand) " because he is hurt ? You shall 
 not do that, sir ! I will never leave Wallace, 
 and he shall never leave me whilst he is alive." 
 
 ** I am truly sorry," again said Lord Seaforth. 
 " Shall I call a cab, then, and drive you home- 
 witli vour dos: ? " 
 
 " If you will do that I shall be very mucli 
 obliged," answered the girl, who was beginnino- 
 to be aware that she was fast becoming the 
 centre of a crowd. 
 
 So Lord Seaforth called a four-wheeled cab,. 
 and poor Wallace was lifted into it, and held 
 partly in "Miss Nellie's" arms, and partly in 
 Lord Seaforth's, until they reached the small 
 house in the small street near Eegent's Park,.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 63 
 
 where *' Miss Nellie " informed Lord Seaforth 
 that her father, Major Ely the, then lived. 
 
 Nellie got out of the cab, and ran into the 
 house first to break the news of the door's 
 
 o 
 
 accident to her father. 
 
 " For he is blind," she said to Lord Seaforth, 
 ^' and that, of course, makes us love him and 
 think of him more." 
 
 Lord Seaforth smiled a grim smile at the 
 situation he found himself in, after the girl left 
 him. Sitting in a cab, nursing a strange dog ! 
 But he felt repaid when " Miss Nellie " re- 
 -appeared, leading her blind father by the hand. 
 
 "This is my father. Major Blytbe," said 
 Nellie, "I — I do not know your name — but he 
 has been so kind to dear Wallace, father." 
 
 " My name is Seaforth," answered Lord 
 Seaforth, getting out of the cab and smiling. 
 ^' I am glad to make the acquaintance of Major 
 Ely the — for I, too, am a soldier." 
 
 " Thank you for your kindness to my little 
 girl," said Major Elythe, " and to the poor dog, 
 who is an old and faithful friend to us all. 
 Will you come in — Mr. — or are you Captain 
 Seaforth ? " 
 
 " I hold a captain's commission," answered
 
 64 CRCESUS'S WIDO^Y. 
 
 Lord Seafortli, looking with some interest at 
 the bUnd Major. 
 
 He saw a tall, grey-haired man, with a noble 
 face, and an expression of almost touching 
 resignation. This was the pretty girl's father, 
 then — the pretty girl who, when Lord Seaforth 
 looked round for her, was lifting out her injured 
 dog from the cab, and speaking to it in tones 
 of sympathising endearment. 
 
 They carried it together — Lord Seaforth and 
 Nellie — into the meagrely-furnished parlour 
 close to the house door, and Nellie went down 
 on her knees and made poor Wallace a bed 
 with a simple grace that the young man could 
 not but admire. 
 
 She was pretty — not a regular beauty, though 
 wdth perfect features — but it was a face with 
 a charm. Modest, innocent, and sweet, with 
 bright, light, curly, ruffled air, and a fair^ 
 smooth, fresh, rosy, girlish skin. 
 
 " She is a little rosebud," thought Lord 
 Seaforth ; and as he assisted^ her to make the 
 dog's bed, he determined not to lose sight of 
 *' Miss Nellie." 
 
 '' Let me bring you a ' vet ' to see Wallace," 
 he said. ''I know a verv clever fellow who
 
 CR(ESUS'S WIDOW. 6^ 
 
 belongs to us and he'll do wliat he can for the doo;." 
 Lord Seafcrth brought the 'S'-et," and 
 "Wallace was nursed and tended until he was 
 *' the happiest dog alive," Seaforth told Nellie. 
 Seaforth came very often to inquire after the 
 dog, and sat in the little parlour and talked to 
 the blind Major, and looked at the golden head 
 of "Miss Nellie." 
 
 He called her "Miss Nellie" in these days. 
 She was the Major's youngest daughter, and 
 Miss Blythe — Margaret, the eldest — was from 
 home. Seaforth soon learnt all the little simple 
 family history. Major Blythe had been in an 
 infantry regiment, and his sight had been 
 affected by a sunstroke in India. Then he 
 had left the regular army, and had become an 
 adjutant to a militia corps. But he gradually 
 grew blind. They were terrible hours, he told 
 Lord Seaforth in his simple way, when he first 
 knew that his sight was doomed. 
 
 " She was my little comforter," he said, 
 softly, laying his hand on Nellie's fair, ruffled, 
 curly air, and the girl looked up and put her 
 arms round her blind father's neck. 
 
 " I said I would be his spectacles 1 " she said, 
 trying to speak lightly, but Seaforth saw her 
 
 YOL I. D
 
 66 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 blue eyes grow moist, and the next moment 
 slie dashed away a tear. 
 
 A very tender love existed between the 
 father and daughter. Major Blythe admitted 
 to Seaforth that she was his darling, though 
 *' Margaret, my eldest daughter, is a most 
 excellent, clever woman," the old soldier told 
 his visitor ; '' but, then, Margaret is ten years 
 older than Nellie, and so naturally Nellie is 
 the spoilt darling of the household." 
 
 " The spoilt darling of the household," how- 
 ever, showed very few signs of being spoilt. 
 She was a bright, sweet, unselfish girl, with a 
 little hot temper, perhaps, sometimes, but the 
 moment it was over it was gone for ever. No 
 one ever saw a frown or a sulky look on Nellie 
 Blythe's fair face. 
 
 " She is like the sunshine," said her fond 
 father, and soon Seaforth did not care to tell 
 or think how much he thought of Nellie Blythe. 
 
 Their acquaintance went on very smoothly 
 and pleasantly at first. Then Margaret Blythe 
 returned home, and she shook her head and 
 looked very grave when she heard about 
 *' Captain Seaforth.'^ 
 
 **It is unwise to allow him to come here.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 67 
 
 father," she said to the Major. ^' He is in the 
 Guards, you say, and altogether an unsuitable 
 acquaintance for Nellie." 
 
 Margaret Blythe 'was quite different in 
 appearance to Nellie, but she also was good- 
 looking. She was tall and dark, and very 
 determined, and she was a professional artist, 
 and an illustrator of books when she could get 
 employment. During her meritorious struggles 
 (for the Blythes were very poor) Margaret had 
 made the acquaintance of W. D. Yyner, the 
 painter. The woman usually so cold and self- 
 contained was not cold to the handsome artist. 
 She admired him, and she grew fond and proud 
 of him. Yyner was lonely, and not particularly 
 happy, and he liked and respected Margaret 
 Blythe, and he had drifted into an engagement 
 with her. They had been engaged six months 
 when he saw again the face of his first love at 
 the Academy — when he learned that Nora 
 Trelawn was free — that rich John Trelawn was 
 dead, and that all his great wealth had come 
 to his young widow. 
 
 Yyner had once met Lord Seaforth at the 
 Blythes, and had been introduced to him as 
 " Captain Seaforth." But Seaforth only went 
 
 d2
 
 68 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 very rarely to the Blytlies' house now. Mar- 
 garet had given him to understand that he was 
 not a very welcome visitor to her, and Seaforth — 
 perhaps gladly — had taken advantage of this 
 intimation to induce his friend Nellie to meet 
 him unknown to her sister. They had met 
 each other, and walked together many and 
 many a time before Lord Seaforth had been 
 urged by his mother to think of Nora Trelawn ; 
 before his own overwhelming embarrassments 
 had often made him resolve to break with 
 sweet Nellie Blythe. 
 
 But this was not an easy thing to the young 
 man's heart. His wild and reckless life had 
 grown wearisome to him, and the women on 
 whom he had wasted his substance had palled 
 upon him, but it was too late. Lord Seaforth 
 was a ruined man, and what Lady Seaforth had 
 told him was but too true. Unless he married 
 a woman with a great fortune his career was 
 ended. And yet still he did not care to break 
 sweet Nellie's heart ; for he believed that the girl 
 loved him. Her soft, innocent eyes had betrayed 
 this a hundred times, and though no binding 
 words had absolutely passed between them, Sea- 
 forth knew that in honour he was bound to Nellie.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MARGARET. 
 
 He did not accompcany her home after lie liad 
 -told her that his real name was Murray, 
 Viscount Seaforth, and that he was little better 
 •than a beggar. He left her at the Metropolitan 
 Railway Station, which was almost close to the 
 street in which Major Blythe lived, and then 
 NelKe went on thoughtfully to her father's 
 house. 
 
 The street door was opened as she approached 
 it, and her eldest sister stood there looking 
 anxiously out. 
 
 "Nellie, where have you been ?" she said. 
 ^' How late you are." 
 
 " Only sitting in the park," answered Nellie, 
 while the tell-tale colour flushed through her 
 fair skin. 
 
 '' 'Tis too late for a young girl like you to
 
 70 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 
 
 sit in the park alone," answered Margaret.. 
 " Have you brought in father's paper ? " 
 
 c^Oh! — IVe forgotten!" exchiimecl Nellie,, 
 in real distress. 
 
 "It is thoughtless and unkind of you," said 
 Mar<Taret, " when he has so few pleasures, and 
 he has asked for it twice. I should have gone- 
 for it myself, but I dare not leave Hatton in 
 the house alone for fear she sets it on fire." 
 
 '^ I will run and get the paper now, Margaret.'^ 
 
 '^ No, I will get it. But Nellie, come in here ;, 
 I have got something to tell you." And 
 the elder sister drew the younger one into a 
 little back room, and closed the door behind 
 them. 
 
 *' Walter Yyner has been here," began Mar- 
 o-aret, *'and he has just been telling me a 
 shameful thing, Nellie." 
 
 " What has he been telling you ? " said 
 Nellie, quickly. 
 
 '' That Captain Seaforth, w^hom you and my 
 father think so much of, is actually not Captain 
 Seaforth," continued Margaret. " Walter saw 
 Mm at the private view at the Academy to-day 
 with a lady whom he knew long ago, and this- 
 lady was with Lady Seaforth, and the man
 
 CECESUS'S WIDOW. 71 
 
 vrlio has pnssed liimself oJff here as Captain 
 Seaforth is really Lord Seaforth ! I call it 
 •exceedingly insulting to us." 
 
 For a moment Nellie was silent. Her delicate 
 skin flushed, and her lips trembled ; then she 
 :said sharply, almost defiantly — 
 
 '' Yes, I know." 
 
 '' You knew, absolutely knew, that a man 
 was coming to your father's house under a false 
 title, and never told it ! Then I'm ashamed of 
 y'ou," exclaimed Margaret, very angrily. 
 
 "Very well, you can be ashamed," retorted 
 Nellie, her quick temper asserting itself. 
 
 " When did he let you know this ? " said 
 Margaret, scornfully. "After he was found 
 out to-day, I suppose, when he knew it was no 
 use trying to deceive us any longer ? " 
 
 Nellie bit her lips and did not speak. 
 
 "Can you not see through his motives for 
 this?" proceeded Margaret. ''He meant to 
 ^muse himself with a silly girl, and whenever 
 anything serious might be expected to come of 
 it he intended to vanish ! There is, indeed, no 
 €aptain Seaforth, and Lord Seaforth has 
 throughout acted in a most ungentlemanly 
 manner."
 
 72 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 " The mistake arose through me," said Nellie. 
 '' When he came here first — and you know how 
 that happened — I said, ' I do not know your 
 name,' and he simply said, 'My name is Sea- 
 forth : ' and it is ' Seaforth.' What deception- 
 was there in that ? Perhaps he did not care ta 
 tell us he was a lord when we were living^ in a 
 little house like this. It was from delicacy of 
 feeling, Margaret, and not from any wish ta 
 deceive. Then father said — Was he Mr. or 
 Captain Seaforth (never, of course, guessing his- 
 real rank), and he said, ' I hold a captain's 
 commission ' ; and he does hold a captain's- 
 commission. There ! What lie did he tell ? 
 You are unjust, Margaret ; and I think Mr. 
 Vyner need not have come here to make mis- 
 chief." 
 
 Nellie had talked till she was c[uite hot and 
 red. She stood there facing her sister and 
 defending her lover with sparkling eyes and 
 quivering lij)s, a true type of womanhood ! 
 The man had erred, and the woman having 
 herself forgiven him, would not permit another 
 to disparage him. 
 
 *'It is all very fine to talk thus," again 
 commenced Margaret; but at this point her
 
 CIICESUS'S WIDOW. 73 
 
 words were interrupted by an unkempt red 
 head — on which was perched a very funny 
 looking cap — being thrust in at the door. 
 
 "Miss Blythe, please, masters howling for 
 his papers," said the owner of the head and the 
 cap. 
 
 " What an expression, Hatton ! Why do 
 you use such words as howling?" said Margaret, 
 reprovingly. 
 
 " Isn't it right," asked Hatton, and she put 
 the thumb of her left hand on her hip, and 
 stood looking contemplatively at her mistress. 
 
 She was a most comical figure ; all angles, 
 even the eyes being oblique of vision. She 
 was the only handmaiden of the Blythe family, 
 ^nd Margaret tried in vain to make her pre- 
 sentable. She insisted for one thing on calling 
 her "Hatton," though "Becky" had been the 
 name that this waif of the streets had gone by 
 .since her cradle in the dust-pan. 
 
 " But," Margaret Blythe had told her, " in all 
 good families the female servants bear their 
 surnames." 
 
 " And this is a * good family V " said Becky, 
 with a sly look in the oblique eyes. "Oh, please, 
 miss, I didn't know it."
 
 74' CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 Margaret could not help smiling at tliis,, 
 though still she insisted upon "Becky" being 
 <5alled Hatton, but the change of name did not 
 change the girl. "Hatton " remained hopelessly 
 comical and absurd-looking, and was a constant 
 eyesore to Margaret's artistic tastes. But 
 Hatton knew how to work. 
 
 " I've been at it ever since I was put down," 
 she once told Nellie, "and my legs got that 
 bowed with being put down and working 
 too soon, that they've kept on that way 
 inclined." 
 
 This odd-looking damsel now stood look- 
 ing at the sisters, with her thumb upon her 
 hip. 
 
 " What have I to say to master, miss, when 
 he yells out again for the papers ? " she said,, 
 presently. 
 
 " Say I will get them for him. Miss Nellie 
 has forgotten them," answered Margaret. And 
 Miss Nellie took advantage of this "break in the 
 discussion with her sister, and as Hatton turned 
 to leave the room she left it also, and went to 
 seek her blind father. 
 
 " Father, I have been so naughty," she said,, 
 going up to the Major and slipping her little.
 
 CIICESUS'S WIDOW. 75 
 
 hand into liis. **' I forgot to get your paper." 
 
 ""Well, my little girl, nevermind; Hatton 
 will get me one, and then you'll read it to me," 
 lie answered, stroking lier small hand. 
 
 "And father, have you heard, has Margaret told 
 you, what a stupid mistake we have both made?" 
 And the Major felt the small hand twitch. 
 
 " No, darling. I've hardly seen Margaret 
 to-day. Yyner has been here, and she has been 
 talking to him." 
 
 " I know. Well, it seems, father, \>ie have 
 made such a silly mistake. Don't you remem- 
 ber the first time — when Wallace was hurt, 
 you know — how we asked somebody his name, 
 and he said it was Seaforth ? " 
 
 **Yes, darling, of course — Captain Seaforth." 
 
 *'He never said Captain Seaforth," continued 
 Nellie ; "he just said 'Seaforth, and that he held 
 a captain's commission. Well, he is Seaforth, 
 and he does hold a captain's commission — but, 
 father, he has another title, too — and he told me 
 this to-day." 
 
 "Have you seen Captain Seaforth to-day, 
 Nellie ?" asked the Major, with just a shade of 
 ^anxiety in his tone. 
 
 "Yes ; I met him, and he said he had some-
 
 76 CHCESUSS WIDOW. 
 
 tiling to tell me," answered Nellie, bravely. ' 'And 
 what do you tliink this sometliing is, father? 
 He is really Lord Seaforth." 
 
 "Lord Seaforth I " repeated the Major. " You 
 indeed surprise me, Nellie." 
 
 *^ Yes, isn't it a surprise ?" said Nellie, trying 
 to speak lightly. "We have been entertaining, 
 not an angel, but a lord unawares, it seems. 
 And Margaret has been so stupid about it,, 
 father ! She has been scolding me, and talking 
 all sorts of nonsense, just as if he could have 
 any motive for deceiving us — it is so silly of 
 Margaret." 
 
 The Major was silent for a moment or two, 
 then he said — 
 
 " I wish this young man had told us this 
 before, Nellie." 
 
 "But why, father ? Isn't he just the same? 
 He is a gentleman, and you are a gentleman. 
 What matters it whether he is Captain or Lord 
 Seaforth?" 
 
 " The world would say it was a good deal of 
 matter, Nellie. Kank, like money, makes a 
 distinct difference of class. It was not right of 
 Lord Seaforth to allow us to go on calling him 
 Captain Seaforth."
 
 CRCESUSS WIDOW. ^1 
 
 "Now, father, you are just as liorrid as 
 Margaret," said the "spoilt darling of the 
 household,'' and she put her arm fondly round 
 her kind father's neck. "Don't you begin 
 scolding too, dear old man, or I'll have a fine 
 life between you ! Promise me one thing, 
 father, that when he — when Lord Seaforth 
 comes — that you will be quite kind to him, for 
 you must not forget how kind he has been to 
 us — and to the dear old doggie, too !" and Nellio 
 stroked the lame collie's head, for Wallace was 
 sitting, as usual, at his master's feet, looking up 
 with his soft, wistful, brown eyes^ into that 
 patient face.
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 THE OLD LOVE. 
 
 Walter Vynee kept liis promise, and went to 
 call upon his old love, Nora Trelawn, a few days 
 after he had met her at the private view at the 
 Academy. 
 
 Nora Trelawn was very rich, and she was 
 also a woman of taste ; and lately she had 
 taken some pleasure and interest in the fur- 
 nishing and adornment of her house ; and 
 Yyner saw all this, as he stood a moment or 
 two alone in her drawing-room, and he saw 
 also on the soft-tinted walls two pictures of his 
 own, which had been purchased through a 
 dealer, and for which Nora had given a great 
 price. 
 
 Vyner stood still, looking at his pictures 
 thoughtfully, as we sometimes look at our own 
 work. Perhaps he was not thinking only of 
 his pictures — a dark-eyed girl, in the hazy
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 79 
 
 meadows in the eventide, was standing shadow- 
 like before him, also in his mental vision. But 
 his contemplation of the real and the ideal was 
 speedily interrupted. A lady, not knowing he 
 was there, now entered the room ; and sat 
 down on the first couch she came to, panting, 
 and fanning herself. 
 
 Vyner turned round and looked at her. It 
 was Lady Stainbrooke, Nora's aunt — Lady 
 Stain brooke, a little browner and more 
 wrinkled than she was five years ago, but 
 otherwise not much altered. Vyner knew her 
 again at once. He remembered at that moment 
 the lie she had told Nora — the lie which had 
 parted him from the girl he loved. 
 
 He made a slight movement, and Lady 
 Stainbrooke looked up and saw him. 
 
 " Is that you, Mr. Vyner ? " she said. '' He 
 is looking after Nora's money," she thought. 
 
 Vyner bowed a cold and stately bow, but the 
 old lady held out a withered hand, and looked 
 at Vyner with involuntary admiration. 
 
 What had the five years done for the 
 handsome painter ? His face was darker and 
 graver, but he was handsome still. The 
 sharply-cut features, the bright grey eyes, were
 
 80 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 unchanged ; but the expression of the classic 
 mouth was altered. The enthusiasm, the 
 passion of youth, had passed away ; and a 
 calm — almost a proud — look of composure had 
 replaced them. The man had gone into the 
 arena, and fought and conquered. W. D. 
 Vyner's name was known now all over Europe, 
 and as Lady Stainbrooke looked at him 
 admiringly, with her sharp, brown eyes, she 
 remembered this. 
 
 '^ So," she said, smiling, and still fanning 
 herself, ^' you are a great man now, Mr. Yyner. 
 Well, I prophesied you would be, long ago, if 
 you remember." 
 
 Yyner, who was a hater of shams, answered 
 wifch more abruptness than politeness. 
 
 " I thought it was exactly the other way, 
 Lady Stainbrooke," he said. 
 
 The old lady laughed, and showed her yellow 
 teeth. 
 
 " Ah," she said, " I recollect that day, Mr. 
 Vyner, when you fancied I was speaking about 
 one of your pictures to my niece, Nora, but in 
 reality I was alluding to some other artist. To 
 be sure, it seems like yesterday, and yet it is 
 five or six years ago, for it was just at the time
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 81 
 
 when Nora was first engaged to poor, clear John 
 Trelawn. You will have heard, I suppose, that 
 he is dead, and that he has left a great fortune 
 to Nora ? Ah ! all the men are after her now, 
 Mr. Yyner," and the old lady laughed again, 
 enjoying her delicate little stab. 
 
 Yyner made no answer. He stood looking 
 .at Lady Stainbrooke with a half-scornful 
 smile, for he knew that he at least could not 
 be accused of seeking Nora for her money. 
 
 "I do not blame people in the least," 
 continued Lady Stainbrooke in her jaunty, 
 rather humorous way, *'for paying court to 
 the rich, for they are so much pleasanter 
 acquaintances than the poor ! One can never 
 be quite sure indeed that a poor friend isn't 
 going to ask for the loan of a five-pound note. 
 And then the wealthy have so much in their 
 power — even you great artists, Mr.Vyner, want 
 patrons, you know ! " 
 
 "Yes," answered Yyner, bitterly, "we sell 
 our work. Lady Stainbrooke, as you ladies sell 
 your faces." 
 
 Lady Stainbrooke nodded her head and 
 fanned herself more vigorously than ever. 
 
 " Not bad," she said, approvingly. " So we
 
 82 CRGESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 do sell our faces, Mr. Vyner, and therefore 
 beauty is a great gift. Where should I have 
 been now, I wonder, if I had not been a pretty 
 girl — though perhaps you are surprised to hear 
 I ever was ? And where would Nora have 
 been if she had not sold her face to poor dear- 
 John Trelawn ? She would not have had 
 young Lord Seaforth at her feet, as she has 
 now, I promise you.'' 
 
 " She might have been a happier woman," 
 said Vyner, gravely ; and as he spoke the room 
 door opened, and Nora herself walked in. 
 
 There was a glad light in her eyes, and a 
 pink flush in her soft cheeks, and she held out 
 her hand frankly and cordially. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Mr. Vyner," she said. 
 I — I — have been expecting you to call." 
 
 " I intended to come yesterday," said Yyner,, 
 " but a man's time is not always his own." 
 
 " A lady in the way, ch, Mr. Vyner ? " asked 
 Lady Stainbrooke. 
 
 " You are fond of inventing ladies for my 
 benefit, it seems. Lady Stainbrooke," answered, 
 Vyner, very grimly. 
 
 Lady Stainbrooke looked up at this sharply,, 
 and glanced from Nora to Vyner. She
 
 CROSSUS'S WIDOW. 83 
 
 knew, or rather guessed, at that moment that 
 some sort of explanation must have passed 
 between them before John Trelawn's death, but 
 she was too shrewd to remark upon this. 
 
 " I have been complimenting Mr. Yyner on 
 his success, my dear," she said, turning to 
 ]SI ora. 
 
 " Yes," said Nora ; '' I have been pleased 
 — and proud.'' 
 
 Her voice faltered a little as she uttered the 
 two last words, and she cast down her dark eyes ; 
 ^nd Vyner's voice also showed some emotion 
 when he spoke. 
 
 " I see," he said, smiling, and with a sort of 
 gesture towards his pictures hanging on the 
 wall, '' that you have been one of the patrons 
 whom Lady Stainbrooke has just been telling 
 me that we artists are obligjed to court." 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Yyner, Mr. Yyner, that is a little 
 too bad ! " laughed Lady Stainbrooke, with a 
 slightly -forced laugh, for she did not wish to 
 offend her rich niece Nora. " I said nothino: 
 of the kind, my dear ; but I see, I see ! " And 
 Lady Stainbrooke nodded her head after her 
 usual fashion. 
 
 "Well, what do you see, aunt ? " asked Nora.
 
 84 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 ** Mr. Yyncr is too great a man now to like 
 my little innocent jests — ah, yes, tliat is just 
 tlie way — success is very trying, Mr. Vyner." 
 
 *' Do you mean to the temper, Lady Stain- 
 brooke ? " asked Yyner. 
 
 *' To the temper and the disposition," 
 answered her ladyship, agreeably. " It requires 
 a strong head not to be turned by adulation." 
 
 *'Mine has had no chance of being turned, 
 then," said Yyner. 
 
 *' Ah, ah, so you tell us," said Lady Stain- 
 brooke, '' but perhaps we know better. Nora, 
 my love, don't you expect Lady Seaforth this 
 afternoon ? " 
 
 " She said something about coming in to 
 see the new pattern I got at the Art School 
 yesterday," replied Nora. '' But it is no 
 matter," she added indifferently. 
 
 *' If I am in the way " said Yyner, rising, 
 
 and understanding Lady Stainbrooke's hint. 
 
 ** But you are not in the way," said Nora, 
 softly, and she looked smilingly at Yyner. 
 
 *^ I am glad of that," he answered, *' for it is 
 pleasant to see the face of an old friend." 
 
 ** And a patron too !" said Lady Stainbrooke, 
 with a little scoffino- lausfh.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 85 
 
 She was a worldly old woman this, and put 
 little trust in men, and less in women. She 
 knew the world, she thought, and the hearts of 
 those who live in it ; but she measured these 
 hearts by her own narrow gauge. It was but 
 natural that she should suppose that "Walter 
 Vyner had come to court Nora for her wealth, 
 for she spent a good deal of time in courting 
 Nora herself. There are feelings and motives 
 that Lady Stainbrooke did not understand, 
 and therefore she did not believe in them. 
 She understood, however — as we have seen — 
 the power of money ; and she esteemed it 
 above all earthly, or, alas, heavenly things ! 
 
 But Vyner was not afraid of Lady Stain- 
 brooke's sharp tongue. He stood there looking 
 at his old friend, and he was not thinking of 
 her as a wealthy widow, but as the bright girl he 
 had loved long years ago. The shadow of these 
 years — which at one time had changed Nora's 
 face so much — at this moment seemed quite 
 passed away. She, also, was thinking of her 
 maiden days, and of the lover to whom she 
 had given her young heart. And this lover 
 was before her now. No chill poverty to part 
 them now — nothing to part them — thought
 
 S6 CEGESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 Nora Trelawn, as slie smiled softly, and looked 
 on Vyner's face. 
 
 But presently Vyner gave a short, impatient 
 sigli, a jerk almost of the grandly- shaped head. 
 A memory had flitted across his mind. A woman 
 good, true, and handsome — handsome, and yet 
 without the nameless charm which makes true 
 Leauty — had risen before his mental vision, and 
 stood there cold and shadow-like before Nora. 
 To this woman he was bound in honour he 
 remembered, and so he averted his eyes from 
 the sweet attractive face of his first, nay bis 
 only love. 
 
 Nora noticed his change of expression, but 
 she never thought of any other woman in the way 
 
 " Is this good ? " she said, smiling and 
 pointing to a costly vase which she had 
 recently purchased. '' I am never quite sure, 
 you know, IMr. A^yner, whether my taste is good 
 or bad." 
 
 Again Vyner thought of Margaret Blythe as 
 Nora said these simple words. Margaret was 
 quite sure about her taste. She thought she 
 had the best taste in the world, and was fond 
 of announcing this, and giving very decided 
 advice upon all occasions.
 
 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 8/ 
 
 " A little girl I once knew," said Vyner, witli 
 an involuntary ring of tenderness in bis voice, 
 " used to have a very pretty taste of her own, 
 if I remember right, in the way of dresses and 
 bonnets, etc., and that is, I think, the best 
 criterion of a woman's taste. I hate an 
 ill-dressed woman 1 " 
 
 " Quite right, llv. Vyner," said old Lady 
 Stainbrooke, blinking behind her glasses ; " a 
 well-dressed woman always looks vrell — but 
 ah ! — ah, it costs money," and she sighed, and 
 moved her lean, wrinkled hands, for she was 
 very avaricious, and hated to open her purse- 
 f^trino-s even for her owa adornment. 
 
 o 
 
 iVt this moment an exceedingly well-dressed 
 woman was ushered into Nora's drawing-room. 
 This was her next-door neighbour. Lady 
 Seaforth, who, in the interest of her son, was 
 now very attentive to Nora. 
 
 But she forwarded this interest so gracefully,. 
 and with such well-bred ease, that Nora could 
 not help liking her. Lady Seaforth was a 
 handsome woman, with all the advantages of 
 high caste to add to her attractions. The dust 
 of the earth came not near her, and the stock 
 from which she sprang for generations had been
 
 88 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 
 
 unmarrecl by labour. She was a haughty 
 woman, but she wanted money, and so she 
 bowed her proud head and went to Nora's. 
 Nora personally she rather liked, but Lady 
 Stainbrooke was an eyesore and an obstruction, 
 the patrician dame decided, whenever she 
 contemplated Nora's marriage with her son. 
 
 She sometimes affected — still in her patrician 
 way — the society of people of talent. They 
 were gifted, she thought, and so they ought 
 to be cultivated. But in her heart she looked 
 down upon the giants towering above their 
 fellows, unless blue blood ran through their 
 veins. Her grace and culture of manner, 
 however, prevented this being visible. 
 
 "I am pleased to make Mr. Vyner's 
 acquaintance," she said, when Nora had 
 presented the painter to her. '' I have long 
 known and admired his work." 
 
 Vyner bowed, and took the compliment very 
 •quietly. He was past the stage when praise is 
 so sweet, and recognition dearer than the 
 breath of life. He had his pride too, but not 
 the pride of birth, yet of his birthright. He had 
 not been born with a great name, but with the 
 genius to make one. He was greater than
 
 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 89' 
 
 Alice Elizabeth, Yiscountess Seaforth, whatever 
 her ladyship might think. Alice Elizabeth,. 
 Viscountess Seaforth, would die and be buried, 
 and have her title carved on her gravestone, 
 and there would be an end of her ; but Vyner's 
 hand had carved a name that would not die,, 
 and done work that would live as long as his 
 canvass huns^ too;ether. 
 
 So he did not bow very humbly to my lady. 
 But my lady was very gracious. 
 
 Mr. Vyner must dine with her some day 
 soon, she said ; and again Vyner bowed, and 
 wondered if he would meet his old friend, his 
 dark-eyed Nora, at Lady Seaforth's. 
 
 Then he went awav, and the imao-e of his 
 dark- eyed Nora went with him. 
 
 " She is my Eve," he said, pacing backwards 
 and forwards in his studio, with his long strides,. 
 as the daylight faded. '' God made her for me 
 just as He made the first woman for the first man. 
 She is part of me, and yet we are separated — 
 ay, I know it well — by a promise I cannot break." 
 
 Yet that night he commenced a picture — it 
 was his Eve as she stood in the Warbrooke 
 meadows Ions; ago, in her brio^ht maidenhood,, 
 before the shadows had fallen upon her face.
 
 CHAPTEK YIIL 
 
 HIS EVE. 
 
 The man loved liis work, and it throve and 
 prospered under liis hand. 
 
 " This promises to be a fine picture," said his 
 betrothed, Margaret Blythe, to the painter one 
 day, when she hod unexpectedly visited his 
 studio, pausing before an unfinished sketch of 
 a dark-eyed woman. " AYhat do you mean to 
 call it ? " 
 
 "I call it *My Eve,'" answered Vyner, 
 gravely regarding his own work. 
 
 " ' My Eve ! ' " repeated Margaret. " What 
 An extraordinary name — I am sure I could 
 think of a much better one." 
 ' " Not for this picture," said Vyner. 
 
 " Yes, I am sure I could," replied Margaret, 
 for she believed that no one could do anything 
 so well as herself. "Fancy a dark Eve — of 
 course, Eve was fair."
 
 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 91 
 
 " Why ? " asked Vyner, smiling. '^ Besides, 
 this may not be intended for the lady who 
 brought such trouble and toil upon us all." 
 And Vyner gave rather a weary sigh. 
 
 '' "We make our own troubles very often," 
 said Margaret. 
 
 " I dare say," said Vyner, indifferently, for 
 he was not thinking of Margaret, nor of her 
 correct and proj^er ways. 
 
 Margaret thought herself a paragon among 
 women, and indeed she might be one, but it is 
 sometimes a little wearisome to live with a self- 
 conscious paragon. She had the most firm and 
 simple faith in her own perfections. Peccavi 
 was never heard on her lips. But she loved 
 Vyner, and believed in him, though not as she 
 believed in herself. He had genius, she thought, 
 but she also had genius, only her devotion to 
 her home duties prevented her gifts being 
 recognised by the world. 
 
 Not the woman to touch Vyner's heart this I 
 
 There was a rugged honesty, truth aud 
 humility about this man ; though he, too, be- 
 lieved in his own genius, counting it a gift from 
 ^God. But he knew also of the dust stains — - 
 the follies, the passions, the meannesses — which
 
 92 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 clung to and befouled his heart, as they cling 
 to and befoul the hearts of nearlv all the errinsc 
 children of men. 
 
 Yet he tried to do ri2:ht and vralk straio-ht, 
 and Margaret Blythe was satisfied with her 
 choice, and believed that Yyner was devoted 
 to her. She knew nothing about his Eve, but 
 if she had known it would scarcely have dis- 
 turbed her equanimity. x\ll men commit some 
 folly or other, i\Iargaret Blythe thought, but 
 no '' folly/' she was sure, would change his 
 regard for the best and purest of women — 
 namely, for Margaret Blythe. 
 
 Yet as Margaret Blythe stood before the 
 picture of his Eve, he never before had fully 
 realised the bitterness of his bondage. Mar- 
 garet — the woman whom he was engaged to 
 marry, and yon sweet dark-eyed one, smiling 
 from his canvass ! Margaret, tall and slim, a 
 little angular about the shoulders, perhaps, but 
 handsome withal, and a model of all the virtues 
 personified ! 
 
 And his Nora — his Eve — not beautiful, but 
 lovable, and pleasant to the eyes, and tender 
 and gentle to every living thing. The dumb 
 brutes crept to her protecting side, trusting her
 
 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 93 
 
 with their God-given instinct, following her 
 with their mute and wistful eyes. 
 
 The painter recalled at this moment — his 
 living Margaret standing opposite to his 
 pictured Eve — when he had met Nora before 
 her husband's death, with the look of life- 
 weariness too plainly printed on her face. He 
 remembered the brief explanation which had 
 then passed between them — the words that 
 told the long, dull history of years. 
 
 " So," he had said, looking at John Trelawn's 
 wife, " that old woman spoilt two lives then ? " 
 
 " She spoilt mine," Nora had answered in a 
 low tone ; " but we must not speak of it now." 
 
 ''And not even now" thought Vyner bitterly, 
 looking at his Margaret, and turning his eyes 
 away from his pictured Eve ! 
 
 '' Walter, will you come in this evening ? " 
 said his Margaret, addressing him in her 
 measured tones. 
 
 " Not this evening, Margaret," answered 
 Vyner. " I am going to dine with Lady 
 Seaforth." 
 
 '' With Lady Seaforth ? " repeated Margaret, 
 surprised. '' Do you know her then, Walter ? 
 She is the mother, I suppose, of young Lord
 
 94 CRCESUS S WIDOW. 
 
 Seaforth — tlie young man who forgot himself 
 so far, and forgot what was due to us so far, as 
 to come to our house without telling us his real 
 name i 
 
 " Yes, she is his mother," said Vyner. '' I 
 met her the other day, and she asked me to 
 dine with her this evening, and I accepted her 
 invitation." 
 
 ** I am glad that you did, for I hope she will 
 call upon us when we are married." 
 
 Vyner shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ** She will have cut me most likely by that 
 time," he said. " These great ladies take one- 
 up and drop one down just for a caprice,. 
 Margaret. Don't marry me, please, for the 
 sake of visiting Lady Scaforth ! " 
 
 ** How foolish you are, AValter ! No ; but 
 really I wish you to cultivate good people — 
 people of position are so much more agreeable 
 than people without any." 
 
 *' Precisely," said Vyner; "and so for this 
 laudable reason I am going to sacrifice myself,, 
 and dine with her ladyship, instead of smoking 
 my pipe at home at my ease." 
 
 "I hope you will give up smoking when 
 ^^ou are married, Walter."
 
 CR(ESUSS WIDOW. 95 
 
 ''Don't hope so then, Margaret; fori fear if 
 you do it will end in disappointment — like 
 visiting Lady Seaforth." 
 
 " I wonder if the young lord will say any- 
 thing about us to-night ? " continued Margaret. 
 ^'He has never been to call lately — I can't 
 quite find out — but I sometimes think that 
 foolish child Nellie liked him ? " 
 
 '' I hope not," said Vyner, gravely. '' I like 
 little Nell, and would be sorry if any trouble 
 came to her; and even among fast men, 
 Margaret, Seaforth bears a bad reputation." 
 
 " I thought so," said Margaret, triumphantly. 
 " Oh, I am never deceived ; I was sure he was 
 a bad man." 
 
 '' Perhaps it is hard to call him so — he may 
 but have been tempted beyond his strength. 
 Which of us indeed has a right to fling the first 
 or even the second stone, Margaret ? " 
 
 '' I do not agree with you, "Walter. There 
 are some, I hope, who live lives quite free of 
 reproach. Since my earliest childhood, for 
 instance, I have been devoted to my father 
 and young sister — not that there is any great 
 difi'erence of age between Nellie and myself, 
 but then my mind is more advanced than hers —
 
 96 CRGESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 she is more cliilclish ; and as we were motlierlesSy 
 I felt it my duty to act as tliougli I were very 
 mucti older, and take entire charge of her." 
 
 There were ten years between the ages of the 
 sisters, but these ten years were never alluded 
 to at home. Margaret might be a paragon 
 among women, but it was understood in the 
 Blythe family that even paragons have their 
 weaknesses, and that her age was Margaret 
 Blythe's. Yyner, who thought that all women 
 and all men have their weaknesses, only laughed 
 in reply to Margaret's sj)eech. 
 
 " Come, young lady," he said, ''if I am to 
 have the honour of escorting you home, we 
 had better be starting ; for I must have time^ 
 you know, to wash the paint off before I a]3pear 
 at my Lady Seaforth's." 
 
 The painter walked home with his betrothed, 
 and then returned to his rooms to dress. Ha 
 had a feeling in his heart somehow that he was 
 cfoins: to meet Nora Trelawn. And as his cab 
 stopped at Lady Seaforth's door, one of Nora's 
 footmen was just opening her door, and Nora her- 
 self, in soft black garments, came out, and stepped 
 from her own portico to Lady Seaforth's, tha 
 "big footman walking behind to carry her cloak.
 
 Croesus's widow. 97 
 
 She, of course, saw Yyner, and she blushed, 
 and then looked the next moment brightly 
 and gaily into his face. But her blush 
 faded when she noticed the graA^e courtesy of 
 his manner. 
 
 ^'We are to have the pleasure of dining 
 too^ether, then ? '^ he said. 
 
 "Yes," answered Nora ; and so together they 
 entered the house, and were ushered into Lady 
 Seaforth's drawing-room. 
 
 Lady Seaforth received them in the stately, 
 gracious way which was natural to her. She 
 was a woman who never allo\ved her feelinsrsto 
 
 o 
 
 influence her manner in society. She had been 
 exceedingly annoyed just half-an-hour before 
 Yyner and Nora appeared in her drawing-room, 
 but now her smooth brow seemed quite 
 unruffled. 
 
 The cause of her annoyance had been the 
 beloved son. The beloved son had promised 
 to dine with her ; had promised to do his best 
 to make himself agreeable to Croesus's widow, 
 and at the last moment had disappointed her. 
 This had happened in a manner that seemed 
 quite unaccountable to Lady Seaforth. 
 
 "Mr. Yyner, the painter, is going to dine 
 
 TOL. I. E
 
 08 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 lierc as well," she said to lier son, and Lord 
 Seaforth, who was actually leaving the room 
 for tlie purpose of dressing for diuner, made a 
 sudden pause. 
 
 *' Vyner, the painter, mother ! What on 
 earth induced you to ask him ? " he said, 
 turning round and looking at Lady Seaforth. 
 
 " I met him at Mrs. Trelawn's," answered 
 his mother. " He is clever and presentable ; 
 why should I not ask him, Seaforth ? " 
 
 Lord Seaforth made no answer. He stood 
 tliere looking at his mother for a moment or 
 two as if he were undecided about something, 
 and then he looked at his watch. 
 
 " Mother," he said, " I am very sorry, but I 
 have forgotten something — I remember, now, I 
 can't dine here to-day ; can't avail myself of the 
 chance of making love to Croesus's fair or rather 
 dark widow — I have an engagement I can't get 
 off." 
 
 Lady Seaforth w\as seriously annoyed, nay 
 angry, with her son. 
 
 " What reason have you for making this 
 excuse ? " she said. 
 
 *'My unfortunate memory," answered Lord 
 Seaforth, in his careless, mocking w\ay. ''I am
 
 Croesus's widow. 99 
 
 truly sorry — pray give my best regards to 
 Madam Croesus." 
 
 "How can you act thus — liow can you speak 
 thus — when you know the bitter necessity for 
 this step ? " said Lady Seaforth. 
 
 Her son shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " I will see her some other day," he said, 
 " but I must go now. Good-bye, mother ! I 
 hope your painter will make himself very 
 agreeable." And the next moment Lord 
 Seaforth was gone. 
 
 Lady Seaforth felt very angry. She had hoped 
 — she had schemed — for her son's marriao-e 
 w^ith Mrs. Trelawn, and here the reckless young 
 man was throwing his best chances away. 
 And for what motive ? Could he have any 
 reason for not wishing to meet Mr. Vyner ? 
 thought Lady Seaforth, as she extended her 
 hand and smiled a welcome to the painter. 
 
 Sitting at the head of her well-ap^^ointed 
 table, she was still thinking of her son. Care- 
 burdened was this proud lady with the heaviest 
 of cares, but her culture made her perfectly 
 able to conceal this. Onl}' once she alluded to 
 Seaforth. 
 
 *' I am so sorry," she said, addressing Vyner,
 
 100 CRCESrSS WIDOW. 
 
 *' that my son is not able to meet you to-day ; 
 but he is on duty with his regiment. You 
 know him, do you not ? " 
 
 " I know Lord Seaforth very slightly," 
 answered Yyner, with a certain reserve of tone 
 and manner that both Lady Seaforth and Nora 
 noticed. 
 
 *' He knows something about him," thought 
 Lady Seaforth. " Can he have heard any 
 foolish report about me and tliis wild young 
 lord ? " thought Nora softly ; and both ladies 
 glanced at the painter's f^ice, who was standing 
 with his eyes cast down. 
 
 But Lord Seaforth's name was never again 
 mentioned during the evening. The graceful, 
 well-bred hostess exerted herself to charm, and 
 Yyner's presence made Nora look so much like 
 the Nora of old that both Lady Seaforth and 
 the painter regarded her with involuntary 
 admiration. 
 
 " When she is looking so handsome, and 
 Seaforth not to see her ! " inwardly sighed 
 Lady Seaforth. 
 
 " She is the sweetest woman upon earth," 
 thought the painter, also with a sigh ; and 
 when Nora rose to leave, he asked permission
 
 Croesus's widow. 101 
 
 to escort lier next door to lier own liouse, 
 
 Nora smiled lier answer. She put lier little 
 black-gloved hand timidly on the painter's arm 
 xis they left Lady Seaforth's portico together, 
 and her touch for the moment made Vyner 
 foro;et his betrothed. 
 
 " It is a fine night/' he said. " Let us walk 
 round the Square together, as we used to walk 
 lono; ao;o." 
 
 " But — but we were in the country then," 
 iinswered Nora, smiling, and glancing up softly 
 -at the painter. 
 
 '* Let us imagine we are in the country now, 
 then," said Vyner. " Let us be free for five 
 minutes from all the conventionalities — ah, 
 Nora — pardon me, I should say Mrs. Trelawn — 
 why is the world so full of regulation codes and 
 rules?" 
 
 Nora laughed — almost a merry laugh. 
 
 " I think, if I remember rightly," she said, 
 "" a certain Mr. Vyner in former days was not 
 greatly given to follow either regulations, codes, 
 or rules ; but, perhaps he is changed now." 
 
 " No, he is not changed — not clmuged in 
 •everything, at least " 
 
 His voice trembled a little as he said the last
 
 102 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 few words, for lie was thiDking lie was not 
 changed to her, and the man's thought seemed 
 to vibrate through the woman's heart. 
 
 " It seems but yesterday," went on Yyneiv 
 " but yesterday, Nora, when we used to meet 
 at Warbrooke. But it is a long yesterday,*^ 
 he added, with a sudden change of voice and 
 manner — the memory of Margaret Blythe had 
 tapped him on the shoulder — " and many 
 things have happened since then." 
 
 *' Yes, many things," said Nora ; '' but one 
 thing has not changed — we — we are friends- 
 still." 
 
 For a moment or two Yyner did not speak. 
 Words of love and tenderness were rising 
 unbidden to his lips. But he put the curb on, 
 and tried to think of Margaret, though his- 
 tremblinof hand stole out and souoiit for 
 Nora's. 
 
 *' We — we will not change," faltered Nora. 
 
 " There are linked souls, I think," said 
 Yyner, the passionate ring in his voice^ 
 betraying his heart ; '' and, go where we will,. 
 do what we will, these invisible chains will not 
 break. But — but what folly I am talking," he 
 added. " What will you think of me, Mrs.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 103 
 
 Trelawn— a middle-aged man — talking senti- 
 mental trash like a boy ? But you must forgive 
 me — the old memories are to blame — the old, 
 old days " 
 
 " They were happy days," said Nora, 
 tremulously. 
 
 " Yes/' answered Yyner, abruptly, " too 
 happy — but we must not talk of them." 
 
 Nora felt hurt by the painter's words. She 
 looked up in his face when they were standing 
 a few minutes later at her own door, and was 
 struck with his expression. He was biting Im 
 lips, and there was a frown on his brow, and 
 Nora sighed uneasily as she entered the grand 
 home which John Trelawn's love and wealth 
 had made her own.
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 Nellie's lovees. 
 
 There is no doubt that it is a pleasant tliiug- 
 to be self-satisfied. The man who has a good 
 opinion of himself goes through the world 
 looking blandly in a becoming mirror. A cer- 
 tain young Mr. James Saunders, who lived in 
 the same street as the Blythes, was one of 
 those happy personages. In mentally contem- 
 plating himself, he saw only his good qualities. 
 He enumerated them thus : — "I am young, I 
 am good-loolving, I am well off — any girl would 
 Lave me." 
 
 It will be seen by this that, among his other 
 attractions, he was a bachelor. His father — 
 Mr. James Saunders also — had been (what he 
 termed) a medical practitioner, and he had con- 
 tinued a medical practitioner until he finally 
 retired from all earthly avocations. A safe
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 105 
 
 TQan this olcl-fasliioned doctor had been con- 
 sidered bv all the matrons in his neiodibouiiiood, 
 and to be considered a safe man pays. At all 
 events, his reputation had paid Mr. James 
 Saunders. He died in the goodly position of 
 having a large balance at his bankers, landlord 
 of many houses, and owner of sundry railway 
 shares and other properties, which brought him 
 in an excellent income ; and left this wealth 
 firstly to his wife, and then to his only son. 
 
 Young; James Saunders was sixteen when his 
 father died, and for the next seven or eight 
 years his mother did her best to make him 
 unendurable. That is, she (morally) knelt 
 down and worshipped him, and made a fool of 
 him, until the lad fancied himself to be a 
 totally different person to what he was. 
 
 He really was an ordinary-looking young 
 fellow, with a pert expression and a pert tongue. 
 He fancied himself to be witty, good-looking, 
 and irresistible. The women (to use his own 
 phraseology) had something to do with the 
 latter delusion. Mr. James Saunders was heir 
 to, and virtually in possession of twenty 
 thousand pounds, and among the ladies with 
 whom he associated this sum was magnified
 
 106 CR(ESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 into double the amount, and no doubt cast a 
 balo round Mr. James's common, somewhat 
 comic face. At some fancy ball he appeared 
 as " Puck," and among his facetious young 
 friends he was generally termed " Puck," being 
 pleased to be considered a " shrewTl and 
 knavish sprite ;" and he was also considered 
 very good-natured. 
 
 He was good-natured, if good-nature means 
 paying for any amount of brandy-and-soda's, 
 and for gloves and other small luxuries. But 
 he knew where to stop. Stories about him — • 
 stories not pleasant to hear or to write about — 
 reached his adoring mother's ears, and the poor 
 woman was so shocked that she retired to bed,. 
 and lay there weeping in bitter distress. Then 
 James promised to reform. He would be called 
 *' Puck " no longer ; he would give up dubious 
 acquaintances, and he would marry some lucky 
 girl, and make her a good husband. 
 
 It was at this period of his life that the re- 
 forming "Puck" enumerated his advantages, 
 and decided that no girl would refuse him. 
 
 '* And I'll have the j^rettiest girl about here," 
 he told his mother. " I'll have Nellie Blythe."* 
 
 Mrs. Saunders made no objection to his
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 107 
 
 choice. The Blythes were respectable people ; 
 Miss Blythe was an exemplary young woman, 
 and Nellie was a very pretty girl, against whom 
 JMrs. Saunders had never heard a word. 
 
 "Your dear father," she told James, "at- 
 tended the Major when he first settled here, 
 and always spoke of him with respect. Miss 
 Blj^the, too, is an excellent girl, and has been 
 just like a mother to Nellie — and I am sure, 
 my darling, I hope you will be happy ! " And 
 the fond mother clasped her son in her stout 
 -arms, and left a tear on his somewhat motley 
 •cheek. 
 
 She also never doubted that Nellie Blythe 
 would be but too glad to marry her son. 
 
 " I'll write a note and ask them to dine with 
 us in a friendly way on Thursday," she sug- 
 gested to James, bent upon forwarding his 
 matrimonial intentions ; " and you can take the 
 note yourself, my dear, and say how pleased we 
 shall be to see them all, and tell them I'll take 
 no refusal from the Major." 
 
 She was a very homely woman this, and had 
 been a good wife to the late old-fashioned 
 •doctor, and lived in the heart of London pretty 
 jnuch as she had done in the country towa
 
 108 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 from whicli tlie doctor had brought her. It 
 liad been a surprise to her to find herself left 
 so well off when the doctor died, but the money 
 did not console her for the loss of her husband.. 
 
 "I have nothing now but James," she sighed,. 
 amid her tears, after they had carried away 
 her dead ; and as years passed on " James "" 
 continued to be the sole delight and pleasure 
 of her life. 
 
 James was fond of the "old lady" (as« 
 he called her) in his way. She was " a decent 
 old woman," he sometimes told his companions ; 
 and as we have seen, he promised to amend his- 
 lifa when he saw that he was giving real pain 
 to his mother. 
 
 The idea of his marriage, therefore, was de- 
 lightful to Mrs. Saunders, and she absolutely 
 shed tears of joy after James had started on his- 
 proposed visit to Major Blythe's family. 
 
 Let us now follow James — James in a pink 
 necktie and lavender gloves — decorated for the 
 occasion to the best of his taste and ability. 
 His round eyes looked a little rounder than 
 usual when he rang at the Major's door, for 
 though he was quite at his ease with some sort 
 of women, he — in spite of his self-satisfaction
 
 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 109 
 
 — felt a little shy at the prospect before him. 
 
 *'But they'll jump at me," he reflected, screw- 
 ing up his courage ; and so he rang the Major's 
 bell, prepared to be jumped at. 
 
 His summons was answered by the one 
 maid-servant, Hatton, who of course knew 
 James Saunders by sight, as Mrs. Saunders's 
 house was close to the Blythes. 
 
 *' Ladies at home ? " asked James, jauntily. 
 
 Oblique-eyed Hatton put her hand contem- 
 platively on her hip before she replied. 
 
 " They told me to say they're out," she said. 
 
 James hesitated a moment, and then slipped 
 half-a-crown into Hatton's long, lean fiugers. 
 
 '' Tell them I've called," he said. " I've a 
 message from my mother." And Hatton, 
 being unable to resist the half-crown, James 
 was ushered in on the two sisters. 
 
 Marojaret was sittinsj before her easel, dressed 
 in a plain dress, but looking a picture of neat- 
 ness ; Nellie was sitting on the floor, her fair, 
 bright hair ruffled, engaged in forcibly washing 
 the collar of white fur round Wallace's neck, 
 decidedly against the old dog's desire. 
 
 Margaret rose gracefully as James entered 
 the room, and held out her hand to welcome
 
 110 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 liim, though she darted a sharp look of anger 
 at Hatton, who received it unmoved, inwardly- 
 fortified by the half-crown. 
 
 '^ Yon must excuse my sister, Mr. Saunders," 
 said Margaret, glancing at Nellie, who had 
 jumped up, and was laughing, "but you see 
 she is washino; our doo; — he is such an old 
 favourite — especially of my father's." 
 
 Margaret always threw the best and most 
 attractive light that she could upon everything. 
 Yet she lacked the subtle gift which is usually 
 called tact. Her discernment was not acute 
 enough to possess this, and her intense egotism 
 displayed the want. Tact would have taught 
 her that nothing is so tiresome and oflfensive to 
 others as a self-adoring attitude, and this 
 Margaret habitually took. But as far as her wit 
 went, she put the most attractive and correct 
 colour upon all her own actions and those 
 of every one connected with her. 
 
 She was annoyed that Nellie should have 
 been caught washing the dog, but she need not 
 have been. James, indeed, was fond of dogs, 
 and had a bull-dog of his own, with a self- 
 important strut like his master's. 
 
 " Very kind of Miss Nellie," he said, looking
 
 CKCESUS'S WIDOW. Ill 
 
 admiringly at Nellie standing tliere smiling, 
 fresh and fair. '* I like girls who like dogs ; it 
 shows some sort of — ah — you know what I 
 mean." 
 
 " Sensibility/' said Margaret, with her formal 
 smile, as poor James paused for lack of ideas. 
 
 *' Yes, kind heart, and that sort of thing. 
 But, — ah ! — Miss Blythe, I've called with a 
 message from my mother. Hopes you'll all 
 dine with us on Thursday. Won't excuse the 
 Major. Mother said she would take no excuse." 
 
 " It is very kind of Mrs. Saunders," said 
 Margaret. "I will ask my father." Margaret 
 left the room for this purpose, and James was 
 alone with the lady whom he proposed to 
 honour with his hand. 
 
 Poor young man ! This forward, pert youth, 
 suddenly found that he had not a word to say. 
 Nellie (who regarded him as " little Puck," this 
 cognomen being well-known in the neighbour- 
 hood) was, however, quite at her ease. She 
 considered for a moment what she should say 
 to him, and then said, smilingly — 
 
 '^ Have you been at any balls lately, Mr. 
 Saunders ? " 
 
 "One or two," answered James, trying to
 
 112 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 seem at ease ; " but don't care for 'em- — 
 ordinary lot, I mean. Fancy balls are splendid, 
 Miss Nellie. Once went to one dressed as 
 ' Puck' — fairy fellow, you know, out of Shak- 
 speare — glorious get up — all the fellows said 
 suited me — fond of fun, you know, and that 
 kind of thing." 
 
 ''Yes," said Nellie, wickedly, 'Tve heard 
 you are fond of fun." 
 
 "Puck" blushed all over his motley skin. 
 
 . " Mean to turn over a new leaf. Miss Nellie,' 
 
 he jerked out. " All very fine when one's just 
 
 out, you know, as you girls say ; but when a 
 
 fellow gets on a bit — well, it's time to pull up." 
 
 " Yes," said Nelly, very much amused. 
 
 "Mother doesn't like it, you know," continued 
 " Puck," confidentially ; " and she's a good old 
 woman that ; and a fellow doesn't care to vex 
 her. Mean to settle down now, and become a 
 respectable jog-trot. Wild days are over. Miss 
 Nellie." 
 
 " Then we must not call you 'Puck' any 
 more ? " said Nellie, with a little laugh. 
 
 " You may call me anything," said " Puck," 
 tenderly ; " anything nice, of course. I mean 
 — anything — "
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 113 
 
 At this moment the room door opened, and 
 Margaret Blythe entered, and " Puck's " speech 
 was interrupted. 
 
 " My father desires me to give his compli- 
 ments to ]\Irs. Saunders," said Margaret, " and 
 he and I shall be very happy to dine with her 
 on Thursday, but you must kindly excuse 
 Nellie." 
 
 " Can't, Miss Blythe ; can't, indeed ! " said 
 James, energetically. '' Miss Nellie must come 
 — particularly want Miss Nellie." 
 
 " Very kind of you," said Nellie, '' but I 
 never' go out to dinner." 
 
 '* Oh, but do come," urged James. " Mother 
 would be awfully sorry if you didn't — it would 
 be so jolly to have you — must come, Miss 
 NelHe.'' 
 
 " No, thank you," said Nellie, whose 
 thoughts had wandered away from " Puck " — 
 had wandered to Murray, Lord Seaforth, and 
 was wondering if she could manage to meet him 
 while Margaret and her father were dining with 
 Mrs. Saunders. 
 
 Therefore, poor James urged his invitation 
 in vain. Nellie was quite firm ; and, much 
 CTQSt fallen, James at last took his departure.
 
 114 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 and returned to his motlier s house in a very- 
 uncomfortable condition of mind. 
 
 That fond parent, however, did her best ta 
 console him. 
 
 " Girls of Nellie's age," she told him^ 
 " seldom go out to dine — and you know, my 
 darling," she added, '' she did not know your 
 intentions." 
 
 " No," said James, brightening, " of course 
 she didn't ! If she'd known I meant husinesSy 
 I bet you anythiug she'd come." 
 
 '' And you ideally do mean something serious, 
 James ? " asked Mrs. Saunders, looking lovingly 
 at her son. 
 
 " I do," said James, solemnly. ^^ It's a 
 sacrifice, I know — a fellow has to give up a lot 
 of things when he marries — and women are 
 bothers with their great boxes to drag after one 
 on every occasion — still " — and " Puck " sighed 
 — " if one has to do it once in one's life, I 
 want Nellie Blythe. She's awfully pretty, and 
 awfully jolly, and though Margaret's a poser, 
 and the old Major a bit of a bore, still I'll da 
 it — you may tell her to-morrow, mother, that 
 I'll do it, if you like ; and I mean what I say."" 
 
 Armed with this manlv resolution on the
 
 ^11 Croesus's widow. 115 
 
 part of James, Mrs. Saunders actually did 
 call the next day at the Blythes', and had an 
 interview with Margaret. 
 
 Margaret could not understand what she was 
 aiming at when she kept urging Nellie to dine 
 with them. 
 
 " You see, my dear," she said, " I am most 
 4inxious James should settle. A better boy 
 does not live — he's sweet-tempered like his 
 dear father, and straightforward and full of 
 pleasantry — but there it is — he's too high- 
 spirited, in fact, and wants a wife to sober him 
 down a bit — and I'm sure you'll persuade Miss 
 Nellie to come on Thursday." 
 
 ''I really do not know what to say, Mrs. 
 launders," said Margaret. '' It's really very 
 kind of you, but " 
 
 " James will be well off, too," continued the 
 anxious mother; ^^ very well off. His dear 
 father left over twenty thousand, and, of 
 €ourse, it's all James's ; and this last year my 
 poor brother has gone to a better land, too, and 
 I've come in for seven hundred a-year more, 
 and I've made my will, and James has every 
 penny of it ! " 
 
 "He is a very fortunate young man," answered
 
 1 1 n 
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 Margaret, very gravely, for slie now thouglit 
 she began to perceive the drift of Mrs. 
 Saunders's words. 
 
 "And liis wife will be a fortunate 
 young woman, I hope," said Mrs. Saunders,, 
 with rather a forced little laugh. " In fact, 
 my dear, I may as well tell you what I'm 
 driving at — James has taken a fancy to Miss 
 Nellie, and I'll be delighted to have it settled ; 
 and so I hope you'll all come to dine on 
 Thursday, and we can talk it over." 
 
 Margaret hesitated for a moment. She was- 
 considering the advantages of this proposal, 
 and in her eyes they were great. The Blythes^ 
 were in truth very poor — so poor that James. 
 Saunders's prospects seemed actually wealth. 
 He was good-natured and he was young, 
 thoug^ht Maro'aret, and both these latter 
 qualities would suit Nellie. 
 
 " It is most kind and flattering of you, Mrs. 
 Saunders," began Margaret. " Of course I can 
 say nothing — but " 
 
 '' You're so much older than Miss Nellie that 
 naturally your advice will have great influence 
 on her," continued Mrs. Saunders ; but our para- 
 gon's brow clouded at this allusion to her age.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 117 
 
 'Tm not so miicli older, Mrs. Saunders,"' 
 she said. 
 
 '' Oh, no, my dear, I know you aie quite 
 young," quickly replied kindly Mrs. Saunders, 
 vexed with herself for having made sucli a 
 mistake, *' but what I mean is, you're so clever 
 and all that ; your sister is sure to think a 
 great deal of your opinion." 
 
 '' I have always tried to do my duty, Mrs. 
 Saunders," said IMargaret, with conscious merit. 
 
 " You always have done it, you mean, my 
 dear. My poor man, Y»'ho is gone now, always^ 
 admired you. He used to say there were few 
 like Miss jMargaret, and I feel sure if he were 
 alive to do it, he'd give James, and Miss Nellie 
 too, his blessing if they make a match of it." 
 
 " Then am I authorised to speak to ni}' sister 
 on this subject ? " 
 
 *' Of course, dear. James said he meant it.. 
 And, now I think of it, they're not unlike. 
 Both have such pretty round little features — 
 not quite regular, perhaps — but so full of ex- 
 pression and fun. I call Miss Nellie's a sweet 
 face, and so I am sure is my James's." 
 
 Oh, fair Nellie Blythe ! fair Nellie Blythe 1 
 She was not a vain girl this — glorying very
 
 118 CRCESUSS WIDOW, 
 
 little in her gifts of youtli and beauty — but to 
 be called like " little Puck ! " Well was it for 
 Mrs. Saunders's matrimonial project that she 
 ■did not hear the comparison. As it was, Mrs. 
 Saunders returned to her James full of com- 
 placency. 
 
 "It's as good as settled, I consider, my 
 darling," she said to Puck ; and Puck's heart 
 sank a little at the news. 
 
 " It's like takim? a header in the sea on a 
 March morning," he said, with an attempt at 
 facetiousness. But, all the same, he did not feel 
 very comfortable. Matrimony at a distance, 
 and matrimony so near, seemed very different 
 things to little Puck. 
 
 In the meantime the girl, whom he was 
 making so sure of marrying, was planning a 
 meeting with the man to whom she had given 
 her foolish, innocent heart. Nellie" was not in 
 the least like a London girl. She was too poor, 
 and had lived too much out of the world, to 
 know anything about it. Ambition troubled 
 her not ; and as for society, she knew little or 
 nothing of it. The Major's income was too 
 small to afford ball dresses, even if Nellie had 
 had any balls to go to. She had never been at
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 119 
 
 school — Margaret being quite able to educate 
 her young sister— so she had no girl companions 
 of her own age. Margaret's friends were chiefly 
 art students or governesses, and the Major's 
 his ancient companions-in-arms, whom Nellie 
 naturally regarded as old men. As for young 
 men, she scarcely knew any. Little Puck, a 
 medical student or two, sons of their immediate 
 neighbours, were all the acquaintances Nellie- 
 could count until she met Lord Seaforth. 
 
 Here was a young man whom the instructed 
 daughters of his class probably merely regarded 
 as good-looking, cynical, and fast. But the 
 uninstructed Nellie — comparing him wdth little 
 Puck and the medical students — saw a man 
 high-bred and graceful, and worthy of all her 
 foolish, innocent love. 
 
 And Lord Seaforth. Never had this young 
 lord paused in his career of pleasure from 
 motives of prudence. He had paused from 
 weariness ; and, looking sadly and sourly back 
 over the past few years of liis life, he freely 
 admitted to himself and others that at the best 
 he had but played the fooL 
 
 But was he wdser now ? A fresh and bloom- 
 ing face had struck his fancy : and thoughtless.
 
 120 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 and reckless as ever, lie wanted tliis fresli and 
 blooming face for liis own. Nellie was so 
 sweet and fair, a young man might well be 
 forgiven for committing some folly for her sake ; 
 but Lord Seaforth knew all the while he went 
 to meet Nellie Blythe that the folly of marrying 
 her was an im230ssible one for him. 
 
 Yet still he went to meet her. It was the 
 •old symbol of the moth and the flame. Sweet 
 Nellie Blythe was a very innocent flame, but 
 no less surely the luring light might prove 
 fatal in the end. But of this the young lord 
 never thought. He thought of the lovely 
 -colour that bloomed and deepened through 
 Nellie's smooth round cheeks, and he thought 
 it was pleasant that this young creature should 
 love him. In her pure love some of his lost 
 youth seemed to return. '' I cannot part with 
 Nellie," he sometimes told himself, and some- 
 times the ruin that stared him in the face told 
 him that he must. 
 
 Nellie was writing to this young man when 
 Margaret, full of Mrs. Saunders' matrimonial 
 ideas, sought her after Mrs. Saunders had left. 
 
 "Nellie," began the elder sister, *' I have 
 just had a visit from Mrs. Saunders."
 
 CKGESUSS WIDOW. 121 
 
 "Hatton told me slie was here/' answered 
 Nellie, looking up from her letter with a smile. 
 " Well, had the old lady any news ? " 
 
 ''She has been telling me about her son's 
 prospects," said Margaret. '' Had you any 
 idea, Nellie, that young Mr. Saunders will be, 
 nay, is now, very rich ? His father left him 
 over twenty thousand pounds, and lately his 
 mother has had seven hundred a year left her^ 
 and young James is to get it all." 
 
 ''Lucky little Puck," said Nellie. 
 
 *' Nellie, dear, I wish you wouldn't use those 
 foolish nick-names. I do not like to hear 
 them — they are not lady-like, ond to a person 
 of young Mr. Saunders's prospects they are 
 certainly not appropriate." 
 
 Nellie laughed. 
 
 " Young Mr. James Saunders has my hearty 
 congratulations, then, ^1 argaret. Is that a proper 
 way of putting it ? " she said. 
 
 " I want you to be in earnest, dear," said 
 Margaret. " In fact, Nellie, I have a motive 
 for telling you about ]\Ir. James's prospects, 
 and so had his mother. She wishes him ta 
 settle in life — she thinks a wife would sober 
 him—"
 
 122 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 '' IVe heard he wants a little sobering," 
 lano-hed Nellie, 
 
 o 
 
 " There is nothino; ag^ainst him," said 
 Margaret. " He has been a good son, and to 
 be a good soq or daughter means to be a good 
 husband or wife. I judge by myself — I have 
 tried, as you know, to be a good daughter, and 
 I have no doubt that I shall make a good 
 wife." 
 
 " Mr. Vyner will be the gainer, then, Mar- 
 garet," said Nellie, looking very kindly at her 
 sister. 
 
 '* Yes, I think — I am sure, I shall make 
 Walter happy. But I want you to be happy 
 also, dear — and I think, as Mr. James is so well 
 off, and so good-natured — " 
 
 Then Nellie looked straight up in her sister's 
 face with a loyal light shining in her eyes. 
 
 '' You are not in earnest about this, surely, 
 Margaret ? " she said. *' You don't really mean 
 that you want me to think of marrying little 
 Puck?" 
 
 " Why not, Nellie ? Mrs. Saunders wishes 
 it, and Mr. James Saunders wishes it." 
 
 " Do not speak of such a thing any more, 
 Margaret," said Nellie, earnestly — and she laid
 
 CR(ESUS'S WIDOW. 12 3 
 
 her hand softly on the letter she was writing 
 — " for it can never, never be." 
 
 " I cannot see why, Nellie ? " 
 
 " That is easily answered — because I do not 
 care for him — because I can never care for him." 
 
 " Girls change about these things." 
 
 **I will not" — and again the loyal light shone 
 in the blue eyes — '' I will never change ! " 
 
 She was thinking of Lord Seaforth — Lord 
 Seaforth, who was sitting at that moment 
 in Nora Trelawn's gorgeously - furnished 
 drawing-room, looking at Nora with his weary 
 eyes, and wondering with his weary heart if 
 he could sufficiently forget Nellie to make up 
 his mind to ask Croesus's widow to be his wife. 
 
 But he did not make up his mind. Looking 
 at Nora, he still saw Nellie Blythe's sweet, fresh 
 face. He was not loyal to his love — he was 
 never loyal. He lacked the simple faith, the 
 fidelity of a larger mind. Yet he was in love 
 with the girl ; in love, as he could love ; and so- 
 he did not progress in his wooing of Nora. 
 
 Still he sometimes went and talked to the 
 dark-eyed widow, and Lady Stainbrooke gave 
 him every encouragement to do so. This lady 
 had decided, from the time that she had heard
 
 124 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 
 
 that the breath of life had quitted John 
 Trehxwn's big body, that her niece, Nora, was 
 sure to marry again, and therefore she naturally 
 wished that she might marry well. To marry 
 well according to Lady Stainbrooke's ideas 
 meant to marry for certain worldly advantages. 
 Nora had wealth, so she now wanted rank, 
 thought her ladyship and her ladyship there- 
 fore smiled on, and ogled the young lord who 
 lived next door, as she had smiled and ogled in 
 the days when her own eyes were bright, and 
 when her heart was not perhaps so worldly as 
 it was novv'. 
 
 The youDg lord rather liked the worldly old 
 woman, for she helped to amuse him ; but Lady 
 Stainbrooke's company was gaul and wormwood 
 to his proud mother. 
 
 "You need never see her — afterwards — you 
 know," she once said to her son. 
 
 " Not my dear, dingy old aunt ! Mother, 
 how heartless you are. I shall, I assure you, 
 pay her the most tender attention." 
 
 " If you would but be in earnest, Seaforth," 
 urged his mother. 
 
 *' About Lady Stainbrooke ? " laughed the 
 young lord.
 
 CEGESUS'S WIDOW. 125 
 
 With an impatient gesture Lady Seaforth 
 turned away. Yet that boyish laugh rang in 
 her ears. It recalled his bright youth — the 
 gay and gallant boy for whom she had hojDed so 
 much — hopes that one by one had faded and 
 died away.
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 KOS ELAND. 
 
 Another mau also came occasionally and sat 
 in Nora's gorgeously-farnislied drawing-room^ 
 on whom Lady Staiubrooke did not smile so 
 sweetly as she did on the spendtlirift young 
 lord. 
 
 This w\as Vyner. Here again was the moth 
 and the flame. In this case the moth was 
 strong and clear-eyed. He knew the flame 
 was dangerous, but he depended upon his 
 streno'th. " I will q:o so far and no further. 
 
 o o 
 
 I did love this gentle woman, and I do love her,. 
 but I am bound in honour to another. Still, I 
 cannot quite forget my friendship for Nora — - 
 cannot forget that but for a wicked old woman 
 Nora would now have been my happy wife." 
 
 Thinking thus, Vyner went occasionally to- 
 see Nora. She was his friend — had been his
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 127 
 
 friend in the old liappy days — and he was not 
 going to turn coldly away. So he hovered 
 near the flame, strong and clear- eyed. " There 
 is no danger if I do not go too near/' said the 
 moth ; " and why should I not gladden my 
 sight occasionally by a gleam of sweet, pure 
 light ? " 
 
 Poor moth, poor flame ! It is well to be 
 strong and clear- eyed; bat safer to go away 
 into darkness. The world seemed very dark 
 and weary now to Yyner unless he saw Nora, 
 and so he did see her, and Lady Stainbrooke's 
 blinking brown eyes sometimes showed their 
 disapproval of his visits. 
 
 But Lady Stainbrooke was too much a woman 
 of the world to be uncourteous to Yyner. He 
 was a famous man, for one thing ; for another 
 thing it was Nora's house, and not Lady Stain- 
 brooke's ; and the old womau knew this as well 
 xis anyone else did. 
 
 One close evening in the middle of July, 
 then,Vyner was sitting in Nora's drawing-room. 
 There were also present General Stainbrooke 
 and his wife, and Nora. 
 
 The old General was but a wreck now. There 
 were days, nay weeks, when he was never seen
 
 128 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 in the drawing-room, wlien he retired; and 
 during these days and weeks he did not see- 
 much of Lady Stainbrooke. 
 
 But Nora w^as always very good to him. 
 She pitied him, racked with his sore pains, and 
 drifting away from his little tinsel-gilt life.. 
 Poor man ! he had even survived his age. He- 
 belonged to a school that had grown too fusty 
 for the w^orld — that had passed away, leavings 
 ^t is to be hoped, newer and purer academies 
 behind it. 
 
 ''And where do you think the General and I 
 are going to-morrow, Mr. Yyner," said Nora,, 
 looking smilingly at the painter, a pause 
 having occurred a moment before in the 
 conversation. 
 
 " How can I tell I Well, where ?" said Yyner. 
 
 '' To Eoseland ? " answered Nora, still 
 smiling. " Is not that a pretty name ? " 
 
 '' Eoseland ! " repeated Yyner. " And whero 
 is Eoseland ? And are you going to Eoseland,, 
 General?" he shouted to the old soldier. 
 
 The General emitted his cacklino; laudi, and 
 showed all his great yellow teeth. 
 
 " Where she goes I follow," he said. 
 "Always my way, Mr. Yyner — if a pretty
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 129 
 
 woman went before me I was after lier — always 
 my way." 
 
 *' A very shocking way," lauglied Yyner. 
 *' But where, Mrs. Trelawn, really, is Koseland ?" 
 
 Nora cast down her eyes, and a soft colour 
 stole over her face before she answered. 
 
 *' When Mr. Trelawn — when my husband 
 was alive, Mr. Vyner," she said, '*we had a 
 little river yacht — " 
 
 *' You had everything, my dear," said Lady 
 Stainbrooke, with a little nod of her head at 
 Vyner, pleased to give him a slight passing 
 scratch. 
 
 " He was very good to me," continued Nora, 
 still with her eyes cast down ; " and, as I was 
 saying, we had a yacht ; and one day on the 
 river, such a charming scent of roses came 
 floating towards us that I asked Mr, Trelawn 
 to stop the yacht, and we landed to try to get 
 some roses if we could. Close to where we 
 landed, a pretty little house in a garden, which 
 sloped to the river edge, caught our attention, 
 and John and I — Mr. Trelawn and myself — 
 stood looking over the gate, and inside there 
 was absolutely a rose show. I never saw such 
 beautiful roses. And whilst we were standing 
 
 VOL I. . F
 
 130 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 looking, a young lady appeared in tlie garden, 
 and passed close to the gate. ' We are admiring 
 your roses,' my husband said to her, and she 
 stopped and looked at us with a very wintry 
 smile. ' Yes, they are pretty,' she said, 
 and she shrugged her shoulders. * They are 
 beautiful ! ' answered my husband. ' I suppose 
 we could not buy some of them ? ' * No, they 
 are not for sale ; but I will give you some,' said 
 the young lady. ' Will you come in ? ' " 
 
 "This is quite a romance," said Yyner, 
 smiling, as Nora paused in her story. 
 
 *^ A very prosaic romance, as it turned 
 out," answered Nora, smiling also. " But to 
 go on with my romance. The young lady not 
 only cut us the most lovely bunch of roses in 
 the world, but she told us her little history. 
 She had married an old and eccentric man for 
 a home, and the old and eccentric man's chief 
 passion was roses. So the young lady — not 
 unnaturally, perhaps — was sick of roses. She 
 told me their scent absolutely sometimes made 
 her feel quite ill, and she was weary of her rose 
 garden, and I fear also of her husband, and her 
 home. John — Mr. Trelawn — was very fond of 
 flowers, and before we parted with our young
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 131 
 
 lady he put his card in her hand. ' If ever you 
 can persuade your husband/ he said, ' to part 
 with this place, will you let me know ? ' and the 
 young lady promised to do so, and seemed very 
 pleased at the idea. But months passed away, 
 and we heard nothing from her. It was six 
 months afterwards, I think, when one day a 
 black-edged envelope came to John, and when 
 he opened it he found it was from the lady of 
 the roses, as we had christened her. Her 
 eccentric husband was dead, he had left her his 
 rose garden, and she would be glad to part 
 with it. Such were the contents of her letter, 
 and John was glad to buy it. It is a pretty 
 little place, and I asked leave to call it Eose- 
 land ; and just now, when the roses are in their 
 bloom, it is quite lovely. John bought a little 
 land that joins it, and I have a cow there, and 
 I make butter, and I have eggs," laughed Nora; 
 " and, in fact, I am a farmeress in a small way 
 
 ^ when I go to Roseland." 
 
 cj\ "And you like the country life? asked 
 
 r.;Vyner. 
 
 " Far better than the town. My tastes are 
 reaUy very simple," answered Nora. 
 
 " All very fine, my dear," said Lady Stain- 
 
 f2
 
 132 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 brooke ; '' very fine, and very pretty, to play 
 at simplicity sometimes among your roses, 
 when the sun is shining and the sky is blue. 
 But what about a real country life that your 
 young friend of the roses lived with her tire- 
 some old man ? She did not enjoy it, it seems. 
 No ; solitude and sentiment are like poverty — 
 very well to have a peep at, and talk about, but 
 very bad to bear when they are forced upon us." 
 
 "You are not given to sentiment. Lady 
 Stainbrooke ? " said Vyner, with a slight curl 
 of his lip. 
 
 " No," answered that lady briskly ; " and the 
 consequence is, Mr. Vyner, that I have done 
 well for myself and my family, and that Nora 
 has now Eoseland to go to, if she will excuse 
 me making the remark." 
 
 For a moment Nora looked annoyed, then 
 she said, very quietly — 
 
 " Well, at all events, Mr. Vyner, I hope you 
 will come and see Eoseland ? " 
 
 "I shall be but too happy," said Vyner. And 
 so it happened shortly after this, that, amid the 
 golden glory of a summer afternoon, Vyner 
 found himself walking by the river edge in 
 search of Eoseland.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 133 
 
 He never forgot the picture tliat lie saw 
 when he first entered Nora's garden. She was 
 standing beneath her white sunshade, leaning on 
 a little moss-grown wall, and gazing with a far- 
 away look in her dark eyes at the river beyond. 
 
 She did not see him until he was quite close 
 to her — until he almost touched her arm. The 
 wearied look that he remembered on her face 
 in her wedded days had passed away from it. 
 Fair she had always been in Yyner's eyes, but 
 never so fair as now, with the sweet pensive 
 smile of hope lingering round her tremulous 
 lips, as she stood in the sunlit garden. 
 
 Vyner did not speak. His eyes were fixed on 
 the picturesque face and the picturesque form. 
 But a slight movement that he unconsciously 
 made attracted Nora's attention, and she looked 
 round, and with a start recognised Yyner. 
 
 "You!" she said. 
 
 *' Yes," he answered ; and then for a moment 
 they stood hand-clasped, until, with womanly 
 shyness, Nora turned away. 
 
 " I must show you my roses," she said, 
 nervously. 
 
 "Yes," again answered Vyner, and he followed 
 N^ora all over her sweet-scented domain.
 
 134 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 
 
 It was literally as slic had told liim, a rose 
 srarden. The rarest and most beautiful roses 
 were here, and every species and variety ever 
 reared by the hand of man. And the wild 
 crimson hedge-rose was blooming among the- 
 rest. There were no other flowers, only the 
 roses, and Vyner was charmed with the beauty 
 of the efl'ect. 
 
 '' Amongst all this wealth," he said, '' do you 
 think you can afi'ord to give me one ? " 
 
 *'Yes, or even a bunch," smiled Nora, in 
 reply. 
 
 " I shall be content with one," he said ; and 
 Nora stooped down and gathered him a moss 
 rosebud. 
 
 " I think you will like this," she said, " better 
 than the grand ones." 
 
 Vyner did not answer. He took the rose- 
 bud, and the hand that held it. They were 
 close to the moss-grown wall where Nora had 
 been leaning when Vyner first entered the 
 garden, and which separated the grounds of 
 Eoseland from the narrow pathway by the 
 river edge. 
 
 A little moss-grown parapet of stone. The 
 damps and mists from the river had stained it
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 135 
 
 green, and the moss floiirislied on it, and tlie 
 ivj crept round its time-worn basement. Here 
 Vyner leaned with Nora, hand-clasped, the 
 rosebud between the love-bound fingers. 
 
 All sunlight ! The glory of the sun on the 
 river and meadow lands, and the flowers — and 
 Nora's heart, for did not the man she loved 
 love her ? she was whispering to herself ; and 
 so the glory and brightness of her life seemed full. 
 
 But suddenly Vyner dropped the hand and 
 the rose ; dropped the rose in forgetfulness, but 
 the hand meaningly. He had remembered 
 Margaret Blythe, and a cloud had arisen in the 
 sky. 
 
 Nora looked surprised. She saw the rosebud 
 fall, and she saw the cloud come over Vyner's 
 face, and she wondered at the cause. Then, 
 after a moment's reflection, she thought that 
 •she had guessed it. 
 
 '' It is because I am rich," she thought. *' Ah, 
 Walter, how can you so misjudge my heart ? " 
 " How is the General ? " asked Vyner, 
 abruptly, the next minute. 
 
 *' I left him sitting reading the papers under 
 the awning of the verandah," answered Nora. 
 ""^ Will you come and talk to him ? "
 
 136 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 The verandali ran along the whole of the 
 front of the one-storied house. John Trelawn 
 had built this verandah after he had bought 
 Koseland, and it was therefore fitted up with 
 every luxury that wealth could supply. 
 
 Sitting beneath the shade of its pink-and- 
 white striped awnings, they found the GeneraL 
 The verandah itself was very pretty ; roses 
 were trained up its rustic pillars, and on a 
 rustic table at the General's elbow a dish of 
 splendid strawberries was standing. The old 
 General was reading the newspaper with " spec- 
 tacles on nose," as they approached him ; but 
 no sooner did he see them than he hastily 
 removed these useful but unornamental instru- 
 ments, and shuffled them into his coat pocket. 
 
 *'Ah, Mr. Yyner," he said, with his grand air, 
 holding out one of his lean and crippled hands, 
 but not rising to welcome the painter, for- 
 indeed he could not. " So you have found us 
 ruralising. A pretty spot ; and my niece, Mrs. 
 Trelawn, becomes her roses, eh? Sweets to 
 the sweets, eh ? That's about it ! Ha, ha, ha!" 
 
 **yes," said Vyner, turning round, and 
 looking quietly at Nora with his grey, hand- 
 some eyes, "she becomes her roses."
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 137 
 
 Nora blushed like a girl. 
 
 " It's pleasant to get out of the world some- 
 times, eh, Mr. Yyner ? " continued the old 
 soldier. *^You painters, I suppose, get your 
 ideas — your — whatever d ye call them ? " 
 
 " Inspirations ! " suggested Nora, in her 
 loudest tone, in the General's ear. 
 
 " Don't speak quite so loud, my love," said 
 the General, rubbing that organ with an injured 
 air. '^ Inspirations ! — ah, ah, to be sure — so 
 you call your pictures iQspirations, d'ye, Mr. 
 Yyner ? Devilish bad inspirations, then, some 
 pictures are, that's all I can say. Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 Yyner laughed heartily at this sally. 
 
 ''Don't be so hard on us. General!" he 
 shouted. 
 
 ^'Bitof a judge, you know," said the General. 
 *' Like a bit of colour — always did — and ' the 
 light that lies in woman's eyes' — that's my 
 taste still — can admire a pretty woman still, 
 painted or unpainted 1 " 
 
 Again Yyner laughed — this time grimly. 
 
 *' But you painters — you modern men, I 
 mean — don't come up to my ideas of beauty," 
 continued the General. " I like colour, flesh, 
 plumpness, &c."
 
 138 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 *' No woman can be beautiful in my eyes/'' 
 said Yyner, " unless sbe lias a beautiful mind 
 — beauty to me is the semblance of the 
 soul." 
 
 ** Of tlie soul ! What the deuce has the 
 soul to do with it ? You can't paint a soul ? " 
 said the General, testily, for he had not quite 
 caught Yyner's words. 
 
 " But I can recognise it," said Yyner. 
 
 '* I am a practical man," proceeded the 
 General, '^ and a pretty face is composed of fine 
 features, according to my ideas, and of a fine 
 skin, and not of soul. But Nora, my love, 
 won't Mr. Yyner taste your strawberries ? They 
 are very fine." 
 
 " You are a practical man to some purpose 
 now," laughed Yyner, and he sat down by the 
 General's table and ate some of his strawberries. 
 
 But by-and-by the General's head began to 
 nod. He tried — ever gallant — to keep himself 
 awake in the presence of a lady, but the worn- 
 out old machine wanted rest, and rest it would 
 have. Yyner's voice grew distant and dim in 
 his ears, and Nora's unheard. He had fallen 
 asleep, and presently announced this fact by 
 loud and discordant snores.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 139 
 
 Yyner and Nora looked at eacli other and 
 -smiled. 
 
 " Poor old man ! " said Nora, softly. 
 
 "It's well to be old," said Vyner, in the 
 bitterness of his heart — he still remembered 
 Margaret. " Age deadens our feelings. Yes, it 
 is well to be old."
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 MARGARET SETTLES IT. 
 
 While Nora and Yyner were wandering 
 together in the rose garden by the river, fate^ 
 in the shape of Margaret Blythe, was preparing 
 to end such meetings. 
 
 Margaret was wonderfully self-reliant and 
 self-satisfied. Still, a feeling of uneasiness of 
 late had been creeping over Margaret's mind 
 regarding Vyner s manner towards herself. 
 
 He had never been a very demonstrative 
 lover. But he had been kinder, tenderer,, 
 surely, to her once ? Again and again Mar- 
 garet had thought this, and she had thought 
 also, could there be any cause, and if so, that 
 it were well to discover it. 
 
 Once or twice, when she had asked him to- 
 spend the evening with them, he had said he 
 was engaged.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 141 
 
 " And where are you going, Walter ? " 
 Margaret had asked. 
 
 " To ]\Irs. Trelawn's — she is an old friend of 
 mine," Walter had answered ; and Margaret 
 began to ponder about this old friend, and 
 by-and-by heard that she was rich, and that 
 she was a widow — that she went by the name 
 of " Croesus's widow." 
 
 " You knew this lady long ago, then, Walter?'' 
 Margaret said one day, alluding to Nora. 
 
 ** Yes," answered Vyner, very briefly. 
 
 *' Before she was married ? " asked Margaret. 
 
 " Yes," again answered Vyner, and then he 
 began to talk quickly on some other subject. 
 
 But Margaret did not forget this conversation 
 about Croesus's widow. She remembered it, 
 and determined to act upon it. She was 
 motherless, but so self-reliant a young woman 
 required no mother. 
 
 " Father," she said, addressing the blind 
 Major a few days afterwards, her usual equal 
 measured tones being a little disturbed, " don't 
 you think that it is time that something was 
 definitely settled about — my marriage ? " 
 
 The Major lifted his bent head with a slightly 
 surprised air.
 
 142 CKCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 " Well, my dear," he said, " of course, if you 
 and Mr. Yyner wish it. It will be a great loss 
 to me ; but little Nellie and I must get on as 
 best we can." 
 
 '^ Dear father," said Margaret — for she really 
 was a good daughter — " I would not be happy 
 if I were to leave you. No ; I have a different 
 scheme to propose. Nellie is a dear little girl, 
 but she is scarcely competent to take charge of 
 a household, I think. What I wish is this — 
 that you will live with myself and Walter, and 
 that Nellie will marry young Mr. Saunders and 
 live in the house with the old lady." 
 
 " What, little Puck ! " exclaimed the Major. 
 " Why, Margaret, what an idea ! " 
 
 " Father, it is a very good idea. But I wish 
 you would not call James Saunders 'little 
 Puck,' just as Nellie does. Do you know how 
 well off he is, father ? Mrs. Saunders herself 
 told me a day or two before we dined there 
 last that the old doctor left James over twenty 
 thousand pounds, and Mrs. Saunders has lately 
 been left seven hundred a year by her brother, 
 and this also goes to James." 
 
 The blind Major sighed. Want of money 
 had been one of the burdens that he had been
 
 \ CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 143 
 
 calfed upon to bear all his life. He had married 
 for love, and it had been all that he could do 
 to pay his way and pass as an honest man 
 among his fellows. He was very poor, 
 and small luxuries and even comforts were 
 unknown in the economical household managed 
 by Margaret's careful hand. 
 
 James Saunders's prospects, therefore, seemed 
 to open a vista of wealth to the poverty-stricken 
 Major. He was a good, simple man this — 
 simple and God-fearing — but he was not a man 
 of keen perceptions. His sightless eyes, of 
 course, had never beheld the common, comic 
 face of "little Puck." He might be a good 
 fellow enough, thought the Major, but Nellie 
 was his darling. 
 
 '' He may be rich/' he said ; " but Margaret, 
 my dear, unless Nellie likes him, I could not 
 urge her to think of him — besides, do you 
 know that the young man wishes this ? " 
 
 '* His mother formally proposed for him," 
 answered Margaret. ''I told her Nellie had 
 never thought of young Mr. James ; that we 
 were not girls to think of young men until we 
 were asked to do so ; but I advised her to tell 
 Mr. James to come here sometimes, and I feel
 
 144 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 sure Nellie, who knows now from me tliat lie 
 seriously admires her, will think of him — 
 could very easily learn to care for him, if she 
 chose." 
 
 "But she may not choose." 
 
 " Father, you know how annoyed I was about 
 Lord Seaforth. I have since learned from 
 Walter that this young lord bears a terrible 
 character. Among fast men he is one of the 
 fastest, and at one time I feared — I wish to be 
 quite honest with you — that Nellie liked him too 
 well for her own happiness." 
 
 '* I pray God not — my poor, innocent dar- 
 ling," murmured the Major. 
 
 " This is one reason I am so anxious she 
 should marry," contiuued Margaret. *' As for 
 marrying Lord Seaforth, that of course is out 
 of the question. His rank would prevent it for 
 one thing, and for another I. am told he is 
 absolutely overwhelmed with debt. The sooner, 
 therefore, that Nellie forgets him the better." 
 
 *' Yes, indeed," said the Major. 
 
 "And James Saunders is young and rich, 
 and very good-natured," urged Margaret, "and 
 is really fond of Nellie. Mrs. Saunders says 
 he is very fond, and he will settle money on
 
 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 145 
 
 her, and altogether it is a good match. Now, 
 •don't yon think so, father ? " 
 
 ''Yes, if the little one likes him." 
 
 " Oh, girls like Nellie easily like and dislike. 
 Yon persuade her to think of him, father. And 
 now about something else — about AValter ? " 
 
 "Well, dear?" 
 
 ^' Walter is very well off now — he gets great 
 prices for his pictures, and he must be saving 
 money very fast, for he does not spend much. 
 And I do not see why we should not be married 
 at once. In fact, dear father, I want you to 
 speak to him. It is so wearing to a girl to 
 have a long engagement, and I think it should 
 be settled." 
 
 The Major was silent. He was a gentleman, 
 and he felt that the task his daughter proposed 
 for him was anything but a pleasant one. 
 
 " It would be so nice if it were aU settled," 
 continued Margaret. ** Walter can quite afford 
 to take a good house, and you could live with 
 us, and I am sure we would be all very happy 
 together — for I have the gift, I think, of 
 retaining affection." 
 
 " But, my dear," said the Major, " I could 
 not possibly propose to Mr. Yyner to live with
 
 146 CRGESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 you. Of course, as you say, it is very wearing 
 to a woman, a Ions: eno-aoremcnt, and I can ask 
 liim to settle it ; but as for proposing to live 
 with liim myself, it is out of the question." 
 
 *'But, father, Walter is just a man to honour 
 filial affection. He knows your affliction binds- 
 you closer to me. I am sure he would not 
 wish us to part, and I am sure also that I can 
 make you both very happy." 
 
 " My dear Margaret, any offer of this kind 
 must come from Yyner. I will speak to him, 
 if you wish, about your marriage ; but ' I will 
 certainly not speak to him about anything else." 
 
 " Well, dear father, as you please. If you will 
 kindly speak to him about making arrange- 
 ments for our marriage, I dare say I shall be 
 able to manage the rest, for I have a great deal 
 of influence on Walter." 
 
 Up the river in the rose garden, on the very 
 day when this conversation took place, Walter 
 was standing hand-in-hand with Nora Trelawn. 
 Up the river in the rose garden the painter, with 
 fast-beating pulses and a heart stirred to its very 
 depths, was leaning on the little stone-work 
 parapet, close, very close, to sweet Nora 
 Trelawn. Nora in her soft womanly prime,.
 
 CRGESUS'S WIDOW. 147 
 
 with the sunliofht in her eyes and in her heart I 
 
 o 
 
 ey 
 
 But the painter was to pay a very bitter price 
 for his brief foro^etfulness. When he returned 
 in the evening from Eoseland he found a note 
 lying on his table at home from his betrothed 
 Margaret. It was to invite him to call on the 
 following: evenino^, " as mv father has a few 
 words to say to you, dear AValter," wrote 
 Margaret ; and Yyner felt that he could scarcely 
 refuse to go. 
 
 So about eight o'clock he found himself 
 ringing at the ]\Iajor's door-bell. Hatton, 
 her quaint face shining with soap for the 
 occasion, opened the door, grinning her wel- 
 <iome. 
 
 " Tea's in, sir," she said, " and they're waitiog 
 for ye ; " and then she opened the little sitting- 
 room door. 
 
 In the room Vyner found the two sisters, 
 '' Little Puck, " and the blind Major. " Little 
 Puck " was describing a piece he had seen acted 
 the night before. Some little humour had 
 ^' Puck," and the facetious contortions of his 
 face were making Nellie laugh in spite of 
 herself " Puck " felt that he was successful ; 
 and, as he afterwards declared to his fond
 
 148 . CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 parent, ''a wet blanket seemed to be thrown: 
 over the whole party when Vyner walked in/'' 
 
 There was some truth in this. Vyner him- 
 self, with care on his handsome face, certainly 
 did not look in a humour to add to any 
 conviviality. Margaret was anxious and the 
 Major uncomfortable. And Nellie ? Ah, Nellie^ 
 there was care in your heart also — care and 
 great anxiety, and a secret too — for on the 
 morrow she had promised to meet Lord Sea- 
 forth, and give him an answer to a question 
 which he had asked before. 
 
 But Margaret was always composed in 
 manner, whatever were her secret anxieties. 
 She rose and received Vyner with a smile,. 
 j)oured out some tea for him, and talked to him 
 about the weather and his pictures. 
 
 "And have you finished the painting you 
 call ' Eve ? ' " asked Margaret. 
 
 "No; I have turned its face to the wall,'" 
 answered Vyner. 
 
 "It certainly was not my conception of 
 * Eve,' " replied Margaret's even tones. "What 
 do you think, father ? Should she be a bright, 
 dark, certainly rather a pretty woman, like- 
 Walter had drawn her ; or a lovely, soft, fair
 
 CRGESUS'S WIDOW. 149> 
 
 piece of perfection, as I always mentally pictured 
 our first mother ? " 
 
 '*I should say the soft fair piece of perfection," 
 said the Major. " But I am no judge of art." 
 
 " Is your ' Eve ' a fancy sketch or a portrait," 
 asked Margaret. " I should say a portrait." 
 
 '' I hardly know," answered Yyner. 
 
 " It must be good fun to be able to paint — 
 pretty faces especially," said little Puck. '' Once 
 thought of being an artist myself — can sketch 
 away little heads, you know, and all that lot ; 
 but to be the regular thing — to go in for it, 
 you know, requires heaps, piles of work, and 
 I'm too — what dy'e call it, for that ? " 
 
 '* Too volatile," suggested Yyner. 
 
 Little Puck laughed good-naturedly. He 
 was, in truth, really good-natured. A vain 
 little fellow, but, as his adoring mother had said,. 
 ^' he had a good heart." 
 
 Presently Margaret whispered a word in her 
 father's ear, and the blind Major rose obediently, 
 and, assisted by Margaret, groped his way out of 
 the room, going to a small sitting-room at the 
 back of the house, which Margaret called ^^ My 
 father's study." 
 
 ** My father's study " was very dingy. The
 
 150 CECESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 outward signs and indications of poverty are 
 like the grains of sea sand upon tlie shore. The 
 poor little packets of groceries, the miserable little 
 ^scrag-ends of meat, washed-out covers, darned, 
 faded carpets, black horsehair, with the white 
 seams of age and bareness appearing on the 
 surface. All these signs were to be seen in 
 the Major's household, and the dingiest and 
 poorest-looking place of all was *' my father's 
 study." 
 
 Here in his everlasting darkness the blind 
 Major mostly lived. Always in the night — 
 and yet, who knows ? Have the blind ever 
 visions — glimpses perhaps, of things beyond, 
 which we of earthly ken cannot see ? 
 
 Margaret having carefully escorted her father 
 to his room, went back to the front sitting-room 
 and sat down for a moment or two by the side 
 of her betrothed, Walter Yyner. 
 
 *' Walter, dear," she said, " will you go into 
 my father's study for a few moments, for he 
 is anxious to speak to you about — something 
 important ? " 
 
 "Certainly," answered Vyner, and he rose 
 and went into the Major's study. 
 
 Major Blythe was looking a little disturbed
 
 CECESUS'S WIDOW. 151 
 
 as lie entered. The task whicli Margaret had 
 j)repared for him was not a pleasant one to a 
 man of delicate feelings. Still the Major felt 
 that if Margaret wished it, it was his duty to 
 speak to Yyner. Vyner, unsuspicious of what 
 was before him, addressed the Major in his 
 usual manner. 
 
 "Well, Major," he said, ''Margaret tells me 
 you want to speak to me." 
 
 ''Yes, a few words," answered the Major,, 
 nervously. "You see, my dear fellow, my — 
 my girls have no mother — " 
 
 Then Yyner knew what was coming. 
 
 " You lost your wife when they were very 
 young, did you not ? " he said, nervously also. 
 
 " Yes, poor darling — she left me when little 
 Nell was almost a baby — but she has had a 
 mother in Mars^aret. Mars^aret is an excellent 
 girl, Yyner — a girl in a thousand." 
 
 " I am sure of that." 
 
 " But you see, girls who are engaged get 
 unsettled. In fact, my dear Yyner, Margaret 
 is unsettled — and — and I think it is time that 
 something was arranged about her marriage." 
 
 For a moment or two Yyner was silent. 
 For a moment or two a cold, dead, physical
 
 152 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 pain crept into liis heart, and witli an effort he 
 roused himself to answer. 
 
 " You mean," he said, *' she wishes — " 
 
 '' She wishes the time of her marriage to be 
 fixed. It is onlj natural, you see, Yyner, and 
 she asked me to speak to you ; and I am sure 
 you will do everything in your power to please 
 her." 
 
 '' I will see about — arranging it," said Yyner, 
 slowly. He did not blame Major Blythe. He 
 knew he had no right as an honourable man to 
 ask another man's daughter to marry him, and 
 not be ready to fulfil that engagement. But 
 this conversation came as a blow to him — a 
 sudden, bitter blow. 
 
 But yesterday — but yesterday at Eoseland I 
 And now that dream must be ended — ended as 
 it had ended five long years ago, in bitter 
 ■disappointment and pain. 
 
 " I will see Margaret," he said, struggling to 
 speak calmly, *'and — and I suppose we will 
 -settle it." 
 
 ** Yes, do, my dear fellow ! and let me tell 
 you, you are a lucky man. Margaret has been 
 a pattern daughter, and she will make a pattern 
 wife."
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 153- 
 
 " The lucky man " laughed feebly, and then 
 rose to leave the Major's study, and he hoped 
 the house. But Margaret, who had been lis- 
 tening for his footstep, opened the front 
 sitting-room door, as he was seeking for his 
 hat in the little hall, and at once advanced 
 towards him. 
 
 "You are not going, are you, Walter^ 
 surely ? " she said. 
 
 ** I have some work to do, Margaret/^ 
 answered Vyner, '^so I must be off at once." 
 
 " Has — has my father said anything to you?"^ 
 asked Margaret, anxiously. 
 
 " Yes — and we will talk it over the next 
 time I come. Good-night, Margaret." And 
 Margaret held up her face to receive her lover's- 
 kiss. 
 
 ** Good-night, dearest," she whispered. "You 
 will come to-morrow, then — and we will settle 
 it." 
 
 It was starlight when Vyner went out. . In 
 times of great mental darkness, do not the still 
 heavens seem to mock our woe ? There — 
 serene, unmoved, star-diadem'd, while we stand 
 passion-toss'd, impotent in our rage or grief
 
 154 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 Here was Yyner — a painter, a man who loved 
 liis work and God's work, and who had lived 
 believing that yon blue luminous vault above 
 but veils from us greater glories ; yet here was 
 Vyner looking upwards with a curse on his lips, 
 ^nd with his hands clenched, and with weariness, 
 nay, rage in his heart, at all things on earth 
 below. 
 
 AVhy had he hung this stone about his neck ? 
 he was asking himself. Why had he been per- 
 mitted in his blindness to do so ? He had 
 never loved Margaret Blythe. He had respected 
 and admired her for her meritorious endeavours 
 to assist her family, and he had believed her 
 to be a good woman, and seen that she liked 
 him, and feeling unsettled, and not very happy, 
 he had drifted into an engagement with her. 
 
 When he knew more of her, he saw how 
 narrow and self-appreciative her mind was ; he 
 saw, in fact, that they were unsuited to each 
 other ; and shortly after he had come to this 
 conclusion he met again the one woman that 
 he had ever really loved. He learned that this 
 one woman was a widow ; and he learned also, 
 when he looked in her dark eyes, that this one 
 woman loved him still.
 
 CPvCESus's wroow. 15S 
 
 *' Why, then," he asked, in the great bitter- 
 ness of his soul, after his interview with Major 
 Blythe, *^ had a wicked old woman been per- 
 mitted to spoil two lives by a miserable lie ? " 
 But for this Nora might have been his happy 
 wife, her children prattling by his knee. 
 
 So there was great darkness on the soul of 
 Vyner. He felt that he was bound hand and 
 foot, and he felt also that honour at once de- 
 manded a bitter sacrifice from him, which was 
 to tell Nora of his engagement to Margaret 
 Blythe. 
 
 *' I will go to Koseland to-morrow," he told 
 himself, wandering up and down with impatient 
 strides in the terrace where he lived, beneath, 
 the starlight. *' Yes, she shall know ; and I 
 would rather be dead than do what is now 
 forced upon me."
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 IN WHICH NORA FORGETS HERSELF. 
 
 He went tlie next day to Eoseland. He went 
 in the evening, and to his great annoyance 
 found "that wicked old woman," as he had 
 mentally called Lady Stainbrooke so many 
 times the night before, sitting admiring the 
 sunset in the rose garden with her husband and 
 Nora. 
 
 Lady Stainbrooke was in good humour, for 
 she had just enjoyed a good dinner, and she 
 held out her yellow claw-like hand, glittering 
 with the diamonds she had contrived to pick 
 lip during her long sojourn in India, to welcome 
 the painter as he approached them. 
 
 But Vyner did not take it. He shook hands 
 with Nora and Sir Thomas, but bowed coldty 
 enough to her ladyship, who, however, only 
 gave a little laugh.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 157 
 
 " What ! " she said, '' have I offended you 1 " 
 
 " "We never were very good friends, Lady 
 Stainbrooke," answered Vyner. 
 
 "No, no!" said Lady Stainbrooke, nodding 
 lier head. *' All the same, in your inmost heart, 
 I believe you must feel very much obliged to 
 me." And again Lady Stainbrooke laughed, 
 this time with rather a wicked ring in it, for 
 she believed that Vyner came courting Nora 
 for the money that John Trelawn had left 
 b>ehind. 
 
 Vyner quite understood her little insinuation. 
 He stood there grim, pale, and handsome, 
 looking at this " miserable old woman," as he 
 was mentally designating her, and wishing her 
 — well, the painter was angry, so we need not 
 follow all his thoughts. 
 
 But Nora tried to be a peace-maker. 
 
 " Even Lady Stainbrooke is charmed with 
 my roses, Mr. Vyner," she said smiling. 
 
 *' Of course I am, my dear," said that lady. 
 *' I am charmed with your roses because they 
 are pretty, and are cared for by a good gardener, 
 for whom you can afford to pay. And I am 
 charmed also with your cows, and your ducks 
 and chickens, because they, too, have every-
 
 158 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 thing they require. But I would not be- 
 charmed with any of them if they were not 
 merely a whim of a rich woman ; ruralising for 
 amusement, and ruralising for life, are two very 
 different things." 
 
 " Mr. Vyner has not seen my cows, nor my 
 ducks and chickens, aunt, which you despise,"' 
 said Nora. "Shall we show them to him now ?" 
 
 *' I am very well where I am, my dear," 
 answered her aunt drily. 
 
 " I should like of all things to see them,"' 
 said Vyner eagerly. 
 
 " Come with me, then," said Nora. And as 
 the painter followed her, Lady Stainbrooke 
 rose and screamed her opinion into her deaf 
 General's ear. 
 
 *' My opinion is," she said, '' that Nora will- 
 make a fool of herself and marry that man. It 
 is a thousand pities, when Lord Seaforth would,. 
 I am sure, be only too glad to have her." 
 
 " "What folly ! " said the General, testily, in 
 reply. " What makes you think, madam, she 
 will take this painter fellow ? " 
 
 *' Because," answered Lady Stainbrooke, 
 grimly, " she is insane enough, I believe, to be- 
 in love."
 
 CECESUS'S WIDOW. 159 
 
 The General grunted. This couple were not 
 in lore with each other — had not been in love 
 for thirty years. They snarled at each other, 
 and were very clear- eyed about each other's 
 faults, but they went on living with each other 
 — in all probability would so live until two of 
 their bleared and worldly eyes were closed for 
 evermore. That these would be the General's 
 eyes Lady Stainbrooke was very happily 
 persuaded. She frequently talked of "when 
 Tm a widow," but the old man was in no hurry 
 to place her in that position. 
 
 ^Meanwhile let us follow Nora and Vyner. 
 Nora went bareheaded, with a rosy flush on 
 her soft cheeks, and with her eyes cast down 
 so that she never noticed how pale Yyner was, 
 or how gloomy, as he walked by her side. 
 
 Nora's cows lived in a little field at one side 
 of the rose garden, separated from it by a 
 highly ornamental paling which was thickly 
 trained with rose trees. A rustic gateway led 
 through this paling to the field beyond, but as 
 Nora laid her hand on the gate to open it 
 Vyner prevented her. 
 
 "I do not really care about seeing your 
 cows, Nora," he said, with rather a painful
 
 160 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 smile. " Will you put on your hat and walk 
 down by tlie river with me ? I — I — have 
 something to say to you." 
 
 Nora looked up surprised. Then she saw 
 how pale and agitated Vyner really was, and 
 she at once did what he asked. 
 
 " Wait here for me a moment, then," she 
 said ; and she went into the house for her hat,, 
 while Vyner, leaning on the paling, was nerving 
 himself for the bitter task before him. 
 
 He looked round when he heard her return,, 
 and then, without a word, the two together 
 quitted the grounds of Koseland. 
 
 They went down by the darkening river, for 
 the sun had set now, and dusky shadows had 
 fallen on the water. Still in silence. Nora 
 was nervous, and Yyner trying to frame his 
 cruel news in gentle words. Then with sudden 
 passion and abruptness he spoke, feeling that 
 gentle words were vain. 
 
 " Nora," he said, " I have come to tell you 
 something to-night that I would rather tear 
 my tongue from my mouth than utter." 
 
 " What is it, Walter ? " asked Nora,, 
 trembling. 
 
 *' Let me go back," said Yyner, still in the
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 161 
 
 same agitated and passion-broken voice, "to 
 the days long ago — to ttie days when you were 
 a young girl, and — and I loved you then, 
 Nora." 
 
 Nora did not speak. She put her hand 
 softly on the painter's arm. 
 
 " I went back to Warbrooke," continued 
 Vyner, "to ask you to be my wife. I was 
 poor then — a man who had a struggle to live — 
 but something in your face had told me that 
 you were a good woman — that you would 
 marry a man because you loved him, and not 
 because he was rich." 
 
 " You know how it was," said Nora, in a low 
 tone. 
 
 "I am coming to that. I went back to 
 Warbrooke then, and found that you were gone. 
 I was received coldly enough at your father s 
 house, but I learned in the little town that you 
 had gone to live with your father's sister. Lady 
 Stainbrooke, in London, and that you were 
 expected by your family to make a good mar- 
 riage there." 
 
 "You did not believe that?" 
 
 " No, I did not. I told myself the little girl 
 I love will do nothing of the kind — she will 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 162 CRGESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 wait for me — wait till I can make a home for 
 her." 
 
 Yyner's voice broke here, and Nora clasped 
 his arm closer. 
 
 "Hush," she said, "do not talk of these 
 painful things. They are all over now. My 
 poor husband is dead now." 
 
 " Yes," said Yyner, bitterly, " and you are 
 free ! The cursed story that Lady Stainbrooke 
 invented to part us was not true, as you know, 
 then, Xora, but now — " 
 
 " There is no lie to part us now, Walter," 
 said Nora firmly, "I am free and you are free — " 
 
 " No ! " interrupted Yyner hoarsely. " That 
 wicked, miserable old woman's work is not yet 
 done. Nora, months and months ago — when 
 you were Mr. Trelawn's wife — there crossed 
 my path a woman — I believe a good woman — " 
 
 But Nora stopped him with a sudden cry. 
 
 " You are not married ! " she said. " Walter, 
 tell me " (and she clung with trembling hands 
 to his arm), " surely you are not married ? " 
 
 " No," he answered, averting his eyes from 
 her frightened, appealing face ; " not married — 
 but bound by a promise that I cannot break." 
 
 Nora grew faint and cold.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 163 
 
 "It cannot be," she said, still clinmnp'to liis 
 arm. " Walter, it cannot be ! " 
 
 " What can I say, Nora ? " answered Vyner, 
 clasping her cold and nerveless hand. " You 
 know how it is — I cared for you long ago — I 
 care for you now — but we are parted. In a 
 moment of madness, I think — feeling sad, 
 lonely, and dissatisfied with my lot, I asked 
 Margaret Blythe to be my wife. She is a good 
 woman — I have nothing to say against her — 
 but when I saw you again I knew I had made 
 a fatal mistake." 
 
 Nora could not now control the bitter emotion 
 of her heart. Her eyes filled with tears, and 
 she trembled so violently that Yyner asked her 
 to sit down on the river bank. 
 
 It was a very lonely spot where they were, 
 and as they sat down, with a sort of moan 
 Nora covered her face with her hand. 
 
 '• I have suffered so much," she said, " no 
 one knows how much, in those long years — 
 and now — now — " 
 
 There was a weary hopelessness in her tone, 
 which touched Yyner to the quick. 
 
 " If I could do anything, Nora," he said, 
 earnestly, '' anything, anything, I would do it. 
 
 g2
 
 164 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 
 
 But Margaret Blytlie is poor — I got to know 
 lier through a friend, who thought that perhaps 
 in time she might become an illustrator of 
 books, and so introduced her to me to see if I 
 €Ould push her on. This very fact — her 
 poverty — makes it more difficult — " 
 
 *^ Still, perhaps, if she knew," said Nora, 
 looking up, "knew that long ago we cared 
 for each other so much, and that we were 
 only parted by a wicked, wicked inven- 
 tion—" 
 
 Vyner was silent. He was a proud man — 
 with a rough and honest pride in bearing a 
 good name among his fellows — and he was 
 thinking even if Margaret consented to their 
 eno-ao-ement beino^ broken off, what would the 
 world say ? To throw over a poor girl for a 
 A^ery rich woman ! Yes, he knew what it would 
 say ; for Nora's sake he would have borne 
 much — but Margaret — 
 
 " You think it would be cruel to ask her," 
 faltered Nora. 
 
 "I do not know what to say. Her father 
 spoke to me the other night about fixing the 
 time for our marriage. This determined me 
 to tell you — I should never have come
 
 CRGESUS'S WIDOW. 165 
 
 near you, Nora — never — but I was weak — " 
 
 They sat there together after this almost in 
 silence. The great broad river kept rolling on 
 before them, the twilight crept around them, 
 but still they scarcely spoke. Nora felt 
 miserably unhappy. She had loved Vyner so 
 deeply, and all through the long years of her 
 wedded life she had never forgotten him. The 
 handsome face that had been the heau-ideal of 
 her girlhood was her heau-ideal still. And now 
 when she had dreamed — nay, been sure — of 
 happiness, to have it all snatched away — all, 
 and nothing left I 
 
 At last she rose. 
 
 " Are you going now ? " said Vyner, turning 
 his head towards her ; and looking at him she 
 saw how haggard his face was, how worn and 
 grief-lined. 
 
 There was a great struggle in his heart. 
 Honour or dishonour ! To forsake Margaret — 
 dishonour ; to leave Nora — a long, weary, 
 loveless life. 
 
 " Perhaps you will write? " said Nora, in a 
 low tone, as they walked on by the river edge 
 towards Eoseland. 
 
 " Yes," answered Yyner, speaking as with
 
 166 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 an effort. '' I will see Margaret — I will let yoit 
 know wliat slie says." 
 
 '' You Yfill tell her— the truth ? " 
 
 " Yes," again answered Yyner ; and without 
 any further words on the subject of all- 
 absorbing interest in both their hearts, they 
 parted at the gate of Eoseland. 
 
 As Nora walked through the garden a feeling 
 of great and bitter anger rose in her heart 
 against her aunt. Lady Stainbrooke. 
 
 '•' She has caused all this," she thought ; "all 
 the misery of my life. I might have been a 
 happy woman but for her false and lyiug 
 tongue." 
 
 Full of her wronsfs she entered the house. She 
 could see, as she crossed under the verandah, 
 her aunt sitting in the pretty luxurious drawing- 
 room beyond. Lady Stainbrooke was lying: 
 back in an easy chair, with her feet very 
 comfortably cushioned on a low chair before 
 her, reading some very piquant novel, for Lady 
 Stainbrooke loved properly-veiled immorality 
 well. She was therefore thoroughly enjoying 
 her novel, by the aid of the double glasses. 
 which before her family she now generally 
 wore.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 167 
 
 Then flusliecl, passionate, angry, Nora 
 •entered the room, and Lady Stainbrooke 
 looked up and peered at her curiously through, 
 her glasses. 
 
 " Well, my dear," she said, '' and what have 
 you done with your painter ? " 
 
 *' You are a wicked woman, Aunt Stain- 
 brooke ! " answered Nora, to the great astonish- 
 ment of that lady ; " a bad, wicked woman, and 
 I wish I had never seen your face ! " 
 
 Lady Stainbrooke put down her ugly little 
 feet, and removed her double glasses with a 
 jerk. 
 
 "You forget yourself, Nora, my dear," she 
 •said ; " utterly forget yourself." 
 
 " Not so utterly as you forgot yourself," 
 retorted Nora, *' when vou invented that wicked 
 falsehood long ago about Mr. Vyner." 
 
 " Oh ! that old story ! " said Lady Stain- 
 brooke, shrugging her shoulders. *' Bah ! my 
 4ear, do not be so absurd. What do you 
 want ? If you want this Vyner, he's ready to 
 ^0 down on his knees to you — yes, a deal faster 
 than he went when you were a penniless girl." 
 
 " That is all you know," said Nora, standing 
 before her aunt, pale and trembling ; "but you
 
 168 CKCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 "believe in notliing good nor notliing true. You 
 have spoilt my life ! '' And Nora having said 
 this, turned and left the room. 
 
 Then Lady Stainbrooke rose and approached 
 her General, who had not heard a single word 
 that had passed between the two ladies. 
 
 *' Did you hear what Nora said. General ? " 
 shouted Lady Stainbrooke in her husband's ear. 
 "She has utterly forgotten herself — utterly 
 forgotten what is due to me ; and I shall leave 
 the house at once, and you must come with me." 
 
 But Sir Thomas had no idea of turning out of 
 such comfortable quarters on so short a notice. 
 
 '^ What do you say, madam ? " he said. 
 "Leave the house at once for some foolish 
 women's quarrel ? Not L What on earth have 
 you and Nora been rowing about ? " 
 
 " I was not rowing," shouted Lady Stain- 
 brooke, with an attempt at dignity. "Nora 
 has foro-otten herself. She has had some 
 quarrel with this Vyner, and so she chose to 
 attack me. But she may marry him. I give 
 her up, after all I have done for her. I wash 
 my hands of her, and I will order the carriage 
 and return to town ; and certainly you will not 
 refuse to go with me ? "
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 169 
 
 " But I certainly sliall/' answered the General, 
 ^ho was not going to expose liis aching bones 
 to the damp air by the river at this time of 
 night. " I shall encourage no such folly. If 
 you choose to go, go ; but don't expect me to 
 be such a fool as to go with you." 
 
 " You are contemptible !" hissed Lady Stain- 
 brooke ; and then in a towering rage she walked 
 out of the room, and very shortly afterwards 
 out of the house.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 kellie's temptation. 
 
 Margaret Blythe expected Vyner to call, on 
 tlie night that his unhappy interview \Yith 
 Nora took place at Eoseland, but he never came. 
 She felt a little uneasy and nervous about this,, 
 but on reflection reassured herself. 
 
 ^' He has had some work to finish. I shall 
 see him to-morrow," she decided in her calm 
 way. 
 
 Then her eyes happened to fall on the fair 
 face of her sister Nellie. 
 
 "Why, Nellie, how flushed you are!" said 
 Margaret. " Has anything annoyed you ? " 
 
 Nellie's blooming face turned a deeper pink 
 at these words. 
 
 " No, Margaret dear," she said, and she- 
 ivent up and took her sister's hand. 
 
 *' You are trembling, too," said the practical
 
 CKCESUSS WIDOW. 17 1 
 
 Margaret. " I am afraid you are going to 
 be ill. Do you think you have got a chill 
 anywhere ? " 
 
 "Oh, no," laughed ISTellie, with an uneasy 
 laugh, and Margaret, reassured on this point 
 also, took up her housekeeper's book, and 
 began to enter — as was her wont — every penny 
 of their expenditure during the day. 
 
 But careful housekeeper as Margaret was, 
 could she have looked into Nellie's heart, she 
 would have neoflected her accounts. Durino- 
 the day a very trying interview had occurred 
 to Nellie — an interview which, had Margaret 
 known of, she would have been really unhappy 
 about her young sister. 
 
 When lowering clouds gather, we seldom 
 escape a storm. Lowering clouds had been 
 gathering long round the head of Murray, 
 Viscount Seaforth, but the reckless young man 
 made no effort to evade them. Nay, in his 
 love, or his selfishness — he called it love — he 
 had made up his somewhat unstable mind to 
 endeavour to persuade Nellie to share his 
 uncertain future. Yes, he loved her too dearly 
 to give her up, he had decided during one 
 •of their recent interviews, and during their
 
 172 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 meeting this day — the day Yyiier had told 
 Nora of his eno^aorement to Maro;aret — Lord 
 Seaforth had urged Nellie to marry him secretly. 
 ''For to do it any other way," he told her, 
 "would only bring irremediable ruin on us 
 both." 
 
 ^' But I cannot — I cannot marry," the girl 
 answered in tremulous accents, holding both 
 his hands, " I cannot, for my father's sake." 
 
 " Then ' father ' is more to you than I 
 am ? " said Lord Seaforth, half- tenderly, half- 
 mockingly. 
 
 ''He is blind," said Nellie, and her lips 
 quivered. 
 
 '^ I wish I was blind ! " said Lord Seaforth,. 
 with a little lauoii. 
 
 " He would feel it so dee^^ly," continued' 
 Nellie, pleadingly. '-'If I could but tell him,, 
 Murray—" 
 
 " And ruin me, my little girl ? " 
 
 ''I will never do that — never." 
 
 *MJnder no temptation, eh ?" 
 
 *' No, never," repeated Nellie. And the day 
 was yet to come when he asked her to keep 
 this promise. 
 
 Thev were standing together, these two-
 
 CRCESUS'S W'IDOW. 173 
 
 young people, under one of the great spreading 
 trees in Eegent's Park, when Nellie made it. 
 Overhead the white-flecked summer sky, and 
 around them the summer air, and the white 
 butterflies on the wing. Only common-place 
 surroundings — the trim terraces standing ia 
 the distance, the groups of well-dressed childrea 
 and their nurses — all commonplace enough, 
 and the two young people, Nellie and Lord 
 Seaforth, as commonplace as the rest. 
 
 *'A pretty girl and a good-looking young-- 
 man, making love to each other," thought or 
 said the good-natured passers-by ; and the 
 ill-natured ones smiled sourly, their day for 
 such pastime being over, or ended in disap- 
 pointment, or perhaps not come. 
 
 A pretty girl in a white dress, and a black 
 cape, and with a fair, sweet, winning face. So 
 fair that Lord Seaforth standing there, looking 
 at her lilies and roses, was moved to a depth 
 of deeper feeling than had ever before passed 
 through his early- worn heart. 
 
 " You are very lovely, Nellie," he said, "very 
 lovely and lovable." And he held both her 
 hands tightly in his. 
 
 " If you love me really, I care for nothing
 
 174 CKCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 more," answered Nellie, in her sweet, modest 
 way. '' Why should we think of being married 
 yet ? I do not care how long I wait — for years 
 and years." 
 
 " Years, my dear child ! Where shall I be 
 in years ? No, Nellie, we must be married now, 
 or we shall have to part." 
 
 " We cannot part," said the girl, speaking 
 very earnestly, and turning pale. 
 
 '' No, we cannot part," repeated Lord 
 Seaforth. '' Now listen to me, my darling. 
 What I propose is — well, I think it would be 
 best to be married in Scotland, and we could 
 live there on the cjuiet till things blow over a 
 bit. Don't speak for a minute, Nellie. It 
 isn't from any pride or any folly of that kind I 
 wish to keep things quiet. It is simply that if 
 some troublesome acquaintance of mine knew I 
 had married a penniless lassie, . they would be 
 down upon me at once, and I would have to bolt 
 — to l)ecome, in fact, a ruined, disgraced man — 
 a bankrupt, or worse. If the little woman loves 
 me as she says she does, would she like to bring 
 all this about my ears ? " 
 
 '' Oh, Murray ! " And Nellie's eyes filled 
 with tears.
 
 CRGESUS'S WIDOW. 175 
 
 " Don't ! " said Lord Seafortli. " Don t look 
 at me like that, child. Perhaps it would be the 
 best thing for you, Nellie, to say good-bye to 
 me, if you can ? " 
 
 *' But I can't — how could I ? " answered 
 Nellie, the tears now rolling down the smooth, 
 pink cheeks. 
 
 " I am a selfish brute, I daresay," said 
 Seaforth. " All men are selfish, you know, 
 Nell. I ought, of course, to say * Good-bye, 
 sweetheart,' go and be happy with someone 
 else — some happy dog with more pence than 
 debts. Shouldn't I now, instead of saying — 
 well, all the romantic things I have been 
 saying — eh, Nellie ? " And Lord Seaforth 
 laughed. 
 
 "I don't think you have been saying anything 
 very romantic," retorted Nellie, rather indig- 
 nantly, now drying her tears. 
 
 " Haven't I ? Well, don't look angry. I 
 meant it at least. Nellie, all my life I have 
 had no romance till I met you. That's truth 
 at least — if I'm selfish it's because I love you 
 well." 
 
 What did the girl answer ? A loving, inno- 
 cent girl, who knew very little or nothing of
 
 176 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 the world ? Margaret, with her proprieties, and 
 her art studies, and — recently — her warm affec- 
 tion for Yyner, had left Nellie very much to 
 herself. This true and tender heart, therefore, 
 naturally endowed the man she loved with 
 every perfectioD. Seaforth was not only good- 
 looking in Nellie's eyes, but noble, high-minded, 
 and true. The wiser Margaret could see errors 
 even where she loved. But Nellie saw none, 
 and there was no one to point them out to her 
 over-partial eyes. 
 
 Still, " for father's sake," she would give no 
 positive answer to her lover's proposal. But 
 she did not refuse it. How could she — " I who 
 love him so dearly " — she thought, glancing at 
 the o;ood-lookin!2: face, which somehow looked 
 more sad than cynical there beneath the trees- 
 on the summer day with sweet Nellie Blythe.
 
 CHAPTEE XIY. 
 
 Margaret's decision. 
 
 Another day passed, and still Vyner did not 
 call on his betrothed Margaret. His betrothed 
 Margaret, after mentally deciding that it was 
 quite time that he should do so, wrote him a 
 note, in her clear, firm handwriting, to remind 
 him of his duty, "as I feel a little anxious, 
 •dear Walter, that thiugs should be settled now." 
 
 Vyner read these words, and then went and 
 «tood, pale and deeply moved, before the picture 
 of his Eve. He truly loved Nora Trelawn I 
 It was no brief fancy — not one of those light 
 attractions which come and go, leaving no mark 
 on many a human heart. No ; he loved her — 
 •dearly loved her — but his honour bound him 
 in galling chains to Margaret, and he felt only 
 that Margaret could set him free. 
 
 He had made up his mind to tell Margaret
 
 178 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 the story of his early love. Even tins had cost 
 a hard struggle in his heart. A. man knows well 
 enouo"h when a woman loves him, and Yyner 
 knew that the usually placid, composed Margaret 
 loved him well. He had been her only lover,, 
 for one thing ; for another, Margaret was proud 
 of his position as an artist ; and last, not least, 
 his handsome face had won her heart. 
 
 But Margaret did not worship Yyner with 
 unreasoning worship. She knew his faults ; 
 speculating in her calm, self-confident way how 
 it would be best to cure them ; feeling quite 
 sure she would cure them, and that the day 
 would come when Yyner would be everything 
 that she wished him to be. 
 
 Yyner, of course, did not know all the good 
 that was in store for him. He only knew that 
 Margaret Blythe was a handsome young woman 
 to whom he was engaged, but whose nature was 
 not akin to his own. But in spite of this want 
 of kinship, the idea of giving her pain was very 
 bitter to him. Besides, she might mistake hi^ 
 motive. Nora's great wealth and her great 
 poverty made the position doubly trying. Still, 
 for Nora's sake— yes, for Nora's sake — the man 
 whispered to his heart, trying to take courage.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 179 
 
 •as his tremblino; hand run 2; that ni^ht at tlie 
 house-door of his betrothed Margaret. 
 
 Margaret received him very affectionately. 
 Vyner looked pale, almost grim. He had been 
 hardening: his heart as lie came alons: the streets 
 to undergo a scene. He felt that he was going 
 to say a most galling thing to a woman who 
 was a good woman, and worthy of better treat- 
 ment from his hands. When Margaret kissed 
 his cold cheek, he felt like Judas. When she 
 put her little caressing hand in his, and sat 
 down by his side, he felt he was acting like a 
 scoundrel. 
 
 How to begin such a story ! Easy is it to 
 say I will do this or that — I will tell this 
 painful truth or the other — but it is not easy to 
 commence words that we know will inflict a 
 stab. Vyner sat silent, pale, biting his lips, 
 trying in vain to speak the words he wanted to 
 say. Margaret herelf at last approached the 
 subject of their marriage with smiling confi- 
 dence. 
 
 '^ Well, Walter dear," she said, *' have you 
 settled anything yet ? I have felt a little 
 anxious to know, naturally, during the last 
 two days."
 
 180 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 Then Yyner rose from his seat, so visibly 
 agitated that Margaret could not help noticing 
 it. 
 
 '' Is there anything the matter ? " she asked,, 
 rather nervously. 
 
 "I have something to tell you," answered 
 Vyner, not looking at her — '* something that I 
 think it is right you should know, Margaret ; 
 mind, I don't wish to influence you — I leave it 
 in your hands — still I will tell you — " 
 
 " Is there any reason I should know ? " said 
 Margaret, her usually calm voice not a little 
 disturbed. "If — if it is anything that happened, 
 "Walter, before I knew you, I would rather not 
 hear it, if it is anything painful." 
 
 "It is painful — most painful — it happened 
 before I knew you," said Vyner, forcing himself" 
 to speak the unpalatable words. " It happened 
 years ago, Margaret — six years ago — when I 
 was a younger man — " 
 
 " I do not wish to hear it," again interrupted 
 Margaret, and her foce flushed, for she mistook 
 Vyner's words. 
 
 " I would not have told you," continued 
 Vyner, still with averted eyes, "if the happiness 
 of another person was not concerned. For
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 181 
 
 myself — for the sake of my own feelings — I 
 would not have told you. But, Margaret, six 
 years ago I — I cared very deeply for a young 
 girl I then wished to make my wife." 
 
 "Walter, what motive can you have for 
 saying this to me ? " said Margaret, with some 
 sharpness of tone. " You are bound to me 
 now. Why bring up this old story ? " 
 
 *' Still it is right you should know. Well,, 
 six years ago, then, Nora Sudely, now Mrs.. 
 Trelawn, was very dear to me — " 
 
 " She is very rich, is she not ? " said Mar- 
 garet, yet more coldly, as Vyner paused. 
 
 *' Yes, she is very rich," said Vyner, and his 
 pale face flushed for a moment, ''but her riches 
 or her poverty have nothing to do with it. 
 She was not-rich six years ago, when I met her 
 as a young girl at Warbrooke. I was a poor 
 man, then, too, Margaret," and Vyner tried to 
 smile, " and in no position to marry — but I 
 cared for Nora, and I believe my regard was 
 returned, and after she went to live with her 
 aunt. Lady Stainbrooke, I sought her out for 
 the purpose of asking her to wait for me. But 
 her. aunt, Lady Stainbrooke — a wicked, worldly,, 
 lyiug Anglo-Indian — invented a vile story to
 
 182 CROESUS S WIDOW. 
 
 part us. She told Nora I was about to be 
 married to another girl, and Nora believed her 
 and married Mr. Trelawn." 
 
 *' He left her a great fortune, did he not, 
 quite lately?" said Margaret, whose voice had 
 now grown calm, but a little hard. 
 
 " Yes, I believe so — but you will do me the 
 justice, I suppose, to believe that I am not 
 thinking of her money ? " 
 
 **Yes, Walter, I cpiite do you that justice. 
 I think it honourable also of you to tell me all 
 this — though I do not quite see your motive 
 for doing so. I honour and respect you too 
 much for a moment to believe that you would 
 think of forsaking the girl to whom you are 
 engaged — to whom you are so soon to be 
 married- for the sake of a rich widow, though 
 you may have had an early liking for this 
 Mrs. Trelawn. Even — if my feelings were 
 nothing — " and again Margaret slid her hand 
 into Yyner's cold, quivering one. 
 
 " Then — you wish our engagement to 
 continue?" he asked, in a strange, forced voice. 
 
 *' Walter ! how can you ask such a thing ? '* 
 answered Margaret, and she hid her face upon 
 vhis breast.
 
 CECESUSS WIDOW. 183- 
 
 The manliness, perhaps the tenderness, of 
 his heart made him only feel pity for IMargaret 
 at this moment. What right had he, indeed, 
 to feel anything else ? Believing Nora was lost 
 to him for ever, he had asked Margaret to be 
 his wife. Because Mr. Trelawn had happened 
 to die, had he any right to play fast and loose 
 with Margaret's affection ? He knew that he 
 had none, and he admitted this to himself 
 while Margaret's head lay pillowed on his 
 breast. 
 
 Then he moved slightly, and Margaret lifted 
 her head, 
 
 '* I thought," she said, " instead of telling 
 me this — this painful story — that to-night,. 
 Walter, you would have fixed somethiug 
 definite about the time of our marriage. It is 
 so wearins; to a o:irl — and — " 
 
 ** Settle it when you like," said Yyner, the 
 grim, cold look once more returning to his face ; 
 and Margaret smiled, and still held his hand. 
 
 '' Shall I ? " she said. '' Yevy well, Walter ;. 
 then we must think of a house, you know ? " 
 
 When Yyner returned to his rooms that 
 night, he sat down and wrote a few words to-
 
 184 CPcCESUS's WIDOW. 
 
 Nora TreLawn. Xora down at Roseland, living 
 among her flowers, liad grown during the last 
 two days to hate their brightness. The mocking 
 sun fell on the river, the mocking sun fell on 
 the roses, but there was no light in Nora's 
 heart — only silent, desolate suspense — some- 
 times despair. 
 
 No letter from Yyner ! So three days 
 passed, and she could bear it no longer. Then 
 she proposed to her uncle. Sir Thomas, to return 
 to town ; and that ancient warrior — heartily 
 sick of the place, too, by this time — eagerly 
 acceded to her wishes. 
 
 '' By Jove ! the old woman w^as right, after 
 all," he said, '' One would get moss-grown 
 living in a place like this too long ! " 
 
 So Nora and Sir Thomas returned together- 
 to Nora's house at South Kensington. Here 
 they found Lady Stainbrooke, who had been 
 entertaining her friends, courting her neighbour. 
 Lady Seaforth, and altogether enjoying herself. 
 
 She received Nora exactly as if no little 
 unpleasantness had ever occurred betw^een 
 them. She had, indeed, taken herself to task 
 for getting out of tem23er with " the foolish 
 <ihild," as she called Nora, at Eoseland.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 185 
 
 " So," tliouglit the worldly-wise old woman, 
 '' our handsome painter has got into some 
 trouble, I suppose, during the five years of 
 Nora's married life, and he has been forced to 
 tell her this, and I was called a wicked, lying 
 old woQian in consequence." 
 
 Here Lady Stainbrooke chuckled to herself, for^ 
 as we have seen, she had got over her little temper. 
 
 " A good thing," she thought, " a very good 
 thing. Absurd, with Nora's fortune, to think 
 of marrying a painter." 
 
 Bat to her ladyship's surprise and discomfort 
 Nora did not seem to have got over her little 
 temper. She spoke, indeed, so coldly to her 
 aunt, that Lady Stainbrooke thought that her 
 dignity required her to remove, for the j^resent 
 at least, from Nora's house. 
 
 Nora made no objection to this plan when 
 her aunt — at first — rather faintly-hinted her 
 intention. 
 
 Then her ladyship got a little warm again. 
 
 *' I do not know what has happened to you^ 
 Nora ! " she said. " If you have quarrelled 
 with ]\Ir. Vyner, I certainly have had nothing 
 to do with your quarrel — yet you treat me 
 with rudeness — absolute rudeness."
 
 18G CRCESUS's WIDOW. 
 
 " I have not quarrelled with Mr. Vyner," 
 answered Nora, her pale face flushing as she 
 spoke. '' I never quarrelled with him, aunt — 
 as you well know." 
 
 *'Then why, my dear child, do you make 
 yourself unpleasant to me ? " 
 
 Nora made no answer. She was not o;oino: 
 to bandy any further words with Lady Stain- 
 brooke ; but she did not ask her to stay any 
 longer under her roof. Lady Stainbrooke 
 accordingly removed herself to Buckstone for 
 ,a time, and took her rheumatic General with 
 her, 
 
 '' Never again," she screamed in her GeneraFs 
 ear, as they drove from Nora's house, " shall I 
 endeavour to do any good to anyone I Look 
 how Nora has treated me ! I who made her 
 — absolutely made her — to be insulted for the 
 sake of a painter 1 " 
 
 ''You shouldn't have interfered, madam," 
 answered the General. " Men do not care to be 
 interfered with ; I don't." 
 
 Lady Stainbrooke shrugged her shoulders 
 with an expressive shrug, and then relapsed 
 into silence, brooding as she proceeded on her 
 journey on the general ingratitude of the human
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 187 
 
 race, and the particular Id gratitude of Xora 
 Trelawn. 
 
 Nora Trelawn felt more low-spirited and 
 miserable than ever after her aunt and uncle 
 had left her. Yyner's letter had followed her 
 to Eoseland on the very day of her return to 
 town, and thus was delayed another day before 
 it reached her. 
 
 Her neighbour. Lady Seiiforth, called upon 
 her, and the clever woman of the world 
 instantly perceived that something unusual 
 was oppressing Nora. These days of suspense 
 had made her look years older than she had 
 done before she went to Eoseland. 
 
 At last, when four days had elapsed sinc& 
 her painful interview with Yyner, the letter 
 that he had written on his return home, after 
 he had told Margaret Blythe the story of his old 
 love, was placed in Nora's hands. 
 
 Ah, poor Nora ! Only a few cold, sad words : — 
 
 I have seen M.B,, and told lier how it was with us long. 
 ago, but she does not wish to break off her engagement, and 
 I cannot. Nora, what more can I write ? I would like to 
 see you, but what could I say ? I should never have 
 gone near you. Will you forgive me for having done so, and 
 may God bless and keep you always, and in this to n^e 
 most bitter hour. W. D. Y.
 
 188 CRGSSUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 Nora read the painter's miserable words, 
 and then, literally and truly in the emphatic 
 lanofuaofe of old, she " turned her face to the 
 wall." "What had she to live for now, she 
 thought, when all the love and light of her 
 life had suddenly passed away into utter 
 darkness ?
 
 CHAPTEE XV, 
 
 WEDDING GARMENTS. 
 
 Margaret Blythe having obtained Yyner's 
 <3onsent to settle the time of their marriage 
 when she liked, at once began to make energetic 
 preparations for that event. 
 
 She had only very little money for her 
 purpose, and to add a trifle more she pinched 
 the already meagrely-provided household almost 
 to starvation. 
 
 Nellie naturally noticed this, but she said 
 nothing. Hatton, however, considered it her 
 ■duty to give her mistress a hint. 
 
 *' I'm getting that thin, miss," said this 
 oblique-eyed handmaiden, putting her hand as 
 usual on her hip, "that you can count each rib, 
 like a 'maciated greyhound." 
 
 " I am sorry you are getting thin, Hatton/'
 
 190 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 
 
 replied Margaret ; " perliaps if you took oatmeal 
 porridge you might improve." 
 
 " Don't think it woukl 'gree with me, miss,"' 
 said Hatton, " ijut perhaps a little more meat 
 would." 
 
 But Margaret turned a deaf ear to Hatton's. 
 "hint." There were certain dresses that she 
 must have, she decided, before her marriage,. 
 and to o'et these the most rioid household 
 economy was required. But Margaret was- 
 careful and clever, and as she cut and contrived 
 her wedding garments she scarcely noticed how 
 pale and stern her promised bridegroom looked, 
 or how the blooming colour had waned on the 
 cheeks of her fair young sister. 
 
 Full of herself and her own prospects, Mar- 
 garet Blythe worked clieerfully on, but at the 
 same time she did not forget the scheme that 
 she had proposed to her father about his future 
 and Nellie's. 
 
 She, of course, had to ask Vyner's consent 
 for the Major to live with them — in case of 
 Nellie's marriage — before she could propose to« 
 make any formal arrangement on the subject. 
 Any woman with keener susceptibilities would 
 Lave noticed the half start and the frown with
 
 f 
 
 CRGESUS'S WIDOW. 191 
 
 wliicli Yyner received lier request. But if 
 Maro-aret observed these sis^us of emotion she 
 never guessed their real cause. 
 
 " Walter, I have a great favour to ask you. 
 If Nellie marries, may my dear father share 
 our home ? " said Margaret. 
 
 Then Yyner started and frowned, for the 
 words " our home " grated harshly on his ears. 
 
 " I know many men would object to such an 
 •arrangement," continued Margaret ; *' but I 
 know also, Walter dear, that you are different 
 1;o most men, and that you will respect my 
 motive for this request. You see, Nellie is 
 •almost a child, and if she marries young Mr. 
 launders, she naturally will live with the old 
 lady who is so devoted to her son, and thus my 
 father would be left entirely alone." 
 
 Yyner now forced himself to smile. 
 
 "But is Nellie going to marry young Mr. 
 launders ? " he asked. 
 
 " I hope so ; nay, I am almost sure that she 
 will. So if my mind were at rest about my 
 father—" 
 
 " My dear Margaret, I do not wish to hurry 
 jou to leave him." 
 
 Maro^aret's face flushed.
 
 192 CIICESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 "Walter, do not trifle," she said. "My 
 father is very dear to me — most dear — dearer 
 on account of his sad affliction ; but there is 
 some one who is twenty times dearer — some 
 one that I cannot part with now." And Mar- 
 garet put her hand softly and tenderly into 
 her betroth ed's, and looked at him with the- 
 love she truly felt, shining in her eyes. 
 
 During the last few days Vyner had been 
 trying to school himself to play the part which 
 he too plainly saw that fate — aod his own folly 
 — had allotted to him. He was going to marry 
 Margaret Blythe, he told himself; but though he 
 knew this, he hated to be reminded of the fact. 
 
 Thus the words " our home " had grated on 
 his ears. And yet he felt at this moment — 
 with her hand in his — how unjust he was to 
 Margaret. He was not a man who perhaps 
 would have cared to have his father-in-law to 
 live with him under the ordinary conditions of 
 married life. But the fact that he did not love 
 his future wife only made him more gentle and 
 complacent to her wishes. 
 
 " If Nellie marries, and you wish your father 
 to live with us," he said, after a few moments'^ 
 consideration, " of course, my dear Margaret, I
 
 CKCESUS'S WIDOW. 193 
 
 shall make no objections — I shall be glad for 
 him to be with you." 
 
 Then Margaret expressed her gratitude in 
 many tender words. 
 
 *' It is like you to say so," she said. " You are 
 always noble, always considerate, my dear, dear 
 Walter, and I am the happiest woman in the 
 world." 
 
 Margaret was really happy. If an uneasy 
 feeling crept over her sometimes when she 
 remembered Walter Vyner's confession about 
 Nora Trelawn, she soon threw it off. 
 
 "He loves me now," she told herself, " and 
 I know that I can keep his love. All men 
 have had some early fancy or other, but they 
 have but one love, and I am Walter's love — 
 and I will prove worthy of his love — I hope I 
 am worthy of it ! " 
 
 Poor Margaret ! Wrapped in her ictense 
 self-appreciation, she never saw Walter's 
 wearied looks, or heard his impatient sighs. 
 Trying to do right, when to do wrong was his 
 heart's desire, Walter Yyner walked on the 
 narrow way with laggard footsteps, looking 
 often lingeringly and sadly back at the broad 
 and pleasant road he had left behind. 
 
 YOL. I. H
 
 194 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 
 
 But lie never sought Nora. No answer had 
 come to his few sad words of almost last fare- 
 well, as they both — Nora and Vyner — felt them 
 to be. Nora understood and respected Vyner s 
 motives even amid her own bitter grief And 
 for a time that grief seemed utterly to crush 
 her life. She fell ill, and Lady Stainbrooke 
 at Buckstone — who was not without her paid 
 informants in Nora's household — heard of her 
 illness, and resolved forthwith to bury her 
 wrongs in the past, and again hasten to her 
 rich niece's side. 
 
 In the meanwhile Margaret Blythe was 
 going on industriously with her pinching and 
 stitching. She told her father how pleased 
 Yyner was that he should share *' our future 
 home." And then she enlarged to the Major 
 on the great benefits that would accrue to them 
 all if Nellie would make up. her mind about 
 ''young Mr. Saunders's proposal." 
 
 This was Margaret's way. Nellie had, she 
 knew, made up her mind about *' young Mr. 
 Saunders's'^proposal," but as she had not made 
 it up the way that Margaret wished, Margaret 
 quietly ignored Nellie's decision. And she 
 persuaded her father — gradually — to see it in
 
 CRGESUS'S WIDOW. 195 
 
 her own liglit. James Saunders was rich and 
 good-natured, and the Major was poor, blind, 
 delicate, and old. 
 
 " I may die any day," he sighed, '' and where 
 would my darling be then ? I cannot expect 
 Yyner to look after her as well. You are quite 
 right, Margaret, she would be better married." 
 
 " I will speak to her, dear father," said 
 Margaret. " I will tell her how happy it will 
 make us all to see her happy. We can all live 
 near each other, and Nellie will, I am sure, 
 come to see you every day. Yes, we must try 
 to settle it." 
 
 So Margaret tried to settle it. She began 
 very seriously — 
 
 "Nellie, dear," she said, "I want to say a few 
 words to you — very serious words." 
 
 Nellie's face flushed, and she looked quickly 
 up. 
 
 " Walter and I," continued Margaret, '' are 
 getting tired of waiting ; and Walter, in the 
 most generous manner, has proposed that our 
 dear father should share our future home. You 
 see, Nellie dear, we are poor, very poor, and 
 this will place my father in an independent 
 and easy position for the rest of his life ; and I 
 
 h2
 
 196 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 am sure I need not tell you that I will study 
 Ills comfort in every way/' 
 
 Nellie made no answer to this, but her face 
 flushed to a yet deeper bloom. 
 
 "He shall be my first consideration, after 
 dear Walter," proceeded Margaret. '' So, Nellie 
 dear, only your future makes me anxious now. 
 Of course I cannot ask Walter for my sister to 
 live with me as well as my father. Generous 
 and kind as Walter is, that would be expecting 
 too much, especially when he knows, dear, how 
 excellent an offer of marriage is only waiting 
 for your acceptance." 
 
 " You mean James Saunders, I suppose ? " 
 said Nellie, with a certain harshness in her 
 voice which was very seldom heard there. 
 
 " Yes. His mother was telling me only 
 yesterday that he is quite devoted to you, Nellie, 
 and sometimes gets quite low about you. It is 
 very flattering for so rich a young man, and 
 one so much run after also, to be so devoted, 
 isn't it ? You are a fortunate girl, Miss Nellie, 
 I can tell you. But jesting apart, dear, I am 
 so anxious this should be settled, and then there 
 would be nothing to interfere with Walter's 
 happiness and mine."
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 197 
 
 ^'Then am I to understand, Margaret, that 
 my father wishes to give up his house — wishes 
 to live with you — and that I only am in the 
 way ? " asked Nellie, with quick emotion. 
 
 "Dear Nellie, do not put it in that stupid 
 way. I have never told you — what good was 
 it to tell you, and worry a young girl? — all the 
 struggles I have had to keep things straight in 
 the house ; and now, when my earnings will be 
 gone, I am sure it would be impossible for you 
 ■and dear father to get along. Everything costs 
 so much now-a-days, and servants eat so much, 
 and are so extravagant — look at Hatton — that 
 unless one has a good income it is impossible 
 to keep things square. No, Nellie, you must 
 not be selfish. Father does not like to say 
 much to you because he is afraid of hurting 
 your feelings, but he fully agrees with me. 
 And just think how comfortable he will be with 
 no coals to buy, or butchers' bills to pay — 
 nothing in fact to vex or trouble him. And 
 you will live near us too, dear, in the Saunders's 
 nice house, and you can bring dear father 
 luxuries — I am sure you will like that, 
 Nellie—" 
 
 But Nellie had turned away her head. Then,
 
 198 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 to lier sister's dismay, a sharp sob sounded 
 in the room. 
 
 *' You need not make any farther arrange- 
 ments about me, Margaret," said Nellie, with 
 much indignation in her tone and manner. 'Mf 
 father is tired of keeping me I shall not trouble 
 him long; but don't, please, deceive poor James. 
 Saunders any more. That at least isn't f^ir. 
 I am not going to marry him, and you have no 
 right to lead him to suppose that I am. You 
 have made all arrangements, it seems, without 
 consulting me — and, and — so I need not have 
 worried myself so much.'* And sobbing bit- 
 terly, Nellie hastily quitted the room. 
 
 Margaret felt exceedingly annoyed — more 
 than annoyed. But still she hoped Nellie 
 would give in. Nellie, on her part, felt angry 
 and bitterly wounded that her father was ready 
 to let her go — ready to give her up to anyone, 
 so that he might live in comfort in IMr. Yyner's. 
 house ! 
 
 Let us follow the weeping, indignant girl to 
 the little bedroom she called her own. See^, 
 she hastily unlocks one of the upper drawers in 
 her humble, small, painted chest, and takes 
 out from its resting-place there the cabinet-
 
 CRCESUS S WIDOW. 199 
 
 sized portrait of a good-looking, fair-haired 
 young man. Murray, Viscount Seaforth — 
 smiling as he now very seldom smiled — was 
 portrayed in this coloured specimen of the 
 photographer's art — Murray, Viscount Seaforth, 
 taken five years ago, in his first uniform, when 
 a light and boyish heart beat beneath the 
 braided jacket. 
 
 Nellie kissed the smiling face ; pressed the 
 smiling face to her heaving, sob-rent bosom. 
 
 " Oh ! Murray, my love, my love ! " she 
 whispered, " I need not have grieved so for 
 father — need not have vexed you. They want 
 me away, and I will go — go with you, my love, 
 my darling — my only one now on all the earth." 
 
 Then she sat down, rocking herself to and fro, 
 the smiling, pictured face still lying on her breast. 
 Loving Lord Seaforth even as she did, to leave 
 her home — to leave her father — seemed a terrible 
 step to take so suddenly to this modest, tender 
 girl. But Margaret had wounded her very 
 deeply. Nellie, quick tempered and sensitive, 
 did not pause to consider that her sister was 
 probably exaggerating their father's wishes to 
 suit her own purpose. She only thought they 
 xill wished her away. '' And I will go — go — "
 
 ^00 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 wept Nellie, kissing again the smiling pictured 
 face. 
 
 Then she read over once more — perhaps for 
 the twentieth time — the last words that the 
 original of this smiling pictured face had sent 
 her — 
 
 When are you going to make up your mind, little Nell 
 (she read in Lord Seaforth's careless handwriting), and take 
 your worthless — literally, remember — adorer for better and 
 for worse ? A friend of mine has offered to lend me for a. 
 month or so a shooting lodge, or some sort of house at least,, 
 among the wild Western Highlands. Will you come and 
 kill the red deer in the forests, and the black game, and fish 
 for salmon in the mountain streams, my Nellie ? Ah, child !" 
 — joking apart — let us go away for a while from the weary 
 life here, and be together by the blue waters of the lochs, 
 on which the grand, grey hills picture themselves in a fashion 
 which should make our finest painters tear their best canvas- 
 in despair. There ! is not that a poetical description, my 
 rosy-cheeked little love ? Come then, let us leave duns, 
 debts, all sorts of bothers behind ; and we can get the fatal 
 noose tied in Edinbro' fast enough — only you must not tell, 
 Nellie. You must never, never tell till I give you leave. 
 Things may turn out better. Some rich old relation may 
 die, and leave me his happy heir, &c. ; but for the present 
 you must promise to keep things quiet. The world — our 
 little world — must not know. But little Nellie knows what she- 
 really is — what she will always be — to her own Seaforth. 
 
 How often she had kissed the scrawl at the 
 end of this letter in which her Murray had
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 201 
 
 inscribed his name ! That signature when she 
 first saw it had seemed to part them — his 
 different rank stared her in the face, as it were 
 — but now she felt that no rank could part 
 them. Perhaps she only loved the young man 
 more for having held out his lordly hand to 
 clasp one of hers who came of such low degree I
 
 CHAPTER XYL 
 
 THE EMPTY ROOM. 
 
 Margaret having allowed lier sister time to- 
 " cool down," as slie mentally expressed it, 
 went up to the little bed-room where Nellie 
 slept, for the purpose of trying to make peace. 
 
 "When Margaret entered the room all signs- 
 of recent emotion had vanished from Nellie's- 
 face. True, Nellie looked paler than usual^ 
 perhaps firmer and more resolved, but Margaret 
 did not notice this. She only saw that Nellie 
 had not been crying lately, and she was very 
 glad to see this. 
 
 " I came up to see after you, Nellie dear," 
 began Margaret. '* I am afraid I vexed you 
 downstairs ; bat I am sure if you saw it in a 
 right light you would see it was all for your 
 good." 
 
 Then Nellie said, rather quickly —
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 203 
 
 ' 'Please, Margaret, don't say any more about 
 this to-day. I have got a headache. I don't 
 want to talk any more to-day. Is tea ready 
 downstairs yet ? " 
 
 " I have just made it," answered Margaret. 
 '' Come down, dear, and get some ; it will do 
 you good." And Nellie having promised to do 
 so, Margaret vrent away ; but before she 
 returned to the front sitting-room where the 
 tea was standing, Margaret had a word to 
 whisper in her father's ear. 
 
 *' Father," she said, going into the Major's 
 study, and speaking very softly, lest Nellie 
 should overhear on her way downstairs, " I have 
 spoken to Nellie about her marriage, and also 
 about you living with us ; so, please, if she says 
 anything to you be careful what you say. It 
 would be such a happy arrangement for us all 
 if she would agree to it, and of course what you 
 say will have great influence upon her." 
 
 " But, Margaret," said the Major, " remem- 
 ber I won't have her forced into anything. 
 If the child likes the young man it is dif- 
 ferent." 
 
 " Of course not forced, father dear; but Nellie 
 is only a young girl, easily influenced one way
 
 204 CKCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 or the other, and it would be such a good thing 
 for her to be well married." 
 
 *' Yes, but still I should not like to urge her." 
 
 '' But tell her you wish it, father, if she asks 
 you," said Margaret, earnestly ; and the Major 
 somewhat unwilliugly promised to do this. 
 
 But Nellie said nothing to her father when 
 she came downstairs. She was quieter than 
 she usually was, and she sat reading, or pre- 
 tending to read, most of the evening, and not 
 till she was bidding her father good-night, 
 when the ever-exemplary Margaret was looking 
 after the house doors, did Nellie show an 
 unusual emotion. 
 
 Then, as she kissed her father, the old man 
 drew her closer, and kissed again her soft smooth 
 cheek. As he did this, Nellie gave a little start 
 and a quiver. 
 
 "Father," she said, the next moment, in a 
 trembling voice, " is it true what Margaret told 
 me to-day — that — that — you are thinking of 
 living with Mr. Vyner when he marries 
 Margaret ? " 
 
 " Well, Margaret wishes it, my darling," 
 answered the Major. "She thinks it would be 
 best, and she thinks if you marry, my little girl — "
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 205 
 
 But Margaret's step was now heard in the 
 passage close to the parlour door, and without 
 another word Nellie lifted up her head, and 
 drew back from her father's arms. 
 
 " Good-night, father," she said, quietly, and 
 then went away ; and Major Blythe ever after- 
 wards bitterly regretted that he had allowed 
 her to go. 
 
 Indeed, the Major determined in his own 
 mind, after she had left him, that he would 
 shortly come to a fuller understanding with his 
 young daughter. But during the following day 
 he had no opportunit}^ of doing this. Nellie 
 was out the greater part of the morning, and 
 Vyner spent the evening with them, and Nellie 
 and the Major were never alone. 
 
 But when Nellie parted with him for the 
 night, the Major grew more determined in his 
 purpose to speak to her. Somehow the old 
 man thought that his little girl's arms clung 
 more tenderly than usual round his neck as she 
 gave him her customary kiss. 
 
 *' And I want you to give me something to- 
 night, father," she said, as if she were trying to 
 speak jestingly. 
 
 "Well, what is it, my little lassie?"
 
 206 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 answered the Major, caressingly, holding her 
 hands. 
 
 " Just a little bit, a very little bit of your 
 hair," said Nellie. "May I cut it off now, 
 father ? " 
 
 " What nonsense, Nellie, to worry father 
 to-night ! " said Margaret, who was standing 
 near them by the side of Yyner. 
 
 " Father won't mind," said Nellie, in her old 
 pretty, wilful way, and she went and got her 
 scissors, and, stooping over her father, cut off 
 a piece of his iron-grey hair. 
 
 '"' Thank you," she said, and she kissed his 
 forehead. '•' I will always keep it." 
 
 " But why do you want it to-night, Nellie ? " 
 asked Margaret. 
 
 ''I want to put it in a locket," answered 
 Nellie. "Thank you again, father." 
 
 " Give me another kiss for it then, darling," 
 said the Major, and then Nellie put her arms 
 round her father's neck, and kissed him very 
 tenderly. 
 
 " Good-night, my darling — God bless you," 
 whispered the Major, and somehow he fancied 
 that a tear for a moment wet his cheek. 
 
 So impressed was he by Nellie's manner, that
 
 CROESUS S WIDOW. 207 
 
 no sooner was Yyner gone, than he spoke 
 seriously to Margaret on the subject. 
 
 '' My dear," he said, addressing his eldest 
 daughter, when they were alone, " I want to 
 speak to you about Nellie. I don't think the 
 child is happy, and I won't have her teazed or 
 worried about this marriage with young 
 Saunders. If she were fond of him, of course, 
 I would be glad to have her well settled ; but if 
 she is not, we must keep on this house, and 
 manage without you as best we can. Nellie's 
 happiness is and must be the first consideration, 
 and I have not been satisfied with her manner 
 these two nights." 
 
 *' She is a little unsettled perhaps," said 
 Margaret, '' that is all ; and I am sure, dear 
 father, that it is her true happiness that I also 
 am thinking of." 
 
 *' Well, dear, I will speak to her in the 
 morning," answered the Major, '' and be guided 
 by what she says." 
 
 And determined to carry out this idea in 
 spite of Margaret, the Major retired to bed. 
 
 The night wore on over the heads of the 
 quiet household. Hour after hour went on to 
 join the past. Then the dawn broke, and up
 
 208 Croesus's widow. 
 
 betimes rose Margaret, sitting down steadily 
 to two hours' work at lier wedding garments 
 before breakfast time. The Major came down 
 late. 
 
 " Nearly ten o'clock, father," said Margaret, 
 in mild reproof, *^ and Nellie not down yet — 
 I have been np since six." 
 
 As Nellie did not appear at a quarter-past 
 ten, Margaret went up to seek her. She 
 knocked at Ler sister's bedroom door, but there 
 w^as no response, so Margaret walked unbidden 
 into the room. 
 
 She started, almost gave a cry, when she got 
 there. The bed had not been slept in, and 
 there was no Nellie to be seen. There w^as a 
 certain strangeness, too, in the ap23earance of 
 the room — scraps of paper, pieces of twine, a 
 dozen little things that told some sort of pack- 
 ing had been going on. Then, as Margaret's 
 startled gaze wandered around, her eyes sud- 
 denly fell on a letter lying on the toilet table. 
 
 To seize this and read the address was the 
 work of a moment. It was directed to Major 
 Blythe, and Margaret at once opened it, and as 
 she read her young sister's words she grew 
 sick and cold wdth fear. How could she tell
 
 CECESUS'S WIDOW. 209 
 
 lier fat]i3r ? she was thinking ; how could she 
 break this dreadful news ? 
 • For in her letter Nellie bade her father and 
 sister good-bye. 
 
 I am going away to-niglit, dear father (read poor trembling 
 Margaret), but you must not be uneasy about me if you do 
 not hear of me for a long, long time. Where I am going I 
 shall be well cared for ; and as you have settled to live with 
 Margaret and Mr. Vyner, I hope that you will not miss me. 
 But I will not forget my dear, dear father ; and I hope my 
 <iear, dear father will not forget his little Nell. Some day I 
 will come back to you, father ; and till that day comes I will 
 •often, often think of you. But do not vex yourself about 
 me ; I shall, I hope, be well and happy, and I hope that you 
 will keep well and happy also. Give my love to Margaret. 
 Your loving and affectionate daughter, 
 
 Nellie. 
 
 Margaret read and re-read these words, and 
 her usual self-possession seemed entirely to 
 forsake her. Did she blame herself ? No ; 
 Margaret never blamed herself — it was not 
 in her nature to do so — but she was greatly 
 shocked and overcome. 
 
 While she was standing thus, Nellie's fare- 
 well letter grasped in her trembling hand, she 
 heard her father's voice callins: from below. 
 
 " Is anything the matter with little Nell ? " 
 •called the Major; and^ pale and even faint.
 
 210 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 Mareraret went down to lier father, still holdins: 
 Nellie's letter in her hand. 
 
 " Is the child not well ? " asked the Major, 
 when he heard his daughter's footsteps approach- 
 ing him. 
 
 Then Margaret took her father's hand, and 
 led him back into the parlour. 
 
 *' Father," she said in a faltering voice, *'' do 
 not be afraid ; Nellie has done a very foolish 
 thing. I cannot imagine how she could do 
 such a thing, but — but she is not upstairs." 
 
 " Not upstairs ! " repeated the Major. 
 '' What do you mean, Margaret ? Tell me at 
 once what you mean ? " 
 
 *' She has left a letter," continued Margaret, 
 with great emotion, " a letter for you, father. 
 I have opened it ; it is a sort of farewell 
 letter. Nellie is gone somewhere — -but, but we 
 will find her. Father ! father ! " And Margaret 
 caught her father by the arm. 
 
 For with a terrible cry the blind man lifted 
 Tip his hands when he heard the news. 
 
 " Gone 1 " he cried. '' Nellie, my darling, 
 do you say gone P Where has she gone ? Have 
 you done this, Margaret ? " he added fiercely. 
 *^ Answer me — have you done this ? "
 
 CRGESUS'S WIDOW. 211 
 
 " Do not be unjust, father/' said Alargaret, 
 to a certain extent recovering her self-possession. 
 ^' I, who have done everything for Nellie — I 
 have done nothing, given her nothing but 
 kindness and love. But I will read her letter." 
 
 With a moan, Major Blythe tottered to a 
 •seat, and then Margaret read aloud poor Nellie s 
 farewell words. As Margaret concluded, the 
 unhappy father utterly broke down. 
 
 " My darling, my darling ! " he sobbed. 
 ^' Oh, Nellie, how could you leave me — blind 
 and helpless. I cannot try to find you, Nellie — '' 
 
 '' Hush, father," said Margaret, " do not give 
 way thus ; you will be ill if you do, and that 
 will only make matters worse. We must try 
 to find Nellie — we must find her — and we must 
 keep all this quiet, if we can. Let us try to 
 think calmly. What can have been Nellie's 
 motive for this rash, misguided step ? " 
 
 Again Major Blythe moaned aloud. The 
 bitterness of his blindness seemed terrible to 
 him at this moment. 
 
 " What about this talk of her marriage with 
 young Saunders?" he said. *'I noticed she 
 was not herself lately — and she may have 
 thought, poor — tender-hearted child — that we
 
 212 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 wished her to many agcainst her will ? In her 
 letter she speaks of my living with you and 
 Vyner, does she not ? But I won't, Margaret ! 
 I will keep on this house if I starve in it. My 
 child shall have a home to come to, at any 
 rate, whenever she returns." 
 
 " We will see about all this, father, by-and- 
 by ; but don't excite yourself now. You see,. 
 Nellie says in her letter she hopes to be well 
 and happy, and that some day she will come 
 back. Can it be ? Can she have married 
 anyone unknown to us ? But no, no ; she 
 knew no one — no, she has probably gone to 
 some educational establishment or other, that 
 she has seen advertised, as a pupil teacher. 
 Yes ; this is the most likely thing I can think 
 of." 
 
 " She — she knew Lord Seaforth," said Major 
 Blythe, slowly and painfully. 
 
 *' Lord Seaforth ! " echoed Maro-aret. " It 
 cannot be, father ! And yet — yet — when I 
 think of it, she spoke very sharply to me once 
 in his defence, whea I so justly blamed him for 
 coming here, and allowing us to believe he was 
 only Captain Seaforth ! If I thought this^ 
 father—"
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 213 
 
 " If I tliouglit this/' said tlic Major, rising 
 passionately from the chair, " blind as I am, I'll 
 force him to marry her! I'll go to his mother's 
 house this very day, and learn the truth ! " 
 
 " But we have no proof, father. Still, there 
 is just a probability. He came here a great 
 deal, did he not, at one time ? " 
 
 '' Yes, at the time of Wallace's accident, 
 ^vhen you were staying with your friend at 
 AVoolwich. She has seen him since, I know» 
 One dav, I remember her tellino; me he had 
 told her he was Lord Seaforth — " 
 
 *'And you did not tell me this, father? You. 
 did not confide in me, though you know how 
 earnestly I have tried to do my duty to you 
 and Nellie." 
 
 The Major was silent. He felt that perhaps 
 he deserved this reproof, for there were many 
 things that he and his little Nellie had not 
 told to Margaret. 
 
 *' Did she say anything more to you ? "' 
 continued Maro;aret. " At least tell me the 
 truth noiv, father — though it may be too 
 late.'' 
 
 " Nothing. I remember being uneasy when 
 I heard this man was Lord Seaforth. But if he
 
 "214 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 has done anything to the child he shall answer 
 to me for it." 
 
 " He lives with his mother," said Margaret, 
 " and his mother lives in one of the South 
 Kensington Squares. I know this because 
 "Walter has dined there ; and if he has induced 
 Nellie to run away with him, he also will have 
 left home. AYe must go to his mother, father." 
 
 "Let us go now; at once, then." 
 
 " Stay, let me think — best keep this as quiet 
 as we can, father, for all our sakes — for Nellie's 
 sake, for Walter's sake, for mine. A woman 
 •can do a thing more quietly than a man. Let 
 me go alone to Lady Seaforth's ; she knows 
 Walter — that alone will be an introduction." 
 
 *' W^ell, if you think so. But be quick, 
 Margaret ! How can I wait here — wait help- 
 less here — till you return ? " 
 
 ''Dear father, it is only a remote chance I 
 am going on, so you must not expect too much. 
 Still I think we have some just cause of sus- 
 picion, at least if Nellie met Lord Seaforth, as 
 you say, unknown to me ? " 
 
 This parting reproof being administered, 
 Margaret got ready to start for Lady Seaforth's. 
 •She did not rush off in hot haste, but prepared
 
 crq:sus's widow. 215- 
 
 deliberately to encounter lier ladyship. As she 
 pinned on her hat and arranged her veil, how- 
 ever, the probability of Nellie having run away 
 with Lord Seafortli grew upon her mind. 
 " This would account for Nellie's otherwise 
 unaccountable rejection of James Saunders's 
 excellent proposal," thought Margaret. "No one 
 in her senses would have refused such an offer 
 without cause, and I believe now this causo 
 has been Lord Seafortli/' at last she decided. 
 
 Maro:aret — ever economical — would not drive 
 the whole way to South Kensington, even 
 thouoii her father uro;ed her to do so. She 
 went so far in the train, and then took a cab, 
 and drove to Lady Seaforth's house. To her 
 surprise, when she rung the door-bell and asked 
 if Lady Seaforth were at home, the footman ad- 
 mitted her at once with a jaunty air and a smile. 
 
 " Oh, y're the young lady from — " (and 
 Margaret could not catch the name), said the 
 man. " Come in, and I'll ring for Thompson, 
 the maid, and she'll take you up to my lady." 
 
 Margaret immediately saw there was some 
 mistake ; but after a moment's consideration, 
 as she stood there in the hall, she determined 
 to take advantage of it. She must see Lady
 
 216 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 Seaforth, slie told herself ; and as Lady Seaforth 
 w^as evidently expecting some lady, the easiest 
 way to procure an intervievf was to pretend 
 not to notice the footman's error. 
 
 In a minute or two Thompson^ the maid, 
 appeared. 
 
 " You can come up with me," she said, 
 addressing Margaret. " I hope you have been 
 able to match it ? " 
 
 Then Margaret's face flushed red beneath her 
 veil, and her very ears began to tingle. She 
 had been mistaken for some shop girl, some 
 milliner's girl, she thought angrily, and she 
 'Opened her lips to tell the maid her true 
 position. But Thompson never looked round. 
 She walked very fast, and Margaret walked 
 after her, angry and indignant, until they came 
 to a room door, which the maid pushed open. 
 
 " Go in there," she said, " my lady will speak 
 to you in a moment or two." 
 
 How degrading, how annoying, thought 
 Margaret, who had always prided herself on 
 looking perfectly lady-like ! But though greatly 
 annoyed, her common-sense told her that the 
 best thing to do now was to see Lady Seaforth. 
 So drawing herself up, and trying to look as
 
 CROSSUSS WIDOW. 217 
 
 dignified as she could, Margaret stood for tlia 
 next quarter of an hour. Then she heard two 
 people outside the door talking in reference to 
 herself. 
 
 " You have not seen it, then ? " some one was- 
 saying. *' The woman who brought it is here, 
 isn't she ? It must match, Thompson, or it 
 will spoil the whole eifect." And a moment 
 later the door opened, and a haughty-looking, 
 fair-haired woman entered. 
 
 Margaret did not know Lady Seaforth by 
 sight, yet she felt sure that this was Lady 
 Seaforth. The small high features and the 
 blue eyes reminded her of features and eyes 
 she had seen before. Lady Seaforth bore a 
 certain likeness to her son, yet the expression 
 of their faces was so totally different that it 
 marred the efiect of the features. The haughty^ 
 prominent blue eyes of the mother scarcely 
 glanced at Margaret as she entered the room. 
 Margaret bowed, and Lady Seaforth made a 
 hardly perceptible movement of her head. 
 
 '' You have brought the lace ? " she said. '' I 
 hope it is the exact pattern — nothing else will 
 do.'" 
 
 *' There is some mistake/' said Margaret^
 
 ■218 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 Irving not to seem nervous. ** If you are 
 Lady Seaforth, I wish to see you. But I liave 
 Lrought no lace — I have come on a very 
 different errand." 
 
 Then the Large, haughty, prominent blue 
 'eyes did look at Margaret. 
 
 " I am Lady Seaforth," said her ladyship ; 
 ■*' but if you have not brought the lace from 
 Marshall and Snelgrove's, why are you here ? " 
 
 " I — I wish to speak to you," answered 
 Margaret, '* and vour servants mistook me for 
 some other person. I — I must speak to you. 
 Lady Seaforth." 
 
 " What can you possibly have to say to me ? " 
 
 " It is on a most painful subject," faltered 
 Margaret, her boasted self-possession all vanish- 
 ing avray before the cold, haughty stare that 
 the blue eyes had now fixed on her. '' I wish 
 to speak to you — about your son." 
 
 " My son ? " repeated Lady Seaforth, in the 
 coldest accents. " I decline to speak to you 
 on such a subject. I request that you will 
 leave the room." 
 
 " No ; I must speak to you ! You mistake 
 me entirely. Lady Seaforth," said Margaret, 
 eagerly. *'I am not a shop girl ; I have brought
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 21i> 
 
 no lace ; I am a yoimg lady by birth, and I want 
 to speak to you about my sister." 
 
 *' I decline, I repeat, to hold any conversation 
 with you," said Lady Seaforth, and she turned 
 to leave the room ; but Margaret sprang for- 
 ward, and stood before her. 
 
 " Do not go away. Lady Seaforth," she said,. 
 " for a moment or two — not till you have heard 
 what I have got to say, if you would save great 
 scandal and exposure. I am the daughter — 
 one of the daughters — of Major Blythe ; and 
 your son, Lord Seaforth, used to visit at our 
 house. I have a young sister — Nellie — Lady 
 Seaforth, do listen to me — Nellie has disap- 
 peared from her home — " 
 
 " What have I to do with such a story ? " 
 interrupted Lady Seaforth. 
 
 "Your son knewNellie — used to meet Nellie,''' 
 faltered Margaret, ''and I want to know — is- 
 he at home ? " 
 
 " Lord Seaforth ? Certainly he is at home. 
 What do you mean by such a question ? " 
 
 "Lady Seaforth," said ^Margaret, galled to 
 the quick by Lady Seaforth's contemptuous 
 manner, " I think I have some right to ask it. 
 Lord Seaforth came to our house first under a
 
 •220 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 
 
 false name. He called liimself Captain Seafortli ; 
 and as my father is an officer and a gentleman 
 tliat was scarely a right thing to do, was it ? " 
 
 " If your father is a gentleman, he should not 
 have permitted such a thing to happen. But I 
 have nothing to do with such a question. 
 •Once more I ask 3^ou to leave the house." 
 
 " You treat me very rudely," said Margaret, 
 her eyes filling with indignant tears, ""'yet — yet 
 I am engaged to a gentleman you ask to dine 
 here — to Mr. Vyner, the painter." 
 
 " I know Mr. Vyner merely as a man of 
 ability, as a painter — I know nothing of his 
 belongings," answered Lady Seaforth, with 
 unchang^ed coldness. 
 
 '' He has no reason to be ashamed of his 
 belongings," retorted Margaret, very angrily. 
 *' But all I can say is, if your son has induced 
 m}^ sister — " 
 
 Upon this Lady Seafortli rang the bell very 
 loudly, and in a minute later the door opened, 
 ..and her maid Thompson looked in. 
 
 *' Show this person out at once," said Lady 
 Seaforth ; and what could Margaret do but go ? 
 
 Wounded and indignant, scarcely able to 
 restrain her tears, she followed the maid down-
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 221 
 
 stairs. The hall door was open, and a charger 
 with ]nilitary accoutrements, and held by a 
 groom, was pawing the ground impatiently 
 before the door. As Margaret went out of the 
 Testibule she saw why the horse was waiting. 
 
 Leaning against a carriage which was stand- 
 ino^ before the door of the next house was a tall, 
 slender fig^ure in an officer's undress uniform. 
 In a moment Margaret recognised him — the 
 delicate profile, the light hair — it was Lord 
 Seaforth ; and Margaret started and half- 
 stopped. 
 
 Should sbe speak to him ? she was thinking. 
 But even as the thought passed through her 
 mind his liofht laus^h fell on her ears. Then 
 she looked at the lady in the carriage to whom 
 he was talking. 
 
 She saw a pale woman with dark, sad eyes, 
 dressed in black. Where had she seen that 
 face ? She had seen it somewhere, Margaret 
 knew, but at the moment could not recall 
 where. But she felt that it was impossible 
 to address Lord Seaforth while he was talking 
 to this lady. So she was forced to pass on, 
 having gained the knowledge, however, to take 
 to comfort her father, that Lord Seaforth had
 
 222 
 
 CROESUS S WIDOW. 
 
 certainly not run away with Nellie, as he was 
 still living in his mother's house. 
 
 As Margaret went home she remembered 
 where she had seen the lady's face. It was in 
 Vyner's studio — the face of the picture called 
 '' His Eve:'
 
 CHAPTER XYII. 
 
 CHOOSIXG A HOUSE. 
 
 Pacing to and fro in the little parlour, racked 
 with the cruelest anxiety, Major Ely the had 
 spent the time which had been passed in so 
 humiliating a manner by Margaret. 
 
 Then, when he heard his dauo^hter's returnino- 
 footsteps, he groped his way eagerly into the 
 passage. 
 
 "Well," he asked breathlessly, as he met 
 Margaret ; but for a moment Margaret was so 
 worried and annoyed that she made no reply. 
 
 ** Have you heard anything ? '' asked the 
 trembling old man, and Margaret looked up 
 at her father's sharpened face, and answered 
 quickly — 
 
 " She has not run away with Lord Seaforth, 
 father — I saw him in his uniform at his mother's 
 door."
 
 224 CECESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 "And did you see Lady Seafortli ? Did you 
 ask her anytliicg ? " 
 
 *'I saw her for a few minutes," said Margaret, 
 ashamed to confess her bitter humiliation, ''and 
 she told me her son was at home — that is all 
 I said as little as possible, for all our sakes. I 
 repeat, this is best kept as quiet as we can." 
 
 *' But am I to sit down and lose my child 
 without making an effort to find her ? " asked 
 Major Ely the, indignantly. '' 1 won't do it,. 
 Margaret ! Nellie must be somewhere, and I 
 shall at once apply to the police.'' 
 
 " Then everyone will know." 
 
 '* What is everyone to me in comparison to 
 Nellie ? I must find her ; I will find her ; so 
 you need not attempt to prevent me doing so."' 
 
 Upon this Margaret burst into tears. Never 
 had she felt so cruelly injured. All her life 
 at home she had been looked up to and 
 respected, and her will had been almost 
 absolute law. She had thought herself the 
 incarnation of all womanly virtues, and the 
 Major and her sister had never attempted to 
 differ openly from the opinion she held of 
 herself. And to be insulted thus I First to 
 feel powerless, to be tamed, held in awe, as it
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 225 
 
 were, by Lady Seaforth's cold blue eyes, and 
 then to be told by her father that she need not 
 attempt to prevent him trying to find Nellie ! 
 
 " I have not deserved this," wept Margaret ; 
 and her father was obliged to beg her pardon, 
 and to praise her and propitiate her, before 
 Margaret would attempt to be comforted. 
 
 She felt really very unhappy, for she was so 
 afraid of the effect that the news of Nellie's 
 flight might have on Yyner. She never 
 understood Yyner. The effect of the news of 
 Nellie's flight was exactly contrary to what she 
 feared. The painter, large and generous, 
 whatever his faults might be, drew naturally 
 nearer to the weeping woman in her hour of 
 trouble. 
 
 He was touched, he was sorry, he kissed 
 Margaret's tear-stained cheeks, as he had never 
 kissed them in their usual smooth and admir- 
 able condition. 
 
 *' Poor little Nell ! Poor foolish child ! " he 
 said. He did not reproach Margaret with her 
 abortive scheme to marry little Nell to young 
 Saunders, though he was pretty well satisfied 
 in his own mind that this was really the cause 
 of the poor girl's flight. He said only kind 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 226 CRGESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 words to Margaret, and Margaret — still not 
 understanding him — began to smile again, 
 satisfied that Yyner loved her too much, 
 appreciated her many virtues too highly, to 
 permit any family disgrace to come between 
 them. 
 
 Sad, is it not, to live with those, to be tied 
 to those, to whom, indeed, we have no tie ? 
 Between Margaret and Vyner there was a great 
 gulf; but Margaret's understanding was not 
 large enough to perceive this. She thought 
 Yynec had peculiar ideas sometimes, a man of 
 vagrant moods, perhaps, like most artists ; but 
 she did not see — could not understand, in fact 
 — the great difference between them. 
 
 o 
 
 Had Llargaret told Yyner — she carefully did 
 not — -liow Lady Seaforth had spoken of him, 
 he would but have laughed. He knew why 
 her ladyship had asked him to dinner, and how 
 she reirarded him. He knew also how he 
 reofarded her, thouo^h she mio-ht think herself 
 a great lady ; but to be great in Yyner's eyes 
 needed something better than a name, however 
 high sounding, that would be writ only on a 
 crumbling tombstone. 
 
 So Margaret dried her tears, and Yyner did
 
 CXRCESUS'S WIDOW. 227 
 
 what be could to comfort her, and also to 
 comfort the old man in his sore distress. But 
 the father's grief was very different to Margaret's. 
 Margaret had her lover, her approaching mar- 
 riage, to think of, but Major Blythe had nothing 
 now to lighten his long dark hours. He had 
 been cheerful and content enough — as most 
 blind people are — before Nellie disappeared, 
 but it was very pitiful now to see his restless 
 sorrow. 
 
 Four days passed on, and nothing was heard 
 of Nellie. Yyner applied to the police, and 
 inquiries were made, and the neighbours heard, 
 and there was a talk and a scandal, but nothing 
 was discovered. Nellie had vanished, gone out 
 in the night somewhere, taking very little with 
 her, leaving— she little guessed — how miserable 
 and anxious a heart behind ! 
 
 The manner of her flight from the house was 
 very easily explained. Margaret always locked 
 the doors herself, and took the small basket 
 containing the keys with her into her own 
 room. The front house door-key was found in 
 the lock the morning Nellie's disappearance was 
 discovered. Thus Nellie must have entered 
 her sister's room when Margaret was asleep, 
 
 i2
 
 228 CHCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 and taken tli« key from the basket, and opened 
 the door. Margaret declared this to be im- 
 j)ossible, she slept so lightly, &c. ; but the fact 
 remained the same, and there could indeed be 
 no reasonable doubt about the matter. 
 
 No one appeared to have seen Nellie leave 
 her father's house, and not a human soul came 
 forward to give any account of her. Vyner 
 saw Lord Seaforth a few days afterwards in the 
 j)ark, and the young lord smiled and nodded to 
 the painter. It seemed impossible, therefore, 
 to the Blythes, any further to attempt to trace 
 Nellie's flight as being in any way connected 
 with Lord Seaforth. Nellie had never spoken 
 of him as her lover ; had never told how often 
 she had met him ; and gradually the idea faded 
 out of Margaret's mind. Margaret finally 
 believed that Nellie, for some strange fancy or 
 other, had gone out as a pupil teacher, or 
 perhaps to other employment, and she was for 
 ever tellino: her father that she was sure Nellie 
 would soon tire, and then she would return to 
 her home. 
 
 But the summer faded into the autumn, and 
 still nothing was heard of Nellie. Then Mar- 
 garet began to speak again to Yyner of their
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 229 
 
 marriage. During all the time of their grief 
 ^nd anxiety, she had gone on with her stitching 
 ^nd pinching. It occupied her mind, she told 
 poor weeping, sympathising Mrs. Saunders, 
 who was grieving sorely for her James's dis- 
 appointment. Mrs. Saunders took a worse 
 view of the case than Margaret. She believed 
 *' the sweet, pretty young creature " had come 
 to an untimely end. She had gone mad, 
 perhaps, she thought, and had wandered out 
 and might now be lying amid the chill slime 
 in the river's bed. 
 
 "And with such chances, too, as she had," 
 sighed Mrs. Saunders, thinking of her beloved 
 son. *' My James was that fond of her, he 
 would have married her to-morrow ! Ay, we 
 never can tell. The best and the best loved 
 are took first, Miss Margaret. This world's a 
 queer jumble, but perhaps in the next, things 
 will be put straight a bit." 
 
 Poor little Puck (James Saunders) was really 
 terribly " cut," as he expressed it, about 
 Nellie's disappearance. The brandy and soda 
 that he had swallowed to console himself was 
 something terrible, and his eyes were con- 
 tinually blood-shot, perhaps with tears. He
 
 230 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 inclined to his mother's gloomy views about- 
 Nellie. 
 
 " No girl in her senses would have done- 
 it I " he was wont to say. "I would have mar- 
 ried her. Can a fellow do more ? Would a 
 girl in her right mind have run away when she 
 had such a chance ? No ; the poor darling must 
 suddenly have become insane, and perhaps- 
 fancied all sorts of things — perhaps that I 
 wasn't going to behave well to her — there is- 
 no saying when the brain is upset what people 
 will think. Mother, can it be in the family, 
 do you think ? The Major's blind — that's 
 queerish ; there's some connection, isn't there,, 
 between the eyes and the brain ? " 
 
 ''Don't know, my darling," answered the 
 meek, fond mother. " If your dear father had 
 been alive he would have told us ; but I never 
 went much into the sciences." 
 
 " Nor I," truthfully affirmed James ; and sO' 
 in this simple fashion they talked of poor 
 Nellie, it beiug more consoling to James's 
 feelinsfs to believe her dead or insane, than the 
 idea that she had run away when she had a 
 chance of marrying him. 
 
 But all this time, though there was no trace
 
 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 231 
 
 or sign of Nellie, Margaret steadily went on 
 making tier marriage garments. In spite of 
 her father's grief and anxiety she did this ; in 
 spite indeed of her own anxiety. But when 
 she spoke to her father on the subject, to her 
 pain and annoyance she found the old man 
 held to his first determination, made after 
 Nellie's flight, and would not now hear of 
 living with herself and Vyner. 
 
 *' No, the child shall have a home to come 
 to, however poor it may be," he said. '' Don't 
 attempt to persuade me, Margaret. As long 
 AS I'm alive, I'll keep the house waiting for 
 Nellie." 
 
 " But, fcither dear, just think, how can you 
 manage?" said the careful daughter. "You 
 €Ould not aff*ord to pay a regular housekeeper, 
 and they are so dreadfully extravagant, even if 
 you could— it will be impossible for you to 
 manage." 
 
 "I'll keep a home for Nellie," persisted 
 Major Blythe; and when Margaret, having 
 used all the arguments in her power without 
 uvail, asked Vyner to try to persuade him, 
 Vyner told her that he thought the Major was 
 right.
 
 232 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 
 
 " How do we know wliere sLe is, Margaret ? "" 
 lie said. "Perhaps nearer than we think ; and 
 if she knew — if she heard that her father was> 
 alone, she might come to him. I think you 
 are wrong to try to persuade your father 
 against his will. If you do not like to leave- 
 him, we can wait ? " 
 
 But Margaret would not hear of this. 
 
 " No," she said, " no, Walter I I am weary 
 of waiting — surely it is time we took a house ? 
 You do not hesitate, do you, Walter, on account 
 of this sad affair about poor Nelhe ? " 
 
 *' You know I do not," answered the painter,, 
 sharply and coldly. He was stung that she- 
 should suggest such a thing — stung and 
 indignant. 
 
 "Then you will look for a house at once^ 
 dearest?" softly said Margaret; and Yyner 
 promised, and sick at heart, the next day started 
 on that dreary search. 
 
 In all Margaret's confidences to her betrothed 
 — and she was very tender to him — she had 
 never told him that she had, she was convinced,, 
 seen the original of the picture that he called 
 My Eve J talking in her carriage to Lord 
 Seaforth. But Margaret had, nevertheless,.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 233 
 
 tliouglit a good deal about this incident. She 
 had learned that Mrs. Trelawn, Vyner's old 
 love, the rich widow, lived next door to Lady 
 Seaforth. The carriage in which she had seen 
 the lady that Vyner's hand had, she was sure, 
 portrayed in My Eve, was standing before this 
 very door. Then the lady was dressed in black 
 — in mourning — and looked years and years 
 older — so Margaret decided — than the bright, 
 smiling, dark- eyed woman whom Yy ner had 
 painted. So Margaret concluded that he had 
 painted this portrait in Mrs. Trelawn's girl- 
 hood, when — "he had admired her" — Margaret 
 mentally called it ; but somehow this meeting 
 with the dark-eyed lady, whose picture was in 
 Vyner's studio, had a little disturbed Margaret. 
 So much so that she never mentioned it to 
 Vyner ; so much so that she was more anxious 
 than ever to marry Vyner. The dark-eyed woman 
 was only a youthful dream, ** and all men have 
 their follies," she told herself, but still Margaret 
 was very anxious to have her marriage over, 
 and to have that youthful dream for ever left 
 behind. 
 
 Therefore she urged him to look for a house ; 
 and Vyner went. To look out for a house is
 
 234 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 not a pleasant task. To walk up carpetless- 
 stairs, gaze into empty rooms, examine cloudy 
 cornices, is not, as a rule, an agreeable office^ 
 even if love be there to warm the heart with 
 dreams of a sweet future, in the now dull 
 and dusty space ! 
 
 But what when love is not there ? Our 
 supposed lover — unhappy Yyner — said not to 
 himself after tramping up the carpetless stairs, 
 as he gazed into the dusty rooms, *'My 
 Margaret will make all this bright ; my 
 Margaret will sit there ; my Margaret, — " 
 &c., &c. Why go on with a lover's endless, 
 fancies? They are sweet visions these, fulfilled 
 or unfulfilled ; they make an Eden again on 
 earth for a brief, brief season. The sunshine 
 falls on the empty rooms as the fond lover 
 walks through them. But a London fog seemed 
 to accompany our jDOor Vyner. It was a weary,, 
 heavy task, and at last Yyner threw it up. 
 
 Every house he thought of, Margaret objected 
 to in her gentle, determined way. One wa& 
 too small, the other too large. One looked 
 north, and would be too cold ; the other south,. 
 and would be too hot. 
 
 " May I go, dear Walter, and see what I can
 
 CilCESUS's WIDOW. 235 
 
 ■do, since it seems to worry you so ? " asked 
 Margaret ; and Yyner was only too glad to 
 :give his consent. 
 
 After tliis, the question of the house, we may 
 be sure, was very soon settled. Hope and love 
 accompanied Margaret in her peregrinations, 
 and she went very briskly about with these 
 two companions. She settled on a house, and 
 she took Yyner to see it. He made some faint 
 objections, but she overruled them. 
 
 " I see I shall l:>e henpecked," he said, with 
 rather a rueful smile, which Margaret answered 
 by a proud, confident one. 
 
 But he knew all the while that he would not 
 be *' henpecked." He gave in to Margaret 
 because he could not be at the trouble^ because 
 his heart felt too weary to contend with her, 
 and not because he was afraid of her. He 
 would never be afraid of her. He knew this, 
 and he knew also he would never love her. 
 But he was bound by honour. How often 
 had he said this to himself, and he said it 
 again, looking at her in the dusty rooms of 
 the empty house in which these two proposed 
 to live ! 
 
 But they took the house. Then Yyner gave
 
 236 CKCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 Margaret a sum of money, and she furnished 
 the house. Furnished the house — let us do 
 her justice — with taste and discretion. Margaret 
 had a sense and appreciation of beauty, and she 
 chose her colours well. Even Vyner admitted 
 this, though his new possessions gave no plea- 
 sure to his eyes.
 
 CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 THE OLD ROMANCE. 
 
 All this while, when Margaret was stitching 
 and furnishing, a cold grey shadow lay over 
 the life of Nora Trelawn. 
 
 She had been very ill — a nameless illness. 
 *' Want of tone," the doctors said. *' Utter 
 folly," thought her aunt, Lady Stainbrooke. 
 But all the same this illness had brought her 
 very low, and her beauty had faded, and her 
 dark eyes were violet-rimmed, heavy, and sad. 
 
 She was wounded — bitterly wounded — be- 
 cause Yyner had never sought her since he had 
 told her in his letter that he was bound by 
 honour to fulfil his engagement to Margaret 
 Blythe. Even if he were bound to fulfil his 
 engagement — and Nora admitted that in this 
 he was but right and honourable, though it was 
 breakinof her heart — but even if he were bound
 
 238 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 to fulfil his engagement, need he utterly turn 
 away from his old friend ? So, woman-like, 
 argued Nora. She would rather have seen him 
 at any cost. Even " heart-wrung tears," shed 
 in his presence, seemed to her to be better than 
 this cold silence and absence. She did not 
 know — how could she ? — that more than once 
 Vyner had stood outside, and looked up at the 
 lio'hted windows of her house with strangle ten- 
 derness and bitter regret swelling in his heart. 
 
 One nio'ht from her drawinoj-room windows 
 — he standing in the street below — he heard 
 the fresh pure voice of a girl singing. This 
 song seemed to smite him as with bodily pain. 
 What ! was he forgotten, then — was she having 
 singing and merriment — and he — and he ? 
 Then Vyner turned away, and went back to 
 his Margaret. He smiled grimly to himself as 
 he sat by his Margaret's side, knowing that she 
 never noticed his cold abstraction. She was 
 not thinking of him, but of her new dresses, 
 and her new furniture. 
 
 " Yet she is not a bad woman," thought 
 Vyner ; " only a great thick wall is growing 
 thicker and thicker each day between our 
 hearts."
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 239 
 
 What was cementing this wall was no doubt 
 Vyner's love for another woman. Margaret 
 would have been more pleasing in his sight — 
 for she was certainly good-looking — if the soft, 
 dark eyes of another woman had not told him 
 of the tender, wistful love he was forced to put 
 away. He was always comparing her mentally 
 with Nora Trelawn. Margaret's self-assertive- 
 ness jarred on him when he remembered Nora's 
 sweet humility and softness. Nora was very 
 womanly — full of womanly faults, perhaps ; 
 but faults are sometimes more pleasing than 
 virtues, when virtues are too unsparingly 
 presented to our gaze. 
 
 *'But Nora has forgotten me," thought Yyner, 
 bitterly, sitting by Margaret's side. " Well 
 •—it is better so." Yet this idea was not 
 consoling to him. Margaret's self-assertiveness 
 jarred upon him more than ever that night. 
 Hearing of his new furniture, of the colour of 
 the dado in his drawiug-room, was dust and 
 ashes to his ears. He went home early ; life 
 was not worth living for, he decided, with its 
 endless worries, its struggles between duty and 
 inclination, between rioht and wrono;. 
 
 He was weary of it all, in fact — the dark
 
 240 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 
 
 spirit was upon liis soul ; some envious fellow 
 had said liis last picture was bad, and a friend 
 had whispered the adverse opinion to him. 
 Everything was going wrong, and so, heart-sick 
 and sad, Yyner sat by his fire, thinking — 
 enviously — that unmarried men at least can 
 have the privilege of being sometimes alone. 
 
 He went to his work next day, heavy and 
 uninterested. Yet he had loved his work, and 
 still loved it. He would live for it again, he 
 told himself — thrusting away his weary thoughts 
 — as he had lived for it in the past years, when 
 Nora Trelawn was Mr. Trelawn's wife, and he 
 had no love but one that was dead and buried 
 to worry him. 
 
 And as he painted on he forgot Margaret, 
 and his new furniture, and his new house. He 
 went out from his real to an ideal world. He 
 was standing on the wintry shore, and the 
 sound of the wild sea was breaking on his ears 
 as he painted it dashing against the jagged 
 rocks, and carrying home the dead sailor whose 
 wife was waiting and watching. 
 
 Vyner was a true artist. The passions that 
 he portrayed passed through his heart. His 
 sensitive, nervous hand never could, and never
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 241 
 
 would, he used to say, draw wliat his braiu 
 and soul had seen before he sat down to his 
 -canvas. He knew his power, but with the 
 humihty which came of true self-knowledge, 
 was ever ready to admit how often he failed, 
 how often his work was wanting in his sight. 
 But he would live for it, he said again ; and 
 so after a hard day's labour he went out to 
 have a turn in the Park, late in the afternoon 
 of the day following the one on which he had 
 sat by his Margaret's side, and thought sadly 
 •enough that Nora Trelawn had utterly for- 
 gotten him. 
 
 The Park was very empty. The season was 
 quite over, and only a few carriages were to be 
 seen. Yyner never looked at the carriages. 
 He went striding on thinking — absolutely of 
 that dark- eyed woman still — when suddenly 
 he looked up, and there, sitting in a passing 
 •carriage with a grey-haired, bent man by her 
 side, actually was Nora ! 
 
 He started, he stopped, and stared at the 
 carriaofe, but Nora never saw him. But he saw 
 her — saw the sweet face changed and wasted, 
 and the dark eyes violet-rimmed, heavy, and 
 sad. Then he knew he was not forgotten;
 
 242 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 grief was on Nora's face and weariness ; the 
 weariness that he remembered to have seen 
 there in her wedded days, when he had met 
 her long ago, and told her that Lady Stain- 
 brooke had spoilt their lives. 
 
 Was he glad to see the shadow again on 
 Nora's face ? Was life as burdensome to him 
 as it had been last night when he turned away 
 from Nora's lighted windows ? Strange, the 
 man who loved her so, felt more bright of mood 
 after he had seen that clouded countenance. 
 He was not forgotten. He would go back to 
 his work, and she would be proud of him even 
 if their hands never met again on earth. Yes ; 
 he was not forgotten, and the thought wa» 
 balm and comfort to Yyner's soul. 
 
 He knew the old man, too, who sat by her 
 side. That pale, pinched face, carried hi& 
 memory back to Warbrooke ; back to the days 
 when he had wooed Nora in the Warbrooke 
 meadows. It was Mr. Henry Sudely, Nora's 
 father, for Lady Stainbrooke had advised her 
 brother to come and pay his rich daughter a 
 visit, as she " wanted rousing." 
 
 Poor Mr. Sudely was not of a very '' rousing '* 
 nature. Sitting in his rich daughter's carriage^
 
 CECESUS'S WIDOW. 243 
 
 •living in lier fine liouse, the old shadows still 
 Jiung over him. He had been '' too beaten by 
 the world," too battered by its rude shocks, 
 -ever to forget them. He had failed ; had to 
 face angry, insulting creditors ; he had scarcely 
 known where to turn for daily bread ; he had 
 struggled and struggled, and then a young 
 girl's marriage had changed it all. 
 
 But the "hard times" had left their mark. 
 It seemed impossible to Mr. Sudely to be lively 
 and light-hearted. The storm-worn old ship 
 might be fresh painted and rigged, but the 
 leaks were below the paint. Mr. Sudely had 
 plenty now, but he never could c[uite forget 
 the days when the wolf was at the door, and 
 when shame and dishonour had stalked by his 
 ^ide. 
 
 Thinking of these old days, Vyner went home. 
 The old romance, the old love, all came freshly 
 back to him. He turned the face of his pictured 
 Eve ao-ain from the wall, and there before him 
 was Nora — the Nora he had wooed in the 
 Warbrooke meadows. 
 
 Then he felt a strange longing, a longing 
 that grew upon him day by day, once more to 
 see Roseland. He remembered the touch of
 
 244 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 the soft hand there holding the flower, and the 
 sweet glad face of Nora standing in the sunlight. 
 
 *' I am a fool," he told himself, and yet he 
 went to have a last look at the rose garden by 
 the river. He went on a cold dull day, the 
 river dark and rough, and before he reached 
 Nora's house rain began to fall heavily, and 
 the wind swept by with a wintry chill. 
 
 He thouo^ht of turnino; back : but no — he 
 would not perhaps have cared to see Koseland 
 again in the glory of the sunshine, as it had 
 been on the day when he had stood with Nora 
 by the garden wall. He would go on, and he 
 went on, and when at length he arrived, he found 
 to his surprise the gate of the avenue standing 
 open. He went through the gate and down 
 into the garden. He did not mean to go near 
 the house, or speak to the servants in charge of 
 it, unless they spoke to him. He meant — 
 *' fool that I am," he said again to himself — to 
 lean for a moment or two on the little stone 
 balustrade where he had leaned with Nora ; he 
 meant to pluck a rose, perhaps, and then — let 
 us hope — go back with a lighter heart to his 
 work and to his Margaret, and to the life that 
 now so plainly lay mapped before him.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 245 
 
 But let us follow him down the wet paths 
 among the faded roses. He looked sadly and 
 grimly at the flowers. Dashed by the wind and 
 rain, out of season, drooping and melancholy, 
 stood the rose trees. Then he looked for the 
 moss-grown wall at the end of the garden. He 
 looked and stood still ; a thrill, a sudden bodily 
 pang, darting to his heart. 
 
 There — leaning against the very stones 
 where they too had leaned in the sunshine — 
 her head down, the rain beating on her black 
 dress — was Nora Trelawn ! Yyner's breath 
 came short for a moment or two, his face 
 flushed ; then a sudden glow of love, passion, 
 and regret swept over him, and with quick,, 
 uncertain steps he went on. 
 
 Nora heard the footsteps behind her, and 
 lifted her head. She looked round, and when 
 she saw Yyner she gave a sort of cry, and 
 started back. 
 
 '' Nora," said Yyner, advancing and holding 
 out his hand, *' I did not expect — I did not 
 hope to see you here?" 
 
 What did the poor trembling woman answer ?" 
 Nothing. She stood there opposite to Yyner,. 
 with a white and tear-stained face, and with
 
 •246 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 •sad and startled eyes. The rain kept beating 
 •down upon lier, the rough dark waters of the 
 river rolled beneath the garden wall, the sky 
 was black with clouds. Involuntarily there 
 passed through Vyner's mind, as he looked at 
 her, a vision of sunshine, and the summer 
 flowers, and the smiles on a sweet, glad face. 
 
 The contrast touched him, pained him, fanned 
 the tenderness in the man's fast beating heart. 
 
 " And you came here," he said, still holding 
 her hand, ''where — we were once so happy, 
 Nora?" 
 
 ** I came," said Nora, trying to speak calmly, 
 *' to — say good-bye to Eoseland — I — am going 
 to sell it." 
 
 Somehow this idea was painful to Vyner. 
 
 " I am sorry," he said. 
 
 " Why should I keep it ? " answered Nora, 
 with sudden bitterness. " It— it is nothing to 
 me now." 
 
 " No," said Vyner, and he turned away his 
 head. 
 
 "You might at least have come to say good- 
 bye," continued Nora, her face flushing and her 
 voice trembling. "You owed me this, I think. 
 You are right, of course — you are acting rightly.
 
 \ 
 
 CECESUS'S WIDOW. 247 
 
 but still — I — I — think you owed me this." 
 
 Then Yvner looked round. 
 
 ** And why did I not come, Nora ? " he said. 
 " Because I dared not — because I had no right 
 to come — because it is better that I should see 
 you no more." 
 
 ** Yet you came here ? " 
 
 "Yes — to have one last look at Eoseland." 
 
 " What is Eoseland to you ? " said Nora^ 
 passionately, and with a sob. 
 
 " You are unjust, Nora. "What is Eoseland 
 to me ? Shall I tell you ? — but you know I 
 you know ! " 
 
 " Yet you never — " 
 
 " Went to your house ? Nora, why should 
 I go ? — only to talk of things that could not 
 be." 
 
 Nora w^as silent. But Yyner saw her eyes 
 2frow wet and bis: with tears. 
 
 ** I did not go — " went on Yyner. " I 
 thought perhaps you had forgotten me — it was. 
 better that you should forget me — but the 
 other day I saw your face in the Park — and — 
 and — the longing came over me, Nora — the 
 old romance, folly, call it what you will ; but 
 I felt I must see Eoseland once more — take
 
 248 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 one of your dead flowers away with me, Nora, 
 as a memento of my own weakness." 
 
 A tlmll, almost of joy, seemed to throb 
 throusfh Nora's heart as she heard these words. 
 
 o 
 
 *' It was so bitter to me," she said, casting 
 down her eyes ; ''so bitter that you should go 
 away with a fevr cold words. If you had 
 come — if we could have talked about it — " 
 
 **AVel], Nora, we can do that now," said 
 Yyner, and he smiled sadly, and once more 
 took hold of Nora's hand. 
 
 Nora did not draw it away. She looked 
 into his face and saw how aged and worn he 
 looked. The handsome face was lined and 
 sharpened, and Nora understood then how great 
 had been the struggle in Yyner's heart. 
 
 " It is hard, — " she began, but she could 
 not go on, for her tears choked her. 
 
 ** Yes, said Vyner, '' very, very hard — so 
 hard, Nora, that I have felt sometimes I could 
 not bear it." 
 
 *' We must try," said Nora, softly, in her 
 tear-broken voice — the man had touched the 
 rio-ht strinir in the woman's heart. " We — we 
 must help each other, Walter — for I know you 
 -are right."
 
 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 249 
 
 **I liave no choice." 
 
 *' And— and—has it to be soon ?" faltered Nora. 
 
 Yyner's resolution failed him. He could not 
 stab this pale woman, standing before him 
 with her tear-stained face, any more just now. 
 
 *' I know nothing," he said ; and he coloured 
 under his dark, pale skin, remembering at that 
 moment his new furniture, his dados — all the 
 things that he hated to think of I 
 
 " You will let me know 1 " said, Nora, still in 
 the same faltering voice, and turniDg away her 
 head. " But come in now ; I think they have 
 lit a fire in the house somewhere. We had 
 better go in." 
 
 So Nora and Yyner went into the house out 
 of the rain, and Yyner felt that he had been a 
 coward. They stood together by the newly-lit 
 fire in the drawing-room, and talked of things 
 quite calmly. Not of Margaret, not of the old 
 love, the old romance, but of pleasant passing 
 things, such as we talk of, even if our hearts 
 are heay)\ 
 
 " I am going to drive back presently," said 
 Nora. *' Will you come with me, Walter ? '' 
 
 For a moment he hesitated, but the tempta- 
 tion was too strong.
 
 250 CECESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 *' If I am not in the way ? " he said with a 
 smile. 
 
 Xora only smiled in reply. Then she left him 
 for a little while, and when she returned her 
 face was no longer tear-stained. It was pale, 
 composed, and sad, but the traces of the late 
 storm were gone. 
 
 And all the way, as they drove together to 
 town, no word was spoken of the old love or 
 the recent sorrow. They talked as friends talk 
 — friends, whose friendship has seen years ; 
 and though Nora's heart was very sad, there 
 was no bitterness in it. 
 
 But just as they neared the house she said 
 one word. — 
 
 " Walter ! " and she turned her sweet face 
 round, and looked into his, and held out her 
 hand, " promise me one thing — whatever 
 happens, let us be friends." 
 
 "If you wish it, yes — most faithfully, yes," 
 iinswered Yyner emphatically, and he clasped 
 Nora's hand tight in his firm and nervous clasp. 
 
 Nothing more was said after this of the clays 
 that were past or the days that were yet to come. 
 Bat a promise had been made, and each felt 
 tliat it would not be broken.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 251 
 
 Then when they arrived at Nora's house she 
 asked him to stay and dine with them, but 
 Vyner said he could not, as he had not time to 
 go to his rooms to change his dress. 
 
 " What matter is it ? " said Nora. " There 
 is no one at home but my father and the 
 General and Lady Stainbrooke, and the General 
 is confined to his room with one of his bad 
 attacks of rheumatism, poor man ! " 
 
 And Yyner did stay. Lady Stainbrooke,. 
 who was sitting, waiting impatiently in the 
 drawing-room for her niece's return, as it was 
 past the usual dinner hour, lifted her eyebrows, 
 or what used to be her eyebrows, in surprise 
 when Nora entered followed by the handsome 
 painter. But she was too much a woman of 
 the world to express this. She concluded, in 
 fact, when she saw them enter together, that it 
 was all settled ; that their quarrel, or whatever 
 it had been, was made up, and that her 
 rich niece was going to make a fool of herself, 
 and throw herself away. 
 
 Mr. Henry Sudely, Nora's father, too, 
 remembered Yyner, and wondered secretly if 
 his daughter were going to marry the painter. 
 But as the evening passed on, Lady Stainbrooke
 
 252 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 
 
 more than once put up lier double gold eye- 
 glasses, and peering through them began to 
 doubt if her first surmise were right. The 
 flush of happy love was not on Nora's pale 
 face, nor the proud light in Vyner's eyes which 
 Lady Stainbrooke expected to see there, if a 
 woman with Nora's immense wealth had just 
 accepted him. They both were calm, pale and 
 composed ; Yyner a bit grim in his manner to 
 Lady Stainbrooke herself, for he never could 
 forgive her, and Lady Stainbrooke — remem- 
 Ijering the scene at Koseland — did not dare 
 even to mention Vyner's name to Nora after 
 he w^as gone. 
 
 Vyner walked home to his rooms in a very 
 restless and excited mood. The old love, always 
 deep down in his heart, seemed now so fresh 
 again. Nora's sweet face haunted him, her sad 
 vvistful looks were pain, yet joy, to him. She 
 loved him, and he loved her so dearly, thought 
 Vyner — and, but for ]\Iargaret — 
 
 A letter from jMargaret was lying on the 
 table to OTeet him as he entered his rooms. 
 Vyner looked at it, bit his lips, and a somewhat 
 strong and angry word rose on his tongue. 
 
 He lit ft cio-ar and smoked it before he had
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 253 
 
 courage to open his love letter. Shall we glance 
 over his shoulder, and read it with him ? 
 Margaret wrote a most charming hand, and it 
 was very easy to decipher. The words were 
 very plain, and so was their meaning ; they 
 were exactly as follows : — 
 
 My clearest Walter, — I expected you to call last night, but 
 as you did not, I must write to you to tell you my good news. 
 Our house is quite ready at last. I saw the last set of 
 curtains put up yesterday, and everything looks lovely ; and 
 now, dearest Walter (as you told me to settle it), shall I fix 
 our wedding day ? I have thought of the 18th of the month, 
 if that will suit you ? There is no good, of course, in 
 deferring it any longer now. My dear father is very unsettled 
 and unhappy still about poor Nellie, but I fear this sad state 
 will continue until we hear something, from her, and 1 think 
 lie would be happier if he knew that one of his dear children 
 at least was happy and settled. I shall make a point of see- 
 ing him every day after we are married, and our kind 
 neighbour, Mrs. Saunders, has promised to look after him 
 when we are away on our wedding tour. Thus my mind is 
 -at ease about my dear father, and you must try to cheer him, 
 dearest Walter, about Nellie when you come. 
 
 I shall expect to see you to-morrow night, dearest. Tell 
 me then if the[_18th will do. We might arrange to have it 
 perhaps on the 15th, but you must tell me to-morrow which 
 of these days will suit you best. And now for the present 
 ^ood-bye. 
 
 Your affectionate and loving 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 Vyner received this letter on the 8th of
 
 254 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 September, and Margaret had fixed on the- 
 18th for their wedding day! There are some 
 things that are not good to look at, some words 
 that are not good to hear. Let us then leave- 
 Vyner for a while after he had first read his- 
 love letter ; leave him to fight out a dark, hard 
 struo'O'le with his rebellious heart. 
 
 He went the next night to visit Margaret. 
 Up and down the room as he entered it, the 
 blind father was walking with restless, uncer- 
 tain steps. 
 
 He stopped as Vyner went in, and quickly 
 held out his hand. 
 
 '' Have you heard nothing, Vyner ? " he said. 
 '•' Nothing yet about my girl ? " 
 
 Vyner was touched as he looked on the old 
 man's easier, sii;j:htle3s face. 
 
 '* No, Major Blyche," he said gently, " not 
 yet. But we must have patience and hope." 
 
 " I try to have patience," answered the 
 Major, " but it is very dreary, Vyner — to be 
 always in the dark — not even to be able to- 
 look for Nellie." 
 
 '' We do that for you," said Vyner. " You 
 must cheer up. Major Blythe, and not give
 
 CRGESUS'S \YIDOW. 255 
 
 way ; it is a great trial, but Nellie will come 
 back to you yet/' 
 
 "I am always waiting and listening. I 
 ■dreamt last niglit tlie child came, Vyner ; but 
 it was very strange, I could not speak to 
 her/' 
 
 "You had the nightmare," said Vyner, trying 
 to speak lightly. 
 
 *' I tried in my dream to open my lips, but 
 I could not move my tongue ; I tried to lift up 
 my hands to bless her, but they lay still by 
 my side, and the child fell down and cried, 
 Vyner, and I saw her face, and it w^as changed, 
 and sad, and old — it was a terrible dream/' 
 
 " They always go contrariwise, don't the old 
 women say ? " said Vyner. " So we must hope 
 to see Nellie lookinof well and like herself/' 
 
 " Yet I can't help thinking of my dream — I 
 must have been dead, I think ; if any life were 
 left in me, I would have had strength to get 
 up and welcome Nellie/' 
 
 At this moment Margaret entered the room, 
 looking very bright and handsome, 
 
 ''' Walter ! " she said, advancing with out- 
 stretched hand to Vyner, " that stupid Hatton 
 only told me you were here a moment since.
 
 256 CRCESCS'S WIDOW. 
 
 Have you been liere long ? But you have been 
 talking to my father." 
 
 '•' I have been telling Vyner my dream,. 
 Margaret," said the Major. 
 
 " And I hope he bas scolded you. Walter,, 
 isn't it wrong, now, of dear father to indulge 
 in. such foolish fancies ? '* 
 
 '' Unfortunately we cannot always help our 
 fancies, Margaret," answered Yyner gravely. 
 
 '' Oh, yes, we can. I never allow myself to 
 think of things that I should not— I think it 
 is weak to do so, Walter." 
 
 " Perhaps it is," said Walter. 
 
 "And now, dear father," continued Mar- 
 garet, going up playfully to her father, and 
 putting her arm through his, *' will you go to 
 your study for a little while, as I have a great 
 secret to tell Walter." 
 
 The Major allowed himself to be led away 
 quite meekly. Then Margaret went back to- 
 her betrothed. The secret that she had to tell 
 him was to know whether the 15th or the 18th 
 was to be their wedding-day.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE GLEN. 
 
 On this same 9tli of September — at the very 
 time when Major Blythe was telling Vyner his 
 dream about his lost Nellie, when Margaret 
 was talking to Vyner of their wedding-day — 
 away in the Western Highlands, by one of the 
 most beautiful lochs in Scotland, a girl was 
 standing: in the moonlio^ht. 
 
 She was quite alone. She had come down 
 over the rough shingle at the head of the loch, 
 and was now looking anxiously over the moonlit 
 w^aters. 
 
 The girl stood there half-frightened, it was 
 so wild, so lonely, and so beautiful, this silent 
 glen. All around her the great jagged peaks 
 towered up against the luminous sky, their 
 shadows falling dark and weird on the valley 
 below. No human creature but herself was to 
 
 VOL, I. K
 
 258 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 be seen, no sound but the mournful cadence 
 of the loch breaking on the stony shore. 
 
 Yet the girl stood listening — she bent 
 forward — what did she hear ? The splash 
 of the tide on the stones, or a startled wild 
 duck on the wing ? No ; it was the measured 
 dip of oars, and with a half cry of joy the 
 girl recognised this, and in another moment 
 or two, out of the shadow of hills, into the 
 clear moonlight on the mid-channel of the 
 loch, a boat glided into view. 
 
 Then the girl ran a few steps further along 
 the rough shingle to the point to which the 
 boat was apparently steering. She mounted 
 on one of the big stones ; she stood there with 
 the moonlight falling on her fair hair and her 
 fair face. Two men were in the boat, and as 
 the keel grated on the shingle a sturdy keeper 
 leapt out and pulled the boat up on the shore. 
 As he did this the other man too sprang out, 
 and the girl stepped quickly down from her big 
 stone and advanced with outstretched hands. 
 
 *' Murray I " she said ; and Murray took her 
 in his arms, and again and again kissed her 
 sweet face. 
 
 *^ Nellie, what are you doing here ? " he
 
 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 259 
 
 said. " CJiild, you should not come out alone 
 at night like this." 
 
 "I could not stay in. I was so anxious," 
 she answered. " Do you know how late it is, 
 Murray ? " 
 
 " Couldn't help, my sweet one. The train got 
 in late ; and then with that confounded ferry 
 to cross — and the row down the loch is a stiff one 
 — it took us over an hour. Didn't it, Donald? " 
 
 Donald, the keeper, touched his cloth cap. 
 
 " A good hour and a half, sir," he said. 
 
 '* There, you see, it is not my fault, Nellie. 
 Come along now ; Donald will look after the 
 "boat. Here, take my arm, and Til help you 
 over the stones." And he held out his arm. 
 
 Nellie put her hand fondly through it, and 
 together, chatting and laughing, they com- 
 menced their rough walk up the glen. 
 
 Donald, the keeper, turned his honest, 
 weather-beaten face round, and looked after the 
 young couple disappearing in the moonlight. 
 
 " Aye, it's laughter now," he muttered, *' wi' 
 
 tears and moans to come." And with an 
 
 .ominous head-shake and a sigh, Donald once 
 
 more seized his oars and began to make the 
 
 boat secure for the night. 
 
 k2
 
 260 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 In the mean while tlie young couple were 
 wending their way up the glen in the white 
 moonlight. 
 
 " And have you been lonely ? " he asked. 
 
 " Of course, IVe been lonely," she answered, 
 looking up smilingly into his face. *' I've had 
 nothing, nothing to do, Murray, but — " 
 
 " Well, what, Nellie ? " 
 
 " Wait for you," she answered softly, and so 
 they went on whispering the tale, old as the 
 earth's first childen. 
 
 - This young couple, now living in the lonely 
 Olen of Strathearn, were called by their neigh- 
 bours Captain and Mrs. Murray. That is, they 
 had really no neighbours, but the house in 
 Strathearn Glen was known to be inhabited at 
 this time by a Captain and Mrs. Murray, to 
 whom it had been lent for a season by its 
 owner, Mr. Kobert Campbell, commonly called 
 Strathearn. But when some lady — one of his 
 own relatives — asked Strathearn if his friends 
 were people she could visit (the nearest neigh- 
 bour being some sixteen miles from the Glen), 
 Strathearn shruo^Q-ed his broad shoulders. 
 
 " I do not think they would care to visit,'' 
 he said ; "and — I know nothing about the lady."
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 261 
 
 But Strathearn knew about the gentleman. 
 He knew lie was not Capt. Murray, but Murray, 
 Viscount Seaforth, and lie knew that he did 
 not care that his relations should know Mrs. 
 Murray. Thus Mrs. Murray, an innocent, fair- 
 haired girl, had lived a month or two at 
 Strathearn without being troubled by any 
 visitors. The servants and keepers about the 
 place made their own comments. Capt. Murray 
 ■only came occasionally to the Glen, but the 
 young wife lived there always. A whisper got 
 about from a servant Capt. Murray once brought 
 down with him from town, that the Captain 
 had a rio-ht to bear another name than the 
 simple one he chose to assume at Strathearn. 
 Donald, the keeper^ had heard this servant 
 xiddress his master as *' My Lord," so Donald 
 shook his head and sighed when the people 
 about the place said how fond of each other 
 the Captain and his young wife seemed. But 
 Donald committed himself no farther. "What 
 -Strathearn had said to his relative, and Donald's 
 head-shakes and sighs, were enough. The lonely 
 house in the Glen was avoided. Strathearn's 
 deer forest, lying beyond the Glen, marched 
 with the deer forest of another proprietor, and
 
 262 Croesus's widow. 
 
 tlie deer-stalkers on the hills used to smile and 
 point out tlie white house standing in the valley 
 below. A pretty woman lived there, it was 
 said, and so the pretty woman's fair fame was 
 smiled away. 
 
 This pretty woman had once been Nellie 
 Blythe. Had Nellie seen the smiles and the 
 shrugs of the deer-stalkers she would have 
 smiled proudly back. She believed herself to 
 be Lord Seaforth's wedded wife, and was content 
 that for his sake the world should not know 
 this. God did, she used to whisper to herself^ 
 growing almost solemn, as she often stood alone 
 amid the wild beauty of the Glen of Strathearn. 
 
 But Nellie never suspected or dreamed that 
 her good fame had been called in question. 
 Lord Seaforth had told her, both before and 
 after their marriage, that it would be utter 
 ruin to him if their marriage were known. 
 Nellie had faithfully promised to keep the 
 secret. Seaforth told her also that they would 
 bear the title for the present of Captain and 
 Mrs. Murray. A friend of his, Campbell of 
 Strathearn, would lend them a house, and 
 Nellie naturally supjDosed that Lord Seaforth 
 would make this one friend at least his-
 
 Croesus's widow. 263 
 
 <!Oiifidant. But slie believed in and trusted 
 her husband with perfect faith. She loved him, 
 loved him most dearly, and she felt there was 
 no sin in her love. But she had one heartache 
 ■ — a shadow falling athwart her love and happi- 
 ness — and this heartache was the thought of 
 her dear, blind father. 
 
 More than once Nellie had broached this 
 subject to Lord Seaforth, but if Seaforth could 
 be stern he had been on these occasions. 
 
 *' Nellie, would you ruin me ? " he said. '' If 
 the fellows in town once knew I was married 
 to you, I would have to leave the service, and 
 probably die in a foreign gaol. Wait, my little 
 ^irl — something will turn up some day — the 
 old man is quite well, I am certain. I saw 
 Yyner, the painter, the other day in the Park, 
 looking all right. Don't you fret. I'll find out, 
 if you like, if your father is well." 
 
 Nellie thanked him very tenderly for this 
 concession, and Seaforth did find out. He sent 
 his confidential servant, who had accompanied 
 Nellie down to Scotland on the night of her 
 flight from her father's house, to make private 
 inquiries about the Major. 
 
 This man, whose name was Clayton, picked
 
 264 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 up in the neiglibourliood some news of tlio- 
 Major, only part of whicli Seaforth reported to 
 Nellie. He did not tell her — did not dare to 
 tell her — all that Clayton had heard in the 
 shops where the Blythes dealt, of the blind 
 Major's restless grief and anxiety about his 
 missing child. Nellie's disappearance had been 
 greatly talked of. Her beauty, her youth, and 
 the respectability of her position made this only 
 natural. Then, poor Mrs. Saunders was never- 
 weary of wailing about her James's disappoint- 
 ment. James, indeed, had taken advantage of 
 his disappointment, and made the most of it. 
 He knew his mother would forgive him now 
 when he came reeling home, and he therefore 
 frequently did come in that condition. 
 
 He must have something to keep him up, he 
 said, and the fond mother did not gainsay him. 
 All his little peccadilloes were now put down 
 to his disappointment, and Mrs. Saunders used 
 to sigh and talk of Nellie constantly to all her 
 acquaintances. 
 
 But the Major was not ill, Clayton told his- 
 master ; and this Seaforth repeated to Nellie, 
 with the slight alteration that her father was 
 quite well. So Nellie tried to console herself ;.
 
 CROESUS S WIDOW. 265 
 
 "but, sometimes in the moonlight ; sometimes 
 when the white mists in the twilig^ht stole down 
 the Glen, Nellie would see her father's anxious 
 face. 
 
 If she might write him but one little line — 
 she used often to think — but one to tell him 
 she was well and happy, and that some day 
 perhaps he would be proud of his little Nellie, 
 But she was quite loyal to Seaforth. He was 
 her husband — his wishes were her law — and so 
 weeks crept into months, and Major Blythe 
 knew nothing more of Nellie than he did the 
 first day after she had disappeared from her 
 home. 
 
 She led a very lonely life at Strathearn. 
 Seaforth never stayed more than a week when 
 lie came to the Glen, and this was but his third 
 visit there when we find Nellie standing in the 
 moonlight by the head of the loch, waiting for 
 his coming. But it would all be right some day, 
 he told her ; and so waiting for that welcome 
 •day Nellie tried to live on in peace. 
 
 It seemed all right the morning after his 
 arrival, when the young couple went out 
 together and stood looking at the sunlight 
 flooding the vast gorges, the mighty peaks —
 
 266 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 grey and storm-rent — by wliicli they were- 
 surrounded. 
 
 The house in the Glen of Strathearn stood 
 on a small natural table-land at the head of 
 the loch, just above the rough shingle which 
 the tide washed when it rose. All round the 
 house, save on the side which faced the blue 
 spreading waters of the loch, great peaked 
 craggy mountains stood towering up, mountain 
 upon mountain, crag upon crag. A wild, lone,, 
 and lovely spot, where mists and storms loved 
 to dwell. But as Seaforth and Nellie went out 
 on this bright morning the storms were still and 
 the mists had vanished away. Each peak stood 
 sharply out against the blue clear sky; the rifts, 
 the patches of heather, the bare vast blocks of 
 cold grey stone, all plainly visible. 
 
 '* It always makes me think of solemn things 
 — it is so grand, so still," said Nellie, in a low 
 voice, and Seaforth smiled good-naturedly, and 
 pushed some of Nellie's fair curly hair off her 
 Avhite brow. 
 
 *' Eomantic young woman ! " he said. 
 
 She was leaning on his arm, dressed in one 
 of her favourite white dresses, and her sweet 
 face was all alight and glad with love. Seaforth
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 267 
 
 turned round and looked at lier, and drew her 
 fondly to liim. He had wooed her and won her 
 innocent heart for the sake of this sweet face, 
 and its beauty was still fresh and fair in his 
 ■eyes. 
 
 " Yes, Nellie," he said presently, with a half 
 sigh, " it's a fine place. If it were only mine, 
 ■child, we need not be hiding now." 
 
 *' And is your friend, Mr. Campbell, rich ? " 
 asked Nellie. 
 
 ** Fairly so, I believe," answered Seaforth. 
 " The old Laird was a miserly old fellow, and 
 lived here most of his life^ where, of course, he 
 •could not spend much, and he quarrelled with 
 Strathearn — the present man — because he was 
 not quite a saint. I met Campbell in town 
 some years ago, and we rather chummed 
 together. He was kept close enough then, and 
 I helped him out of a hole more than once ; so 
 when the old boy retired to the family vault, 
 two years ago, Strathearn, to show his gratitude, 
 asked me down here whenever I like to come. 
 He has a shooting lodge further up the hills, 
 and he always brings some fellows down for the 
 deer- stalking. I asked Donald, the keeper, if 
 they expect him at the lodge soon, and he
 
 268 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 says tliey talk of him being here next week." 
 
 *' But, Murray, does he not want to come to 
 this house — his own house ? " asked Nellie, a 
 little anxiously. 
 
 ** He has lent it to you for the present,"' 
 answered Seaforth, with a laugh. '' Don't 3'ou 
 worry, he won't come near you. The lodge suits 
 him best, and he professes to be no admirer of 
 ladies." 
 
 " I hope he won't come here," said Nellie. 
 
 "Not he. But Nellie, I promised Donald to 
 go down the loch a mile or so and land, and try 
 my chance with the blackcock. Will you bring 
 lunch, and in the afternoon we can fish together 
 in the loch awhile." 
 
 Nellie smilingly agreed to this plan. Seaforth 
 and the keeper started on their shooting expe- 
 dition, and Nellie remained idly about the place 
 until she saw Donald rowing up the loch for the 
 purpose of taking her and her luncheon basket 
 down. Seaforth was standing waiting for her 
 when the boat neared the shore, and he held out 
 his arms to help her to land with a smile. 
 
 " Well, little wife," he said, " I hope you have 
 brouo'ht sometlmiQ: substantial to eat, for I am 
 literally starvine:."
 
 CECEaUiiS WIDOW. 269 
 
 Donald, the keeper, heazd lum call ^Nellie 
 '* little wife," and the gnm weather-beatoi £ice 
 and the kindly blue ejes of the Highlander 
 relaxed into a smile as he did so. This Donald 
 had groaned both in spirit and in reality many 
 a time over what he sapposed was Nellie's £ite. 
 In spite of alL, howerer; her girhsh beanty and 
 sweetness had won his honest heart He nsed 
 to look at her sometimes with his solemn eyes, 
 and wonder if she could be one of those against 
 whom he had read such awfbl warnings in his 
 wefl-wom Bible Therefore, after Seaforth 
 and Nellie had finished hmch, he said grace 
 and ate his dinner this day by the loch 
 with a cheerftd heart He even pointed 
 oat to Nellie with pious pride a lonely hut 
 standing amid the wild gorges of the moun- 
 tains, and told her how each month a missionary 
 came over the hiUs and held a serrice there, and 
 how the scattered shepherds gathered together 
 to hear the word of €rod. 
 
 ** And if the lady would like to go next 
 Sabbath,'' suggested DonaM, *^ that's the day we 
 look for the minister." 
 
 SeaAnth laug^ied aloud at this, but XeUie said 
 softly —
 
 270 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 " Yes, Donald, I would like to go." 
 
 Seaforth laughed again. He was a very 
 careless young man this, and if it '' amused " 
 Nellie, as he called it, to go and listen to the 
 Scotch minister, he cared no more than if she 
 had gone to witness some heathenish rites. 
 
 *' Only please don't ask him to the Glen, 
 Nellie," he said, in his good-natured, laughing 
 way. '^ I could not stand coming dov\^n some 
 day and finding the minister's greasy hat hang- 
 ing in the hall." 
 
 Donald groaned once more in spirit to hear 
 these scoffing words. The minister's visits 
 to him were as the ''dew of the morning." 
 They raised him above the crosses of his daily 
 life ; they brought nearer the Beacon Light 
 which burned so clearly for his pious soul on 
 high. 
 
 '' You must row me down to hear him, 
 Donald," said Nellie gently, for she saw by the 
 man's face how hurt he was by what Seaforth 
 had said. 
 
 Donald touched his cap. The keeper's face 
 was lined and grim aud weather-beaten, but a 
 sort of native nobleness of expression lit up this 
 homely countenance. Born amid these wild
 
 CR(ESUSS WIDOW. 271 
 
 liills, lie Lad lived all his life face to face with 
 their solemn grandeur. The distractions of busy 
 towns, the rush of busy life, the stir, the 
 struggle, had come not near him. No crowded 
 time had made him forget or neglect eternity. 
 In the stillness or the storm he heard the 
 Almighty's voice, and hearing it, lived up to 
 his simple faith. 
 
 His honesty and uprightness were well 
 known. His father had been keeper to the 
 Campbells of Strathearn before him, and now 
 fifty years of age, Donald was not likely to 
 change masters. He was a dead shot on the 
 hills, and knew his duties well, and though the 
 present Strathearn sometimes called him " that 
 over-pious fellow, Donald," he both really liked 
 and respected his old servant. 
 
 He lived at the house in the Glen, and had 
 always charge of it in Strathearn's absence. 
 He had made no fortune ; for his hands were 
 clean from "j^i^^'^ing and stealing," as his tongue 
 was from '*evil speaking, lying, and slanderino-." 
 By groans and head-shakings alone Donald 
 expressed his doubts about his neighbours, and 
 it must be admitted that this manner of denoting 
 an evil opinion is safer than that of words.
 
 272 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 Thus he had never committed himself by 
 saying anything about Nellie, whatever his own 
 private thoughts may have been. Strathearn 
 had told him that a Captain and Mrs. Murray 
 were coming to stay at the Glen, but Donald 
 had noticed that none of Strathearn's own 
 people — none of the Campbells — had come near 
 to visit the lady. The women of the household, 
 consisting of an old highland woman who acted 
 as cook, and a young highland woman who 
 acted as housemaid, had not been so reticent. 
 They had asked Donald questions, but Donald 
 had only groaned and shaken his head. He 
 felt great inward satisfaction, therefore, when 
 he remembered this as he sat rowing Seaforth 
 and Nellie in the boat, after he had heard 
 Seaforth call Nellie with his own ears, his 
 '' little wife." 
 
 The young couple spent the rest of the 
 afternoon on the loch. Nellie would not fish. 
 ** It was too beautiful to do anything," she 
 said ; and truly it was beautiful. On the broad, 
 smooth breast of the water lay reflected, as if 
 in a mighty mirror, the mountains and hills 
 through which it flowed. There was scarcely 
 a ripple on the tide, and above the sky was
 
 CRCESUS'S ^YIDOW. 273 
 
 deep blue and cloudless. Here and there a 
 wild duck skimmed, and a big seal raised its 
 liead and looked curiously with its mild eyes at 
 the boat and its occupants. 
 
 *'If the lady would sing he'd follow us/' 
 suggested Donald, as these creatures are popu- 
 larly supposed to be great lovers of music. 
 But Nellie only laughed in reply, and as the 
 big seal did not apparently find her laugh 
 musical enough, he soon vanished away.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 STRATHEAPvN. 
 
 Seaforth only stayed three days longer in the 
 Glen. His mother, he told Nellie, was visiting 
 some of her own people in Suffolk, and he had 
 promised to join her there. He told Nellie 
 also that he had left directed envelopes in 
 town with his servant Clayton, and that his- 
 letters from Scotland were actually placed in 
 these envelopes before being forwarded, so 
 anxious was he that no whisper of his visits to 
 the Glen should reach his proud mother's ears. 
 But Seaforth did not tell Nellie that he still 
 allowed his mother to scheme and hope for his 
 marriage with "Croesus's Widow;" he did not 
 tell her that he also allowed his most pressing 
 creditors to believe that this marriage was 
 not only possible but probable. Yet such was 
 actually the case. This, indeed, was one of
 
 CECESUS'S WIDOW. 275 
 
 the many illustrations of how the miserable 
 influences of debt and im]Decuniosity will cor- 
 rupt and change the human heart. 
 
 When with Nellie amid the wild beauty of 
 the Glen, Seaforth tried to, and actually did 
 sometimes, forget his troubles. But money 
 •embarrassments have a more faithful memory 
 than the tenderest friend. They will not be 
 forgotten. They follow a man wheresoever he 
 goes, tapping him on the shoulder alike in his 
 hours of merriment or woe. In the chamber 
 of death, how often the pale expectant heir 
 stands counting his debts ! Even with Nellie's 
 soft hand clasped in his, Seaforth saw some- 
 times the grim shadow of the suspended sword. 
 
 But her sweetness and beauty always had a 
 good influence wpon him. It was quite true 
 what he told her, that no contemptible thought 
 of their difference of rank made him keep their 
 miarriage as a thing to be ashamed of, and 
 hidden away. It was not this, but the actual 
 knowledg^e that he was ruined: that his mother 
 would be dragged down by his ruin ; and that 
 he was really living on the credit of being a 
 young, titled, and unmarried man. More than 
 one of his sharp-eyed, beak-nosed, accommo-
 
 276 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 dating acquaintances, had told the young lord^ 
 with a smile and a leer, that it was cjuite time 
 for him to '' settled Many a rich City girl they 
 knew would take him with his old title and 
 his good-looking face. Then they heard the 
 report about *' Croesus's Widow," and Seaforth 
 had borrowed more money on the strength of 
 it. 
 
 But on the morning that he left the Glen of 
 Strathearn, as he parted with Nellie and looked 
 into her fair trustful face, Seaforth told himself 
 that he must do something — that he must 
 change his plan of life somehow, and not bring 
 any more trouble upon the loving woman who 
 clung to him with such wistful fondness. 
 
 Nellie felt very sad after he left. She had 
 gone down the loch with him in the boat, 
 and as Donald rowed her up again he saw her 
 blue eyes grow dim and moist, and a big tear 
 or two roll down her smooth soft cheeks. Then 
 she turned away her head and bent over the 
 side of the boat, but Donald knew that " the 
 lady's " heart was heavy within her, and he 
 longed to speak, though he did not venture to 
 do so, of a comfort which was beyond the 
 influence of the fickle moods of men.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 277 
 
 The next few days were very dreary ones at 
 Strathearn. The weather changed, and the 
 mists gathered on the mountain peaks, and the 
 rain and the wind swept down the glen, and 
 came dashing against the window panes, and 
 the waters of the loch looked dark and angry. 
 
 Inside the house Nellie sat alone, and a 
 nameless sadness oppressed her. She tried to 
 think of the future — the bright future — when 
 she would go home as Lord Seaforth's wife, 
 and put her loving arms round the dear blind 
 father's neck. This was the future, but the 
 present was very sad. 
 
 Living alone in this wild place, with only 
 three servants in the house, and Seaforth so far 
 away ! She could not even write to him openly, 
 and to the house where he was staying in 
 Suffolk. Her letters were to be sent to his 
 club always, Seaforth had told her, and the 
 post only came to Strathearn Glen twice a week. 
 
 Then the first post-day came after Seaforth 
 had left, and there was no letter for Nellie ! 
 Nellie cried very bitterly at this. When 
 she was so anxious, she thought it was very, 
 very cruel of Murray to forget her. Mur- 
 ray had not forgotten her, but he was bothered
 
 278 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 and worried to death, and hardly knew what 
 to write to the poor child alone in the Scottish 
 glen. 
 
 So Nellie had nothing to do but to wander 
 up and down in the silent house. The mist 
 still lay on the hills, and the rain came sweeping 
 <iown the gorges. It was very desolate — no 
 letters, no newspapers — only anxious thoughts, 
 and vague fears, sometimes for Seaforth, some- 
 times for the dear father at home. 
 
 Do men ever realise — living in action, living 
 amid the excitement and competitions of life 
 — how women fret and pine in seeming rest 
 and security? The moth eats into the garment 
 that is laid carefully away, and so anxiety and 
 care wear most the hearts that are shut out 
 from the struo^o-le and stir of the world. But 
 Seaforth never thought of this, or perhaps he 
 would have contrived that his Nellie should 
 receive one letter at least on the rare visits of 
 the post-bag to the Glen of Strathearn. 
 
 At last the sun shone out again, and Nellie 
 'Could get out and watch the mists and the 
 clouds creeping, as if unwillingly, away over the 
 mountains' peaks ; she went out on the loch 
 '{glad of any change), and Donald rowed her
 
 CKCESUS'S WIDOW. 279 
 
 down to where a famous fishing stream flowed 
 into the loch. Donald moored the boat in a 
 little bay, and then left Nellie sitting on some 
 lichen-grown rocks, looking wistfully over 
 the blue waters at her feet and to the blue 
 misty mountains beyond. 
 
 Not a human soul was to be seen. Donald 
 had disappeared up the stream with his fishing 
 gear, and Nellie sat there amid the great still- 
 ness. But before Ions; she heard some shots on 
 the hills. She looked around, but no sportsmen 
 were visible, and so she sat on, thinking of the 
 past, and weaving hopes for the days that had 
 not come. 
 
 But her day-dream was strangely broken. 
 
 " Donald ! Donald ! " she presently heard 
 someone call through the clear air, and rising 
 in surprise, she saw the next minute a tall man 
 in a rough shooting dress coming hastily 
 striding down the hilly ground behind her, and 
 apparently making direct for the spot where 
 she now stood. 
 
 He advanced straight towards her. Then, 
 when a few steps apart, he slightly touched his 
 cap. 
 
 " Excuse me addressing you," he said, " but
 
 280 CRCESUS'S WIDO^Y. 
 
 can you tell me where Donald, the keeper, is ? " 
 
 " He is fishing up the stream," answered 
 Nellie, in her fresh girlish voice. 
 
 '' I want help very badly," continued the tall 
 man. " The poor fellow out with me on the hills 
 there, my keeper, has fallen down apparently in 
 a fit, and is in a terrible state. I can make 
 nothing of him, and I saw Donald moor the 
 boat in the bay awhile since, and so if you can 
 direct me to him — " 
 
 " Can I be of any use ? " said Nellie, looking 
 with her clear, frank eyes in the tall man's face, 
 who OD his part was regarding her with consider- 
 able surprise. " There is some fresh water in 
 the boat, I think. Shall 1 run and get it? And 
 if you will tell me where the poor keeper is — " 
 
 '' You are very good," said the tall man, as 
 Nellie paused. He was still looking wonderingly 
 at the fair girlish face before him. " You are 
 Mrs. Murray, are you not ? " he added, some- 
 what abruptly. " The lady living in the 
 'Glen ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Nellie, her rosy colour 
 ■deepening on her smooth cheek. 
 
 *' I thought so — seeing you with Donald — I 
 -am Robert Campbell, of Strathearn."
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 281 
 
 Nellie had guessed this before. She had 
 heard Seaforth describe their host at Strathearn 
 as a " tremendous fellow, all loosely hung 
 together," and looking at the brown, healthy^ 
 rather handsome face of the long-limbed giant 
 before her, Nellie at once had decided that 
 this must be Mr. Campbell, commonly called 
 Strathearn. 
 
 " Shall we get the water ? " said Nellie. " I 
 am almost sure Donald has some in the boat ? "' 
 
 '" Thanks. Let me help you over these rough 
 stones I " answered Strathearn, and he held out 
 one of his big hands. But Nellie needed no 
 help. She sprang lightly over the jutting 
 rocks, and soon reached the boat, and found 
 Donald's stone water-bottle, from which he was- 
 wont to dilute his whisky. 
 
 " I have a flask with me, so we're all right," 
 said Strathearn. '* Here, let me carry the 
 water. Do you know anything about fits ? 
 This fellow Brady, his face is so horribly 
 twisted, perhaps it may frighten you to look 
 at him ? " 
 
 As Strathearn said this Nellie had jumped 
 out of the boat with the stone water-bottle in 
 her hand, and was evidently preparing to follow
 
 282 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 Sfcratliearn to the poor keeper who had taken 
 the fit. But Strathearn, glancing at her 
 youthful face, at her white dress, suddenly 
 remembered that this butterfly — as he mentally 
 was calling her — was hardly fit to look upon 
 the terrible struggles of the stricken, perhaps 
 dying, man. 
 
 *^ I am not afraid," said Nellie. ''I will stay 
 wdth him while you go and seek for Donald." 
 
 Again Strathearn said, '' You are very good," 
 and then went striding up the steep hills 
 followed by Nellie, until they came to where 
 the keeper Brady lay on the ground, with his 
 face all drawn up and contorted at one side. 
 He was stricken with paralysis, and had totally 
 lost all power of motion over his body. 
 
 Nellie knelt down beside him, and bathed 
 his brow. She took ofi' her shawl, and made a 
 pillow with it for his head, and she took one 
 of his rough, hard, cramped hands in hers, and 
 spoke kindly, gentle words. 
 
 " I will stay beside you," she said ; '' and this 
 gentleman " — and she glanced up at Strathearn 
 — *' will go and look for Donald, and then we 
 will carry you to the boat." 
 
 She did not know what to do ; she had never
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 283- 
 
 seen anyone in a fit before, but her kindly 
 womanly nature prompted her to act as slie 
 did, and the big, tall man standing beside her 
 kept looking at her in the utmost astonishment. 
 
 " You're awfully kind," he said. In fact, he 
 did not know what to say. He was of rough, 
 though honest nature, and the women he had 
 known the most of had not raised his estimation 
 of womankind. He regarded them with a. 
 sort of contemptuous good-nature, believing in 
 no noble qualities, but in a thousand frivolous 
 ones. He was no reader — the thoughts of 
 women who have writ their names in unfadino- 
 letters were unknown to him — he judged by 
 what he could understand, by what he had seen. 
 
 He was, therefore, quite astonished to see 
 a pretty woman like Nellie kneeling by a sick 
 man's side, her sweet girlish face so fall of pity. 
 
 *' AY ill you go and seek Donald ? " she said,, 
 addressing him a moment later. " The sooner 
 he is in bed and we get the doctor the better, 
 I am not afraid to be left." 
 
 '^ Very well," said Strathearn ; and he turned 
 away. As he went jumping and plunging 
 down the rough ground over the hills, he was- 
 thinkiuo; of Nellie.
 
 284 
 
 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 
 
 *' Artful little monkey, no doubt ! " at last 
 he decided, and his mind felt relieved at having 
 come to this conclusion. 
 
 In the meanwhile Nellie was doing all that 
 she could for the poor keeper. He had re- 
 covered consciousness by this time, but his 
 articulation was painfully affected, and Nellie 
 felt no small relief when presently she saw the 
 figures of Strathearn and Donald hastening up 
 the hill towards her. 
 
 This poor Brady, who had taken the fit, had 
 been brought down by Strathearn from War- 
 wickshire, where Strathearn had another 
 property, but Brady and Donald had not pulled 
 over well together since his arrival in Scotland. 
 Donald regarded Brady as "a cross," a thorn 
 in his side. Brady loved to speak in lofty 
 terms of ' ' wb at we do in Warwickshire. ' ' Brady 
 was a sort of favourite of Strathearn's, and 
 Donald (to admit the truth of so good a man) 
 had been a bit jealous of the " English keeper." 
 But when Donald saw the poor fellow lying 
 before him, with his altered face and frightened, 
 appealing eyes, all envy and bitterness died out 
 -of Donald's heart. 
 
 "It is a stroke," he said, solemnly, and knelt
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 285 
 
 down by Brady's other side, for Nellie was still 
 kneeling on the ground holding the keeper's 
 hand. 
 
 " If we lift him on the shawl, Donald," said 
 Nellie, " you and Mr. Campbell could carry 
 him more easily that way, could you not ? And 
 the shawl is a very strong one." 
 
 *'If Strathearn will," answered Donald, 
 looking at his master. 
 
 '' Of course I will," said Strathearn. '^ But 
 won't you be cold without your plaid ? " he 
 xidded, addressing Nellie. 
 
 " Oh no," she said. Her " shawl " was a 
 pretty tartan plaid, and Nellie had wrapped it 
 over her white dress when she went out. So 
 the poor keeper was lifted on the plaid, and 
 carried down to the boat by Strathearn and 
 Donald; Nellie walking by his side, still holding 
 his cold, cramped hand. 
 
 Then they lifted him into the boat, Strathearn 
 supporting him in his arms while Donald 
 rowed. 
 
 " May we impose upon your hospitality for 
 a day or two ? " said Strathearn, looking at 
 Nellie. '' It would be impossible, I fear, to 
 get him to the lodge as he is now."
 
 286 CRCESUS'S WIDOW, 
 
 "I am sure it would," answered Nellie* 
 *' How well it is that it is not far to the house 
 in the Glen." 
 
 Scarcely another word was said in the boat- 
 Donald rowed on with a swift sure stroke, and 
 soon the keel of the boat grated on the rough 
 shingle at the head of the loch. Then Strath^ 
 earn and Donald carried Brady to the lonely 
 house in the Glen. The two women ran out^ 
 and the dogs barked as they approached it. 
 But Strathearn was a somewhat stern master. 
 
 " Hold your confounded noise, and do some- 
 thing sensible," he said to the old highland 
 housekeej^er, who was wringiug her hands, and 
 openly lamenting over poor Brady. And the 
 effect of Strathearn's reproof was that the 
 poor man was shortly afterwards conveyed ta 
 Donald's bed, and Donald despatched on a stout 
 pony in search of a doctor. 
 
 Nellie left the two women and Strathearn to 
 look after the keeper when they arrived at the- 
 house. She felt she might be in the way, 
 so she took off her hat and went into the 
 rather scantily-furnished sitting-room which 
 was dignified with the name of drawing-room 
 at the house in the Glen.
 
 CRCESUS'S ATIDOW. 287 
 
 This sitting-room liad two windows, one 
 looking down the loch, and the other on the 
 steep mountain side, which stood immediately 
 in front of it. Nellie sat down by this window, 
 looking vaguely at the great storm-cleft crags 
 before her. But presently a loud rap came on 
 the sitting-room door. Nellie turned round, 
 and as she did so Strathearn walked into the 
 room. 
 
 " I am sorry about giving you all this 
 trouble,'' he said, in his somewhat brusque 
 way. 
 
 '^ It has been no trouble," answered Nellie. 
 ** I only hope the poor man will recover. Does 
 he seem any better now ? " 
 
 '* Don't know. He has a queer look, and 
 I'm afraid it's a bad business for him. So you 
 live here do you — all alone in the Glen '? " 
 
 As Strathearn said the last few words he was 
 •standing before Nellie, looking at her fixedly. 
 
 " I am very often alone," answered Nellie, 
 and she looked up at Strathearn as she sjDoke. 
 
 She saw rather a good-looking face, with a 
 distinct mark on his brow where the peak of 
 his cap ended. This mark showed he had once 
 been fair-skinned, but he was fair-skinned no
 
 288 CR(ESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 longer. He was a deep, ruddy, healthy brown, 
 with a thick brown moustache shading his 
 roughly- cut mouth, and thus decidedly improv- 
 ing his appearance, for his other features were 
 good. He had a good nose, bright, honest 
 grey eyes, and a fine square brow. And he 
 was almost a giant, long-limbed and careless of 
 bearing, and certainly not graceful in his move- 
 ments. Yet, taking him altogether, he was 
 good-looking — men, at least, considered him 
 good-looking, and women said Strathearn 
 would be handsome if he were not so gauche 
 and so shy. 
 
 *' You had Seaforth down a while ago, had 
 you not ? " he continued, still looking steadily 
 on Nellie's fair face. 
 
 Nellie blushed ; she moved uneasily, then 
 she answered — 
 
 *' Yes ; but you know, do you not, that Lord Sea- 
 forth does not wish his name mentioned here ? "" 
 
 Strathearn nodded his head. 
 
 *'I know," he said. ' 'Awfully hard up, isn't he ?'^ 
 
 Nellie blushed deeper still. 
 
 *' I — I — don't know," she hesitated. 
 
 *' Oh yes — horrid nuisance — know what it is,, 
 for I once was hard up enough myself. But wo
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 289 
 
 needn't talk about it. I was sorry to miss 
 Seafortli — I beg his pardon, Captain Murray, 
 when he was here." And Strathearn laughed. 
 
 '* He — he spoke about you," said Nellie, and 
 she cast down her eyes. She felt uncomfort- 
 able under the fixed gaze that Strathearn still 
 kept upon her face. 
 
 ** Is he coming back soon ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell — I am not quite sure." 
 
 '* Humph — cool of him, rather, I must say, 
 burying a pretty woman like you alive down 
 here ! Have you books and papers sent to 
 amuse you ? " 
 
 *' There are some books lying about," she 
 answered coldly, for she felt annoyed by 
 Strathearn's manner. 
 
 ** Humph I " again said Strathearn, and then 
 he began walking up and down the drawing- 
 room, with his long strides, and Nellie turned 
 her head and looked out of the window. 
 
 *' My father died here," he said presently. 
 "Eccentric old fellow. He kept me horribly 
 close. Seaforth was a good friend to me 
 more than once in those days. You tell 
 him when you write, if he wants a lift 
 just now let him come to me. I've a few 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 290 €R(ESUSS WIDOW. 
 
 spare hundreds he's heartily welcome to." 
 
 Nellie felt dreadfully embarrassed. She did 
 not know what to say, and kept earnestly 
 hoping that this rough, big man would go 
 away. But Strathearn seemed in no hurry. 
 He kept walking uj) and down the room, 
 looking all the while at the girlish form sitting 
 by the window. 
 
 "It must be awfully dull for you here?" he said. 
 . ** It is very quiet," said Nellie. 
 
 " Should think so, indeed ! But I must be 
 off. You tell Seaforth what I said — I'll look 
 in to-morrow to inquire about Brady. Good 
 day." And Strathearn held out one of his big 
 brown hands, and a few minutes later Nellie 
 saw him disappear up the Glen on his way to 
 the shooting lodge. 
 
 But before the day was over a great parcel of 
 books, fastened together by a leather strap (a 
 most miscellaneous collection) was brought to 
 Nellie. 
 
 *' Strathearn sent them down for the lady," 
 said the messenger who brought them, and as 
 Nellie undid the strap a feeling of uneasiness 
 crept into her heart — she wished that she had 
 not met Strathearn upon the hills.
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 BORROWING. 
 
 The next day the doctor arrived at Strathearn 
 to see after the unfortunate keeper. He could 
 not manage to get before, he said to Nellie, 
 when she went out into the hall to speak to him, 
 and to ask after the condition of poor Brady. 
 
 The doctor had a shrewd, brown face, and 
 ;shrewd, brown^ jocular eyes. He looked like a 
 inan who enjoyed many a private chuckle, but 
 he was slow though sure of speech. He was 
 pleased when Nellie went out to speak to him, 
 for he had heard of the pretty woman living at 
 the Glen, and was therefore glad of the oppor- 
 tunity of seeing her. 
 
 " I hope he will recover ? " said Nellie, 
 inquiringly. 
 
 **This time — partially," answered Dr. Mac- 
 duff, his twinkling brown eyes fixed on Nellie's 
 face.
 
 292 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 '' Do you think—" said Nellie. 
 '* Doctor's slioulcln't think, they should know,, 
 eh ? " said the doctor facetiously, and he made 
 a movement as if he wished to go into the 
 sitting-room, and thus have a little further 
 conversation wdth Nellie. 
 
 In common courtesy Nellie could not keep 
 him standing at the door after this. So the 
 doctor followed her into the room, and Nellie 
 pointed to a chair. 
 
 '' How do you like Strathearn ? " inquired 
 Dr. Macduff. 
 
 "It is very beautiful," said Nellie. 
 '•' Plenty of time for meditation, eh ? " said 
 the doctor, chuckling. 
 Nellie laughed. 
 
 *' Bad place for doctors to live in about here,"" 
 continued the doctor. "Air's too good for our- 
 profession." 
 
 " I am glad to hear that." 
 " Do you mean to make a long stay, then ? '^' 
 inquired Macduff, perhaps with faint hopes of 
 a possible patient. 
 
 " I do not know," answered Nellie gravely. 
 " Strathearn should get a wife, and settle in 
 the Glen," proceeded the doctor. " Ah — he's.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 293 
 
 ^ wild lad you — tlie old laird and lie could 
 never hit it off." 
 
 "I have only seen liim once." 
 
 " Humph ! Some folks says the less the 
 better," said the doctor, and having given 
 Nellie this hint he took his leave. 
 
 After he was gone Nellie sat down to write 
 to her Murray. She told him, we may be sure, 
 ^11 about the keeper s illness, how Strathearn 
 had sent her down some books from the lodge, 
 and she even added the doctor's '' hint." 
 
 I hope he will not come here, dear Murray (she wrote) ; 
 •there is something in his manner that I do not quite like. 
 At least I hope he will not come till you return. When is 
 that bright day to be ? AJi, Murray, Murray, if you were 
 but always here — 
 
 Nellie was actually writing these words 
 to Lord Seaforth, about Strathearn, when 
 •Strathearn himself once more appeared at the 
 Clen. 
 
 Nellie heard his voice in the hall, so she 
 turned the face of her letter on the blotting 
 pad, but had scarcely time to do so when 
 Strathearn rapped at the room door. 
 
 '' I have come down to ask about Brady," he 
 ^aid, as if he were making a sort of apology for
 
 294 
 
 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 
 
 intruding on Nellie. " Good morning," and he 
 Iield out one of his big hands. "So I hear 
 you've had the doctor ? Did you see him? 
 What did he say ? '' 
 
 " Very little," answered Nellie, in reply ta 
 Strathearn's questions. " I fancy, though,, 
 that he thinks the poor keeper's very ill." 
 
 '^ Of course, he's very ill. It's a bore for you. 
 We must get him to the lodge ; it would never 
 do for him to join the majority, as folks say 
 here.'^ 
 
 " Do you mean — to die ? " 
 
 " Yes. That would frighten away some of 
 the pink paint out of your cheeks, eh ? " 
 
 Nellie felt offended. She did not answer,, 
 and she cast down her eyes and looked very 
 
 grave. 
 
 " Don't mean to be rude, you know," said 
 Strathearn, noticing her manner. '^ Vm not a 
 lady's man. I never can say the right thing ta 
 'em." 
 
 Still Nellie did not speak. 
 
 " Did you get the books ? " continued 
 Strathearn. " Ah, I see you did. Sorry I'd 
 no better to send. I've ordered a fresh lot 
 from Glasgow for you this morning."
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 295 
 
 " I am sorry," said Nellie, mucli annoyed. 
 " Oh, you should not have done that 1 " 
 
 '' Why ? " 
 
 '* Oh, I don't know. I would rather you 
 did not." 
 
 Strath earn lauohed — rather a harsh lauo^h. 
 
 " Are you afraid that Seaforth," he said, *' or 
 Murray, or whatever you call him, would not 
 Hke it ? " 
 
 Nellie looked up angrily, 
 
 " No," she said, '' I am not afraid that Lord 
 Scaforth would be angry — but you are a 
 stranger to me." 
 
 Strathearn made a low bow. 
 
 '* Thank you," he said, '^ for snub number 
 one." 
 
 "I do not mean to be rude," said Nellie, 
 '' but—" 
 
 ** All right ! You shall not have the books. 
 I'll make a bonfire of them." 
 
 Nellie's natural good nature now came to her 
 aid, and she could not help a little smile steal- 
 ing over her pretty face. 
 
 " Why not read them," she said. 
 
 *' Can't settle to books, somehow," candidly 
 confessed Strathearn. ** It must be a great
 
 296 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 help to a fellow who can, to get through the 
 day. Are you one of the clever ones, then — you 
 don't look like it ? " 
 
 Nellie laughed heartily at this, for Strathearn 
 was evidently so completely in earnest. 
 
 '^ Fm sorry I look so stupid," she said. 
 
 " Not stupid. But you're not one of those 
 awful creatures who give lectures, and write 
 books, and make a man feel like a fool ! I've 
 a dread, a holy horror of those women ! By 
 George ! before I'd let any woman I had any- 
 thing to do with stand up and give a lecture, 
 I'd shoot her ! " 
 
 ** Then you must not marry a clever lady." 
 
 Strathearn made a wry face. 
 
 " I'm not likely to marry," he said. 
 
 *' That is a pity, is it not, when you have 
 such a pretty home ? " 
 
 '' Humph ! " quoth Strathearn, staring hard 
 at Nellie's sweet, innocent face. He could not 
 understand her. He was not, as he had told her, 
 a lady's man. He might have been, for his broad 
 acres, his long purse, and his old name would 
 have made him welcome in most drawing-rooms 
 in Scotland. But he very seldom entered one. 
 He lived chiefly among men and on the hills.
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 297 
 
 for he was a devoted sportsman, and spent most 
 of his time in pursuit of this favourite amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 Among his own people, the Campbells, he 
 occasionally went into society, and there were 
 fair maidens who would gladly have smiled on 
 Strathearn, but he was too shy or too cynical 
 to woo their smiles. He knew well enough 
 many a pretty girl would have married him 
 for the sake of his position, but he had never 
 fallen in love. 
 
 "A fellow is afraid to be with girls," he 
 used to say, in his rough way, " the old women 
 pull one up so sharp." So he had kept out of 
 the way of old women and young ones alike. 
 JHe " didn't believe in 'em," he told his com- 
 panions after dinner, and as he was now past 
 thirty, he was just as likely as not to continue 
 a bachelor all his life. 
 
 Nellie's fresh, fair face and innocent manner 
 •quite puzzled him. He saw, for he was no fool, 
 that she did not wish to attract either his 
 admiration or attention, and this seemed a 
 wonderful thing to Strathearn, considering the 
 -circumstances. 
 
 " Did you live in London ?" he asked, quite
 
 298 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 suddenly, after staring at Nellie a moment or 
 two* 
 
 '* Yes," she answered, ^' in one of the small 
 streets near Kegent's Park." 
 
 *' Humph ! " again said Strathearn. " You 
 are not very like a London girl," he added. 
 
 " I never went out into any society," said 
 Nellie. *' I lived at home just with my father 
 and sister. My father was too poor for us to- 
 visit." 
 
 " Your father ! " repeated Strathearn, in great 
 surprise. " If you have a father, how did he, 
 what did he say, about — Seaforth ? " 
 
 Nellie's blue eyes grew dim at these words,, 
 and though she quickly turned away her head,. 
 Strathearn saw some heavy tears roll down her 
 soft pink cheeks. 
 
 " Forgive me," he said hastily, " I am a 
 brute — I did not mean what I said — indeed;^ 
 indeed I did not ! " 
 
 Nellie did not speak. She was really too 
 agitated to speak, for Strathearn's words had 
 brought back the ever reproachful memory of 
 her father with great vividness. 
 
 " I am so sorry," continued Strathearn^ 
 beginning to walk down the room with his long
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 299= 
 
 strides. " I — I — do not know what to say — • 
 but I hope you will forgive me." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " said Nellie, a little sob breaking 
 her voice. " But — but, will you excuse me ? " 
 And she rose and left the room, leaving poor 
 Strathearn completely ashamed of himself. 
 
 He walked up and down the room, muttering 
 that he was utterly disgusted with himself;, 
 that he was *'an ill-bred brute," for nearly 
 half-an-hour after she had left ; and then^ 
 finding that she did not return, he strode 
 out of the house, and away from the Glen^ 
 swearing that he never would go near it again 
 as long as *' one of those confounded women 
 lived in it." 
 
 But, alas for human resolution ! Two days 
 after this, one sunny morning, Nellie was sitting- 
 knitting by the left side of the loch, where she 
 w^as startled by two handsome pointers coming- 
 running in a friendly manner towards her. 
 
 " Jack ! Jack I Jean ! Jean !," cried the voice 
 of Strathearn from behind ; and when Nellio- 
 looked round there was the long, lanky form of 
 Strathearn following the dogs, and coming witb 
 his great strides down the hill. 
 
 He touched his cap when he got near her,.
 
 300 GIIOESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 and ag^ain called ojff the dos^s, and stood there 
 half nervously, evidently not knowing how 
 Nellie would receive him. But this very 
 morninof Nellie had received instructions from 
 Lord Seaforthto be ''civil" to Strathearn if she 
 saw him. 
 
 I hear Campbell is down at tlie lodge (wrote Scaforth), so 
 if you chance to come across him, my Nellie, mind you do 
 the civil to him, for after all it is good-natured of him to lend 
 us the house. Tell him I hope to see him the next time I am 
 down. I am awfully hard up at the present moment, and so 
 can't come for a week or so. I wonder if Strathearn would 
 open his purse-strings if I gave him a hint ? Tell me when 
 you write if you have seen him (and so on). 
 
 Seaforth had evidently not received Nellie's 
 letter, detailing her interview with Strathearn 
 on the hills, and the keeper's illness, when he 
 wrote this. Nellie's letters were sent to him 
 through his confidential servant, Clayton, and 
 this of course always caused a little delay. But 
 when Nellie saw Strathearn and his dogs 
 appear, she knew it was Lord Seaforth's wish 
 that she should be civil to his friend, and so 
 she made him a little bow and gave him a little 
 smile, as he stood nervously before her. 
 
 "How is Brady?" jerked out Strathearn,
 
 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 301 
 
 though he was well aware of the keeper's con- 
 dition, as Donald had instructions to go up with 
 a report to the lodge every morning. 
 
 " He is a little better, I think," answered 
 Nellie. '' I saw him yesterday." 
 
 "I hear you are awfully good to him," con- 
 tinued Strathearn. " Donald — by-the-by, you 
 have quite made a conquest of Donald — in- 
 formed me this morning that the lady read 
 more than an hour yesterday to Brady, some 
 beautiful things out of a book. " And Strathearn 
 laughed. 
 
 " I thought it might make the time seem 
 less long to him," said Nellie. " It must be a 
 terrible thing for a man who was strong and 
 well only yesterday to lie helpless there." 
 
 Strathearn made no answer. He stood look- 
 ing down at this girl — this fair-haired girl, who 
 seemed beautiful to him — and wondered, as he 
 always did when he saw her, how she came to 
 be in her present position. 
 
 ^' I — I — heard from Murray this morniug," 
 said Nellie presently, looking up, and with a 
 momentary hesitation in her voice, as she 
 mentioned Lord Seaforth's name. " He sent 
 a message to you. He hopes he will see you
 
 302 GECESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 wlien lie comes, and he was sorry to miss you 
 the last time." 
 
 " When is he coming ? " asked Strathearn, 
 and somethino^ in the tone in which he asked 
 this question made Nellie once more look up 
 in his face. 
 
 " I am not quite sure," she answered ; '' in a 
 week or so, I think." 
 
 " Humph ! " said Strathearn, in his rough 
 way, and he jerked his large feet impatiently. 
 *' When he comes," he added, a moment later, 
 " you will come out with us on the hills some- 
 times ? " 
 
 " W^hat, deer-stalking?" said Nellie, laughing. 
 '' No, I am sure I won't." 
 
 " No, no, not deer-stalking ; but you might 
 help to shoot the black-cocks." 
 
 " No, indeed ! If I were to shoot anything — 
 which I am sure I couldn't — it would make me 
 unhappy all day afterwards." 
 
 *•' Lots of women shoot in Scotland." 
 
 *'Then I'm afraid I won't be one of the *lots,'" 
 said Nellie, smiling. 
 
 " W^ell, I must say I don't exactly care for 
 sporting w^omen. A woman should be a 
 woman, I think. I'd rather see a woman
 
 ORCESUSS WIDOW. 303 
 
 — no, I won't say what I was going to say." 
 
 *' Why won't you ? " asked Nellie. 
 
 " Because you might think I wanted to pay 
 you compliments, or some such stuff. But I 
 was going to say, I'd rather see a woman hold- 
 ing up a fellow's head, a fellow who was ill, as 
 you did Brady's the other day, than I'd see 
 her the best shot or the best fisherwoman in 
 Scotland." 
 
 *' It just depends on how you are brought 
 up," answered Nellie, simply. *' If I had been 
 born among the hills very likely I should have 
 been a sportswoman." 
 
 : ** Perhaps when you write to Seaforth — con- 
 found it 1 I must get out of the way of calling 
 him Seaforth here — when you write to Murray, 
 then — you tell him the black-cocks are waiting 
 for him ; and I tell you what, you must do the 
 civil sometimes, and bring us out our lunch on 
 the hills." 
 
 a Very well," laughed Nellie. 
 
 *'May I sit down here?" continued Strathearn, 
 throwing his lengthy form down on the rough 
 turf, on which Nellie was sitting. * *It's grand here, 
 isn't it, w^atching the sunlight on the water ? " 
 
 " It is quite beautiful."
 
 304 CRCESUSS WIDOW. 
 
 '' A nook out of tlie world, eli ? Yes — but 
 go where we will, bury ourselves wliere we 
 will, young lady, worldly wishes, worldly pas- 
 sions cling to us. There was my father — he 
 shut himself up down here, and swore he was- 
 done with the world and all things in it ; but 
 because I wouldn't go his way, be an anchorite 
 or an ascetic, or whatever he called himself, 
 just as he was, he absolutely hated me! That's 
 no exaggeration ; he'd have cut me off with a 
 shilling if he could have done so, but the old 
 acres were too tightly tied up. He couldn't 
 take them with him into the family vault, but 
 he would have done it if he could. So you 
 see I He died in yon room." (And Strathearn 
 pointed to the house in the Glen.) " Fancy 
 him looking out on the loch and on the hills, 
 with his heart full of hatred to his first-born I"' 
 
 " It was very sad." 
 
 "I survived it," said Strathearn, with a grim 
 laugh. " But do you see there — look down 
 the loch, just past that clump of firs — and do- 
 you see a man od a pony ? " 
 
 *'Yes." 
 
 ** That's the doctor — confound him. I declare 
 he sees us. Yes, here he comes — he's rather a
 
 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 305 
 
 gossiping old party, I may as well tell you." 
 
 Stratliearn was quite riglit. Dr. MacdufF did 
 see them, and presently rode up to where they 
 were sitting, with an amused smile on his 
 brown, hard face. 
 
 "Good morning," he said to Nellie, just 
 touching his hat. "Good morning, Strathearn. 
 Enjoying the view ? " 
 
 "Exactly," answered Strathearn, jumping 
 up. " We have been admiring you or your 
 pony in the distance." 
 
 "Did 'distance lend enchantment to the 
 view,' eh, Strathearn?" chuckled the doctor. 
 
 " Well, I think it did," retorted Strathearn 
 coolly, staring somewhat superciliously at the 
 doctor and his pony. 
 
 " How's Brady to-day ? " asked the doctor, 
 his brown eyes twinkling. " I hear you're very 
 attentive, Strathearn, in your inquiries after 
 the sufferer." 
 
 " Doubts, you see, about the efficiency of 
 his medical attendant trouble me," answered 
 Strathearn, with a rough laugh ; and the doctor 
 laughed also, and then waved his hand, and 
 rode on in the direction of the house. 
 
 Strathearn looked after him. 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 306 CRCESUS'S WIDOW. 
 
 " I had best go and see after him, I suppose," 
 he said to Nellie. '' Don't you forget my 
 message to — I was just going to say Seaforth — 
 to Murray, then, about the black-game. Good 
 morning." And Strathearn touched his cap, 
 and then walked away with his great strides 
 towards the doctor. 
 
 End of Volume First. 
 
 TILLOTSON AND SON, STEAM PRINTERS, EOLTON. 
 
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 "j^J^'^f f SfTY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
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