km 
 
 
 

 
 LIE) R.AR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N I VLR5ITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 E»-79b 
 
 V. I
 
 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR
 
 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUK 
 
 BY 
 
 HENEY EEEOLL 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'an UGLY DUCKLING,' 'THE ACADEMICIAN,' ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES— VOL. I 
 
 LONDON 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, NEW BURLINGTON ST. 
 
 l|ubltsfja:s in ©rtiinarg to |§cr ilSajcstg tjje ©uccn 
 
 1890 
 
 All rights reserved
 
 8e3 
 
 V. 1 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 PAGE 
 
 At the Bell and Boot 1 
 
 CHAPTEE II 
 To London 21 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 Hypatia Street 43 
 
 CHAPTEE IV 
 The Cup that Cheers 64 
 
 ^ CHAPTEE V 
 
 c\ Romancing 82 
 
 ^ CHAPTEE VI 
 
 J A Heavy Father 95 
 
 ^~
 
 vi CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTEE VII 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Making Friends 109 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 A Bold Venture 138 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 Paving the Way . . . . . .156 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 Eevelry 178 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 The Manager 194 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 Excursions 212 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 A First Step 230
 
 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 CHAPTEE I 
 
 AT THE BELL AND BOOT 
 
 The lono^ low room at the back of the Bell 
 
 and Boot tavern, Manchester, was filling 
 
 fast. The freshly sanded floor already bore 
 
 witness to the fact that it was a wet night 
 
 outside, while the two long windows rattling 
 
 gaily in their frames behind the dark green 
 
 blinds drawn down over them announced 
 
 that it was gusty as well as wet. Inside, 
 
 however, things looked comfortable enough ; 
 
 a huge fire blazed in the old-fashioned grate ; 
 VOL. I 1
 
 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 there was an ag^reeable reminiscence of 
 tobacco in the atmosphere, not sufficiently 
 strong to be obnoxious, but suggestive of 
 many past and pleasant pipes, and anti- 
 cipatory of many more. The room was 
 brilliantly lighted by gas, the walls were 
 decorated with a choice selection of oleo- 
 graphs, which Mr. Collins, the landlord, con- 
 sidered were quite as good to look at as those 
 pictures on which the '' paint was fresh " ; 
 there was a cheerful tinkling of glasses from 
 the bar at the end of the passage ; and 
 altogether, as Mr. Wilkins, the master tailor 
 from the corner, remarked, it would have 
 been hard to find a more inviting place 
 in which to spend a convivial evening. 
 
 * Not that the missus likes me to come 
 here of a night,' he added to the man who 
 had come in with him, and who was, like 
 himself, engaged in taking off his coat and
 
 AT THE BELL AND BOOT 
 
 muffler. ^ She does not like it. '' Stop at 
 home, William, there's a dear," she always 
 says, but as I says to her, a man must have 
 a little fresh air sometimes, I says, he's 
 bound to have it.' 
 
 ' I wonder what the women think as we do 
 when we get outside the door ? ' observed 
 the other, a baker, with hair the colour of 
 his own whole-meal bread, and an apologetic, 
 rub-his-hands sort of air. 
 
 ' Think ? Who ever heard of a woman 
 thinking ? ' here scornfully interposed a new 
 comer, a young man with a blue tie, a nose 
 too short for his face, and a carefully 
 cultivated but somewhat attenuated mous- 
 tache. ' A woman was not intended to 
 think, her Maker did not furnish her with 
 the materials.' 
 
 * Hallo, Mostyn, at it again ? ' laughed the 
 tailor ; * always abusin' the women, poor
 
 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 tilings ! But you made a slip there, my 
 boy. You said "her Maker." Thought 
 you didn't allow as anybody had any Maker 
 at all ? ' 
 
 He winked at his friend the baker as he 
 finished, with the air of one who has success- 
 fully put a spoke in another man's wheel ; 
 but young Mostyn, who was a clerk in a 
 timber-yard, and considered shopkeepers 
 very inferior to himself, merely looked 
 witheringly at him and vouchsafed no 
 reply. 
 
 ' I hate that chap,' said Wilkins in an 
 undertone, returning Mostyn's scowl with 
 interest ; ' he's always crying down women, 
 and saying they're no good. It's like his 
 cheek to compare himself to some of 'em. 
 Why, look at my Martha. I won't deny 
 but what she's a trifle sharp sometimes, but 
 so's my scissors, and they'll cut wrong if you
 
 AT THE BELL AND BOOT 
 
 don't handle 'em right. But just look at 
 her all round. Up early and late from the 
 beginning of the year to its end, cuttin', 
 contrivin', managin, handy at everything, 
 from blacking a grate to givin' me a turn 
 with the machine, and never tired with it 
 all. A young jackanapes like that ain't fit 
 to take such a woman's name in his mouth 
 at all.' 
 
 ' Still,' observed Simpson the baker, 
 ^ some of 'em are queer ones.' 
 
 * Well ? ' retorted Wilkins defiantly, ' and 
 what about us ? Ain't some of us queer ? 
 Don't some of us leave our bills unpaid, and 
 a poor tradesman to get the cloth and 
 everything 1 Don't some of us drink away 
 every farthing we make, and make our 
 wives get food for the children where they 
 can ? You must look at the thing all 
 round, you see. When I fit on a coat,
 
 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 I ain't content to look at the back of it 
 only — no, I go all round, so as I see it from 
 every point of view. Pint of bitter, Bill,' he 
 concluded, addressing the potman, who was 
 going the round of the long table, which by 
 this time was nearly full, to take each 
 man's order. 
 
 ' Have you got a song for us to-night, 
 Simpson ? ' called a voice from the other end 
 of the room. 
 
 The baker blushed. 
 
 ' No, not exactly a song,' he said ner- 
 vously, ' I am afraid I couldn't sing to- 
 night, the flour gets into a fellow's voice 
 so.' 
 
 ' Poor lile chap ! ' here observed a burly 
 farmer-looking man, in a tone of mock pity 
 and a broad Lancashire accent. 
 
 There was a general laugh, in which 
 Simpson tried to join with a good grace.
 
 AT THE BELL AND BOOT 
 
 * Well, if Simpson's a floury one to-night,' 
 said the first man, ' I'm sure Sam'l Brierly '11 
 give us a song, unless the beer has got into 
 his voice.' 
 
 Another roar followed this sally, after 
 which Mr. Brierly expressed his exceeding 
 readiness to oblige. 
 
 * But where's our chairman ? It ain't 
 square to begin without him,' said Wilkins, 
 looking towards the head of the table, 
 where stood the armchair of honour, as yet , 
 unfilled. 
 
 'Burning the midnight oil,' suggested 
 some one. 
 
 ' Or his own poems,' amended another. 
 
 ' No such luck,' said young Mostyn 
 disagreeably. 
 
 ^ Ah, it wouldn't be luck,' said Wilkins, 
 turning round upon his hete noire ; ' we all 
 know that poetry and that ain't got any
 
 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 charms for you, you're too taken up with 
 molecules and atoms ; but let me tell you, 
 George Collins has given us, in this room 
 here, many a pleasant half-hour with his 
 pretty pieces, and that's more than ever 
 you've done with your scientific jargon, that 
 you're too grand to explain — or too ignor- 
 ant,' he added in an undertone, intended for 
 Mr. Simpson's ear. 
 
 * Hear ! hear ! ' called out everybody, 
 and young Mostyn found himself where 
 he very often was, in a minority of one. 
 
 ' I didn't mean to say anything against 
 Collins,' he said sulkily ; ' but even if he is 
 such a great poet, I don't see why he should 
 keep us all waiting. I vote we commence 
 without him.' 
 
 'Here he is,' said Wilkins, as the door 
 opened, and a man of about twenty-eight 
 entered the room.
 
 AT THE BELL AND BOOT 
 
 He stepped quickly into his place, liis 
 movements being noticeable from the 
 extreme lio;htness which characterised them, 
 and which contrasted strongly with the 
 slow, heavy motions of the other occupants 
 of the room. 
 
 George Collins, only son of the landlord of 
 the Bell and Boot, was a slight particularly 
 well-made man, standing six feet one in his 
 stockings. He had light brown hair, a good 
 brow, an aquiline nose, a mouth well 
 furnished with even white teeth, but with 
 rather thin lips, and a square determined 
 chin. His eyes were of that peculiar shade 
 of light gray which sometimes looks blue, 
 sometimes green, sometimes a mixture of 
 blue, green, and gray. They were well 
 shaped, and large enough. His face was 
 clean shaven, except for a pair of small 
 whiskers, two or three shades lighter than
 
 lo BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 his hair. He was dressed in a rather loud 
 suit of light tweeds, not very appropriate to 
 the season, and wore a ring with a precious 
 stone of dubious orio;in on the little finerer 
 of his left hand. 
 
 Altogether a very good-looking, well- 
 set-up young man, and one who, despite 
 his flashy ring and showy clothes, ap- 
 peared altogether superior to his surround- 
 ings. 
 
 There was a certain consciousness of this 
 fact in his bearing and expression as he 
 looked round upon the assembled company, 
 whose faces, without exception, were turned 
 towards him. 
 
 ' Sorry to be so late,' he said carelessly, in 
 an accent which, though not free from the 
 North Country burr, was nevertheless a good 
 deal purer than that of most of those present. 
 
 His apology w\as received graciously by
 
 AT THE BELL AND BOOT ii 
 
 all except young Mostyn, who muttered 
 something to the only confidant he pos- 
 sessed, his moustache, and the proceed- 
 ings of the evening began. 
 
 A good many songs and a good deal of 
 beer went the round of the long table. 
 Samuel Brierly surpassed himself in an 
 exceedingly sentimental ditty, the very 
 reverse of what one w^ould have expected 
 from the rough Caliban -like blacksmith. 
 Mr. Simpson, after having poured enough 
 liquid down his long thin throat to clear 
 away a peck of flour, was prevailed upon 
 to ' oblige ' with a composition of his 
 own — a song in the course of which various 
 political names were introduced with great 
 effect, and whose chorus, in which the 
 w^hole company joined, had a main burden 
 apparently drawn from some reminiscence 
 of his childhood, consisting in the words
 
 12 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 ' Eiil)-a-dub dub,' repeated with every 
 varying tone and shade of which those 
 expressive words are capable. This song 
 was vociferously applauded, and was only 
 not encored because, as among other 
 merits it possessed fifteen verses, the 
 evening was already well advanced by 
 the time it came to an end. 
 
 It was noticeable that Simpson the 
 baker before he had sung, and Simpson 
 the baker after he had sung, were two 
 distinct beings. The first was a timid, 
 retiring man, with shy watery blue eyes : 
 the second was a valiant blade, who tossed 
 his head and emptied his glass with quite 
 a rollicking air. The Bell and Boot often 
 saw the second Simpson, but Mrs. Simpson 
 had been wooed and won by, and had 
 lived for twenty years with, the first 
 Simpson, and had, alas for female
 
 AT THE BELL AND BOOT 
 
 credulity ! no suspicion of the existence 
 of the second. 
 
 Various other songs followed ; voices 
 grew loud and boisterous, eyes began to 
 shine, jokes became rougher, but the men 
 were all good-tempered and bent on 
 enjoying themselves. They were nearly 
 all old cronies, who knew each other's 
 soft places and little weaknesses, the 
 strength of each others heads, and in 
 some instances the weight of each other's 
 fists. Except young Mostyn, every one 
 there would have put his hand in his 
 pocket to help his neighbour, and expected 
 his neighbour to do as much for him. 
 There was a good deal of mutual admira- 
 tion among them, an exaggerated admira- 
 tion, perhaps, for each other's ' parts,' but 
 they were none the worse for that, 
 though young Mostyn sneered at the en-
 
 14 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 thusiasm with which Simpson's song was 
 received, and at the roars of laughter 
 with which Brierly's mild jokes were 
 greeted. 
 
 ' What's the matter with George this 
 evening ? ' whispered Simpson to Wilkins. 
 
 The tailor cast a shrewd glance up to 
 where George Collins was sitting in his 
 presidential chair. 
 
 ' I don't know. He do seem a bit 
 hipped-like, don't he ? ' 
 
 George had been performing his duties 
 as chairman correctly enough, but with 
 a distracted air, as if his mind were far 
 away from the place in which his body 
 was compelled to be. During Simpson's 
 loner soncf he had sat drummino; time with 
 his fingers on the table before him, his 
 eyes fixed on vacancy, his lips tightly 
 closed. Now, when Wilkins addressed him,
 
 AT THE BELL AND BOOT 15 
 
 he gave an almost imperceptible start, and 
 opened and shut his eyes once or twice, 
 as if awakening from sleep. 
 
 ' Won't you give us summat now ? ' 
 asked Wilkins. ' It's your turn, and you've 
 been doin' nothin' all evenin' but blink your 
 eyes like a great sleepy owl.' 
 
 * His head's so full, it makes him 
 drowsy,' said some one. 
 
 George smiled a somewhat condescend- 
 ing smile, which showed to advantage his 
 dazzlingly white teeth. 
 
 *What shall I give you, friends?' he 
 asked in the mellow voice of which they 
 were all so proud. 
 
 ' Summat of y'r own,' said two or three 
 voices simultaneously. 
 
 The smile grew broader, and the gray 
 eyes darkened. 
 
 ' Well,' he said indulgently, standing up.
 
 i6 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 ' Theatrical beast ! ' muttered young 
 Mostyn to his moustache. 
 
 There was instant silence, and all faces 
 turned eagerly towards the chairman. He 
 was their nightingale, their vara avis, the 
 gem of their collection. 
 
 George Collins had not stood up to sing, 
 he rarely sang at these meetings, although 
 he possessed a baritone voice, whose only 
 fault was its lack of cultivation. He 
 recited in tones full of harmony a poem 
 of his own which no one present had ever 
 heard before, but which was calculated 
 to ffo straio^ht to the hearts of all of them. 
 
 It was only a homely little domestic 
 story, plainly enough told, in the strong, 
 nervous dialect familiar to every one there ; 
 the pathos was perhaps a trifle strained, 
 the metaphor sometimes mixed and incon- 
 gruous ; but the lines ran easily, the
 
 AT THE BELL AND BOOT 17 
 
 story appealed strongly to feelings 
 softened by good ale and good fellowship ; 
 and, above all, it was told in a voice wliich 
 seemed able to command the whole gamut 
 of emotions, a voice which passed with 
 skilful gradation from grave to gay, which 
 rang out trumpet-like at one moment, 
 and the next sank to tones tender and 
 sweet as those of a mother lulling her 
 child to sleep. 
 
 When George Collins ceased to speak 
 there was a universal burst of applause. 
 
 ' Brayvo, George, that do beat all ! ' cried 
 
 Wilkins enthusiastically. Mr. Simpson, 
 
 overcome with sympathy and beer, furtively 
 
 wiped his eyes with a blue spotted 
 
 handkerchief, and young Mostyn assumed 
 
 as indifferent an air as possible, although 
 
 inwardly he was burning with jealousy. 
 
 George received the united compliments 
 VOL. I 2
 
 1 8 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 of the assembly with a somewhat com- 
 placent smile. 
 
 ^ When did you make that piece, 
 Geoorge ? ' inquired Sam Brierly. 
 
 ' Last night,' replied the young man. 
 ' I could not sleep, so I got up and wrote 
 it down. It's only a little thing.' 
 
 ' Nay, nay,' began Brierly, when he was 
 interrupted by a voice which increased in 
 volume as it came down the passage. 
 
 ' Geooro^e ! Geooreje ! ' it cried. 
 
 ' That's your dad, George,' said Wilkins. 
 
 ' Your Awful Dad ! ' supplemented young 
 Mostyn. 
 
 George moved uneasily, and was just 
 going to get up when the door was flung 
 open, and a grizzled bullet-like head 
 appeared. 
 
 ' Your mother wants ye, Geoorge, I called 
 ye loud enough.'
 
 AT THE BELL AND BOOT 
 
 19 
 
 ' Can't she do without me just now ? ' 
 said the young man sulkily. 
 
 'Nay, she cannot. Bill's sprained his 
 wrist, and she wants thee to draa th' ale 
 — so coom at once.' 
 
 The head was withdrawn and the door 
 banged to. 
 
 With a dull red flush mounting to his 
 brow George descended from his official 
 position, and walked slowly out of the 
 room. 
 
 'Eather hard that on a poet,' observed 
 Mostyn with a malicious grin. 
 
 'Ay, the old woman's a tough customer,' 
 returned Wilkins. A deep drawn 'Ay,' 
 almost like a sigh, from all near confirmed 
 the statement. 
 
 'I wonder the young chap stands it,' 
 remarked some one. 
 
 'Beggars can't choose,' said Mostyn
 
 20 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 grimly, ' and Collins is like the man in 
 the Bible in one respect at least, he cannot 
 dig, nor do anything else useful that I ever 
 heard of, except " draa th' ale," ' he con- 
 cluded, with a very successful imitation of 
 old Collins's voice and accent. 
 
 ' Ah, one of these fine days they'll be 
 calling " Geoorge," and there won't come 
 no answer,' said Brierly, getting up to go. 
 ' He's many a time said he'd go off to 
 London, and stay here no longer. It's 
 my belief he could make a good living 
 there, with his singin' and pomes. They're 
 but a poor soft set down yonder, as I've 
 always heard.'
 
 CHAPTEK ir 
 
 TO LONDON 
 
 SAMBrierly had no idea how soon his prophecy 
 was to be fulfilled. It was but a few days 
 after the meeting at the Bell and Boot that 
 George Collins announced to his father and 
 mother that he had made up his mind to go 
 to London — with their good wishes and per- 
 mission if they chose to extend these to 
 him, without them if they were not inclined 
 to bestow them upon him. 
 
 The question was one that had been often 
 mooted before, and invariably with the same
 
 22 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 result. The elder Collins, sturdily backed 
 up by his wife, had always refused to pro- 
 vide funds for his son to 'moodle away 
 down yonder,' and George, whether from 
 lack of courage to face the world penniless, 
 or from reluctance to grieve the two old 
 people, had given up the desire time after 
 time. 
 
 His parents had grown to look upon the 
 subject as a necessary evil, something like 
 the payment of taxes, or gas and water 
 rates, and had begun to launch forth into 
 the well-worn old arguments, when George 
 stopped them. 
 
 'No, father, that won't do this time,' 
 he said. ' You've put me off and denied 
 me my wish until I'm almost too old to 
 begin anything new. But all the same I'm 
 determined now that I'll have a try at 
 making my way in London, and so I tell
 
 TO LONDON 23 
 
 you plainly that if you and mother won't 
 give me leave I'll take it and go in spite 
 of you.' 
 
 * Your boots won't last out the tramp to 
 London, man/ observed his father with a 
 wink at his wife. 
 
 ' AVe won't give you any brass to spend 
 that way,' added Mrs. Collins decisively. 
 
 ' I've not asked you for any yet,' said 
 George, with a significant absence of the 
 irritation usually shown by him at any 
 allusion to his dependent condition. 
 
 He took up his hat and went out, 
 flinging the door to behind him. The 
 old couple looked at each other apprehen- 
 sively. 
 
 ' Jane, he's gotten brass ! ' said the father 
 solemnly. 
 
 * Ay — it looks so, he's so bold I' answered 
 the mother.
 
 24 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 ' Wheer can he have gotten it?' said old 
 Collins. 
 
 ' I cannot think. I'll have a good turn- 
 out of his room directly, and see if I can 
 find it,' returned Mrs. Collins, heaving her 
 voluminous person out of her chair, and 
 trotting away. 
 
 Her search, although it comprised hiding- 
 places that would have done a jackdaw 
 credit, resulted in nothing but dirt and 
 dust, and George's parents made up their 
 minds that if their son was in reality 
 possessed of any secret hoard he carried it 
 upon himself. 
 
 Mr. Collins was a single-hearted and 
 simple-minded old man. When he had 
 anything in view he always took the 
 very straightest road towards his object. 
 His son had not known him these twenty- 
 eight years for nothing ; it was therefore
 
 TO LONDON 25 
 
 with no feeling of surprise that he awoke 
 in the small hours of the night following 
 the announcement of his decision, to find 
 his elderly parent, with a cunningly-shaded 
 light, carefully and minutely examining 
 each portion of the clothing which George 
 had left upon a chair at the foot of his 
 bed. 
 
 Convinced by George's hypocritically 
 deep breathing that his son was sound 
 asleep, the old man calmly passed every 
 article in review, shaking, feeliug, smooth- 
 ing it out, but all to no purpose. Beyond 
 a tramway ticket and an envelope scribbled 
 over with verses, which last he threw from 
 him as if it had bitten him, Mr. Collins 
 found absolutely nothing. 
 
 His search completed, he approached the 
 bed in which the hope of his house lay, to 
 all appearance, sound asleep. With the
 
 26 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 utmost caution he passed his hand beneath 
 the pillow, first on one side then on the 
 other of his son's head, but there was 
 nothing there. As he was withdrawing his 
 hand, disappointed, George, unable to resist 
 a mischievous impulse, moved his arm rest- 
 lessly and caught hold of his father's wrist. 
 The old man gave a muttered exclamation 
 of dismay, and George, afraid that he might 
 laugh, opened his eyes, and fixed them 
 upon his visitor with well-feigned astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 ' You, father ! ' he exclaimed, starting up 
 in bed. ' Is anything amiss.' 
 
 'Naught, naught, my lad, naught,' 
 replied the old man, with a very rueful 
 countenance. ' I — I — I only came to see — 
 if you were there still all right. Good-night, 
 lad, good-night' 
 
 He took his candle and hurriedly
 
 TO LONDON 27 
 
 departed, having no wish, whatever to pro- 
 long the conversation. 
 
 George covered himself np again and 
 laughed quietly. 
 
 ' Poor old boy ! does he think I can't 
 see through him ! It isn't for love of 
 me that they want me — it's only not to 
 give me any money. If I had'nt borrowed, 
 begged, pinched, to get those poor little ten 
 pounds I might have vegetated here till 
 doomsday. They have no ambition for me 
 — no perception of my gifts. Strange, that 
 I should be the son of such a sordid, soul- 
 less old couple ! ' 
 
 With these edifying reflections he fell 
 asleep, sure that his father would leave him 
 undisturbed for the remainder of the night, 
 or that, even if he should take it into his 
 head to pay him a second domiciliary visit, 
 
 he would never think of looking: in the
 
 28 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 water-jug, at the bottom of whieli reposed 
 the ten golden sovereigns which were to 
 accompany George in his wanderings. 
 
 The very next morning the old familiar 
 cry of ' Geoorge ! Geoorge ! ' resounded as 
 usual throughout the passages, garden, 
 and stables of the Bell and Boot, but no 
 impatient voice shouted back a reply. 
 There was no ' Geoorge ' forthcoming, and 
 the old peo^^le, looking at each other with 
 dismayed eyes, were forced to come to the 
 conclusion that their son had kept his word, 
 and had left them for that London which, 
 to their sim23le minds, seemed nearly as far 
 off as Iceland or India. 
 
 By that time, indeed, George had been 
 gone some hours. He spent part of the 
 morning in Manchester, providing himself 
 with a few absolute necessaries, such as a 
 bag in which to put the things he had
 
 TO LONDON 29 
 
 brought away in a parcel from the Bell and 
 Boot, a new hat, and some collars and cuffs. 
 
 ' It won't do to look shabby,' he said to 
 himself ; ' but I must cut my wants short, 
 for it may be some time before I can get an 
 engagement.' 
 
 His shopping done and a modest luncheon 
 swallowed, he made his way to the station, 
 and took a ticket. In spite of himself his 
 voice gave a quiver as he pronounced the 
 magic words ^ Third, London.' 
 
 ' The clerk must have thought me a 
 queer sort of chap to ask for my ticket 
 as if I was going to cry ! ' he thought, as 
 he gathered up the change ; and it would 
 perhaps have disappointed him if he had 
 known that as a matter of fact the clerk 
 had not noticed his voice at all. 
 
 In the third-class carriage into which 
 he got was a working man with a bristly
 
 30 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 chin and a small bundle by his side. 
 George placed himself opposite, and im- 
 mediately began to talk to him. 
 
 ' Are you going to London, mister ? ' 
 he asked. 
 
 The bristly -chinned man turned two 
 bloodshot eyes upon him and growled out 
 something that might be taken as a negative. 
 
 ' I am,' said George. ' Looking for work, 
 friend ? ' 
 
 The man gave another growl, in which, 
 qualifying George's epithet with a quite 
 unnecessary and inappropriate adjective, 
 he was understood to say that ' he didn't 
 want none of his friends.' 
 
 George, nothing daunted, for he had 
 been used to rough things at the Bell and 
 Boot, said pleasantly, 
 
 ' Ay — it's a hard world, mate, 'specially 
 for the poor ! '
 
 TO LONDON 31 
 
 The bristly man glanced superciliously 
 at George's clothes, which, though cheap 
 and common enough, seemed to him, poor 
 wretch, as smart and good as a man could 
 have, and raising his voice a little, said, 
 
 * 'Ere, you let me be. I don't want none 
 of your damn swells' talk 'ere. You're 
 all of yer ready to talk, but when it comes 
 to givin' a cove sixpence, you ain't on — 
 not you. You let me be.' 
 
 George laughed pleasantly. 
 
 * Swells' talk ! ' he said. ' I'm no swell, 
 mate. I'm a working man like yourself, 
 as poor as poor need be. What trade are 
 
 you ? ' 
 
 ' I'm out o' work — that's my trade,' 
 answered the man as surlily as before. 
 
 Here the guard blew his whistle, just 
 as a woman and her child climbed hurriedly 
 into the compartment.
 
 32 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 ' Hold up, missus ! ' said George, steady- 
 ino: the woman as she almost fell. ' Give 
 me the bairn. There, that's right, now 
 you're in. What a pretty child ! And 
 what do they call you ? ' he asked the little 
 girl. 
 
 ' Allie,' piped the child ; and George, 
 abandoning his attempts to soften the 
 bristly -chinned man, devoted himself for 
 the next hour or so to his two more inter- 
 esting fellow-passengers. 
 
 The mother, who, as her dress showed, 
 was a widow, soon became confidential, 
 and related most of her history from her 
 birth upwards, to all of which George, 
 the little girl upon his knee, listened with 
 the greatest apparent interest, although in 
 reality his thoughts were taken up with 
 his own afifairs. When the widow had 
 wound up with the information that she
 
 TO LONDON 33 
 
 was going to London to live with her 
 sister, who, like herself, was a dressmaker, 
 she went to sleep, and it became the little 
 girl's turn. 
 
 * Tell me a story,' she said, as soon as 
 her mother's fretful, complaining voice was 
 no longer to be heard. 
 
 Somewhat to her astonishment George 
 began a story at once. It was all about a 
 boy who went out into the world to seek 
 his fortune, and found a very splendid 
 fortune indeed. Everything went well 
 with him, and he became a rich and power- 
 ful prince. 
 
 George was quite as much interested in 
 the adventures of his hero as his little 
 listener. As the story proceeded his dia- 
 lect and accent became more and more 
 marked, until they were almost as pro- 
 nounced as his father's. His eyes shone 
 
 VOL. I 3
 
 34 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 and his language was full of poetry, as he 
 described the fortunes of the poor lad in 
 whom, probably, he all unconsciously saw 
 his own self. The child listened breath- 
 lessly, and when at length the story came 
 to an end, she said directly, 
 
 ' Tell me another.' 
 
 But a new passenger had just got in, 
 and George, to whom everybody seemed 
 quite specially interesting that day, turned 
 to look at him. 
 
 He sat down opposite George, in the 
 seat which the surly workman had quitted 
 a few stations back, and taking off his 
 hat, proceeded to wipe his head and face 
 vigorously with a large and dingy silk 
 handkerchief. He was a man of about 
 fifty, tall and stout, with dark very much 
 oiled hair parted in the middle, small 
 brown eyes, the whites of which were so
 
 TO LONDON 35 
 
 only in name, for their real colour was 
 yellow, a portentous nose wliicli somehow 
 looked swollen, and which was adorned 
 with many little red -streaked veins about 
 the tip, a thick moustache waxed and 
 twisted at the ends, and a shaven chin 
 which, like the rest of his complexion, was 
 spotted and unhealthy looking. His tie 
 was a gaudy mixture of green and red, 
 his greatcoat light cinnamon in colour, 
 and very much too tight in the body, 
 giving him a sausage -like and altogether 
 apoplectic appearance, far from becoming. 
 He wore a seedy white hat with a black 
 band, put rakishly on one side of his head, 
 and a ring on his little finder with a large 
 stone, the doubtful brilliance of which 
 matched George's own. 
 
 He panted and blew and mopped him- 
 self comfortable, and then, taking out an
 
 36 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 enormous and nearly black cigar with a 
 label round it, lie lighted it afltd began to 
 puff out volumes of smoke. During these 
 operations he had examined his fellow- 
 passengers, and now addressed himself 
 to George, speaking in a peculiarly thick 
 voice, w^hich, together with his appearance, 
 George, wdio had all the ex^^erience of a son 
 of the Bell and Boot, knew meant drink. 
 
 * Your little gurl, sir ? ' pointing towards 
 the child on Georcre's knee wdth his cie^ar. 
 
 George explained. ' And I'm very fond 
 of little ones,' he added. 
 
 'Ah, h'm,' said the stout man, thrust- 
 ing forward his lower lip in a way he had, 
 ' I can't say I share your feeling. They 
 cost too much and do too little for my 
 taste ; ' and he laughed a sort of stifled 
 throat lauffh, which seemed to be his 
 nearest approach to merriment.
 
 TO LONDON 37 
 
 Georo:e laiTorhed too. 
 
 ' Have you any of your own ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' One, sir, one, but thank the Lord, 
 she's grown up, and don't wear 'er boots 
 out every ten minutes nowadays. "* He 
 gurgled again, and then said, 
 
 ' Goin' to London, sir ? ' 
 
 'I am,' answered George. * For the 
 first time.' 
 
 ' Bless me ! ' said the stout man. ' But 
 I thought so.' 
 
 ' Why ? ' asked George reddening. 
 
 'Oh, I don't know exactly,' said the 
 other. ' A kind of a air, don't yer know, 
 dear boy. Something rooral, mild-like ' 
 
 ' Green, I suppose you mean,' said 
 George rather sulkily. 
 
 ' Well, dear boy, suppose we put it at 
 that — suppose we put it at that. But no 
 offence meant, you know, none at all,' he
 
 38 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 hastened to add ; ^ no oflfence meant, and 
 none taken, I 'ope ? ' 
 
 ^None,' said George, ashamed of his 
 touchiness. 
 
 ' Going to friends, I presoom ? ' asked the 
 stout man after a pause, during which he 
 had carefully examined his nails, which to 
 a critical observer left a good deal to be 
 desired from the point of view of cleanli- 
 ness, but with which he himself appeared 
 perfectly satisfied. 
 
 ' No,' said George. ' I don't know no one 
 — I mean any one in London.' 
 
 The stout man pricked up his ears. 
 
 ' Goin' into business ? ' 
 
 ' I'm going to try to get on the stage, for 
 one thing,' said George, who saw no reason 
 for reticence. 
 
 'Ha!' said the stout man, becoming 
 suddenly animated. * As a singer ? '
 
 TO LONDON 39 
 
 ' No, answered George decidedly, ' as an 
 actor.' 
 
 'H'm,' said the other, falling back again 
 into his old attitude. ' What line are you 
 in ? ' 
 
 ' None at all at present,' said George^ 
 ' I'm only going to begin now. ' 
 
 * Eather old ? ' suggested the stout man, 
 with a glance at him. 
 
 * Never mind, better late than never," 
 said George with a forced laugh. ' Besides 
 that, I — I — want to publish some verses.' 
 
 The stout man gurgled. 
 
 ' Verses, oh lor ! Comic ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not ! said George indignantly. 
 
 ' Well, the other sort ain't in my style,' 
 
 said the stout man ; * but as to the stage 
 
 Look here, young man,' he went on 
 abruptly, after a short pause, ' where arc 
 you goin' to stop at in London ? '
 
 40 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 r 
 
 ' I don't know yet/ answered George 
 with some hesitation ; ' I must look for a 
 oom as soon as I get there.' 
 
 "Ow's the 'oof? Plenty?' asked the 
 man. 
 
 George shook his head expressively. 
 
 ' Well now, I tell you wdiat it is, young 
 feller,' said the stout man ; ' it ain't often 
 that I take a fancy to any one. If you 
 knew any of my pals they'd tell you the 
 same ; but I don't know how it is, I seem 
 to 'ave taken one to you. London's a queer 
 sort of place, and a fresh 'un like you's 
 apt to get sharped there. Now I'll tell 
 you what I'll do for you. You want a 
 room in a nice, quiet, respectable neigh- 
 bourhood, don't you ? ' 
 
 'Yes,' said George. 
 
 ' And board as well as lodgin' ? You'd 
 better combine the two,' as George hesi-
 
 TO LONDON 41 
 
 tated, ^ it's much cheaper and better. Is 
 that what you want ? ' 
 
 George signified his assent. 
 
 ' You want to be took in and cared for, 
 just like that child on your knee,' con- 
 tinued the stout man, seeming to take a 
 kind of pleasure in enlarging on George's 
 helplessness. 
 
 * Well now,' he said, taking out a greasy 
 letter -case from an inner pocket, and 
 rummaging among its contents, ' I think 
 I know — ^just by chance — the very thing 
 that '11 suit you.' 
 
 He produced, after some search, a 
 somewhat dingy card, which he handed 
 to George. 
 
 It bore this inscription in printed letters — 
 Mrs. Mellon, 
 
 193 Hypatia Street, 
 
 Camden Town, N.W.
 
 42 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 'That lady,' pursued the stout man, 
 leaning forward, and laying one finger on 
 George's knee, * I can confidently recom- 
 mend, and no one has a better right to 
 it than me, for I have known her long 
 and intimate. She'll do for you like a 
 mother, and reasonable too, which is more 
 than some mothers are, ain't it ? Ha, ha ! 
 Now 'ere we are,' as the train rolled into 
 Euston. ' Go there, that's my advice. If 
 you don't like it you needn't stop, but 
 I'm a old stager, and you believe me, you 
 can't do better. Ta-ta ; ' and with a 
 nod he was out of the carriage and lost 
 among the crowd, before George could 
 give an answer of any kind.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 HYPATIA STREET 
 
 Having elicited from a porter the infor- 
 mation that Camden Town was ' not as 
 far off as some other places/ George, bag 
 in hand, set off to walk to Hypatia Street, 
 as he thought it would be just as well 
 to go and judge for himself what kind 
 of a place it was. He found it necessary 
 to inquire his way every few minutes, 
 and for a long time no one seemed able 
 to direct him to the particular street he 
 wanted. At length, however, a small boy, 
 with a pennyworth of treacle in a jar in
 
 44 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 one hand and quite a farthing's worth of the 
 same ae^reeable condiment on his face and 
 forefinger, on being appealed to for Hypatia 
 Street said briskly, ' I knows 'im. You 
 come along o' me. I lives at No. 250 
 myself.' 
 
 George walked meekly along beside 
 his small conductor, whose sharp little 
 eyes had looked him all over in a 
 moment. 
 
 ' What number do yer want ? ' asked the 
 boy. 
 
 ' 193, my lad,' answered George. 
 
 ' I know. Mother Mellon, ain't it ? ' 
 
 ' Ay,' said George. 
 
 The small boy laughed convulsively, 
 then dij)ped his finger in the treacle and 
 licked it all round, leaving a kind of 
 high -water mark about the second joint, 
 up to which he had sucked ofi" the dirt
 
 HYP ATI A STREET 45 
 
 as well as the treacle. After this refresh- 
 ment he observed, 
 
 ^My, but she's a rum old party, ain't 
 she?' 
 
 ' I don't know her yet,' said George. 
 
 ' Oh — h ! ' said the boy disparagingly. 
 ' And don't you know Lucy, neither ? ' 
 
 ' Who's Lucy ? ' asked George. 
 
 ' Why, their gal — Mellon's gal, of course. 
 And ain't she a beauty, too ! Ha, I rather 
 believe you, my boy. Now, then, this 'ere's 
 my manshin. Yours is lower down, straight 
 as yer nose, yer can't miss it.' 
 
 Presenting his friendly guide with a 
 penny, upon which that young gentleman 
 spat copiously ' for luck ' before transferring 
 it to his pocket, George walked on down the 
 street, which stretched before him without 
 any apparent end to it. 
 
 It was a curious place, George thought.
 
 46 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 A kind of historical street, representing 
 various stages of the progress of man. At 
 the end at which George had entered were 
 what might be called the primeval dwelling- 
 places — small, sordid-looking, tumble-down 
 cottages, with rooms opening straight on to 
 the road, and windows carefully constructed 
 to keep out as much air as possible. At 
 the doors of these houses leaned slatternly 
 women, with frowsy hair hoisted up in an 
 untidy knot behind, and torn or gaping 
 aprons and dresses. Children in nondescript 
 clothinsf, coated all over with mud and dirt, 
 played and fought in the road in front, 
 which was apparently a handy receptacle 
 for all the old boots, sardine -tins, and 
 condensed milk cans not required by their 
 parents within. Marbles and rounders 
 seemed to be the two favourite games, 
 and these were kept up from morning till
 
 HYP ATI A STREE7 47 
 
 night to an accompaniment of shrill yells 
 and cries that made the more select 
 inhabitants of Hypatia Street despairingly 
 ask, ' Where, oh where is the school-board ? ' 
 A little farther on came a long row of 
 thinly-built, three-storied, card-like houses, 
 which looked as if they would instantly 
 collapse if leaned against. These had been 
 painted white once, 'long, long ago,' but 
 their colour was only a legend, and was 
 believed in by no one but their owners, who 
 fondly called them the * white 'ouses,' and 
 were always looking forward to the long- 
 promised day when the landlord should 
 restore them to their pristine colour. Still, 
 dingy as they were, they were a great 
 improvement on the low little places 
 beyond, and might be taken to represent 
 the ' middle ages ' of Hypatia Street. They 
 were let out in rooms, or sets of rooms, the
 
 48 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 landlord making a tour every Saturday to 
 secure his rent. 
 
 It was in the first of these that George's 
 guide resided, leaving him to continue his 
 way by himself. He had to cross over 
 several times, as the numbers of the houses 
 in Hypatia Street seemed to have been put 
 in a bag, and then shaken up well and 
 taken out at random. At length, however, 
 he found the one he was looking for. It 
 was the third of a row of six, all belonging 
 to one man, who might be considered the 
 emblem and sign of modern civilisation and 
 cultivated taste. 'Natty,' he called them, 
 and natty they certainly were. 
 
 They were only one story high, and the 
 story had one window over the front door 
 and one over the parlour, which boasted 
 of an elegant bow-window. They were 
 built of red and yellow brick, picked out
 
 HYPATIA STREET 49 
 
 with white, and had a most elaborate 
 parapet to the roofs, which gave ' style 
 to the 'ole,' as their owner was wont to ob- 
 serve. But their great charm, distinguishing 
 them from the common houses near, lay 
 in their flight of doorsteps. No mere 
 rough slabs of stone these, with flaws and 
 cracks which even the most devoted hearth- 
 stoning was incapable of disguising ; no two 
 or three steps either, scarcely raising your 
 front door above the level of the street ; but 
 a real good flight of twelve steps, broad, 
 smooth, and solid, with a balustrade on 
 either hand, and — greatest triumph of all — 
 a stucco flower vase on each side of the 
 door. The steps were high and steep — 
 they looked as if they had set out to climb 
 to the roof, and had only with difficulty been 
 arrested mid -way — and one of their chief 
 
 merits was that their height rendered it 
 VOL. I 4
 
 so BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 absolutely impossible for the dwellers on 
 the plains below to see what you took in 
 for your dinner, a merit which was not 
 without its importance in the eyes of the 
 favoured occupants of the six houses. 
 
 George, who had a wonderfully quick eye 
 for such details, took in all this at a glance 
 as he crossed the road in front of No. 193. 
 He noted that Mrs. Mellon's house was 
 the smartest and best kept of the six — 
 short white curtains tied back with blue 
 in the two top windows, long white curtains 
 in the parlour -window, which was further 
 adorned by a little round table with a white 
 crochet -work cover, and a stand of wax 
 flowers and fruit, covered with an extremely 
 glittering glass shade. The steps, too, were 
 spotlessly clean, and looked as if no profane 
 foot had ever trodden upon their snowy 
 surface.
 
 HYP ATI A STREET 51 
 
 ' It seems promising enough ! ' he 
 thought, as he rang the highly polished 
 bell. 
 
 A door within shut audibly, and footsteps 
 approached the hall -door, the distinctness 
 with which they could be heard proving 
 that the builder of the smart houses had 
 thought more of externals than of solidity. 
 The door opened, and a woman stood before 
 George. 
 
 ' Mrs. Mellon ? ' said he, taking off his 
 hat with an air copied from the young men- 
 about-town of Manchester. 
 
 ' Yes — s,' replied the woman in a drawling 
 voice and evidently foreign accent. ' That 
 is me. You want ? ' 
 
 George produced the card his fellow- 
 traveller had given him. 
 
 ' A gentleman I met in the train gave me 
 this,' he said. * As I was a stranger in 
 
 UNIVERSITY a- 
 'LLINOIS LIBRAR16
 
 52 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 London, he thouQ-ht it mio^lit be of use 
 to me. I am looking for a room.' 
 
 ' Ah yes,' she said, with a wave of her 
 hand towards the parlour window, ' you see 
 I have one to let.' 
 
 In effect, there was a card with ' Bedroom 
 to let ' sticking in the window. 
 
 ' Come in, come in,' said the woman. 
 ' I shall show you the room.' 
 
 She took him straight upstairs into a 
 small back room, which, with two others, 
 comprised the whole of the top story. It 
 was comfortable enough, plain as it was, 
 for George, who had not been spoiled 
 by luxury, and he said he would take it. 
 
 'And the gentleman said you would 
 board me as well as lodge me, missus, 
 he added. 
 
 ' Oh yes, I will board you.' 
 
 ' How much a week ? ' asked George.
 
 HYPATIA STREET 53 
 
 * Ten shillings a veek for your room, 
 breakfast, tea, and whole board on Sonday, 
 fifteen shillings if you dine at 'ome every 
 day,' answered the woman promptly. 
 
 ' That'll do all right.' 
 
 ' You 'af references ? ' she asked. 
 
 * No, I don't know any one in London ; 
 but if I pay a week in advance that'll do 
 as well, eh, missus ? ' 
 
 * Better ! ' she said, with a smile that 
 lighted up her whole face. 
 
 George produced a sovereign, which she 
 took with evident satisfaction. 
 
 ' That is all settled now ; then,' she said, 
 'you will better come downstairs, and haf 
 some tea with me.' 
 
 Leaving his overcoat and bag in his 
 room, George followed Mrs. Mellon past 
 the parlour door, down a very steep flight 
 of wooden stairs, into a room which, owing
 
 54 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 to the height of the front-door steps, was 
 on a level with the little strip of garden. 
 
 ' You see I make you at 'ome at once,' 
 said Mrs. Mellon, pushing a well-worn arm- 
 chair to the fire, and motioning George 
 towards it. ^ This is our sitting - room. 
 We let the parlour opstairs sometimes, and 
 sometimes we don't. That is as may be. 
 Jost now it is let to a gentleman in the 
 City, who boards with us as you will do.' 
 
 The room was a good-sized one, with a 
 light, bright paper, hung with sundry 
 chromos of a cheerful description. There 
 were a great many photographs about 
 everywhere, the mantelpiece being crowded 
 with them, as well as a small table near the 
 window. On another table was a litter of 
 scraps of velvet and silk, feathers and 
 flowers. An enormous cat lay purring 
 before the fire, which jumped on its
 
 HYP ATI A STREET 55 
 
 mistress's knee directly she had sat down 
 in the chair from which George's ring had 
 disturbed her. 
 
 Mrs. Mellon herself was about forty, but 
 she was neither ^fat' nor 'fair.' On the 
 contrary, she was extremely slight, and dark 
 almost to swarthiness. Her hair had grown 
 prematurely gray, and contrasted quite oddly 
 with her olive cheeks, black eyebrows, and 
 bright bead -like brown eyes. There was 
 still a great quantity of it, and it seemed of 
 a curly and rebellious nature ; for though 
 there had been an evident attempt to part 
 it in the middle and brush it down neatly 
 on each side of the forehead, it had a 
 tendency to struggle loose from its bonds, 
 and required constant coaxing back, which 
 its owner did with a curious quick move- 
 ment of a little brown smooth - skinned 
 hand.
 
 S6 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 There was something in the quaint 
 simplicity of her straight black gown and 
 in the absence of all frivolous adornment 
 which struck George's quick apprehension 
 as incongruous with the woman herself. 
 She looked, he thought, as if she were 
 dressed up for a part, and as if she might 
 suddenly go away, and come back a 
 coquettish, smartly -dressed, be-furbelowed 
 little Frenchwoman, which was, he felt 
 sure, what nature had intended her to 
 be. 
 
 Stroking the cat on her knee, she fixed 
 her pleasant dark eyes on George, and said 
 brightly, ^ And now you must tell me all 
 about yourself Who are you, where you 
 do come from, and what you are going 
 to do. You must look upon me as Maman 
 Mellon, and you shall be my big son, and 
 tell me everything. So do always all
 
 HYP ATI A STREET 57 
 
 my young men ; I am as a mother to 
 them all ! ' 
 
 'I've come from Manchester, where my 
 parents live,' said George, reserving to 
 himself the right of a judicious choice of 
 facts to be imparted to his new relative's 
 ear, • and I want to go on the stage.' 
 
 ' Eh, the stage ? ' cried Mrs. Mellon, her 
 dark cheek flushing, 'you will go on the 
 stage % Aha ! then you 'ave something in 
 you, you 'ave spirit, life ! ' 
 
 ' I hope so,' modestly replied George. 
 
 ' Ah, the stage ! ' went on Mrs. Mellon, 
 fixing her glowing eyes on the fire, 'there 
 is nothing like it — nothing ! The pretty 
 dresses, the lights, the people, the clapping, 
 the excitement — nothing, nothing in the 
 world is like it ! The people in front, they 
 pay their money, they sit in their comfort- 
 able seats and think they enjoy themselves.
 
 58 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 But no — it is the artistes, the performers 
 who enjoy themselves — it is they who are 
 happy. At least, so it was always with 
 me,' she said with a little laugh ; ' but I 
 remember that the others used to laugh 
 often of me — they are so many of them 
 sticks of wood.' 
 
 ' You have been on the stage yourself, 
 then ? ' said George, congratulating himself 
 on his good fortune in having happened 
 to come across some one who could ' show 
 him the ropes.' 
 
 ' 'Ave I been on the stage ? ' repeated Mrs. 
 Mellon. ' Ah yes, young man, I almost 
 think I 'ave. From the time when I was 
 not much bigger than this cat my 'ole life 
 was on the stage. When I was not 
 performing I was learning. When I was 
 not learning I was practising. 'Ow 'ard 
 did I work — and what applause did I gain ! '
 
 HYP ATI A STREET 59 
 
 ' And you have retired ? asked George. 
 
 ' Ah yes, you think, in spite of my gray 
 hairs, I am still young to retire ! That 
 is so ; in years, in strength I am but a child 
 still, as souple, as active as ever ; I could 
 'ave gone on for another twenty years 
 at least, but I had an accident ; I hurt 
 myself; the doctors all say if I go on again 
 I get ill and cannot recover, and — so 
 voila!^ she ended, with a shrug and an 
 expressive glance round the room. 
 
 ' You see,' she continued after a moment, 
 ' I was too bold, too daring ! Many times 
 was I warned, but no notice did I take. It 
 was jost that I liked — the danger ! ' 
 
 ' The danger ? ' repeated George, who had 
 never heard that acting was a perilous 
 profession to life and limb. 
 
 ^ Yes, the danger ! Look, young man,' 
 she said, gesticulating with both hands, so
 
 6o BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 that the cat on her knee glanced up in 
 lazy astonishment, ' 'ow would you like to 
 be 'ung in the air, suspended by your feet 
 from a ladder — ah, so many feet high, and 
 'ave to move, 'ead downwards, from one end 
 of it to the other. And mind you,' she 
 added, growing always warmer and warmer, 
 * no nets beneath in m/y time. No, if you 
 fall — plomp — you are finished ! Would 
 you like that, eh ? Bat I had nerves of 
 steel ! ' 
 
 'Oh, I see,' said George, beginning to 
 realise that Mrs. Mellon and he were 
 talking at cross - purposes. ' And how did 
 you have your accident ? ' 
 
 ' It is just ten years ago,' said the little 
 woman ; ' my Lucie was ten years old, she 
 is now twenty. I had a trapeze trick to 
 perform just then — a very difficult feat, but 
 a pretty one. My fellow-artiste, who had
 
 HYP ATI A STREET 6i 
 
 to catch me, missed — and I fell — oli, not 
 very far, but I got some internal injuries, 
 and, as I tell you, the doctors forbade me 
 to go on.' 
 
 ' It must have been a great blow to you,' 
 said George sympathetically. 
 
 ' It was a very bad blow — for us all. I 
 think that turned my poor hairs gray. You 
 see I was famous, renowned ! I made 
 much money, for people went always to 
 see L'Hirondelle. L'Hirondelle, that was 
 my stage name. You 'ave 'card it, perhaps ? ' 
 George murmured something about 
 thinking he knew the name, but Mrs. 
 Mellon paid no attention to his reply. 
 She suddenly started up, upsetting the 
 cat, which retired with an indignant swell- 
 ing of its tail beneath the table, went 
 to the looking-glass over the chimney- 
 piece, and began smoothing down the
 
 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 unruly gray hair on eacli side of her 
 face. 
 
 ' I am forgetting/ she said in a changed 
 voice, turning again to George ; '• the old 
 Satan lingers in me still.' 
 
 ' Wh — what ? ' asked George, confused 
 by this sudden transition. 
 
 ' Yes,' said the little woman, glancing 
 down at her prim black frock ; ' for the 
 moment I had forgotten that I have re- 
 nounced all earthly pomps and vanities. 
 But Satan is lurking always at my elbow, 
 and sometimes, as now, he gets his own 
 way. The wicked, frivolous Hirondelle 
 is dead long ago. Here,' touching her- 
 self gravely upon the forehead, ' you see 
 Sister Lucretia, of the Army of the 
 Lord ! Forget, young man, forget my 
 boastful words. I must punish myself 
 for them ! '
 
 HYP ATI A STREET 63 
 
 To George's relief, for he was at a 
 loss to know exactly what to say, there 
 just now came a ring at the bell. 
 
 ' It's Lucie ! ' cried Mrs. Mellon, and 
 with a light step, which looked almost 
 like a pirouette, she ran from the room.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE CUP THAT CHEERS 
 
 Mrs. Mellon returned almost immedi- 
 ately, followed by a girl still in her hat 
 and jacket. 
 
 ' My daughter Lucie,' she said proudly, 
 ' my only child and the comfort of my life.' 
 
 ' Don't be absurd, ma ! ' said the girl. 
 ' What is this gentleman's name ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Mellon turned with a laugh towards 
 George. 
 
 ' I do not really know,' she said. ' I 
 have forgotten to ask.'
 
 THE CUP THAT CHEERS 65 
 
 ' That's you all over, ma 1 ' said the 
 girl half-affectionately, half-crossly. 
 
 ^My name is George L'Estrange,' ob- 
 served George. 
 
 ' What a nice name,' said Lucy ad- 
 miringly. 
 
 ' L'Estrange ! It sounds French,' said 
 Mrs. Mellon. 
 
 ' My ancestors were, I believe, of French 
 extraction,' returned George ; and it is to 
 be hoped that the left ears of the land- 
 lord and landlady of the Bell and Boot 
 did not at that moment tingle violently. 
 
 Lucy took off her outdoor clothes, 
 having first put down a bandbox she was 
 carrying. She was, as her mother had told 
 George, twenty years old. Tall, and very 
 fair, she offered the most complete con- 
 trast to her little dark mother. Her 
 
 hair was almost flaxen, and very elabo- 
 VOL. I 5
 
 66 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 rately curled, plaited, and twisted on the 
 top of her head. Her eyes were light 
 gray and large, her cheeks perhaps a 
 trifle too full and too pale, her mouth 
 and teeth more than passable. Lucy 
 Mellon was a remarkably showy girl, and 
 was perfectly aware of the fact. 
 
 ' Ain't we going to have tea, ma ? ' she 
 said, in the purest Cockney accent a north 
 countryman could wish to hear. 
 
 * Directly, Lucie, directly,' answered her 
 mother, j umping up quickly. * The gentle- 
 man has not long been here and I was 
 so busy making him at home that I 
 quite forgot all about tea. But I will 
 get it in one moment.' 
 
 The little woman bustled out of the 
 room. Lucy sat down at the table in 
 the window, and began opening the box 
 she had brous^ht in with her.
 
 THE CUP THAT CHEERS 67 
 
 ' Ain't ma funny ? ' she said ; ' you'll soon 
 get used to her, but just at first it '11 put 
 you out a bit.' 
 
 ^Your mother isn't English, is she, 
 miss ? ' asked George. 
 
 * Why no, I should think any one could 
 hear that in a moment ! ' answered Lucy. 
 * She's French, and though she's been 
 married over twenty years, and lived in 
 England all that time, she's French as 
 French can be still.' 
 
 ' Do you speak French, miss ? ' 
 
 'No, not very well, I never could bear 
 it. Give me English. But Fm su]Dposed 
 to he French in my business, and the little 
 Fve picked up from ma comes in handy.' 
 
 George ventured to ask what her busi- 
 ness was. 
 
 ' Well,' said Lucy archly, ' if I tell you 
 it's a secret, mind. I don't tell everybody.
 
 68 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 but I think you look as if you were to 
 be trusted,' witli a coquettish glance into 
 George's eyes. 
 
 George swore eternal secrecy. 
 
 ' Well, then, I'm Paris Model maker to 
 a lady-milliner.' 
 
 ' I'm no wiser than before,' said George. 
 
 *Lor, how stoopid you men are! Well, 
 first of all, do you know what a lady- 
 milliner is ? ' 
 
 ' A — a — person — like you, I suppose ? ' 
 
 Lucy laughed. 
 
 * Like me 1 That's fine ! No, my 
 milliner, my employer, is a countess, a 
 real live countess ! ' 
 
 ' But,' said George, quite at sea, ' what 
 does she — do you mean she keeps a shop ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, to be sure, a shop, just like any- 
 body else's. She's divorced from her 
 husband, because he took and went ofi'
 
 THE CUP THAT CHEERS 69 
 
 to America witli another lady, and so, 
 just to occupy herself like, I suppose, 
 she set up this shop. Why, that's 
 nothing ! ' she added, laughing at the 
 blank astonishment depicted on George's 
 face. ' Shopkeeping's all the fashion in 
 London nowadays. My countess's place 
 is in Bond Street, and next door but one 
 to us there's a marquis's daughter, a 
 Lady Wilhelmina something or the other, 
 that has a furniture and decorating shop, 
 and then there's the Honourable Enid 
 Vavasour's flower-place, and Lady Myles's 
 dairy, and — oh, lots more.' 
 
 ' I never heard of such a thing ! ' ex- 
 claimed George. 
 
 * Why, where have you been brought 
 up ? ' said Lucy, delighted at having so 
 unsophisticated a creature to enlighten. 
 ' Don't you read the papers ? '
 
 70 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 ' Sometimes, but I never saw anything 
 like that in 'em.' 
 
 ' I never ! ' said Lucy. 
 
 * Tea is ready now, Lucie,' here put in 
 Mrs. Mellon, who had been industriously 
 trotting to and fro all this time with 
 plates and cups and saucers. 
 
 ' That's a mercy ! ' answered her daughter, 
 swinging her chair round so as to face the 
 tea-table, ' for I'm just fagged out. I hope 
 you've put plenty of tea in the pot. Ma 
 has never learned yet how to make tea,' 
 she observed to George, ' though she makes 
 bang-up coffee. Here, where's the bag I 
 brought in,' she exclaimed, getting up and 
 looking about her. ' I nearly forgot all 
 about 'em.' 
 
 She opened the bag, and a shower of 
 periwinkles fell on the plate. 
 
 * Winkles!' she said triumphantly. 'Do
 
 THE CUP THAT CHEERS 71 
 
 you like winkles, Mr. L'Estrange ? Ma and 
 me do, don't we, ma ? ' 
 
 'So do I,' said George ; and then, being 
 each provided with a pin, they sat round 
 the table, and picked out the luscious 
 morsels with varying skill, Lucy being the 
 most expert, her mother the least. 
 
 *You were telling me about your busi- 
 ness,' George said presently. 
 
 ' So I was,' answered Lucy, biting into 
 a large piece of bread and butter. ' Some 
 more tea, ma. Well, you know now what 
 a lady-milliner is, don't you ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, a countess or a marchioness. ' 
 
 ' That's about right. Now my countess 
 gets all her things straight from Paris, of 
 course. You know that hats and bonnets 
 always come straight from Paris, don't you?' 
 
 ' I didn't,' said George. 
 
 ' What an ignorant young man you are !
 
 72 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 Well, they do. No one wouldn't give five 
 or six guineas for a hat that had been made 
 in England by an Englishwoman, and so 
 the countess gets her hats from a French- 
 woman in Paris, only — her Paris is in 
 ^Ypatia Street, and her Frenchwoman is me ! ' 
 
 ' But you are nearly a Frenchwoman, 
 and you have absolutely the fingers of a 
 Frenchwoman ! ' said her mother jealously. 
 
 ' Oh, I know,' answered Lucy, helping 
 herself to more periwinkles, ' 1 know I make 
 well enough. The question is, does my 
 lady pay well enough, and the answer is, 
 no, she don't.' 
 
 'That is everybody's lot,' said Mrs. 
 Mellon, with a resigned sigh. 
 
 ' Yes, that's what pa's always girding at, 
 ain't it ? ' observed Lucy with a curious 
 little laugh. 
 
 George had not been certain, up till then,
 
 THE CUP THAT CHEERS 73 
 
 whether there existed a Mr. Mellon or 
 not. He now asked, 
 
 ' Is your father an actor ? ' 
 
 Lucy laughed again. 
 
 ^ Oh no, he's not an actor, though he's 
 had to do with the stage all his life, more 
 or less. Pa's chairman at the Star Music 
 Hall, not so far from here. When he was 
 younger, before his voice went, he was a 
 singer. It was him as brought out " I'm 
 such a light young man " — you must have 
 heard of it, haven't you ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, of course,' said George hastily. 
 * And — do you sing, Miss Lucy ? ' 
 
 ' No, I don't. Pa wanted me to go in for 
 the song and dance business, and of course 
 I should have liked that best, all our friends 
 being in that set, but somehow I couldn't 
 buckle to it. Don't know how it was — they 
 say I've no ear for music, and that I'm heavy
 
 74 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 on my feet. Anyway, it didn't seem to suit 
 me, so I took to the millinery instead.' 
 
 * Ah yes ! ' said her mother, ' I had always 
 hoped that Lucie would become an artiste 
 — it seems to me so strange that my 
 daughter should have no taste for the 
 stage. But there it is — and after all, 
 perhaps that it is best so. There are many 
 temptations — many. It is a frivolous and 
 ungodly life.' 
 
 ' Stuff and nonsense, ma ! ' said Lucy 
 sharply. ^That's the rubbish they stick 
 into your head at that stupid Army 
 place ; you used to be ever so much 
 nicer before you went there. She's gone 
 and joined that absurd " Army of the Lord " 
 business,' she explained to George. 
 
 ' Oh, Lucie ! ' Mrs. Mellon exclaimed 
 reproachfully. ' 'Ow can you say " absurd" ? 
 It is not absurd — they are good and holy
 
 THE CUP THAT CHEERS 75 
 
 men who direct it, and — and I am going 
 there now, this moment ! ' she finished, 
 getting up and shaking the crumbs from 
 her lap. 
 
 ' Oh, go on,' said Lucy good-naturedly ; 
 * only take an umbrella, and don't come home 
 soaked to the skin, as you did last time.' 
 
 Mrs. Mellon took down from a peg behind 
 the door a coal - scuttle bonnet of large 
 dimensions, which she put on, or rather in- 
 to which she put her head, tying it firmly 
 under the chin with broad black ribbons. 
 George could hardly refrain from smiling as 
 she turned towards him, at the sight of the 
 piquante French face in its inappropriate 
 frame. 
 
 ' Not much Parisian about that, is 
 there ? ' laughed Lucy. ' I didn't make 
 it, I must tell you, Mr. L'Estrange.' 
 
 Mrs. Mellon glanced at her daughter.
 
 76 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 then went to the looking-glass and gazed 
 anxiously at her reflection. 
 
 ' I do look extremely ogly ! ' she con- 
 fessed with a sigh ; and, as if involuntarily, 
 her finofers went to her hair and loosened 
 some of the thick locks upon her forehead. 
 The next moment, with a frown at herself, 
 she pushed them back again. 
 
 ' Ah, vanitee, vanitee ! how hard to 
 conquer ! ' she said remorsefully, turning 
 resolutely away from the glass ; and after 
 donning a long, straight, black cloak, a 
 perfect match for the bonnet in unbecoming- 
 ness, she put her handkerchief and latch-key 
 into a funny little black beaded bag, and 
 took her departure. 
 
 ' Poor ma ! ' said Lucy, who had already 
 sat down to her work. ' She's all for piety 
 and self-denial now ! As if she wasn't 
 quite good enough already, without those
 
 THE CUP THAT CHEERS 77 
 
 cheating wretches to get hold of her and 
 worry her poor little soul about her sins and 
 hell ! Why, ma has never given a thought 
 to herself all the years I've known her — 
 and she's had sorrow and trouble enough, 
 Heaven knows.' 
 
 ^ It must have been a great grief to her 
 when she had to retire,' observed George. 
 
 ^Ah,' said Lucy, 'I should think it was. 
 It brought a lot more trouble upon her too, 
 for — but it's no use talking about it, and, 
 besides, I've no right to go on to a stranger 
 about our private affairs. If you stop here 
 long enough you'll soon find out all about 
 us, and if you don't, why then you can go 
 without knowing.' 
 
 ' But I don't want to be a stranger, Miss 
 Lucy,' said George. 
 
 Lucy laughed. 
 
 ' Well, you w^on't be one long, I daresay.
 
 78 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 And so here we are, left all alone to amuse 
 each other. I'm afraid you'll find it very 
 dull sittinor there while I work.' 
 
 George was pretty well versed in the 
 manners and ways of young women of his 
 own class. He had been a great favourite 
 up in the north. 
 
 ' Why, I think this is perfectly delight- 
 ful 1 ' he said. ' I never bargained for such 
 good luck as this ; I shall owe my friend in 
 the train one for having sent me here.' 
 
 * What friend ? ' 
 
 George told her about his railway 
 acquaintance. Lucy listened attentively, 
 though her busy fingers never stopped. 
 
 ' What was he like V she asked, curiously, 
 when George had finished. 
 
 He described the outward appearance 
 of the stout man more humorously than 
 flatteringly. To his surprise, Lucy laid
 
 THE CUP THAT CHEERS 79 
 
 down her needle, leaned back in lier chair, 
 and laughed till the tears ran down her 
 cheeks. 
 
 * Oh — ah ! ' she gasped. ' That's the 
 richest thing I've heard for a long time ! 
 And so he really gave you ma's card, 
 and told you she was a great friend of 
 his ?' 
 
 ^ Yes. But why is it so funny, do you 
 know him ? ' 
 
 ' Know him ! ' cried Lucy, going into 
 another paroxysm of laughter. ' Yes, yes, I 
 should think I did know him, but — oh, it is 
 so funny ! ' 
 
 ' But won't you tell me why ? ' said 
 George ; * one feels so out of it.' 
 
 Lucy sat up, dried her eyes, and went on 
 with her work. 
 
 ' Yes, I'll tell you some day, when we are 
 old acquaintances — but not this evening.
 
 8o BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 And now,' she said, with a bright smile at 
 him, ' you must tell me all about your- 
 self.' 
 
 ' Just what your mother said ! ' remarked 
 George. 
 
 ' Oh ! and did you tell her ? ' 
 
 ' No — because she ' 
 
 ' Told you all about herself, I suppose ! ' 
 said Lucy laughing. ' That's us women 
 all over. We are selfish! You see I 
 told you about myself first, but now it's 
 your turn. So begin at the very begin- 
 ning, when you were a little boy, and go 
 on to now.' 
 
 ' But that'll take so long ! ' objected 
 George modestly. 
 
 'Never mind, so much the better — it'll 
 prevent us being dull ; and if Mr. Jar vis — 
 that's our other lodger — comes in before 
 you've done, why you can stop like the
 
 THE CUP THAT CHEERS 
 
 Penny Numbers, and begin again to- 
 morrow. So now, go on.' 
 
 Nothing loath, George stared steadily into 
 the fire for awhile, as if to collect his 
 memories, and then began — 
 
 VOL. I
 
 CHAPTEE y 
 
 ROMANCING 
 
 ' My life has been a curious one — witli a 
 lot of uj)s and downs,' said George. * I can 
 carry my memory back a great many years, 
 up to the time when I was but a very wee 
 lad. I must tell you. Miss Lucy, that both 
 my father and mother are now very old 
 people, bowed and bent with care and 
 sorrow. They have always been very 
 reticent with me, and it is only by means of 
 putting one thing with another, and treasur- 
 ing up little hints and trifies in my mind,
 
 ROMANCING 83 
 
 that I have been able to piece together for 
 myself some idea of my parents' history. 
 One of my earliest recollections is of riding 
 along on a pony, led by a manservant in 
 livery — silver buttons, you know, and that 
 kind of thing. I almost think ' — reflectively 
 — ' that his hair was powdered, but I'm not 
 positively certain of that. Anyhow, I'm 
 sure he called me " Master Stanley," and 
 that I wasn't known as George at all in 
 those days. I remember, too, having a 
 little velvet frock with lace about it, and 
 long curled hair, and going down a very 
 wide and shallow oak staircase holding by 
 my nurse's hand. And then I have a sort 
 of vague idea of big fireplaces, with a 
 coat of arms above, and stained glass 
 windows with crests and mottoes on them.* 
 
 ' My ! ' murmured Lucy. ' Why, it's like 
 a story ! ' ,
 
 84 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 * Then I know I had a little silver mug, 
 which I always drank out of, and of which 
 I was very fond,' went on George, frowning 
 at the fire as though trying to see more 
 recollections there ; ' and there was a dog, 
 a beautiful wolf-hound, called Bryan, who 
 used to let me play with him. Poor old 
 Bryan ! we have him still, but he can never 
 tell me anything. 
 
 * Those are my earliest remembrances. Of 
 my parents I recollect hardly anything, 
 except that my mother was always dressed 
 in black velvet, and that I was very much 
 afraid of my father. After that there 
 comes a gap — and when I next see myself, 
 it is as a little chap often, helping my mother 
 in the small house which she partly let out 
 to lodgers. I have never been able to 
 understand who we really were — what 
 disaster overtook us — how we came to fall
 
 ROMANCING 85 
 
 SO low. Whenever I have ventured to ask, 
 my mother has always put me off, either 
 with sighs or tears or with anger at my 
 curiosity. My father must have been away 
 at this time, I think, for I never saw him. 
 I was kept busy on errands, cleaning the 
 lodgers' boots, and washing up their dirty 
 plates from morning till night. I remember 
 how I used to think of my pony and black 
 velvet suit, and sob myself to sleep at 
 night.' 
 
 ' Poor little fellow I ' said Lucy softly, 
 wiping away a sympathetic tear from her 
 own cheek. 
 
 ' Ah, it does me good to tell some one,' went 
 on George warmly ; ' and that that some one 
 should be a beautiful, kind-hearted girl like 
 you, Miss Lucy, it's wonderful ! All my 
 poor life long I have yearned for sympathy, 
 for some heart which would open to my
 
 86 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 sorrow, and would understand and comfort 
 me — but I never thought I should find it ! 
 Between my mother and myself there was 
 but little fellow-feeling. She, j)oor thing, 
 resented her misfortunes, and no wonder ! 
 She has never been able to forofet that she 
 used to be a lady, and in those early days, 
 before custom had hardened her, I fancy 
 her heart was very sore. She was proud, 
 too, and so was I — it is a family failing — 
 and though we loved each other very much, 
 we said nothing, but each suffered in silence. 
 
 * Then I remember my father being at 
 home — a stern, morose man, full of learning, 
 and always buried in books. He never 
 gave me any education, however, but was 
 always insisting upon it that I was a son 
 of the people, and was to be brought up 
 as such. 
 
 ' '' We've had enough gentlemen in our
 
 ROMANCING Sy 
 
 fam'ly, my lad," he used to say to me, ^' and 
 you see what's come of it. My son must be 
 an honest working man, and able to get his 
 living, which is more than his father can do, 
 for all his fine education." 
 
 ' My mother, poor soul, though she never 
 contradicted him, thought differently, and 
 used to try at odd moments to teach me 
 what she knew herself. Of course she was 
 fluent in French and Italian. And many's 
 the day that, wooden spoon in one hand 
 and the French grammar in the other, she 
 would stir the lodgers' Irish stew and hear 
 me my French verbs at the same time. 
 But I didn't get on very far like that, as 
 you may suppose, and what little I know 
 now I taught myself at great pains when I 
 grew older. I must have been a strange, 
 dreamy kind of lad, unfit enough for the 
 life I had been forced into. I was always
 
 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 playing truant, and escaping into the woods 
 and fields with some book of poetry I had 
 stolen from my father's room — for he had 
 kept a few books. As I grew up I took to 
 writing verses myself, and couldn't sleep at 
 nights for the lovely things I thought of and 
 saw. I remember that once a gentleman 
 who is now England's greatest poet lodged 
 for a week or two at our house. I knew 
 his name, and didn't I shine his boots well 
 for him ! I didn't like cleanine^ the lodo;ers' 
 boots as a rule, but I was proud to do his. 
 And one day he came into the parlour 
 suddenly, as I was bending over a piece 
 of paper. 
 
 ' " What are you doing, my lad ? " says he. 
 
 ' I was very much confused, and tried to 
 hide the paper away, but " Let me see it," 
 he says, takes it out of my hand and reads it. 
 Then he looks at me very much surprised.
 
 ROMANCING 89 
 
 ' " Did you write these verses yourself, my 
 man ? " he says. 
 
 ' " Yes, sir," I answered. 
 
 ' " And do you often write verses ? " he 
 went on. 
 
 '"As often as I have the time, sir," I 
 answered. 
 
 '''Well — go on, my lad," he says, "go 
 on, and — you 11 come to something yet." 
 
 ' You may think, miss, how glad I was 
 when I heard those words. I wrote more 
 than ever after that, and was in hopes of 
 becoming a poet at once, when my father 
 dashed all my plans to the ground by 
 apprenticing me quite suddenly, without 
 ever a yea or a nay from me, to a plumber 
 and builder ! ' 
 
 ' What a shame ! ' cried Lucy. 
 
 ' Ay, it was hard, but I was only fifteen, 
 and what could I do ? I served my time,
 
 90 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 and wrote between whiles, but I was 
 always miserable, and hated my life. As 
 soon as I was out of my time I would 
 have liked to come up to London, but my 
 mother's health had failed, my father had 
 never been able to earn anything worth 
 speaking of — they were dependent on me — 
 so I had to submit. I went as clerk in a 
 wholesale merchant's house — the plumbing 
 and building was out of the question — and 
 there I stayed for many years, until I got 
 a good salary. But all through I meant 
 to come to London as soon as I could, and 
 here, you see, T am at last,' he concluded 
 with a smile. 
 
 ' And — are your parents living on your 
 savings, then ? ' inquired Lucy. 
 
 ' No,' answered George, after a scarcely 
 perceptible pause, ' they came into a little 
 money just lately, so that they are now
 
 ROMANCING 91 
 
 independent of me. but I hope to make 
 enough soon to be able to send them 
 some.' 
 
 George was naturally eloquent, and he 
 told his story, which was, with the ex- 
 ception of one or two details, purely 
 imaginary, so well that it sounded most 
 pathetic and touching to Lucy. 
 
 ' Have you got — do you know any of 
 your verses by heart ? ' she asked timidly. 
 ' I do so doat on poetry ! ' 
 
 * I'll try if I can remember some little 
 thing,' said George, and after a moment's 
 reflection he repeated the poem he had 
 recited on the last evening at the Bell and 
 Boot. Lucy listened attentively. 
 
 ' Oh, that is sweet ! ' she said at the end. 
 * Do say some more.' 
 
 George said some more — inwardly think- 
 ing Lucy the nicest girl he had ever met.
 
 92 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 They were still sitting together when 
 Mrs. Mellon returned from her meeting. 
 The little woman seemed depressed. She 
 flung the coal-scuttle bonnet into one chair 
 and herself into another, and sighed deeply 
 several times. 
 
 ^ What's the matter, ma ? ' asked Lucy. 
 
 ' Nothing ! ' answered her mother snap- 
 pishly, with a fretful movement of her 
 shoulders. No one spoke for a while, and 
 presently Mrs. Mellon burst out, 
 
 ' This Mrs. Eobinson — she is detestable, 
 horrible, false ! ' 
 
 ' Mrs. Eobinson, ma ? ' repeated Lucy. 
 
 'Yes, Mrs. Eobinson. Figure to your- 
 self, Lucie, there was this woman at the 
 meeting, with a new cloak with A. L. 
 embroidered in red on the arm. You know 
 what a creature she is — how she is lazy, 
 good for nothing ! Only this morning I
 
 ROMANCING 93 
 
 brought lier little Tommy in here and 
 scrubbed his face because it was so black — 
 and this woman — there she is ! She got up 
 and said her experiences — she pretends she 
 has been called ! She said that in the 
 middle of last night she heard a voice 
 saying, " Sarah ! repent of thy sins, and 
 give thy money to the Army of the Lord ! " 
 She said she hadn't got any money, but she 
 repented of all her sins, and that she felt 
 she was saved, and that her soul was clean 
 and white. I nearly called out to her, 
 '' Nevair mind your soul, make first your 
 children clean." Did you ever hear such 
 nonsense ? And they made such a fuss 
 about her ! As if she was a princess ! I 
 am quite disgusted with these people. I 
 think they are hombogs.' 
 
 ' I always did think so, ma ! ' said Lucy. 
 
 ^ Has Mr. Jarvis come in ? '
 
 94 By WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 ' No, he said he was going to be very 
 late, and wouldn't want anything to eat. 
 He's got his latchkey.' 
 
 ' Then come, my children, let us go to 
 bed. I am very tired.' 
 
 So was George : he took the candle Lucy 
 gave him, and after wishing his landlady 
 and her daughter good -night, went off to 
 dream that he had attained to wealth and 
 fame and everything else that his ambitious 
 heart desired.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 A HEAVY FATHER 
 
 Safe in his little room, George, forgetting 
 that he had still to unpack and arrange 
 his things, sat down on the edge of his 
 bed, and in a few moments became blind 
 and deaf so far as all outward things were 
 concerned. 
 
 Strangely enough, the events of the day 
 — his departure from home, his journey, 
 his installation in Hypatia Street — seemed 
 to have faded away, to have become but a 
 vague memory, while vividly present to his
 
 96 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 mind was the imac^e of his chiklhood and 
 early boyhood. He had rehearsed so 
 often to himself the story which he had 
 just told Lucy Mellon that he had finished 
 by half believing it, and had got to the 
 point of actually pitying himself for his 
 imaginary sufferings. 
 
 And yet his real sufferings had been bad 
 enough. From whom had George Collins, 
 son of the utterly commonplace, vulgar, and 
 illiterate George and Susan Collins of the 
 Bell and Boot, inherited the peculiar dis- 
 position which had rendered his life under 
 its natural circumstances a torment to him 
 ever since he could remember ? 
 
 His parents could barely read and write, 
 and considered those accomplishments 
 rather a waste of time. They had got 
 ' brass ' without them ; and as that 
 metal represented the one aim and object
 
 A HEAVY FATHER 97 
 
 of their lives, they would have been per- 
 fectly content to see their only child 
 follow in their footsteps. 
 
 What was it then that impelled the 
 boy to hoard and treasure every scrap of 
 paper with ' printin' ' on it, to cry to be 
 allowed to go to school when other children 
 were always playing truant, to spend his 
 pence on books rather than on lollipops 
 and whipping-tops or marbles ? Why did 
 he go about with his head bent, starting 
 when spoken to, and looking up with 
 dreamy, non- understanding eyes, almost 
 as if he were a ' softy,' instead of a sensible 
 Christian ? Why did he make such a point 
 of washing himself, and turn up his 
 nose if there happened to be a few 
 more stains than usual on the table- 
 cloth ? And why must he try to mince 
 
 and mouth like a southern cockney, so 
 VOL. I 7
 
 98 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 that a decent body could hardly under- 
 stand him ? 
 
 He had been a very thorn in the flesh 
 to his parents, and it would be hard to 
 say which suffered most, the old people, 
 who saw that by some strange chance or 
 other they had brought forth a being with 
 whom they had not, and never could have, 
 one solitary fibre of sympathy, or the 
 lonely boy, who found himself, as it were, 
 in a country of which he knew not the 
 language — a civilised creature among bar- 
 barous natives — who, by some unkind freak 
 of nature, while passionately longing for 
 culture and refinement, was compelled to 
 live in the midst of surroundings which 
 filled his whole soul with disgust. 
 
 He had often looked with eyes of envy 
 at the bookfilled satchels of gentlemen's 
 sons on their way to and from school.
 
 A HEAVY FATHER 99 
 
 Though it tortured him to hear the 
 difference between their refined accent and 
 that which he knew to be his own, he 
 could not help following them as they 
 walked along by twos and threes from 
 school to their homes. What homes they 
 lived in ! Substantial houses whose every 
 window seemed to twinkle with a glow of 
 comfort and wealth, from whose casements 
 could be seen glimpses of softly coloured 
 lamps, beautiful pictures, shining silver, 
 richly tinted draperies, rows upon rows of 
 books. Those happy schoolboys, George 
 thought, ought every one to become a 
 celebrated man, they had so much in their 
 favour. It would be so easy to fill one's self 
 with knowledge under such blissful circum- 
 stances, where nothing jarred, where all 
 was harmony and peace ! 
 
 And his home ! The Bell and Boot !
 
 loo BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 No galley-slave ever felt his chains more 
 galling, no convict ever sickened more over 
 the dull monotony of his daily task, no 
 prisoner ever chafed more bitterly at the 
 narrow limits of his confining walls, than 
 did George Collins, only son and heir of 
 that agreeable hostelry, which had quite 
 an extensive reputation as a putting-up 
 place for small bagmen, as well as for a 
 snug chimney-corner, and a glass of as good 
 ale as was to be got anvwhere. 
 
 When George was twelve his running 
 away had been almost the one subject of 
 his thoughts ; when he was twenty-six he 
 was thinking about it still. And yet all 
 through those long years he had never 
 ceased to look forward to his ultimate 
 escape as a certainty that time would bring 
 him. If he had had either a solid educa- 
 tion or money enough to keep body and
 
 A HEAVY FATHER loi 
 
 soul together, he would have gone long 
 before ; but he had quite sufficient sense to 
 feel that although he had managed, by 
 dint of reading, attending lectures, con- 
 certs, and keeping his eyes and ears open, 
 to pick up a large and varied amount of 
 information, still what he knew was not 
 what would prevent him from starving out 
 in the world, and even the bread and beer 
 of the Bell and Boot, low and degraded 
 bread and beer though it undoubtedly was, 
 had much the same effect on the human 
 system as the more refined nourishment of 
 a higher sphere. Work with his hands he 
 would not — so lofty a spirit could not 
 stoop to manual labour — so, half-ashamed 
 of his want of energy, half-applauding 
 himself as a martyr, he let the years slip 
 away, looked down upon by his parents as 
 a poor half-witted creature, admired by the
 
 102 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 clients of the public-house as a poet and 
 a dreamer of dreams ; living a kind of 
 double life ; and enabled by the unreal 
 existence to bear the uncongenialities and 
 humiliations of the real. 
 
 And now at last he had actually taken 
 the step — had cast himself loose from the 
 leading .'5trings which had so long held 
 him back ! As he sat on the bed in the 
 narrow little room in Hypatia Street, and 
 felt himself a free man, a smile of contempt 
 for his own lack of courage crossed his 
 features. How was it he had only lately 
 thought of going on the stage \ what a 
 fool he had been not to do it long before ! 
 Fame, independence, fortune, had been 
 lying at his feet all these years, and he, 
 like an idiot, had been staring up into the 
 blue sky, and rhyming his dove and love, 
 and sing and wing, and all the rest of it !
 
 A HEAVY FATHER 103 
 
 Oh well, it was not too late, he had the 
 world before him ; and with this pleasant 
 and encouraging reflection Mr. George 
 L'Estrange rapidly undressed, got into bed, 
 and fell asleep. 
 
 He must have been asleep some hours 
 when he beo-an to dream that some one 
 was standing over him, hitting his head 
 rather hard with a wooden mallet. His 
 natural indignation at so unkind a pro- 
 ceeding causing him to awake, he discovered 
 that some one was really hammering, not 
 his head, but the door of his room. He 
 sat up and was just going to say ' Come 
 in,' when he heard a voice which he im- 
 mediately recognised as Lucy Mellon's, 
 although it bore a very different tone from 
 that in which she had wished him ' Good- 
 night ' that evening.
 
 I04 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 ' Come away, pa/ it said, ' come to 
 your room quietly, do. You'll wake 
 him.' 
 
 ' But that's jus' what I wanter do,' 
 answered another voice, which George 
 instantly attributed to a man who had had 
 more to drink than was good for him. 
 ' Thash jus' what I wanter do. Mush 
 welcome 'im ! very rude to go'er bed and 
 not welcome new guesht ! ' 
 
 Lucy's voice murmured something, of 
 which only the word * to-morrow ' was 
 distinguishable, but the other voice insisted 
 with a tipsy gravity only too familiar 
 to George, 
 
 ' No, not 'morrer. Now. Whash that 
 'bout sjjeed er partin' guesht ? Greet a 
 comin' guesht — same thing. Lemme do 's 
 I like. Lemme 'lone, do ye 'ear ? ' 
 
 With this the knocking or rather
 
 A HEAVY FATHER 105 
 
 bumping against the door began again, 
 to an accompaniment of ' Mishter — misbter 
 what's er name. I shay, mishter. Lemme 
 be, will yer ? Mishter ! ' 
 
 At this point, while George was wonder- 
 ing whether it would be better for him 
 to go on pretending he did not hear, or 
 put on some things and go out and help 
 Lucy to get her drunken father to bed, 
 the front door opened a,nd shut, and he 
 heard Lucy say, with evident relief, 
 
 ' Oh, is that you, Mr. Jarvis ? I'm so 
 glad ! Do come and persuade pa to go 
 to bed. We've got a new lodger, and 
 pa will insist on waking him up.' 
 
 There was another bump, as if a body 
 had fallen against the wall, and the second 
 voice said, 
 
 ' 'UUo, Jarvis, me boy, 'ow are you ? 
 Very glad to shee you. Jush talk to Lucy
 
 io6 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 here, she's tryin' to make a fool of 
 me.' 
 
 * Come with me, will you, Mr. Mellon ? ' 
 said a third voice. ' You go to bed, Miss 
 Lucy, and leave him to me. I'll see to 
 him.' 
 
 There was a ' thank you,' and Lucy's 
 room door shut. 
 
 ^ Now then, old man,' said the new- 
 comer persuasively, ' hurry. You'll catch 
 your death of Cold out here.' 
 
 ' So I shall, so I shall,' answered the 
 drunken voice with a sudden maudlin 
 break in it. ' Lucy never said that. 
 Its 'ard, Jarvis, damned 'ard for a feller 
 to 'ave an unnatural shild like that.' 
 
 A sob or two and a snuffle followed. 
 
 ' Come along, Mr. Mellon, it's very late,' 
 said Mr. Jarvis's voice. 
 
 ' Jarvis — don' 'urry me ! You're a good
 
 A HEAVY FATHER 107 
 
 feller, Jarvis, I always say so, when the 
 Missis ' 
 
 ^ Oh, come along, do ! ' said the other 
 impatiently. 
 
 *I'm comia' 's fast 's possible,' responded 
 Mr. Mellon with dignity ; ' there's no 
 hurry. You don' wanter catch a train, 
 do you, Jarvis ? ' 
 
 ' Come on,' from eJarvis. 
 
 * No, but do you ? Tell us, Jarvey, do 
 you wanter — do you wantef — here, what 
 are you shovin' for ? ' 
 
 ' That's not your door.' 
 
 ' Ah, no more it ish — sho many doors 
 in this place, a feller can't shee 'em all at 
 once. ' 
 
 Another door opened and shut ; a pause 
 ensued, during which a running growl, 
 sometimes rising to a higher key, was 
 plainly audible, then with a parting good-
 
 io8 
 
 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 night, Mr. Jarvis ran downstairs and went 
 into his own room, and George, almost 
 feeling as if he were back at the Bell 
 and Boot, turned on his side and fell 
 asleep again. 
 
 1
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 MAKING FEIENDS 
 
 When he woke the next morning the 
 sun was shining brightly into his room, 
 and he sprang out of bed, feeling that 
 to-day his life was to begin in earnest. 
 With this sensation uppermost in his 
 mind, he dressed aud washed in quite a 
 belligerent way, with his mouth firmly 
 set, and his eyes fixed and stern. When 
 he came to shave himself he looked at 
 the familiar face in the tarnished looking- 
 glass with a new interest, and paused
 
 no BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 for a moment, shaving brush in hand, 
 while he examined his features as if they 
 belonged to some one else. He decided 
 that the determined look became him best, 
 and congratulated himself on not wearing 
 a beard, as in that case so much of his 
 mouth and chin would have been lost. 
 He looked doubtfully at his golden-brown 
 whiskers, and for one instant debated the 
 advisability of shaving them, but only 
 for one instant — the next he was stroking 
 them fondly and reflecting that it would 
 be time enough to sacrifice them when he 
 had got an engagement which would neces- 
 sitate a cleanly-shaven face. 
 
 ' Well, George, my boy ! ' he said, giving 
 himself a friendly nod when he was ready 
 to go downstairs, ' you have got it all 
 before you. You were born to be some- 
 body — and somebody you shall be. Go
 
 MAKING FRIENDS iii 
 
 in and win — that's what you've got to 
 do!' 
 
 He made his way down to the general 
 sitting-room, where he found his little 
 landlady bustling about among cups and 
 saucers, and Lucy already hard at work 
 at her own table. 
 
 ' Why, here's Mr. L'Estrange ! ' she said, 
 giving him a cheerful nod. ' He's an early 
 riser, ain't he, ma ? ' 
 
 ' I'm used to country hours, you know,' 
 said George ; ' but you're early yourselves.' 
 
 ' Oh yes ! Ma and me's always down 
 early. We can't afford to lay in bed, can 
 we, ma ? ' 
 
 ' No, my dear,' said Mrs. Mellon absently, 
 as she put a dish of very curious London- 
 looking butter on the table. 
 
 ' Did you sleep well, Mr. L'Estrange ? ' 
 asked Lucy, her head bent over her work.
 
 112 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 ' Capitally, thank you.' 
 
 ' You — were not disturbed at all ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no, I had a beautiful night,' 
 answered George, as boldly as Jack the 
 Giant-killer answered the ogre after the 
 latter had been pounding his bed with a 
 club all nio^ht. 
 
 Lucy looked up at him, but George 
 met her eye with the most innocent face 
 in the world. 
 
 Just then a short, slight, sandy-haired 
 man entered the room, and cast a sharp 
 glance at George and Lucy as he stood 
 for a moment on the threshold. 
 
 ' Oh, here's Mr. Jarvis,' said Lucy. 
 ' Mr. Jarvis, this is our new lodger, Mr. 
 L'Estrange.' 
 
 ' How are you, sir ? ' said George so 
 heartily that Mr. Jarvis relaxed an almost 
 abnormal severity of countenance, and went
 
 MAKING FRIENDS 113 
 
 SO far as to shake hands. A very limp 
 hand it was that he gave George, and he 
 winced at the other's strong grip, and 
 rubbed his fingers furtively from time to 
 time during breakfast. 
 
 ' You are — a stranger to London ? ' he 
 asked politely, in a little prim way which 
 suited well with his neat little clothes, his 
 small boots, his narrow though spotless 
 cuffs, his dry and scanty hair, his pale blue 
 eyes and smooth colourless cheeks. Lucy 
 looked at the two as they stood side by 
 side on the hearthrug, and made mental 
 comparisons in favour of George. George 
 noted her glance, and, with the intuitive 
 understanding of other people which he 
 possessed in so eminent a degree, followed 
 her thoughts as if she had spoken them. 
 He looked complacently at the small figure 
 beside him as he answered, 
 
 VOL. I 8
 
 114 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 ' Ay, mister. I came down from Man- 
 chester yesterday. I've come, like poor 
 Dick Whittington of old, to seek my for- 
 tune.' 
 
 * In the city ? ' asked Mr. Jarvis. 
 
 'In the city? No, sir,' said George 
 with a short laugh. ' My ambition was 
 never set upon being Lord Mayor.' 
 
 * Then ' began Mr. Jarvis. 
 
 ' Mr. L'Estrange is going to be an actor,' 
 put in Lucy sharply. 
 
 Mr. Jarvis's pale-lipped mouth contracted 
 in an ' Oh ! ' 
 
 'Yes,' said George, drawing himself up. 
 ' The stage it is. I've all my life longed to 
 be an actor, and now I'm going to be one in 
 real earnest.' 
 
 ' H'm 1 ' said Mr. Jarvis reflectively. 
 * Your accent will be rather in your way, 
 won't it ? '
 
 MAKING FRIENDS 115 
 
 Lucy looked daggers at the rasli speaker. 
 George reddened up to the roots of his hair. 
 Mr. Jarvis had hit him in a weak place. 
 
 *Ay, I suppose I do speak broad,' he 
 said, swallowing his mortification, ' but that 
 can be conquered. And I shall be very 
 much obliged if any one will take the 
 trouble to correct me now and then.' 
 
 ' Delighted, I'm sure,' murmured Mr. 
 Jarvis, pleased at having established his 
 superiority over the stranger, and glancing 
 triumphantly towards Lucy, who said 
 staunchly, 
 
 ' Nonsense, Mr. L'Estrange, it's us as can 
 learn from you, I'm sure. A gentleman 
 that writes poetry and all ! There's no call 
 for you to speak like that.' 
 
 Mr. Jarvis clouded over again, and 
 addressed himself to his bloater and bread 
 and butter with great ferocity.
 
 ii6 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 Edward Jarvis was a solicitor's clerk of 
 indifferent fortune and indifferent brains. 
 He had been for fifteen years in the employ 
 of one firm, beginning as office boy and 
 gradually creeping upwards to the position 
 he now held. Although not brilliant, his 
 employers esteemed him on account of his 
 steadiness and trustworthiness, and would 
 as soon have thought of parting with their 
 office table as with ' Old Jarvis.' 
 
 Jarvis had met Lucy Mellon two or three 
 years ago at a mutual friend's house, had 
 fallen straightway in love with her, and had 
 come to lodge in Hypatia Street solely to 
 be near his idol. He proposed to her about 
 once in every six months, and although 
 grieved by her invariably negative answer, 
 was by no means discouraged, and at the 
 end of the next six months was quite ready 
 for a fresh rebuff. In his heart of hearts
 
 MAKING FRIENDS 117 
 
 he believed that it was only a question of 
 time, and that Lucy would some day say 
 * Yes,' instead of the ' No,' which had crossed 
 her lips so often. 
 
 At first Lucy had found it rather awk- 
 ward to have a rejected lover in the house, 
 even one who paid so promptly, and who 
 never grumbled at * extras ' ; but after a 
 while she grew used to Mr. Jarvis and his 
 ways, took no more notice of him when it 
 so pleased her than if he had been a kitten, 
 made use of him to take her to concerts and 
 the theatre, and entertained that half-con- 
 temptuous feeling of liking for him which 
 most women have for a too fond and 
 humble lover. 
 
 Mr. Jarvis had had Lucy to himself for 
 so long that it was a great blow to him to 
 find a handsome, young, and interesting 
 stranger installed in the house ; and his
 
 ii8 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 faithful little heart was very full as he 
 imbibed the coffee for which Mrs. Mellon 
 was justly famous, and noted Lucy's smiles 
 and George's attentive ways. He saw that 
 Lucy had done up her hair in the elaborate 
 manner usually kept for company or going 
 out, that she had put on one of her best 
 collars, and that she wore her afternoon 
 apron. All this boded ill for him, he knew, 
 and he cursed his shortsightedness in not 
 having taken the empty room upstairs, so 
 as to make sure that no other lodger could 
 come to encroach on his ground. 
 
 Mrs. Mellon was in a wonderful morning 
 costume, of which the only possible descrip- 
 tion is that it was very loose and baggy 
 and extremely short. Her head was 
 adorned with a black net cap, full of bows, 
 which caused it to look too large for her 
 body, and gave to her small figure a most
 
 MAKING FRIENDS 119 
 
 grotesque appearance. She appeared en- 
 tirely taken up with her household duties, 
 which must have been of an onerous nature, 
 judging from the melancholy expression of 
 her features. She only answered in mono- 
 syllables the remarks which George thought 
 it polite to make to her, and poured out the 
 coffee with sighs so deep as to be almost 
 groans. Her own breakfast consisted of 
 one small strip of bread, and when she had 
 finished that she got up and went away. 
 
 * Don't take any notice of ma,' observed 
 Lucy, noticing that George's eyes followed 
 her mother to the door. ' She's always so 
 in the morning. She feels things then. 
 She don't cheer up till after dinner-time.' 
 
 * Puts off her troubles with her morning- 
 cap, don't she. Miss Lucy ? ' said Mr. Jarvis 
 facetiously. 
 
 'You seem to know all about it,' an-
 
 I20 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 swered Lucy coldly, getting up and going 
 back to her table. 
 
 Mr. Jarvis, feeling himself snubbed, said 
 no more, but finished his sixth slice of 
 bread and butter, and then reluctantly left 
 his rival and Lucy to themselves. They 
 heard the front door slam behind him, and 
 his neat little feet tripping down the 
 baronial flight of steps. 
 
 ' Has he been with you long ? ' inquired 
 George. 
 
 ' Three years. He's a rather stupid fellow 
 — but very good meaning and quiet,' said 
 Lucy. 
 
 At this point Mrs. Mellon came into the 
 room, and began to clear away the break- 
 fast things in the quick, deft way which 
 characterised all her movements. 
 
 George was wondering whether Mr. 
 Mellon was in the habit of going without
 
 MAKING FRIENDS 121 
 
 breakfast, when a sober edition of the voice 
 he had heard in the night shouted down 
 the stairs, 
 
 ' Here, I say ! Lucy, Marie ' — pronounced 
 Marry — ' bring me some soda water.' 
 
 Mrs. Mellon took not the slightest notice 
 of the request, which was repeated once or 
 twice before Lucy stuck her needle in her 
 work and went out of the room. 
 
 George whistled a tune softly : Mrs. 
 Mellon folded up the table-cloth, smoothed 
 it carefully, and taking up her tray went 
 into the kitchen. 
 
 It was not long before Lucy came back. 
 She sat down and drew her work towards 
 her impatiently. Her expression had become 
 gloomy, George noticed, as he stood looking 
 at her from his place of vantage on the 
 hearthrug. 
 
 ' Ne'er do weel, drunken father, I
 
 122 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 suppose,' he thought. ' How she must 
 hate him ! ' 
 
 ' Well, Miss Lucy,' he said aloud, ' I 
 suppose I must be off — to try my fortune.' 
 
 Lucy looked up brightly. 
 
 ' Where do you think of going to first, 
 Mr. L'Estrange ? ' she asked. 
 
 George rubbed his forehead meditatively. 
 
 ' Well — there are my poems and myself 
 to be disposed of. My poems will keep, 
 won't they ? They'll manage that business 
 all by themselves ; but the keeping of 
 myself is a more difficult business, so 
 perhaps I'd better begin with that. It's 
 awfully kind of you to let me talk to you, 
 and worry you with my afiairs,' he added. 
 ' I didn't expect to find such a good friend in 
 London. Do you know. Miss Lucy, you 
 are almost the first person I ever met that 
 seemed to take a real interest in me ? I
 
 MAKING FRIENDS 123 
 
 have been so friendless, so lonely all my 
 life ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. L'Estrange I ' said Lucy blush- 
 ing. ' It's a pleasure to me to think you 
 should like to talk to me. I — I — have 
 never had many friends either,' she faltered. 
 * I've always kept a good deal to myself.' 
 
 'Then shall we make a bargain, Miss 
 Lucy ? ' George said earnestly ; ' shall we 
 agree to be real friends, you and I ? To 
 have no secrets from one another, but to 
 trust and help each other all we can ? 
 Shall we ? ' 
 
 * Oh yes, Mr. L'Estrange ! ' said Lucy 
 warmly, holding out her hand to meet the 
 one George had extended towards her. 
 ' That %mll be nice, won't it ? ' 
 
 ' Hallo ! what's going on here % ' said a 
 thick voice, and a tall stout man came 
 heavily into the room. Before he had
 
 124 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 advanced many steps George had recognised 
 his fellow-traveller of the day before. He 
 threw himself into an armchair and looked 
 at George with a grin. 
 
 ' So you got here all right ! Good dodge 
 o' mine, wasn't it ? ' 
 
 ' It's my father,' said Lucy, answering 
 George's perplexed look. 
 
 ' Oh, so that's why the voice seemed 
 familiar last — ^just now,' said George, catch- 
 ing himself up in time. ' How d'ye do, 
 sir ? ' 
 
 ' I'm bobbish enough,' answered Mr. 
 Mellon with a thick laugh ; ' the question 
 is, how's yourself, and what do you think 
 of my recommendation, eh ? ' 
 
 ' I'm very much obliged to you for it, sir,' 
 answered George heartily. 'You couldn't 
 have sent me to better quarters, I'm sure.' 
 
 ' Ha, ha ! It was a good joke, wasn't it ? '
 
 MAKING FRIENDS 125 
 
 said Mr. Mellon, with a long, unctuous 
 chuckle. 
 
 ' Will you have some breakfast, father ? ' 
 asked Lucy. 
 
 Mr. Mellon finished his chuckle before he 
 answered gruffly, ' What is there ? Nothing 
 a man can eat, I suppose, if your mother's 
 had the providin' of it.' 
 
 ' There's a bloater,' said Lucy. 
 
 ^ Bloater, eh ? Why couldn't it have been 
 a kipper % All right, let's have it, and plenty 
 of pepper, mind/ he called, as Lucy shut 
 the door behind her. 
 
 ' An' so you think you'll be all right here, 
 do you ? ' he asked, after looking George all 
 over. 
 
 ' I think so, if you'll all keep me,' 
 answered George mildly, reflecting that 
 Mr. Mellon was decidedly the least prepos- 
 sessing of the family.
 
 126 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 * If we'll keep you, eh ? No, by Jove, we 
 
 expect you to do that for yourself ! ' cried 
 
 Mr. Mellon, with a laugh at his own wit. 
 
 ' Well, I don't see why you shouldn't make 
 
 yourself comferable — com - fort - able — here, 
 
 only I'll just give you a straight tip, and no 
 
 mistake about it. You just make up to the 
 
 missis. Get on her soft side, and you'll do. 
 
 She can make it damned uncomfortable for 
 
 a man, I can tell you, if she don't like him ; 
 
 for she does all the cooking, and she's as 
 
 spiteful as old Harry himself, thinks nothing 
 
 of puttin' a spoonful of cayenne into his 
 
 food if she ain't pleased with 'im, or choosin' 
 
 'im out a real French Q,gg. So you look 
 
 after what I tell you, and mind what you're 
 
 about with her, and then you'll be all 
 
 right.' 
 
 'Lucy's a good girl,' he continued 
 after a pause, rolling his small bloodshot
 
 MAKING FRIENDS 127 
 
 eyes back towards the door, ' she's a very 
 good girl — and pretty, too. But she's 'ard, 
 as 'ard as her mother — all women are 'ard 
 — and devilish critical, ain't they ? ' 
 
 George was relieved from the trouble of 
 answering by Lucy's appearance with her 
 father's breakfast at this moment. She 
 laid the tray before him and poured him 
 out a cup of coffee. 
 
 ' Stale coffee ? eh ? ' queried Mr. Mellon. 
 
 ' It's some of what we had at breakfast,' 
 returned Lucy, settling herself to her work 
 again. 
 
 ' Of course ! Can't even have a cup of 
 fresh coffee in my own house. I suppose 
 old Stingy wouldn't let you have any, eh ? ' 
 
 * Are you going out soon, Mr. 
 L'Estrange ? ' asked Lucy, taking no notice 
 of the last remark. 
 
 ' Ha ! tryin' to turn him out now, so as
 
 128 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 he mayn't be corrupted by your wicked 
 father ! Oh, go on, go on, my girl, some day 
 I shall make an 'ole in the canal, and be 
 brought home to you a moulderin' corpse, 
 and then you and your mother '11 be 
 sorry ! ' 
 
 ^ No such luck for us ! I wish there was ! ' 
 here exclaimed Mrs. Mellon, suddenly dart- 
 ing round the door. ' It is not never such 
 men as you as come to any harm. You 
 live to tor — r — r — ment us I ' 
 
 'Don't argue with him, ma, you know 
 it's no use doing that,' put in Lucy, with 
 a distressed look at George, who, feeling 
 particularly awkward in the midst of this 
 family dispute, would have slipped away, 
 but that the doorway was blocked by his 
 little landlady, who was too excited to move 
 aside for him. 
 
 'To call me such names — and before a
 
 MAKING FRIENDS 129 
 
 stranger too ! ' slie cried, brandishing her 
 cap at him with a fierce shake of her head. 
 
 *What names, my dear? I'm sure I 
 never did,' said Mr. Mellon meekly, look- 
 ing disconsolately at his bloater. 
 
 ' Oh, of cour-r-se not 1 ' returned his wife 
 sarcastically. ' And who, pray then, is old 
 Stingy ? and who is as spiteful as old 
 Harry ? and who puts too much cayenne 
 into your food ? and who — bah, I am sick, 
 tired, ashamed of you ! ' and with a bang of 
 the door the lady vanished as suddenly as 
 she had come. 
 
 ' Well, upon my word ! ' said Mr. Mellon, 
 holding up his knife and fork in his trem- 
 bling, swollen red hands, ' if ever I saw such 
 a termagant ! Lucy, my dear, it's unbear- 
 able. Your poor father can stand life no 
 longer — if it were not for your feelings 
 I'd cut my throat this very minute.' 
 
 VOL I.
 
 I30 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 And he gave such a realistic thrust with 
 his knife towards his neck that George 
 involuntarily made a step forward in alarm, 
 but the knife fell harmlessly, and Lucy 
 said in a bitingly sarcastic tone, 
 
 ' Oh, don't disturb yourself, Mr. 
 L'Estrange, pa's not going to do anything 
 of the sort.' 
 
 Here Mr. Mellon rested his elbow on 
 the table and covered his eyes with his 
 hand. 
 
 ' Have you finished, pa ? ' asked his 
 daughter coldly ; ' because, if you have, 
 I'll take away the tray.' 
 
 Mr. Mellon pushed the tray from him 
 with his other hand. 
 
 ' Take it — take it ! ' he exclaimed 
 huskily ; ' what does it matter ? 'Arried, 
 worried, half-starved in my own house — 
 nothing matters any more to me.'
 
 MAKING FRIENDS 131 
 
 Lucy got up and took away the tray. 
 
 As soon as slie had gone Mr. Mellon's 
 manner changed. Taking out a well- 
 stored cigar-case, he offered it to George, 
 saying with a laugh, 
 
 *Help yourself, old fellah. They cost 
 me nothing ! I can have as many as I 
 like at any time.' 
 
 George took one and lighted it, observ- 
 ing at the same time that he must be 
 going out. 
 
 Mr. Mellon inquired his destination, 
 whereupon George, repeating that he 
 wished to go on the stage, asked his 
 advice as to the best way to set about it. 
 
 ' Can you sing ? ' asked his landlord. 
 
 'Yes, but I don't want to sing.' 
 
 ' Never mind what you want. You 
 take my advice, and go in for that line. 
 It ain't half such 'ard work, and much
 
 132 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 better fun than the other, which is slow 
 and dull, and don't pay as well.' 
 
 ' Do you happen to know any of the 
 theatrical managers ? ' asked George, not 
 thinking it worth while to discuss the re- 
 spective merits of the legitimate drama and 
 the music-hall stage. 
 
 * Know any of the managers ? Should 
 think I did ! Know 'em all ! Old Irvins^ 
 and all the rest of 'em — of course.' 
 
 ' Could you give me an introduction to 
 any one of them ? ' hazarded George. 
 
 Mr. Mellon looked grave. 
 
 ' Well now — I'll tell you what. It's a 
 rule of mine never to give an introduction 
 of that sort to any one. I did it once too 
 often, and got took in so tremenjously 
 that I vowed I never would again, not 
 even if it was for my own brother. But 
 I'll tell you what I ivill do,' he added. ' I'll
 
 MAKING FRIENDS 133 
 
 give you a note to a great friend of mine — 
 'Oward 'Arvey. He's leader of the orchestra 
 at the Casino, 'Olborn, and lie might be 
 able to give you a boost up, d'ye see ? ' 
 
 ' Thanks very much,' said George, 
 doubtfully. 
 
 'I'll write it for you to-morrow. You 
 take my advice, and go and get acquainted 
 a bit with the town first — know your way 
 about before you start on anything.' 
 
 'Thanks,' again said George, making his 
 way to the door, ' I'll remember what you 
 say.' 
 
 ' Oh, I say, look 'ere,' observed Mr. 
 Mellon, as George took hold of the handle ; 
 ' wait a second.' 
 
 He put his hand in his pocket as he 
 spoke, and George was already anticipating 
 the request of a small loan, when his land- 
 lord drew forth half-a-crown, which he laid
 
 134 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 in the middle of a fat red palm and held 
 out to George. 
 
 * There, my boy. Do me the honour to 
 borrow that from me. Bless you, I was 
 young and hard-up myself once.' 
 
 ' But I've got enough, I assure you,' 
 said George. 
 
 ' Never mind, never mind, borrow it — in 
 case of a rainy day. Come, I'll be offended 
 if you don't. You can give it back any 
 day you like.' 
 
 *But ' began George, half- vexed, 
 
 half-laughing. 
 
 'No buts — take it, man, or 'Enry 
 Mellon is no friend of yours.' 
 
 * Very well, then,' said George, ' to please 
 you. It's very good of you, sir, and I 
 won't forget it. But you must let me give 
 it back soon.' 
 
 *When you like, my boy, when you
 
 MAKING FRIENDS 135 
 
 like/ said the other with a wink of his 
 bleared eye. ' And when you get rich and 
 famous you can adopt me as a son.' 
 
 George was going up the steep little 
 flight of stairs to the hall when a choked 
 voice said 'Mr. L'Estrange,' and following 
 its direction he came upon Mrs. Mellon 
 sitting huddled up on a wooden case in 
 a very minute and clean kitchen. The 
 poor thing had her apron up to her eyes, 
 and was sobbing convulsively. 
 
 ' Did you call me, ma'am ? ' asked 
 George. 
 
 Mrs. Mellon sobbed all the louder. 
 
 'Are you going to your room to pack 
 up ? ' she gasped. 
 
 ' To pack up ? ' repeated George in 
 surprise. ' Why no, ma'am. Do you wish 
 me gone already ? ' 
 
 ' No, no, I wish it not. But the others,
 
 136 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 they have all gone — one after the other. I 
 had lately such a respectable, honourable 
 widow -lady, who paid me so well, and gave 
 no trouble — and what does he do, my 
 wicked bad husband? He takes her one 
 evening, when Lucie and I are gone out, to 
 the Star, his hall you know, and shocks her 
 most fearful ; and then, one other night, he 
 sings "Oh come out. Fairy darling!" outside 
 her bedroom door, and scandalise her so that 
 next day she went. And she was not the 
 first, so I thought you' were perhaps going 
 too.' 
 
 ' No, no, I'm not a respectable widow- 
 lady,' said George laughing. ' Come, cheer 
 up, Mrs. Mellon. This isn't the first time 
 I've seen a man like that. Why, up North 
 we're always doing it, you know.' 
 
 * Is it so ? ' asked Mrs. Mellon, wiping 
 her tear-bedabbled little face, and beginning
 
 MAKING FRIENDS 137 
 
 to look more hopeful. ' And you will not 
 take any notice ? You know — lie is always 
 so — now — only except when he is worse ! ' 
 
 * That's all right,' said George cheerfully. 
 ^,And now Fm going to make my first 
 
 pedition into London Town.' 
 
 ' Dinner will be ready at two/ said Mrs. 
 Mellon timidly. 
 
 ' You'd better not expect me,' returned 
 George. ' You see, I don't know my way 
 about, so that I can't promise to be back in 
 time. ' 
 
 He ran upstairs, and Mrs. Mellon dried 
 her tears, inwardly vowing that he should 
 have something with his tea, both to make 
 up for the loss of his dinner and to reward 
 him for the comfort he had given her.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 A BOLD VENTURE 
 
 George walked away down Hypatia Street, 
 pondering over the strange household 
 into which he had fallen. 
 
 ' I wonder,' thought he, * whether Fate 
 has intended that pretty Lucy to be my 
 wife. Very likely. I daresay she would 
 suit me all right. Not very intellectual 
 or well-educated perhaps, but a thrifty, 
 shrewd manager, and all that. What 
 pretty hair she's got, and how becom- 
 ingly she arranges it. I could do
 
 A BOLD VENTURE 139 
 
 with a more amiable father-in-law, though. 
 He wouldn't be much to boast of. 
 Pleasant little weakness of his, all the 
 same, to insist upon lending one half-crowns 
 without even being asked for them. I 
 wonder what he did that for ? I'll be 
 bound he's not the sort of chap to cast his 
 bread upon such very troubled waters as a 
 lodger's memory without some motive. I 
 suppose I shall find it out, sooner or later. 
 How that poor little delicate Frenchwoman 
 must hate her great hulking brute of a 
 husband ! The way she looked up at me 
 just now was quite pathetic — she must 
 have been pretty in her young days. 
 
 'Well — here I am, at the bottom of 
 Hypatia Street. Where shall I go ? So 
 many places I want to see — the pictures, 
 and museums, and Madame Tussaud's, and 
 Regent Street, and the Park, and — here
 
 I40 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 comes an omnibus. I'll get on it and go 
 wherever it chooses to take me.' 
 
 He climbed to the box-seat of the vehicle, 
 and was soon being transported westwards, 
 imjDroving the occasion, as was his wont, by 
 extracting as much information as possible 
 from the driver, to conciliate whom he began 
 by admiring the style in which he drove. 
 
 When he got off at Oxford Circus he 
 was a good deal the wiser for his drive. 
 He sauntered slowly down Kegent Street, 
 taking in men and things with that 
 wonderful receptiveness which contributed 
 so much to his success in after life. 
 Nothing escaped him, he understood at a 
 glance what other people would never 
 notice at all ; every detail had its significance 
 for him. His walk was like a sort of epic, 
 in which he was the wandering hero, around 
 whose footsteps objects animate and inani-
 
 A BOLD VENTURE 141 
 
 mate grouped themselves, each and all telling 
 him their story, some showing him a little 
 drama perfect in itself, others hinting at 
 a tragedy past or future, some exhibiting the 
 proud imprint of success, some others again 
 bearing the marks of decent poverty or 
 ruin. He walked on as if in a dream, and 
 yet he had never in his life been so keenly 
 alive, so widely awake both to himself and 
 to his surroundings. He looked at the 
 shops with their costly articles, he noted 
 the perfectly appointed carriages setting 
 down their fair burdens, he felt the breath 
 of careless opulence pass close to him, and 
 he clenched his teeth as he said to himself, 
 ' All this is to be had — and I ivill have it.' 
 
 He lingered beneath the lofty portico of 
 the Haymarket Theatre, and examined the 
 bills which announced a genteel teacup- and- 
 saucer comedy which some fashionable play-
 
 142 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 Wright had been so good as to adapt from 
 the French and call original. 
 
 Wakefield Todd was the manager's name, 
 a name familiar enough to George, who had 
 often seen him act in Manchester, and who 
 had heard that he had taken this theatre 
 with hardly any money at his back, and by 
 sheer pluck and industry had made a success 
 of his venture. 
 
 ' He had to begin himself once,' thought 
 George. ' I wonder if he would have any- 
 thing to say to me.' 
 
 The box-office was open, to allow people 
 to book for the morning performance, and 
 almost without thinkinj^^ George followed 
 a stout old gentleman up the steps. He 
 waited until the old gentleman had got two 
 stalls, and then went up to the office, with 
 his heart beginning to beat perceptibly 
 faster.
 
 A BOLD VENTURE 143 
 
 ' What for you, sir ? ' asked the official, 
 looking up from a pile of change he was 
 sorting. 
 
 'Could I see Mr. Wakefield Todd?' 
 inquired George. 
 
 ' Got an appointment ? ' asked the box- 
 keeper, leaning against the desk, and reckon- 
 ing up the young man from the country 
 who wanted to go on the stage as easily 
 as he had done his shillings and half- 
 crowns a moment before. 
 
 ' No,' said George, * but I wanted ' 
 
 ' You must write and make one then,' 
 said the clerk briskly ; ' Mr. Todd's time is 
 all taken beforehand.' 
 
 * Oh — thank you ! ' answered George, 
 and in another minute was in the street 
 again, deaf and blind for once to all around 
 him. 
 
 ' My first trial — and a failure ! ' he
 
 144 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 thought. ' Oh well, it would be utterly 
 absurd to expect to succeed like that.' 
 
 He recovered his equanimity after a while, 
 and wandered on until he came to the 
 Strand, which he knew very well by 
 hearsay. Here he recognised in the 
 cleanly -shaven, erect men, of whom he 
 passed so many, the already chosen votaries 
 of the art whose servant he so longed to 
 become. Sandwich - men with announce- 
 ments of new pieces were perseveringly 
 parading the gutters, at every few steps he 
 saw another theatre with its great dully- 
 shining glass letters, so brilliant at night ; 
 theatrical life was in the air, and George's 
 heart began to beat fast again, as he realised 
 that here was his goal, that in this crowded 
 dingy street lay his El Dorado, that he had 
 only to distinguish himself among this 
 jostling mass of his fellow -creatures, to
 
 A BOLD VENTURE 145 
 
 show himself a better man than they, and 
 that then the glittering gifts of Art, Fame, 
 and Fortune would lie at his feet. 
 
 ' Only that — and nothing more ! ' he 
 muttered. ^ It doesn't sound so hard. It's 
 the chance that's difficult to get.' 
 
 He decided that he would fortify his 
 inner man before presenting himself any- 
 where else, and for this purpose turned into 
 the first restaurant he came to, seated him- 
 self at a small table, and ordered a chop 
 and a pint of bitter. Chance had led him 
 to a good place. Fortuny's restaurant is a 
 favourite haunt of those who know a good 
 dinner when they see one. It was early 
 yet, and the room was almost empty, but 
 everything was well-ordered and clean, and 
 the waiters spruce and smart. 
 
 At the table opposite George's sat a man 
 
 who had come in at the same time as 
 VOL. I 10
 
 146 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 himself, and who had taken up a newspaper 
 while waiting for his luncheon. George's 
 observant eyes soon fell on him, and he 
 quickly decided that his neighbour was an 
 actor. He was thirty or a little more, 
 with a perfectly smooth face, and black hair 
 cut particularly short. His features were 
 remarkably good, the nose forming an almost 
 Greek line with the low broad forehead. 
 The mouth was thin - lipped, but beauti- 
 fully shaped, the chin square and deter- 
 mined, the dark eyes peculiarly bright and 
 piercing. He probably felt George's gaze 
 fixed upon him, for without moving his 
 position, or lowering his newspaper, he 
 raised his eyes and returned the other's 
 scrutiny coolly and deliberately, but with 
 perfect indifference, dropping them after he 
 had satisfied himself, and going on with his 
 leading: article as before.
 
 A BOLD VENTURE 147 
 
 Something in this man's appearance 
 fascinated George, who was always impres- 
 sionable enough. 
 
 ' He looks as if the whole world belonged 
 to him/ thought he, ' and devilish clever 
 besides. I suppose it isn't the thing to 
 speak to a stranger, and yet I should 
 tremendously like to. And, by Jove, I 
 will too — at the worst I can but get a 
 snubbing.' 
 
 The tables were only just wide enough 
 apart for the waiter to pass between them, 
 there was therefore no need for George to 
 raise his voice as he inquired, 
 
 * Any news to-day, sir ? ' 
 
 The other looked up, and ceremoniously 
 handed his newspaper across to George. 
 
 * Oh no, I didn't mean to take your paper 
 from you,' said the young man, confused, 
 ' I only wanted to '
 
 148 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 At this moment the waiter, much to 
 George's relief, came up with his chop. 
 
 The other man also had a chop, and 
 although he looked very grim as he sat eat- 
 ino: it, Georo-e resolved not to be beaten 
 so easily, took heart of grace, and began 
 again. 
 
 ' Are there any good pieces running just 
 now ? ' he inquired. 
 
 ' About the same as usual,' answered the 
 other in a matter-of-fact tone ; and George, 
 inwardly congratulating himself on having 
 made a beginning, went on, 
 
 ' I've just come down from the North, 
 and am a strano;er here.' 
 
 ' So I surmised,' observed the other, help- 
 ing himself to a potato. George, deter- 
 mined not to take anything but a very 
 decided snub, said, 
 
 ' Yes, my accent bewrayeth me, I know.
 
 A BOLD VENTURE 149 
 
 I'm afraid that same accent will get in my 
 way a good bit.' 
 
 'Indeed?' tpotli the other, fixing his 
 eyes on the ceiling. 
 
 'Ay! I want to go on the stage,' said 
 George, getting rather hot. 
 
 The bright black eyes came down from 
 the ceiling, looked at George with an 
 amused air, and their owner remarked, 
 ' Do you ? ' 
 
 ' Yes — but I'm a stranger.' 
 
 ' So you observed before,' said the other 
 with the beginning of a smile. 
 
 ^He's thinking me an awful fool,' 
 thought George, ' and no wonder ! But I 
 don't care. It's that or nothing.' 
 
 ' I suppose you're expecting me to tell 
 you that I've a bag with a hundred pounds 
 in it in my pocket,' he said smiling, ' which, 
 to show my confidence in you, I'll leave in
 
 ISO BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 your custody while I go outside to tie up 
 my shoe.' 
 
 The other laughed outright this time, 
 showing a very perfect set of white teeth. 
 
 'Well, you know,' he said rather more 
 genially, ' when a young man keeps on 
 telling you that he's a stranger, you're apt 
 to suspect ' 
 
 ' That he was born within the sound of 
 Bow Bells — exactly,' said George. 
 
 They both laughed, and when two men 
 have laughed at the same joke together, the 
 ice between them is distinctly broken. 
 
 ' I really am — a real bona-fide stranger, 
 though,' said George, ' and if I may make so 
 bold — you are an actor ? ' 
 
 The other nodded. 
 
 * I thought as much when I spoke to 
 you,' said George earnestly, his north - 
 country accent getting stronger as he grew
 
 A BOLD VENTURE 151 
 
 excited, * and that's why I did speak. I 
 thought may be you'd not think me imper- 
 tinent or forward if I ventured to ask a 
 bit of advice. I told you I wanted to go on 
 the stage — and how I am to set about it, 
 that's what I want to know.' 
 
 The other took a good long look at this 
 queer young countryman, whose odd per- 
 sistence and earnestness interested him in 
 spite of himself. 
 
 ' What in Heaven's name makes you 
 think of the stage ? ' he queried. 
 
 ' Well — many things,' returned George. 
 ' To begin with, I feel I have it in me.' 
 
 ' Oh, of course I know that, every one 
 always does,' said the other carelessly ; ' is 
 there no better reason ? ' 
 
 George hesitated. ' I don't know what 
 else to do.' 
 
 ' That's better. Hard up, I suppose ? '
 
 152 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 George nodded. 
 
 ' But your accent ? ' 
 
 ' I shall get rid of that.' 
 
 * Will you ? Have you ever tried to 
 act?' 
 
 George shook his head. 
 
 ' Oh well, that's a mercy ! I hate your 
 accomplished amateur, who knows all about 
 everything because he's acted once or twice 
 in his aunt's back drawing-room, with the 
 bedroom candlesticks for footlights and a 
 counterpane for a background. Still — 
 you're — how old ? ' 
 
 ' Twenty-eight,' replied George. 
 
 ' Old enough to know better ! And have 
 you never done anything for a living yet 'i ' 
 asked the actor, with a keen look at the 
 young man's hands. 
 
 George coloured. ' I — I — have written a 
 few things.'
 
 A BOLD VENTURE 153 
 
 ' Ha ! Poems, I'll bet a shilling ! ' ex- 
 claimed the actor. 
 
 ' Yes/ faltered George, feeling about two 
 years old. 
 
 ' Printed ? ' inquired the other. 
 
 ' N — no, not yet/ 
 
 ' Not yet, of course not.' 
 
 The actor smiled to himself, and went on 
 with his chop, which he finished before he 
 spoke again. Then rising and buttoning 
 up his coat, he looked at George's plate. 
 
 ' Feeling too queer to eat, eh ? ' he said, 
 not unkindly. 'Look here, my boy. I'm 
 afraid youVe got a hard time before you, 
 but I like the look of you, somehow, and 
 I'll do what I can for you.' 
 
 George got up, and grasped the other's 
 hand with tears in his eyes. ' God bless 
 you ! ' he said very low, ' I was right to 
 speak to you.'
 
 154 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 ' Softly, softly — don't make a scene, for 
 Heaven's sake,' said the actor dryly, with- 
 drawing his hand. ' I've got a morning 
 performance at the Parthenon, and must be 
 off now ; but look here, here's my card,' 
 tossing one on the table, ' that will admit 
 you to the theatre, come and see the piece, 
 and wait for me afterwards.' 
 
 Before George could thank him again he 
 was gone, the waiter who had served him 
 flying to the door and bowing obsequiously 
 as he passed out. 
 
 George cast his eyes on the card, and was 
 dumfounded. 
 
 ' Vernon himself ! By Jove ! ' he ex- 
 claimed, ' Well, I am in luck's way. I 
 must have been born with a silver spoon in 
 my mouth. What an omen ! But I should 
 never have had the cheek to speak to him if 
 I'd known who he was.'
 
 A BOLD VENTURE 155 
 
 Elate and hopeful, he finished his lun- 
 cheon and then walked slowly out, feeling 
 a different man from the one who had been 
 turned away an hour ago from the Hay- 
 maket box-office. 
 
 'Perhaps I've got my chance,' he 
 thought, as he went up the steps of the 
 Parthenon, where Mr. Yernon was acting, 
 and confidently presented the actor's card ; 
 * perhaps I've got my chance — and it sha'n't 
 be my fault if I don't make the most of it ! '
 
 CHAPTEE IX 
 
 PAVING THE WAY 
 
 The piece in which Mr. Vernon was playing 
 was one of those extravagant melodramas 
 which are at once vulgar and witty, absurd 
 in their impossibilities, and interesting from 
 the cleverness of their construction and the 
 vividness of their representation, and which 
 attain their object by appealing impartially 
 to the sympathies of all classes, from the 
 orange -eating street -boy in the gallery to 
 the befeathered and stiff-collared occupants 
 of the stalls. Mr. Vernon had ^ created '
 
 PAVING THE WAY 157 
 
 the chief part — that of an aristocratic 
 miscreant, equally at home in the lowest 
 haunts of vice and in the drawing-rooms of 
 Mayfair. He went through his work with 
 the easy grace which had for several years 
 past made him so great a favourite with the 
 public, and which George had already had 
 an opportunity of observing more than once 
 in Manchester. 
 
 ' He is a handsome fellow,' he thought ; 
 ' that gives him a tremendous pull at once. 
 There's no part he is physically unfitted to 
 play, except, perhaps, that of Caliban. And 
 what a splendid delivery he has ! A good 
 lesson for me ! ' 
 
 Exciting though the play was, George's 
 anxiety about himself was too great to allow 
 him to follow it very closely. He longed 
 for the curtain to fall for the last time, 
 and the four acts seemed almost intolerably
 
 158 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 long. They came to an end at length, 
 however, and with a sigh of relief George 
 perceived the actor's tall figure advancing 
 towards him. 
 
 ' Well — you have survived all that blood 
 and thunder ? ' he said with a smile. ' How 
 did you like the show ? ' 
 
 George uttered a well-turned little speech 
 he had prepared in praise of his new friend's 
 genius. 
 
 Mr. Vernon smiled cynically. 
 
 ' Wonderful, isn't it ? To-day is the two- 
 hundredth time I have played that part, 
 and I suppose we shall go on for another 
 two hundred at least. This way, my boy.' 
 
 They turned into Bent Street, one of 
 those curiously deserted and quiet little 
 thoroughfares that lie between the river 
 and the Strand. 
 
 * I'm going to take you to my diggings.
 
 PAVING THE WAY 159 
 
 1 shall be better able to talk to you there 
 than in this noise. Here we are. Come 
 in.' 
 
 Mr. Vernon entered a dingy-looking house 
 of which the door stood open, and led the 
 way up to the first story, where he inserted 
 a latchkey into the lock of a door facing the 
 stairs. 
 
 'Little flat, you see,' he observed as 
 George came in after him. I've lived here 
 for many years. It's as quiet as the grave 
 and handy for my work.' 
 
 A strange sensation came over George as 
 he followed the actor. This was the first 
 time in his life that he had ever entered 
 a gentleman's room — the very first. In a 
 flash of memory he saw again those houses 
 in Manchester, the homes of the gentlemen's 
 sons whom he had so much envied ; he saw 
 himself, an uncouthly dressed and awkward-
 
 i6o BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 mannered hobbledelioy, slinking back to the 
 low little public house and to his plebeian 
 father and mother. The memory brought 
 with it a pang which not even the triumph 
 of the moment could wholly overcome, the 
 full force of his ignorance, his utter want of 
 culture swept over him, and for an instant 
 his courao-e failed him — the o:ulf seemed too 
 wide, too fathomless for him to bridge. The 
 actor's voice recalled him to himself, remind- 
 ing him that he already had a part to play, 
 and that it behoved him to play it well. 
 
 ' Take your coat off,' said his host, * I'll be 
 back in a minute,' and he disappeared into 
 an inner room. 
 
 George did as he was told, and took 
 advantage of his solitude to look about 
 him. 
 
 The house was evidently an old one, 
 built when men had plenty of time and
 
 PAVING THE WAY i6i 
 
 materials at their command ; for the room, 
 a spacious apartment with three windows 
 looking out on the street, was wainscotted in 
 worm-eaten oak from ceiling to floor, and had 
 deep seats in each window. The chimney- 
 piece was of antique shape and generous 
 dimensions, but the grate was modern. 
 A faded Turkey carpet covered the fine old 
 oaken boards. The armchairs were of well- 
 worn leather, the curtains were as faded 
 as the carpet — there was not a fresh or 
 new article in the whole room ; everything 
 looked as though a large amount of good 
 service had been extracted from it, and as 
 though it were perfectly ready to go on 
 giving the same for many years more. 
 There was a well stocked bookshelf, a 
 table covered — not littered, everything in 
 the place was in perfect order — with papers 
 
 and more books, an open piano, a number 
 VOL. I 11
 
 i62 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 of small oil-paintings, water-colour drawings, 
 pen-and-ink sketches, and engravings upon 
 the walls, and a general atmosphere of 
 comfort and excellent tobacco which was 
 very congenial, and which George involun- 
 tarily contrasted with the heavy smell of 
 stale smoke and beer which pervaded his 
 ancestral house, and against which his 
 senses had always so persistently rebelled. 
 
 Presently his eye fell upon the open piano, 
 and he immediately recalled the wretched 
 little instrument which, at his most 
 earnest and long-drawn-out entreaty, his 
 mother had at last consented to purchase 
 fifth-hand for the extraordinary sum of 
 one pound nineteen and threepence. How 
 pleased he had been when it w^as installed 
 in the best parlour, how lovingly his fingers 
 had caressed its yellow, rattling key-board, 
 and oh, how disappointed he had felt when
 
 PAVING THE WAY 163 
 
 he had found that the middle C was gone ! 
 How tiresome it had been always to be 
 obliged to play the airs he picked out an 
 octave higher, and what a pleasure it was 
 when the apprentice at Cox's music ware- 
 house had mended it for him ! This was a 
 very different sort of affair, full cottage size, 
 with an ebony case and fine white keys. Ay, 
 and he'd be bound the tone was different, 
 too ! Here he walked up to the piano 
 and sat down before it ; and as he did so, 
 the old uneasy certainty of being disturbed 
 by a distant shout of * Geoorge ! ' came over 
 him, making him laugh at himself. The 
 next instant he was softly touching the 
 keys, and singing in an undertone one of 
 the little songs which had been such great 
 favourites with his admirers at the Bell 
 and Boot. 
 
 He was so absorbed in the pleasure of
 
 1 64 ^y WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 the perfectly true sounds which his fingers 
 elicited that he did not hear Vernon come 
 back into the room, and was unconscious 
 that the actor was standing on the hearthrug, 
 watching him. When he had finished his 
 song Yernon said quietly, 
 
 'Well done. That's a jolly little thing. 
 Is it your own ? ' 
 
 George turned round quickly, a flush 
 mounting to his cheeks. 
 
 * Ay, just a little thing I did long ago."* 
 ' Know any more ? ' 
 
 * Oh, plenty,' answered George with a 
 laugh, and twisting himself back again on 
 the stool, he played and sang straight 
 through his repertory. He was never shy, 
 and the good piano beneath his fingers 
 exhilarated him, while the consciousness 
 of being on his trial made him put forth 
 his best powers.
 
 PAVING THE WAY 165 
 
 Vernon sat down, lighted a cigar, and 
 listened. When George came to an end 
 he said kindly, 
 
 ' Come, that's famous ! Why don't you 
 go in for singing? You've got a capital 
 voice, though it wants training, of course.' 
 
 ' I shouldn't care to sing,' said George. 
 
 ' Oh well, you know best, though it 
 almost seems a pity. And now, come and 
 sit down, and let us talk seriously. I 
 haven't very long to give you.' 
 
 George took a chair opposite his mentor, 
 and accepted the cigar the latter offered 
 him. 
 
 ' How long have you been in town ? ' 
 asked Vernon. 
 
 ' I came yesterday,' answered George. 
 
 Vernon burst into a laugh. 
 
 ' Yesterday ! And collars me in the 
 Strand to-day ! Well, by Jove, you don't
 
 1 66 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 intend to let the grass grow under your 
 feet, apparently ! ' 
 
 ' There wouldn't be much sense in my 
 doing that, would there ? ' said George ; ' it 
 makes no difference to either of us ; if I had 
 been in town for a fortnight or a month 
 and hadn't got anything to do, perhaps I 
 should have been so down in the mouth 
 that I shouldn't have had the impudence to 
 speak to you.' 
 
 ' Perhaps so. Have you tried anywhere 
 this morning ? ' 
 
 ' I only asked at the Haymarket if I 
 could see Wakefield Todd, but he was 
 engaged or wasn't there, I don't know 
 which.' 
 
 Vernon laughed. 
 
 * Naturally. I suppose you thought you 
 had only to present yourself with, '^ If you 
 please, Mr. Wakefield Todd, I'm a young
 
 PAVING THE WAY 167 
 
 man from the couDtry," and that he would 
 engage you forthwith, eh ? ' 
 
 ' No, I'm not quite so green as all that,' 
 said George, half-nettled. ' But I thought 
 there was no harm in trying. You see 
 I tried to scrape acquaintance with you, and 
 succeeded. ' 
 
 ' In spite of my resolution not to be 
 blarneyed. So you did. But I can't 
 understand now how you did it. You must 
 be either a very intelligent or a very im- 
 pudent young man. You mustn't expect 
 to be as successful every time, though.' 
 
 * Oh, I know that,' said George. 
 
 ' If one were to put an incident like that 
 into a novel, you know, the critics would be 
 down upon you in a moment. " So far- 
 fetched !" " So utterly improbable ! " ' 
 
 ' Truth is stranger than fiction,' senten- 
 tiously observed George.
 
 1 68 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 'Yes, that's a truism that holds good 
 always. Dear me, what strange things one 
 has seen in one's life, — and what a black- 
 guardly old world it is, with all its rotten 
 pretence and solemn humbug ! And you 
 want to become that double humbug — an 
 actor.' 
 
 ' I want to, and I shall,' replied George 
 confidently. 
 
 ' Well, youVe got pluck — there's no 
 denying that. And what line do you think 
 of taking up ? ' 
 
 ' It's all one to me how I begin,' said 
 George, 'so long as I do begin. Of 
 course I should like to become an actor like 
 yourself.' 
 
 Vernon laughed. 
 
 ' Like me ! That's very flattering, my 
 friend, but it sounds better than it is. 
 First of all, you will never be an actor
 
 PAVING THE WAY 169 
 
 like myself. You will either be better or 
 worse/ 
 \ * Why ? ' asked George. 
 
 V I'll tell you. You see, I was not brought 
 up to any profession. I was what people 
 call — heaven save the mark ! — a gentle- 
 man by birth. I went to Oxford, took my 
 degree, came into a good lot of property, 
 saw " life " on the Continent and in London 
 until my purse was empty, and then — well 
 then, as I had gleaned nothing from 
 an expensive education except how to get 
 through any amount of money, and as I 
 foolishly shrank from going to the work- 
 house, I became — an actor.' 
 
 ' You had no vocation ? ' asked George. 
 
 Vernon gave the short bitter laugh which 
 was already familiar to George. 
 
 * Vocation ! Not I. I could speak the 
 Queen's English, and was pretty adaptable
 
 I70 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 by nature, I suppose — but vocation ! Ot 
 no, I never was a youthful worshipper of the 
 footlights, I never yearned to exhibit my 
 manly proportions in tights and Hessiaas, 
 or in trunk hose and silk stockings. No, 
 my friend, I am quite aware that I am 
 letting myself down in your enthusiastic 
 eyes when I say so, but nevertheless it is 
 the truth, and must out — I became a clown 
 because I had come to the end of my 
 resources, and because a clown is well paid 
 — as indeed he deserves to be. 
 
 He relighted his cigar, which had gone 
 out, and threw the match into the fire with 
 a jerk. 
 
 * Shocking, isn't it ? But that's why I 
 say you will never be an actor like my- 
 self. You have enthusiasm, you deliberately 
 choose your career out of several that are 
 doubtless open to you. I should think
 
 PAVING THE WAY 171 
 
 there are several things you could do as 
 well as act. Are you what is called 
 educated ? ' 
 
 ' I have never had any regular education/ 
 said George, reddening. 
 
 * So much the better for you — for your 
 mind has not been forced into any particular 
 groove. You have a good voice, therefore 
 you might take up singing. You might 
 become a clerk, a railway porter, a com- 
 missionaire — oh, no offence,' as George made 
 a movement, ' any of those walks of life are 
 quite as honourable as an actor's ; or, as you 
 have evidently a pretty fancy, you might 
 take to literature, or become a critic and 
 reviewer. To fit oneself for the two latter 
 takes time though, and you want to be earn- 
 ing money at once. I only mention these 
 things in order to show you that you make 
 your decision from choice, and not of
 
 172 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 necessity. Now I was incapable of any of 
 them. I couldn't become a clerk, because I 
 have no head for figures and my writing is 
 vile ; I am not strong enough for a railway 
 porter and not patient enough for a com- 
 missionaire ; I have as little imagination as 
 a cat, and I — like yourself — couldn't wait 
 until my reviews and criticisms acquired an 
 intrinsic value of their own. Therefore, as 
 there was nothing else I could do, I took 
 to the stage, and now people say Fm a born 
 actor.' 
 
 All this was no doubt very interesting, 
 though George did not believe a word of it, 
 but was convinced that the actor was 
 simply talking for eff*ect ; and, besides, he 
 was all- impatient to get to the much more 
 important discussion of his own affairs. He 
 therefore remained silent when the actor 
 paused, taking care, however, to look ex-
 
 PAVING THE WAY 173 
 
 ceedingly sympathetic. His little touch of 
 diplomacy had the desired effect, for with 
 a conscious laugh Vernon left off talking 
 about himself, and said, 
 
 ' So youll take anything that is to be got, 
 I suppose ? ' 
 
 'Ay, gladly 1 ' answered George. ' Should 
 I go to an agent, do you think ? ' 
 
 He asked this for the sake of letting 
 Vernon know that he was not counting too 
 much upon his good offices. 
 
 ' Oh, I should think we can do better 
 than that for you. A personal introduction 
 is worth a hundred agents. I'll stand 
 sponsor for you as far as I am able, and I 
 know all the managers, of course. It shall 
 go hard if we can't get you something, 
 however small, between this and six weeks' 
 time. You can hold out till then, I 
 suppose ? '
 
 174 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 ' Yes/ said George. 
 
 ' And meanwhile you ought to take some 
 lessons in pronunciation, so as to get that 
 northern burr out of your throat.' 
 
 ' Fm afraid I couldn't afford that,' said 
 George, with a thought of Mr. Jarvis. 
 
 Vernon hesitated a moment, then he 
 said, 
 
 'Well, look here. It isn't in my way 
 at all, and I daresay I shall be making an 
 awful fool of myself; but I don't mind 
 giving you an hour or two a week myself, 
 just for a bit. You see you are taking it 
 out of me all round,' he added, with a half- 
 shame-faced laugh. 
 
 George was profuse in his thanks, which 
 the other cut short with an Englishman's 
 proverbial dislike of anything approaching 
 gush. 
 
 ' And now I must turn you out,' he said.
 
 PAVING THE WAY 175 
 
 jumping up, * for I'm going out to make 
 a call, and must be off at once. Stay, give 
 me your address.' 
 
 George wrote it down. 
 
 ' That's all right. A little out of the 
 way, isn't it ? But that doesn't matter. 
 Look here, if you like, we might drive 
 together as far as Cavendish Square. Wait 
 here for me a minute or two.' 
 
 George accepted his new friend's offer 
 gladly, and sitting down, began to think 
 over the wonderful events of the last 
 few hours. What a beo^inning ! What 
 glorious luck he had had ! He half 
 wondered at Vernon's readiness to make 
 friends with an utter stranger, and reflected 
 that he had not asked him one single 
 question as to his antecedents. ' How 
 different from a woman,' he thought. ' Both 
 Mrs. Mellon and Lucy wanted to know all
 
 176 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 about me from my birth upwards directly. 
 But I suppose that was partly with a view 
 to the rent. It's curious how cursedly 
 proud all these aristocrats are ' — to George 
 Collins, Vernon was an aristocrat — ' of their 
 birth ! He dragged that in, of course. 
 And I daresay his story is about as true as 
 the one I told that pretty little Mellon girl 
 last night ! Ah well ! I'll make the most 
 of his lessons, though — his offering to give 
 me some isn't the least part of my luck. ' 
 
 ' Have a brandy and soda before we 
 go ? ' asked his host, coming back. 
 
 'No, thanks.' 
 
 * Come along then,' and they went out 
 into the street, getting a hansom in the 
 Strand. It w^as delio^htful to Georo^e to be 
 sitting beside the well-known actor, who 
 received nods and looks of recognition 
 without number as they swiftly bowled
 
 PAVING THE WAY 177 
 
 along, and he wished the distance to Caven- 
 dish Square had been twice as far. 
 
 The cab stopped at the door of a smart- 
 looking house at the same moment as a 
 victoria drawn by two magnificent bays. 
 A lady got out and gave Vernon a bright 
 smile as he took off his hat. 
 
 'Good-bye, old fellow/ said the actor 
 hurriedly ; 'twelve to-morrow, then.' 
 
 The lady and he went into the house 
 together, leaving George to pursue his way 
 homeward, carrying with him a vision of a 
 pale face and two curiously gleaming eyes, 
 set in an aureole of golden hair. 
 
 VOL. I 12
 
 CHAPTEK X 
 
 EEVELRY 
 
 It was quite dark before George, after 
 mistaking his way several times, and asking 
 it a great many more, at length reached 
 Hypatia Street. He was weary, both in 
 mind and body, as he climbed the flight 
 of steps, which gleamed white in the faint 
 light, but he felt that his first day in Lon- 
 don had not been wasted. It seemed quite 
 like coming home to run down to the warm, 
 bright sitting-room, and to find Lucy sitting 
 busily at work, and the cloth laid for supper.
 
 REVELRY 179 
 
 ' Here you are ! ' she said, looking up 
 witH a welcoming smile. ' Ma and me 
 have been wondering if you'd got lost, or 
 got into bad company.' 
 
 ' I have been in company. Miss Lucy, but 
 not bad, far from it ! ' answered George, who 
 was dying to talk to some one ; and sitting 
 down close to the work-table, he told her all 
 his adventures. Lucy dropped her work 
 and listened with eyes and lips wide 
 open. 
 
 ' Lor ! ' she exclaimed. ' Well, I declare, 
 if that don't beat all. You actually went 
 and spoke to Richard Vernon ! And he's 
 got to be your friend — I never, never did ! 
 Ma ! ' she called, ' come here, come quick ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Mellon came running into the room 
 with a frying-pan in one hand. 
 
 ' What is it, my dear ? Is anything 
 wrong ? '
 
 i8o BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 ' Wrong I Not quite. Just listen here,' 
 and she poured forth a repetition of George's 
 story, with a good many additional f3ourishes 
 of her own. 
 
 ' No, I nevaire — nevaire did hear such a 
 thing 1 ' cried the little woman, as excited 
 as her daughter ; and dropping the frying- 
 pan, which was fortunately empty, she flung 
 her arms round George, and bestowed upon 
 him a maternal salute. 
 
 ' Well, I'm sure, ma ! ' said Lucy, 
 bridling. 
 
 'Thank you very much, ma'am,' George 
 said with a laugh. ' Won't you follow a 
 good example. Miss Lucy ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not, sir ! ' returned Lucy, highly 
 delighted, and the two ladies giggled in 
 chorus. 
 
 Just then a key was heard in the front 
 door. Mrs. Mellon ran out of the room.
 
 REVELRY i8i 
 
 ^ Mr. Jarvis, Mr. Jarvis ! ' she called 
 up the stairs. ' Come down here 
 quickly 1 ' 
 
 Mr. Jarvis flew rather than walked down- 
 stairs, and asked breathlessly, 
 
 * What's the matter ? ' 
 
 'Come in, come in.' cried the little 
 woman, seizing him by his coat and 
 dragging him into the sitting-room, ' come 
 in and hear the news.' 
 
 Lucy, nothing loath, repeated the 
 wondrous tale once more. Mr. Jarvis 
 received it with a good deal more equa- 
 nimity than the two women, and contented 
 himself with congratulating George in a 
 significantly melancholy tone. 
 
 ' And we will celebrate the happy 
 occasion, too,' said Mrs. Mellon enthusi- 
 astically. ' Look, good Mr. Jarvis, here is 
 eighteenpence, run to the fish shop at the
 
 1 82 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 corner, like a excellent man as you are, and 
 buy a lobster, a good one.' 
 
 Good Mr. Jarvis looked ]3articularly 
 blank at this request, but at Lucy's 'Brayvo, 
 ma ! ' he resigned himself. 
 
 ' And ril stand some beer,' said George, 
 not to be outdone. ' Bring four bottles of 
 Bass with you as well, if you don't mind, 
 Mr. Jarvis.' 
 
 Mr. Jarvis looked daggers, but once more 
 his beloved's applause decided him, he took 
 the money, and sulkily mounted the stairs 
 much more slowly than he had come down 
 them. At the top he heard Lucy's voice 
 call him in unwontedly sweet accents. 
 
 ' Mr. Jarvis ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, Miss Lucy ? ' 
 
 ' Mind the lobster is a good heavy one, 
 and take care not to shake the beer, as you 
 did last time.'
 
 REVELRY 183 
 
 The sound of a muttered imprecation 
 floated through the hall as Mr. Jarvis flung 
 his hat on his head and banged the door 
 behind him. 
 
 Mrs. Mellon and her frying-pan retired 
 again to the kitchen, and Lucy took up her 
 work once more. 
 
 ' It's just like coming home ! ' said George 
 warmly. 'You and your mother are the 
 kindest w^omen I ever saw ! ' 
 
 ' I'm sure I don't know what we've dona 
 to make you say so, Mr. L'Estrange. It's 
 only natural we should be pleased at your 
 good luck.' 
 
 ' Ah, I didn't think, when I went out 
 this morning, that I should have had 
 anything half as jolly as that to tell 
 you!' 
 
 ' No, nor did L' 
 
 ' Hark, what's that ? ' exclaimed George
 
 i84 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 j)resently, as a heavy bump sounded against 
 the front door. 
 
 ' It can't be pa ! ' said Lucy, looking at the 
 clock. ' Oh — I know, it's Mr. Jarvis, he's got 
 his arms too full to open the door for himself.' 
 
 ' I'll let him in,' said George, and running 
 up, he opened the door, outside which in 
 effect stood Mr. Jarvis, with four beer- 
 bottles piled up in his arms, and a news- 
 paper parcel, out of one end of which 
 depended a long red claw propped between 
 the bottles and his chin. 
 
 ' Did you make that noise with your 
 head, old man ? ' asked George jovially, 
 noticing that his fellow -lodger's hat had 
 fallen off, and picking it up for him. 
 
 Mr. Jarvis stalked in as majestically as 
 his burden would allow, not condescending 
 to answer a question which he considered 
 vulgar and impertinent.
 
 REVELRY 185 
 
 George offered to relieve him of the 
 lobster, but he shook his head, and went 
 downstairs in an exasperatingly slow 
 manner, landing at length in the kitchen, 
 and presenting his freight to Mrs. 
 Mellon as though it had been a votive 
 offering. 
 
 Mrs. Mellon and Lucy, only too glad, 
 poor souls, of any pretext for a little 
 jollification, began bustling round the table, 
 bringing out pickles and sauces, making 
 fresh mustard, losing and hunting for the 
 corkscrew, and making the place quite gay 
 with their laughter and chatter. George 
 undertook to concoct a special dressing for 
 the lobster, and Mr. Jarvis was given the 
 beer to open, wherein he failed igno- 
 miniously, letting one cork fly into Lucy's 
 face and breakino^ the second in the bottle. 
 He tried to make up in dignity what he
 
 i86 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 lacked in skilfulness ; but nobody took any 
 notice of him, although George was fully 
 alive to his presence, and was quite aware 
 that he was rapidly becoming mortally 
 jealous. 
 
 ' My dressing's done ! ' announced tlie 
 hero of the evening. 
 
 ' So are the sausages ! ' said Mrs. Mellon, 
 bringinoj in a smokino^ hot dish. 
 
 ' Let us begin then,' said George. 
 
 ' Yes, let us commence ' — this from Mr. 
 Jarvis. 
 
 ' Do you consider commence a better 
 word than begin ? ' asked George. 
 
 ' It is more elegant, I think,' returned 
 Mr. Jarvis. 
 
 ' H'm — it sounds stilted to me,' said 
 George reflectively. ' What do you think. 
 Miss Lucy ? ' 
 
 ' I always say commence myself,' answered
 
 REVELRY 187 
 
 Lucy modestly. ^ I notice they always do 
 in the novelettes.' 
 
 ' Of course, it's always commence in 
 literature,' said Mr. Jar vis pompously. 
 
 * I always too say commence,' observed 
 Mrs. Mellon, 'because it is more like my 
 French commencer.^ 
 
 ' Then I'm in a minority,' said George — 
 ' and yet, I'm not sure that I'm not right.' 
 
 ' Ask Mr. Vernon about it,' suggested 
 Lucy. 
 
 Mr. Jarvis mumbled something into the 
 claw of his lobster, but did not venture to 
 say anything offensive aloud. His heart 
 was very sore, poor man, for he felt that 
 Fate was treating him cruelly in sending 
 another, taller, younger, better-looking than 
 himself, to share the place by his Lucy's 
 side so long filled only by himself It was 
 not until the lobster was a memory, and
 
 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 the beer low in the bottles, that Mr. Jarvis 
 was able to feel once more that life was worth 
 living. At that point, however, he quite 
 suddenly cheered up immensely, ending by 
 becoming the most wildly jovial of the party, 
 flinging superior knowledge and dignity to 
 the winds, and promising to take them 
 all to Hampton Court or Epping Forest, 
 whichever they liked best, the first fine 
 Sunday. He insisted upon giving them an 
 imitation of a brass band, which he said was 
 the cleverest thing out, and if the laughter 
 of the auditors had anything to do with its 
 merits it must have been very clever 
 indeed. Not to be outdone, Mrs. Mellon 
 followed suit with an old-fashioned French 
 chansonnette, full of ogles, double-ententes, 
 and little runs, of which no one understood 
 one word, but which was vehemently 
 applauded all the same. It was George's
 
 REVELRY 189 
 
 turn next, and as excitement and beer had 
 wrought him to an extreme pitch of senti- 
 mentality, he recited, one after another, 
 half-a-dozen pathetic poems, all dwelling 
 upon various phases of domestic misery, 
 which had always taken particularly well 
 'up yonder,' and which this evening had 
 the satisfactory effect of reducing his hearers 
 to tears — two of them, that is, for Mr. 
 Jar vis, after punctuating the first with loud 
 snufiles and sobs, sank peacefully off" to sleep 
 with his head in his plate, thus escaping 
 having his feelings harrowed any further. 
 
 Things were still in this blissful state 
 when a heavy foot was heard to mount 
 the steps outside, and a key was inserted 
 in the front door. 
 
 ' There's pa ! ' said Lucy in a surprised 
 tone. ' Whatever makes him so early, I 
 wonder ? '
 
 190 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 With wonderful celerity the remains of 
 the feast disappeared, Mr. Jarvis was 
 shaken awake, and Mrs. Mellon had shut 
 herself up in the kitchen, before the master 
 of the house appeared. 
 
 He was sober to-night, and none the 
 more amiable for that. He looked round 
 with a scowl. 
 
 ' Still up ! Dear me, this is extraordinary ! ' 
 
 ' Will you have some supper, pa ? ' asked 
 Lucy, whose too -pale cheeks had got a 
 pretty flush on them, and whose hair had 
 become a little loosened, giving a most 
 becoming softness to her face. 
 
 ' No, I won't ! Bring me some brandy.' 
 
 ' There isn't any in the house.' 
 
 ' Then go and get some.' 
 
 ' No, pa, you've had enough at the Hall, 
 I'm sure,' said Lucy quietly. 
 
 Her father glared at her, and was
 
 REVELRY 191 
 
 apparently going to make some violent 
 retort, when he caught sight of Jarvis, 
 who was sitting bolt upright, staring at 
 him with what Mellon took for ferocity, 
 but which was really only a desperate 
 effort to keep his eyes open. Mr. Mellon, 
 a bully 'puT sang, remembering that he 
 owed Jarvis money, thought better of it, 
 therefore, and let his daughter alone. 
 Lucy covered up her work, said good- 
 night, fetched her mother, and the two 
 women went to bed. 
 
 ' I shall go up too, I think ! ' said 
 George, having no inclination to wind up 
 the pleasant evening by a conversation 
 with his landlord, who, he saw, was dis- 
 posed to be quarrelsome. * Are you coming, 
 Jarvis ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Mr. Jarvis with startling 
 alacrity, jumping to his feet.
 
 192 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 ' Good - night, sir ! ^ politely observed 
 George. 
 
 ' Oh, good-night, and be d d to you,' 
 
 growled Mr. Mellon. 
 
 * Certainly,' said George cheerfully, and 
 shut the door behind hirn. 
 
 Mr. Jarvis mounted the stairs almost as 
 slowly as though he were still laden with 
 the beer and lobster. At the top he 
 turned round, and with blinking eyes 
 said in a tone of intense solemnity, 
 
 'Promise me one thing, L'Estrange.' 
 
 ' And that is ? ' 
 
 ' That you won't get in my light with 
 Miss Lucy. I know I'm not brilliant or 
 fascinatino- ' — ^ George cast a comical look 
 at the spare little figure before him, whose 
 sandy hair stuck out in all directions 
 like a porcupine's quills — 'I know I have 
 but few natural advantages, but I have
 
 REVELRY 193 
 
 loved her long — too long ! and if you step 
 between us I shall expire of grief.' 
 
 ^ I won't step between you, never fear/ 
 said George consolingly. 'Don't worry 
 yourself. You get to bed, or we shall 
 have that sweet old gentleman below 
 calling out to us.' 
 
 At this idea Mr. Jarvis's eyes grew 
 round with apprehension. He hurriedly 
 grasped his rival's hand, and disappeared 
 into his own sanctuary. 
 
 VOL. I 
 
 13
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE MANAGER 
 
 George was just coming out of his room 
 the following morning, on his way to 
 keep his appointment with Mr. Vernon, 
 when the door opposite his opened a little 
 way, and a hoarse voice, which he recognised 
 as that of his landlord, said in a low tone, 
 
 ' That you, Mr. L'Estrange ? ' 
 
 ^ Yes,' answered George, ' do you want 
 anything ? ' 
 
 The door opened an inch or two wider, 
 and Mr. Mellon's purple nose appeared.
 
 THE MANAGER 195 
 
 ' Jus' come here a second, there's a good 
 feller/ 
 
 George obediently approached, and Mr. 
 Mellon whispered confidentially, 
 
 ' Sorry to trouble you — but I had a run 
 of ill-luck yesterday — mostly do have ill- 
 luck — and I'm stumped, cleaned- out — so 
 I must ask you to return that four bob 
 I lent you yesterday mornin'.' 
 
 ' Four bob I ' exclaimed George. ' You're 
 making a mistake, sir. It was half-a- 
 crown, not four bob.' 
 
 ' Hush — sh !' whispered Mr. Mellon, appre- 
 hensively glancing towards the room in 
 which Lucy and her mother slept. * I 
 think, if you'll take the trouble to recollek, 
 it was four bob. / remember, 'cos I know 
 I had two florins and half- a- dollar in my 
 pocket, an' when I went out yesterday 
 mornin' I had only the half-dollar, so it
 
 196 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 must have been the two florins I lent you, 
 musn't it ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing of the kind/ said George firmly. 
 ' It was this very half- crown which you 
 forced upon me. Here it is, and here's 
 eighteenpence on to it — but remember I 
 don't owe you that.' 
 
 Mr. Mellon took the four shillings with 
 alacrity. 
 
 ' Thanks, dear boy ! ' he said. ' I was 
 sure you'd remember it when you came 
 to think of it. Wisest always to make 
 a note of these little things, eh ? ' 
 
 He shut his door, leaving George half- 
 vexed and half-amused. 
 
 * So that was his little game, was it ? ' 
 he thought ; * not a bad dodge. I daresay 
 it's answered many a time before now. 
 But you don't borrow any more half- 
 crowns on those terms, George, my boy
 
 THE MANAGER 197 
 
 — they're too high for a pauper like 
 you ! ' 
 
 He had got into the street when he 
 heard his name called, and, turning round, 
 saw Lucy standing at the front door, 
 holding out something to him. Her cheeks 
 were flushed and her eyes were bright. 
 
 ' Here, Mr. L'Estrange, here's your 
 eighteenpence. Pa remembered about it 
 directly you were gone.^ 
 
 ' Thanks, Miss Lucy,' said George, taking 
 his money and thinking he had been too 
 hasty in his judgment, for, shrewd as he 
 was, it never occurred to him that the 
 eighteenpence had come out of Lucy's 
 own poor purse, and not out of the 
 capacious depths of her father's pocket. 
 
 He found Vernon ready to go out. 
 
 ' I'm going to take you to one of the 
 best — in every sense — managers in London,'
 
 198 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 he said. ' Fellowes of the Thespis. If 
 you can get in with him you'll be all right. 
 He's rather a rough diamond, but a splendid 
 business - man, and sticks to his people 
 when once they've done well for him. 
 I daresay he hasn't got anything to give 
 you just now% but it would be quite worth 
 your while to wait a week or two and then 
 get in there rather than get taken on any- 
 where else at once.' 
 
 As they walked along Vernon con- 
 tinued, 
 
 * That was Fellowes's house I went to 
 last evening. He's made a big pile in 
 these last years, and lives in very good 
 style. You meet some of the j oiliest 
 people in town there.' 
 
 ' Was that his wife who went in with 
 you ? ' asked George. 
 
 'Yes, that was Mrs. Fellowes,' said
 
 THE MANAGER 199 
 
 Vernon dryly, and something in his tone 
 prevented George from following up his 
 question. 
 
 The Thespis was a comparatively new 
 theatre, and had been built by Fell owes 
 himself, so Vernon informed George, at a 
 tremendous expense. It was a gorgeous 
 building, with marble and mosaic, gilding 
 and plush everywhere, except in the 
 manager's own room, into which the 
 privileged Vernon at once took his protege, 
 and which was furnished with the utmost 
 simplicity. 
 
 There, in a wooden armchair, puffing out 
 clouds of smoke, sat a stout, burly, red- 
 faced man, with a thick bull-neck, small 
 brown eyes, and reddish hair cut close to 
 his head. He nodded carelessly as the 
 two men came in, but cast a sharp look at 
 George, and asked at once,
 
 200 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 ' That the young man you were speaking 
 about yesterday, Vernon ? ' 
 
 Mr. Vernon introduced George, who felt 
 very nervous. 
 
 ' Sit down. Have a weed ? ' and he 
 pushed over a box of very choice cigars 
 lying open on the table. 
 
 He and Vernon then proceeded to discuss 
 the theatrical world in general, while 
 George sat by, listening with all his ears, 
 and feeling that, although he had not said a 
 word, he was being gauged through and 
 through by the sharp little brown eyes 
 which twinkled so persistently at him, 
 until they almost seemed able to pierce into 
 his very soul. 
 
 James Fellowes had begun life, as he had 
 not the slightest objection to tell any one, 
 something after the same fashion as Mr. 
 Jarvis — that is to say, as odd boy in a
 
 THE MANAGER 201 
 
 merchant's office. His father, a poor and 
 unsuccessful small shopkeeper with ten 
 children besides James, never gave him 
 anything beyond a bad example from the 
 time he was thirteen, and he used, every 
 Saturday, religously to bring his little earn- 
 ings to his mother, his heart full of rage at 
 not being able to help her more substan- 
 tially. One day he came home earlier than 
 usual, and found the brokers in the house, 
 and his mother sitting crying in her room, 
 with a piteous little pile of things spread 
 out on the bed before her — old-fashioned 
 ornaments which he remembered from a 
 child, a yellowed embroidered baby's frock, 
 musty and rotten with age, the family 
 Bible which she had subscribed for in the 
 first year of her marriage, in which were 
 entered the names of all the children, and 
 between whose gilt-edged pages were
 
 202 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 pressed various leaves and flowers, dating 
 from long ago, when she was still young, 
 and believed in possible happiness. He 
 took in the pitiful picture at a glance, 
 shut the door upon it, and went away 
 without a word. In the shop down- 
 stairs his father was huddled up on the 
 stool before the desk, his gray head bent 
 upon his hands, the image of apathetic 
 despair. James asked and learned the 
 amount of the debt. It was for the rent — 
 two quarters. He ran at full speed back to 
 his employer s office, and although Mr. 
 Patterson was know^n to be a hard man, 
 something in the boy's wild earnestness 
 touched him, and he advanced the money. 
 That evenins: the house was their own 
 again ; the mother, her relics safe once 
 more, sat with the traces of recent tears 
 still visible upon her faded cheeks, looking
 
 THE MANAGER 203 
 
 proudly at her helpful son ; the father was 
 already talking in his usual feeble way 
 about the profits certain to be made * next 
 year' — but the iron had entered deep into 
 James's soul, and that day he put away 
 childish things for ever. He would drag 
 his mother out of the mire yet, he vowed 
 to himself, and with this end in view he 
 toiled early and late, the first to arrive, the 
 last to leave, always the one to volunteer 
 any extra service, thinking no drudgery too 
 hard, no detail too trivial. All day long he 
 ran errands, stuck stamps on letters, did 
 the bidding of twenty masters, always 
 alert and cheerful, and ever on the watch 
 for some opportunity of improving his 
 position. With infinite labour he taught 
 himself commercial French, studying at 
 home far into the night, by the light of one 
 poor candle, driving verbs and numbers
 
 204 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 into his aching head with indomitable 
 perseverance. His reward was slow but 
 sure. Step by step he crept upwards, until 
 at twenty he was getting thirty shillings 
 a week, with the promise of a further rise. 
 One by one his brothers and sisters were 
 taken by death, until he was the only one 
 left at home ; but so absorbed was he, so 
 held by the desire of his life, that he 
 scarcely noticed how quiet the old house 
 had become, nor how the table which 
 formerly had to be so long to hold them 
 all had gradually shrunk and shrunk until it 
 occupied but a fourth of its old space. Still, 
 week by week, he brought his salary home 
 to his mother, and it w^as one Saturday, as 
 he handed over the meagre coins to her, 
 that he suddenly became aware that she 
 was getting old. Her hair was scanty and 
 gray, her dress hung upon her thin frame,
 
 THE MANAGER 205 
 
 and when she got up to put the money 
 away, he saw that she was feeble and bent. 
 A new terror seized upon him. What if 
 she should die before he had brought her 
 comfort ? He had worked with all his 
 might, and had only been just able to pre- 
 vent a repetition of that one never-to-be- 
 forgotten scene. At the same rate of 
 progress his mother would be in her grave 
 before he could relieve her once for all of 
 daily care and anxiety. That night his 
 books were laid aside, while, in the 
 poverty-stricken room he had occupied from 
 childhood, and which he thought quite 
 good enough for himself, he walked up and 
 down, backwards and forwards, his brain on 
 fire, a fresh resolve fast shaping itself in 
 his mind. 
 
 On Monday he asked his mother to lend 
 him the sovereign he had given her on
 
 2o6 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 Saturday. He took it, and that evening, 
 instead of going home, he went to a gam- 
 bling place he knew of, deliberately staked 
 his money four times, and won each time. 
 He was not elated, he had known almost 
 with religious certainty that he would win. 
 He paid his mother back the sovereign and 
 kept the rest, a small beginning indeed, but 
 which, backed by a will like his, meant 
 the fortune it became. In another ten 
 years James Fellowes was a well-known 
 name on the Stock Exchange ; two or three 
 times he had made a successful coup which 
 had brought him thousands of pounds, and 
 rarely was he tempted into an unsafe 
 speculation. 
 
 Kelieved from the fear which had 
 haunted him, James first established his 
 mother — his father was dead long since — 
 in all comfort and luxury, and then began
 
 THE MANAGER 207 
 
 to look about him. He had long ago left his 
 employer's office and set lip for himself, but 
 although he had done what would surely 
 have satisfied any other man, he was not 
 sure that he could not do better. He had 
 always secretly entertained an immense 
 admiration, amounting almost to en- 
 thusiasm, for the drama. For many years 
 he had stifled his longing, unwilling to 
 retard his object by even so little as the 
 price of admission to the gallery, but when 
 at length he could gratify it, how intense, 
 how almost painful was his joy ! From 
 that time he saw every piece that was pro- 
 duced, and presently the idea took root in 
 him that he would some day have a 
 theatre of his own. He clung to the pro- 
 ject with his accustomed tenacity, and 
 speculated meanwhile more hardily than 
 ever. Soon the walls of the Thespis began
 
 2o8 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 slowly to rise from the ground, and the 
 world was informed that James Fellowes 
 was going to turn theatrical manager. 
 This news was the signal for an almost 
 universal prediction of his downfall. He 
 had a bee in his bonnet, a crank in his 
 brain, people said. He knew nothing 
 about theatrical affairs, and would soon 
 come to grief. Others coupled his name 
 with that of a leading actress, celebrated for 
 her beauty and extravagance, and stated on 
 good authority that the Thespis was being 
 built for her. His anxious friends tried to 
 dissuade him from what every one called so 
 rash an undertaking, but James Fellowes 
 only smiled and went his own way. The 
 Thespis was finished, gorgeously fitted up, 
 its owner and manager opened with a new 
 piece from the German — and — Fortune 
 again showered her golden gifts upon him.
 
 THE MANAGER 209 
 
 This was the man Vernon had brought 
 his protege to see. George knew nothing of 
 his history, except that he was one of the 
 most successful managers in London. He 
 was surprised at his evident want of edu- 
 cation, which was apparent in various slips 
 in grammar and pronunciation, for James 
 Fellowes had never in his busy life had 
 time to study his own language. Once or 
 twice, however, he caught himself up and 
 corrected himself with an impatient frown, 
 which showed that he was not unconscious 
 of his own shortcomings. 
 
 ' So you want to go on the stage, young 
 man ? ' he asked at length, so abruptly that 
 George started. 
 
 ' I do, sir. ' 
 
 ' Well, Mr. Vernon's recommendation 
 
 carries its own weight with it, and he seems 
 
 to think there's something in you. I 
 VOL. I 14
 
 2IO BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 haven't got anything for the moment I can 
 give you, but we shall be putting a new 
 piece into rehearsal in a fortnight's time, 
 and then we'll see. Meantime, I'll give 
 you a pass, and you can hang round a bit, 
 and get to know your way about. Do you 
 mean work ? ' he added sharply. 
 
 * Yes, sir,' answered George bravely, 
 returning look for look. 
 
 ' Then you're sure to get on all 
 right. Here, take this, and T shall not 
 forget you.' 
 
 He threw his card across to George, after 
 scribbling a word on it, and the interview 
 was over. 
 
 ' Come to my rooms,' said Vernon, when 
 they got into the street ; ' I can give you an 
 hour. You may be quite sure now that 
 Fellowes won't forget you ; he's not that sort 
 of man.'
 
 THE MANAGER 211 
 
 ' I'm awfully indebted to you,' said 
 George. 
 
 ' Nonsense. Your future lies in your 
 own hands — no one can give you much 
 help now.'
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 EXCURSIONS 
 
 George availed himself of Mr. Fellowes's 
 card of admission that very evening, and 
 for every evening during the next fortnight. 
 He was not certain whether it would gain 
 him admittance behind the scenes or not, 
 and not caring to expose himself to a rebuff, 
 contented himself with the front of the 
 house. The piece had been running a long 
 time, and was one of the many successful 
 plays produced at the Thespis since its 
 erection. James Fellowes had, in his own
 
 EXCURSIONS 213 
 
 rough way, a really lofty idea of the drama, 
 and a firm belief in its mission. He was 
 man of the world enough, however, to keep 
 this to himself, and no one connected with 
 him thought he cared about anything of the 
 sort. He had no intention of making 
 himself a martyr to his convictions, or of 
 letting his enthusiasm carry him and his 
 theatre to destruction. So, while keeping 
 a sharp look-out, and giving himself the 
 trouble to read at least part of every MS. 
 brought to him, he contented himself with 
 producing those pieces which combined the 
 elements of success with a fair amount of 
 literary and ethical value. He declined to 
 go in for Shakespearean revivals ; his mind 
 was essentially modern, and he had lived 
 at too intense and rapid a rate to be able 
 to satisfy himself with old-world repre- 
 sentations of ever new and recurring per-
 
 214 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 sonalities. He leaned more towards the 
 modern German drama, which, if not so 
 sprightly, seemed to him at least more 
 moral than the French, with its eternal 
 illustration of breaches of the seventh 
 commandment, and he had produced one 
 or two adaptations from the former which 
 had enjoyed a long run ; but good pieces, in 
 any language, are hard to find, and Mr. 
 Fellowes was difficult to please. He had for 
 years thought that if only he could discover 
 some man of real literary merit, some un- 
 comprehended and impecunious genius, he 
 would take him up and ' work him,' as he 
 expressed it, to their mutual advantage. 
 He had been looking for a long time now, 
 but had not yet found his vara avis. 
 Misunderstood men, men who had failed to 
 get a hearing or a reading, were plentiful, 
 impecunious men were more abundant still.
 
 EXCURSIONS 215 
 
 it was only the genius that was scarce. 
 James Fellowes, however, was not easily 
 discouraged. He was good at waiting, and 
 experience had taught him that, as a rule, 
 all comes to him who knows how to wait. 
 And meanwhile he produced the best he 
 could get — sorry enough rubbish at times, 
 as no one knew better than he, although he 
 would not have acknowledged it to any- 
 body. He was noted in the theatrical 
 world for his just and fair dealings. If he 
 expected his people to work hard and 
 seriously, he was liberal in his salaries, 
 never grudged a word of praise in the right 
 place, and was always ready to pay a good 
 price for a good thing. 
 
 Some of this George gathered from 
 Vernon, who seemed to know Fellowes 
 very well, although for some reason or 
 other he did not care to talk about him.
 
 2i6 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 and it was only by dint of persistent 
 questioning that George could extract any 
 information at all on the subject of the man 
 who, he hoped, w^as soon to be his employer. 
 George went regularly to Vernon for lessons, 
 and the latter was astonished at the aptitude 
 of his pupil, and at the success of his dogged 
 resolve to be rid of his North - country 
 accent. Demosthenes himself never w^orked 
 harder than George to improve his speech, 
 and day by day the uncouth burr softened 
 down into tones more befitting the critical 
 ear of a London audience. 
 
 Nor did he waste his time in other 
 respects. He knew what an immense 
 amount of general culture was lacking to 
 him ; he understood that beside a man like 
 Vernon, who did not pretend to any parti- 
 cular degree of intellectual prowess, but 
 who had had a public school and university
 
 EXCURSIONS 217 
 
 education, he, with his desultory scraps of 
 information picked up here and there at 
 hap-hazard, was like a pigmy beside a giant. 
 He knew that he had everything to learn — 
 the science of civilised life as well as the 
 science of books. He felt within himself 
 a boundless capacity for study, a raging 
 thirst for the knowledge which should make 
 him able to stand on an equal footing with 
 the men of the world he meant to live in. 
 It was too late for him to obtain that 
 classical training which somehow seems to 
 be the foundation-stone of all culture ; but 
 although he could never become either a 
 Greek or Latin scholar, translations were 
 within his reach and time was at his 
 command. Through Vernon he got a 
 reader's ticket for the British Museum, 
 and there, day after day, he spent many 
 hours, flitting, like the most industrious of
 
 2i8 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 bees, from book to book, skimming, noting, 
 imbibing, never coming away the same as 
 on entering, but every time casting a shred 
 more of the slough of George Collins, of the 
 Bell and Boot, and putting on another scale 
 of that successful, brilliant creature who 
 was to be known to London as George 
 L'Estrange, actor, poet, and dramatic author. 
 And all the time he kept his object before 
 him ; the books whose magic tongues were 
 whispering all around him never cast their 
 glamour upon him ; he loved them not for 
 themselves, not because in them lay oblivion 
 of mundane cares and vanities, not because 
 he who knows, has drunk of the Magic 
 Water of Life, and need fear neither Life 
 nor Death ; he never felt that a man who 
 loves books has need neither of wealth, nor 
 mistress, nor child — they were to him only 
 the kev with which he would be able to
 
 EXCURSIONS 219 
 
 unlock the doors of prosperity and fame, 
 the armour which it was necessary to have 
 before engaging in the contest with foes 
 armed cap-a-pie. It was already much that 
 he, the son of the untaught, illiterate, and 
 common - minded old Collins, should so 
 thoroughly understand the necessity of 
 education, should know so exactly which 
 things it was wise to acquaint himself with, 
 and which it was no use wasting his time 
 over. He never became profound — an 
 expert, a specialist could always soon get 
 to the bottom of his knowledge on any 
 subject; but then that only made the experts 
 and specialists like him all the better, and 
 George soon learned that one of the secrets 
 of savoir vivre is not always to know as 
 much as the person you are talking to. 
 There is a discreet way of hinting that 
 although one knows a great deal, the other
 
 220 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 person knows still more, and this George 
 often found very useful in getting out of any 
 little difficulty that ignorance had betrayed 
 him into. Besides this, he early became an 
 adept in that art which consists in taking 
 a person's speech out of his mouth, and 
 repeating it to him in such a manner that 
 he shall be persuaded that you have arrived 
 at the same conclusions as himself with 
 reference to his pet subject by an independ- 
 ent course of study. George would talk 
 uj)on Art, and artists would look at him 
 with interest, nod their heads sagely, and 
 invite him to their studios ; upon Music, 
 and musicians would straightw^ay sit down, 
 and play to him all their own composi- 
 tions ; upon the Drama, Shakespeare and 
 the Elizabethan dramatists, and mana- 
 gers, actors, and playwrights would say : 
 ' That fellow has something in him.' And
 
 EXCURSIONS 221 
 
 SO he had, as he himself very well 
 knew. 
 
 It was six weeks before he heard anything 
 from the Thespis, but the time did not seem 
 long to him. Besides his studies with 
 Vernon and at the British Museum, there 
 was what may be called his home life ; for 
 Mrs. Mellon and Lucy seemed quite to have 
 adopted him, and treated him more as a 
 son and a brother than as their natural 
 prey, a lodger. And yet Lucy did laot 
 really look upon him as a brother, although 
 she called him George and mended his 
 linen for him, nor did George quite think 
 that she did. She could laugh at Mr. 
 Jarvis's awkwardly tender ways, but the 
 first time that Georo;e called her ' dear ' 
 she blushed crimson, and did not raise her 
 eyes or speak for at least an hour afterwards. 
 She took a long time every night curling
 
 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 her fair hair, and bought a pot of cold cream 
 to rub on her hands when she went to bed, 
 significant personal attentions which would 
 never have occurred to her if Mr. Jarvis had 
 lived beside her until he was as old as 
 Methuselah. She wondered whether George 
 noticed how much softer-looking her hands 
 had become. She remembered with what 
 enthusiasm he had spoken of a well-known 
 actress's beautiful hands. She thought 
 George the perfection of a young man — 
 so handsome, so clever, determined, and 
 strong. He was just like a hero out of the 
 penny novelettes, with his poems and his 
 songs, and his soft way of looking into one's 
 eyes. 
 
 Mr. Jarvis, after watching the progress of 
 things until his heart was nearly broken, 
 took to spendiug his evenings out. He 
 had noticed the extra row of curls on Lucy's
 
 EXCURSIONS 223 
 
 head, he had observed the care she had 
 suddenly begun to take of her hands — 
 those rather large, plump hands he had 
 watched so often, with the left forefinger 
 pricked and scarred by the needle, and the 
 dimple at each wrist. These things boded 
 ill for him, he knew, and he rushed into a 
 wild course of dissipation, accompanying 
 his landlord often to the Star, where he 
 sat and smoked bad cigars and drank 
 worse liquor until his trouble faded sonie«- 
 what, and in the nausea occasioned by these 
 wild revelries he temporarily forgot the 
 cruelty of his adored one. 
 
 For George it was very pleasant to come 
 back each evening to so warm a welcome. 
 He had all the advantages of home — a snug 
 supper in a bright cosy room, the best seat 
 by the fire, his slippers put ready for him, 
 his tastes consulted, and a pretty, kindly
 
 224 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 young woman always waiting to greet him, 
 and to hear all he had been doing during 
 the day. Lucy was a capital little friend 
 to have, and he called himself a lucky fellow 
 to have made her acquaintance. Into her 
 admiring ears he poured his newly acquired 
 stores of learning, flattered by her naive 
 adulation, and relishino^ her unstinted and 
 exaggerated praise. 
 
 George had arrived in London in January, 
 when the evenings were still chilly, but 
 with the first days of April came warmth 
 and sunshine, and Lucy and he began the 
 first of many Sunday expeditions. They 
 went to Hampton Court, where George 
 examined the pictures, and Lucy ran away 
 from him in the maze ; they explored Bushey 
 Park, and fed the deer with biscuits ; they 
 went up and down the river on steamboats, 
 with a feeble band and a crowd of pale
 
 EXCURSIONS 225 
 
 fellow -passengers ; they walked to Hyde 
 Park to look at the ' swells,' as Lucy called 
 them ; they got to know every corner of 
 Eegent's Park ; they visited the Welsh Harp 
 at Hendon and Jack Straw's Castle at 
 Hampstead Heath, as well as various other 
 hostelries of renown, many of which Lucy 
 had been to before with the now de- 
 spised Mr. Jarvis. George enjoyed himself 
 thoroughly on these occasions. Lucy was 
 so good and amiable a companion, took so 
 unaffected an interest in all that concerned 
 him, was so evidently proud of him, and 
 always looked so pretty and smart, that 
 he grew fonder of her every time he went 
 out with her. She was vastly superior, in 
 every way, to the uncouth Lancashire lasses 
 whom he had known, who had always grated 
 upon those curiously sensitive nerves of his, 
 
 so alive to everything that had to do with 
 VOL. I 15
 
 226 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 himself, and so careless of other people's 
 feelinsfs. 
 
 ' How clever you are ! ' Lucy would sigh, 
 with a worshipping look in her pale blue 
 eyes ; and he, while replying with some 
 joking word, would inwardly reflect upon 
 this little milliner's wonderful powers of 
 discernment. 
 
 Lucy was a good girl. Her life since 
 her mother's accident had not been a very 
 pleasant one. Before then her father had 
 kept within bounds, and if not a model 
 husband, had always been polite to his wife 
 as to the chief breadwinner of the family ; 
 but since Mrs. Mellon had unfortunately 
 ceased to earn money, he had not taken the 
 trouble to keep up appearances, but had 
 become more brutal and more besotted from 
 year to year, until he had wholly estranged 
 the affections of both wife and daughter.
 
 EXCURSIONS 227 
 
 Lucy did not care in the very least for her 
 father nowadays ; she often caught herself 
 thinking, with a callousness that shocked 
 her, what a great mercy it would be if he 
 were to die in one of his drunken fits, or 
 really go off to Australia, as he had continu- 
 ally threatened to do for the last ten years. 
 She did care for her mother, very much 
 more, she thought, than her mother cared 
 for her, and resented her father's ill-treat- 
 ment of her most bitterly. She was "a 
 shrewd capable woman of business, never 
 sparing herself, and, if somewhat hardened 
 by a commonplace and rather melancholy 
 life, as honest and true as gold. She found 
 in George all the qualities desirable in a 
 lover, and straightway gave him her whole 
 heart unreservedly and unaffectedly, as 
 only an honest girl can and will. Their 
 little expeditions had to be conducted in
 
 228 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 the most modest and economical manner 
 possible, for George's funds were far from 
 inexhaustible, as he frankly admitted. 
 Lucy would only consent to let him pay 
 her fares on condition that she should 
 furnish the provisions which they generally 
 took with them, only getting their liquids 
 at the inns ; and as travelling is cheap, 
 George had very much the best of the 
 bargain. 
 
 In the week-day evenings he talked to 
 her, read poetry — his own and other 
 people's — or sat writing while she worked 
 beside him. Lucy's life was very full of 
 George in those days ; she neglected her 
 girl-friends, hardly took any notice at all of 
 the faithful Jarvis, and became so patient 
 towards her father as to astonish Mrs. 
 Mellon, who had been wont to find in her 
 an all-attentive and sympathetic listener to
 
 EXCURSIONS 229 
 
 the recital of her connubial woes. George 
 thought he was educating Lucy, and would 
 have been surprised if he had known how 
 very little of what she called his book- 
 learning entered into her understanding. 
 He might discourse to her of all the wisdom 
 stored up for ages past, and she might 
 seem to listen, but all she heard was an old 
 old story to which maidens have always 
 lent a ready ear, and all she learned was 
 that George was very good and very clever, 
 and that she loved him very, very much.
 
 CHAPTEE XIII 
 
 A FIRST STEP 
 
 ' How you do harp on that one string, 
 George L'Estrange, George L'Estrange ! ' 
 said Mrs. Fellowes crossly. ' The man seems 
 to have bewitched you, and I daresay he's 
 nothing very particular after all ! ' 
 
 ' I'm sorry if I've bored you,' answered 
 Vernon stiffly. 
 
 ' Oh dear ! How humble we are ! Bored 
 me ! Of course you've bored me. Isn't 
 one's mission in life to be bored ? ' 
 
 Vernon gave no answer, but stood look-
 
 A FIRST STEP 231 
 
 ing straight in front of him, while Mrs. 
 Fellowes, from the depths of a very 
 easy chair, lazily regarded him with a 
 curious expression in her strange gray- 
 green eyes. 
 
 ' It's so unlike you to get enthusiastic, 
 too. I'm not sure that it isn't rather bad 
 form ! ' 
 
 Vernon shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ' Ah, now I Ve nettled you ! People in 
 our well-conducted days would rather die 
 than be bad form, wouldn't they ? ' 
 
 ' There are plenty who are,' said Vernon. 
 
 ' Yes. I suppose you mean my poor 
 James.' 
 
 Vernon gave an indignant denial. 
 
 ' Oh, but I'm sure you were thinking of 
 him — I'm sure you were. Still, I don't 
 know that he is bad form. I should rather 
 say that he is or has no form at all. And
 
 232 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 that's original, you know ; and originality 
 is, I believe, even more precious than 
 form.' 
 
 Silence ensued, during which Vernon 
 fidgeted impatiently. 
 
 ' Are you in a hurry, Dick ? Or in pain ? ' 
 asked Mrs. Fellowes sweetly. 
 
 ' No — why should I be ? ' 
 
 ' Because you don't seem able to keep 
 still a moment. Come, do sit down, and 
 let us talk amicably, instead of sparring the 
 whole time.' 
 
 Vernon cast himself into a chair. 
 
 ' I didn't begin,' he said. 
 
 ' No, of course not,' said Mrs. Fellowes 
 soothingly ; * I did — I always do, it is my 
 nature to. But now be nice again, and tell 
 me some more about your protege — 
 L'Estrange. First of all, is his name really 
 L'Estrange ? '
 
 A FIRST STEP 233 
 
 * I don't know. I never asked tiim,' said 
 Vernon, still on the defensive. 
 
 ' Oh well, I shall when you bring him to 
 see me. I don't believe it is — Jones or 
 Smith, more likely. And he was quite 
 wild when you took him in hand, wasn't 
 her 
 
 ' I never said so.' 
 
 ' Didn't you ? Dear me, I thought you 
 had — in fact, I'm sure you did. Quite 
 wild — those were your very words. Ah 
 now, don't be so violent. Look, you've 
 actually upset my flowers. What a temper 
 you have got ! ' 
 
 ' Quarrelling as usual, you two ? ' said 
 James Fellowes, coming in with some 
 papers in his hand. 
 
 ' No, not quarrelling,' answered his wife 
 serenely ; ' it takes two to quarrel, and I 
 never allow Dick to rufile my temper. It
 
 234 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 is lie who always takes amiss anything that 
 I may say/ 
 
 ' Oh, come now, Mrs. Fellowes,' began 
 Vernon, but Fellowes interrupted him 
 genially, 
 
 ' Let her alone, Dick, let her have her 
 own way. Women are kittle cattle, as we 
 all know.' 
 
 * What does kittle mean ? ' asked Mrs. 
 Fellowes innocently. Fellowes burst into 
 one of his big boisterous laughs, making the 
 china on the little tables rattle, and his wife 
 put up her hands to her ears. 
 
 * I don't know — but I do know what it's 
 meant to mean — and so do you, eh Dick ? ' 
 
 ' We were talking about Dick's wonderful 
 genius Mr. L'Estrange,' said Mrs. Fellowes 
 gently, when the noise had subsided. . 
 
 ' Ah yes. L'Estrange ! By the way, I've 
 kept a part for him in the new piece, Dick.'
 
 A FIRST STEP 235 
 
 ' No, have you, that's awfully good of 
 you,' said Vernon. 
 
 ' What is it, Jim ? Juvenile lead, of 
 course ? ' asked his wife. 
 
 ' Juvenile lead, indeed ! Why, the fellow 
 don't know how to come into a room ! 
 Besides, he's got an accent fit to knock you 
 down.' 
 
 ^ Eccentricities of genius,' suggested Mrs. 
 Fellowes. 
 
 * I never said L' Estrange was a genius;' 
 said Vernon. 
 
 ^ Oh, Dick ! As if you had said anything 
 else for the last three weeks ! But what is 
 his part, Jim ? ' 
 
 ' Has to bring in a letter.' 
 
 * As what ? ' asked Mrs. Fellowes, ' foot- 
 man, groom, lady's maid ? ' 
 
 ' Butler,' said Fellowes. 
 Oh come, that's not so bad. Menial of
 
 236 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 course — but still an upper servant. What 
 do you think of that, Dick ? ' 
 
 ' That he ought to think himself con- 
 foundedly lucky to get it/ 
 
 ' And now you want to bring him here, 
 don't you ? It's very unselfish of you, really. ' 
 
 ' Why ? ' asked Vernon. 
 
 ' Why ? Because he might fall in love 
 with me, and then there would be your 
 place taken, you know.' 
 
 She laughed softly, as she noted his 
 half-cross, half- amused expression. 
 
 Fellowes gave another bellow. 
 
 ' Well, upon my word, you're cool enough, 
 Nellie ! ' he said. ' You're always saying 
 things, in that quiet way of yours, that no 
 other woman in London would dare to say, 
 ain't she, Dick ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, she is,' answered Vernon irritably, 
 and Mrs. Fellowes's eyes, full of mischievous
 
 A FIRST STEP 237 
 
 delight, met his as he spoke. They softened 
 to wistfulness a moment later, but that he 
 did not observe. 
 
 ^ Then I may bring him in some day ? ' 
 he said. 
 
 ^ Certainly, whenever you like,' she 
 answered indifferently, and they spoke no 
 more of George. 
 
 A few days later Yernon presented himself 
 with his cub, as his own friends had begun 
 to call the young man in whom he was 
 taking so unwonted an interest. 
 
 If George had felt emotion on first 
 entering Vernon's rooms, he was ten times 
 more moved now. His only experiences of 
 womanhood had been confined to his own 
 class, Lucy Mellon even had been rather a 
 revelation to him. In his secret soul he 
 was a little uncertain how to address a lady, 
 not quite sure whether it was not correct
 
 238 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 to say Madam or Mrs. He would not have 
 asked Vernon for the world, but resolved to 
 notice how he spoke to Mrs. Fellowes, and 
 to follow suit. 
 
 The drawing-room in Cavendish Square 
 was furnished and decorated in the very- 
 latest fashion. A little too new some people 
 would have thought it, but to George it 
 seemed lovely beyond description, and a 
 fit setting for the beautiful woman who in- 
 habited it. Mrs. Fellowes was inordinately 
 fond of perfumes, and the air was not only 
 charged with the fragrance of mignon- 
 ette and lily of the valley, but was also 
 redolent of some strange foreign scent which 
 made the atmosphere heavy and sleepy. 
 
 George thought Mrs. Fellowes supremely 
 beautiful. She was rather taller than most 
 women, and although her limbs were 
 sufficiently rounded, she gave the impres-
 
 A FIRST STEP ' 239 
 
 sion of being much slighter and thinner 
 than she really was. Her face was almost 
 too thin, and very pale, with a clear white 
 skin hardly touched to rose colour on the 
 cheeks ; her nose was delicately cut, her 
 brow broad, her mouth at once proud and 
 sad, her hair gold with a warm tinge as of 
 over-ripe corn, and her eyes nearly green. 
 A striking-looking woman — one accustomed 
 to admiration, and expecting it as her right. 
 A strange woman, whom no one under- 
 stood, who had no friends among her many 
 acquaintances, who lived after her own 
 guise, with an either real or affected 
 indifference to the opinions of the world, 
 well versed in all the scandal of fashionable 
 Bohemia, going out a great deal and 
 entertaining magnificently, but never seem- 
 ing to care for anything particularly, using 
 her clever tongue amusingly and unsparingly
 
 240 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 enough, passionately loved by her husband, 
 and almost as warmly disliked by her 
 detractors. 
 
 Helen Fellowes was the only daughter of 
 an army man who, after retiring on half- 
 pay, had dragged himself and his child 
 about the Continent in search of pigeons 
 to pluck for himself and a wealthy husband 
 for her. We all know the kind of man — 
 well-bred, well-preserved, carrying beneath 
 a suave appearance a degree of heartless- 
 ness and unscrupulousness which forms the 
 despair of those whose lives are unfortu- 
 nately linked with his. Helen was as 
 unhappy as it was well possible for a girl 
 to be ; her shrewd eyes saw through her 
 father's manoeuvres only too well, she felt 
 her degradation every hour of her life, — that 
 awful degradation which works havoc in a 
 woman's mind, makes all things lose their
 
 A FIRST STEP 241 
 
 proper proportions, and predisposes her to 
 a cynical contempt for everything and 
 everybody, herself being placed first in the 
 list. As she was utterly fearless, she 
 braved her father at every point, declined 
 to be sold at his price, and took a malicious 
 pleasure in defeating his wily schemes and 
 projects. La helle Helene she was called 
 among the roues, broken-down gentlemen, 
 and fast young men who formed the society 
 to which her father introduced her, and' 
 who admired her immensely and feared her 
 not a little. She had a terribly discon- 
 certing way of taking them down, uttering 
 unpalatable home truths, casting aside the 
 thin veil of decent reserve which her father 
 persisted in spreading over designs too plain 
 to be misunderstood, and almost seemed to 
 find a pleasure in flaunting her poverty, 
 her bitter knowledoe of the world, her full 
 
 VOL. I 16
 
 242 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 comprehension of things which a gentle- 
 woman is supposed to ignore until the day 
 of her death. 
 
 Eichard Vernon, during a visit to the 
 Continent, had made their acquaintance, 
 and for the sake of her beaux yeux had 
 allowed her father to plunder him of more 
 than he could well afford. Vernon was no 
 mere silly boy, eager to prove his manly 
 independence by making as great a fool of 
 himself as possible, and Helen soon found 
 that he stood in no need of the friendly 
 warnings which, when the mood took her, 
 she was in the habit of giving to her father's 
 dupes. She saw that he understood her 
 father perfectly, and that if he allowed 
 himself to lose his money, it was because 
 he chose — for love of her. That she knew 
 was the only reason which could make him 
 come to their lodgings. The beauty which
 
 A FIRST STEP 243 
 
 had already served her father so well was 
 doing its work once more. In vain she 
 tried to keep out of the way, it was no use 
 shutting herself up in her own room ; 
 Vernon was patient and her father remorse- 
 less. The more repellent she showed her- 
 self, the more palpably in love did Vernon 
 become, and the more regularly did he 
 haunt the house. He asked her to marry 
 him, and she refused — why, she could 
 hardly have told, except that she felt more 
 fit to die than to marry any one. His 
 engagements forced him to return to 
 England, and he heard no more of her, 
 until one day she wrote to him from 
 lodgings in London, telling him that her 
 father was dead, and asking him to help 
 her to go on the stage. He went to see 
 her, and found her unchanged both in her 
 beauty and in her resolve not to become
 
 244 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 his wife. He introduced her to Mr. Fel- 
 lowes, who fell violently in love with her 
 at first sight, and shortly afterwards pro- 
 posed to her and was accepted. 
 
 Did she love James Fellowes ? That was 
 a question which Vernon had often asked 
 himself, but to which he had never been 
 able to return an answer. She made her 
 husband the happiest of men — if she was 
 somewhat whimsical and capricious, that 
 was in her nature, and was no proof either 
 of coldness or the reverse. She attracted a 
 great deal of attention in the semi-Bohemian 
 world in which they lived, and more than 
 once men, misled by her easy unconven- 
 tional ways, had ventured too far, only to 
 be put in their right place with a calm, 
 haughty indifference, which caused their 
 cheeks to tingle for many a day afterwards, 
 and very quickly turned their admiration
 
 A FIRST STEP 245 
 
 to something else ; but she had held her 
 own ever since Vernon had first known her, 
 and her coldness was proof rather of fidelity 
 to herself than to her husband. Vernon 
 was the only exception she made. He was 
 allowed to do and say pretty much as he 
 liked, without fear of either extinction or 
 banishment. She treated him as a sister 
 treats a favourite brother, laughing at him, 
 teasing him, provoking him, but withal 
 very ready to be really sympathetic and 
 kind. Fellowes also was very fond of him, 
 and encouraged him to come to the house 
 as often as he chose. 
 
 James Fellowes was still passionately in 
 love with his wife, who to him was a 
 beautiful, mysterious enigma, the true 
 meaning of which he w^as as far from 
 finding out now that they had been married 
 two years as he had been the first time he
 
 246 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 saw her. He thought she was very good 
 to him, although in truth the balance lay 
 very much the other way. His old mother 
 never quite understood how such a bright, 
 accomplished, lovely creature could have 
 fallen in love with her good but plain and 
 sober James. To her her daughter-in-law 
 appeared a wonderful vision of beauty, like 
 the good fairy in the pantomimes of her 
 youth ; she was always exhorting her son 
 to be careful of his wife, and, unlike 
 the proverbial mother-in-law, extolling her 
 virtues to the skies. Thus Mrs. Fellowes's 
 path had been a pleasant one of late years, 
 and the fine lines that care had drawn about 
 her mouth and eyes were far fainter now 
 than when Vernon had first known her. 
 
 This was the woman opposite whom, 
 on the edge of a fine plush - cushioned 
 chair, now sat George L'Estrange, feeling
 
 A FIRST STEP 247 
 
 very much as if he had no business 
 there. 
 
 Mrs. Fellowes looked him up and down 
 with her lazy gray eyes ; she considered 
 herself an exceptionally good judge of physi- 
 ognomy. She noted George's showy tweed 
 suit, his pretentious ring, his ill-cut collar 
 and cuffs, and his awkward way of sitting, 
 and inwardly repeated, ' Smith or Jones, 
 never L'Estrange.' 
 
 ' And how do you like London ? ' she 
 asked. 
 
 ' I think it's the most splendid place in 
 the world ! ' answered George enthusiasti- 
 cally. 
 
 * No, do you really ? How very nice ! ' 
 said Mrs. Fellowes languidly. ' And 
 you've a part in the new play, have you 
 not?' 
 
 ' I have,' replied George earnestly. ' It's
 
 248 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 awfully good of Mr. Fellowes to have given 
 it me. I hope I shall do it credit.' 
 
 ' Oh, no doubt you will — you are sure 
 to do it to the life/ said Mrs. Fellowes. 
 ' What part is it ? ' 
 
 ' A butler's,' answered George, and in 
 his eagerness he pronounced the word 
 ' bootler. ' ' It isn't a long part, but it'll 
 give me plenty to think of. There's the 
 clothes, you see.' 
 
 ' The clothes ? ' rejDeated Mrs. Fellowes. 
 
 ' Ay — yes, I mean. It seems to me 
 that the first thing to be thought of when 
 you get a part is to identify yourself as 
 much as possible with it — you must dress 
 yourself into it, live yourself into it. I'm 
 going about now, trying to fancy I'm a 
 butler ; I noticed the way your own man- 
 servant opened the front door, and also 
 particularly the way he announced us.
 
 A FIRST STEP 249 
 
 All these little details are of importance 
 in my opinion.' 
 
 ' Of course they are/ said Mrs. Fellowes 
 gravely. 
 
 'Yes — of the greatest importance. For 
 instance, I remarked that your butler gave 
 a downward inflection to his voice when 
 he announced Mr. Vernon and myself. 
 Now that is a capital hint for me. I 
 might have done the very opposite when 
 I announced, "Mr. and Mrs. Honey d*ew, 
 my Lord ! '" 
 
 ' How observant you are ! ' said Mrs. 
 Fellowes. 
 
 ' Yes ! ' agreed George, brightening up, 
 and sitting quite at his ease in his smart 
 chair now ; ' so they always said. It's the 
 only way to learn.' 
 
 ' You come from the North, I think Mr. 
 Vernon told me ? ' asked his hostess.
 
 250 BV WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 ' Yes, from the hard, inhospitable North 
 — but I have a mixture of blood in my 
 veins. One of my ancestors was Spanish 
 — my great-grandmother, I believe.' 
 
 ' Indeed,' said Mrs. Fellowes ; and George, 
 feeling more and more emboldened, drew 
 his chair a little nearer, and went on, 
 lowering his voice confidentially, 
 
 ' Yes — and that's where, I fancy, I get 
 the impatience, the strange yearnings that 
 are in me — that made my childhood 
 wretched and shut me out from my 
 parents' heart.' 
 
 ' Are you not friends with your parents, 
 then ? ' 
 
 ' No — there is no sympathy between us. 
 All my life long I have been an alien, an 
 outcast. Do you know that this is the 
 first time I have ever spoken to a beautiful 
 lady like you '? '
 
 A FIRST STEP 251 
 
 ' Dear me ! ' said Mrs. Fellowes, feeling 
 a strong inclination to laugh. 
 
 ' Yes, the first time. And yet,' con- 
 tinued George, fixing his eyes dreamily on 
 her attentive face, ^how I have longed 
 for such companionship ! How I have 
 envied men whom I have seen — and all 
 the happy lovers of history, for whom 
 beautiful women lived and died! Ah, 
 Mrs. Fellowes, you in your luxurious home 
 little know of the suffering, the starvhig 
 of hearts that goes on around you.' 
 
 Helen Fellowes thought of the tawdry 
 lodgings, of the cheaply showy clothes, 
 of the eternal hunger and thirst of soul 
 that had been her lot for so many years, 
 and her lip curled as she listened. She 
 was ignorant of this man's past, but she 
 knew from experience, the remembrance of 
 which was sometimes almost too bitter to
 
 252 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 be borne, that whatever a man may miss, 
 however he may suffer, his longings, his 
 miseries always fall short of a woman's, 
 for he starts in life with the supreme 
 advantage of being a man. There were 
 memories in her mind which, like a red- 
 hot iron, had seared themselves in so deeply 
 as to be ineradicable — certain words, certain 
 looks, certain insults, every one of which 
 had left her different from what she was 
 before, which she would never cease to 
 recall in the most incongruous places and 
 at the most unlikely times, and the sting 
 of which was as fresh to-day as at the 
 moment they had been inflicted. 
 
 She remembered this as she looked at the 
 tall, strong figure before her, and listened 
 half-mockingly to his confidences. There 
 might be many more years of life before 
 her, much pleasure and happiness might
 
 A FIRST STEP 253 
 
 be in store for lier, but nothing life could 
 bring her could efface those twenty -three 
 years, and she often thought she would 
 gladly die at any time so as to lose their 
 cruel memory. 
 
 Never, however, had it occurred to her to 
 tell any one about these innermost feelings. 
 James Fellowes knew only the bare facts 
 01 her life and nothing more ; the old 
 acquaintances of her girlhood, Vernon in- 
 cluded, were no wiser. She had never 
 gushed at any time ; what she suffered she 
 suffered — and in silence. No wonder, then, 
 that a feeling of scorn arose in her mind 
 as George L'Estrange 'liberated his soul' 
 so freely, and that from the very first she 
 conceived a certain distrust of the facile 
 tongue whose glib narrative had so en- 
 tranced Lucy Mellon. 
 
 But not a sio;n of this was visible
 
 254 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 in her beautiful face as she bent a little 
 forward to catch George's lowered tones ; 
 and George, inexperienced enough to mis- 
 take her polite attention for real interest, 
 went on romancing in his own accom- 
 plished fashion, gathering courage as he 
 proceeded, and flattering himself that he 
 was making his debut into society with a 
 good deal of success. 
 
 Vernon, while talking to some other 
 people who were already in the room 
 when he and his protege came in, 
 watched Mrs. Fellowes and George with 
 some anxiety. He knew Helen too well to 
 be taken in by her serene expression, but 
 not well enough to guess what she was 
 really thinking. Vernon, during these last 
 weeks, had come to have a very high opinion 
 of George L'Estrange's abilities. He knew 
 himself to be lacking in a good many
 
 A FIRST STEP 255 
 
 points, and always regarded his own success 
 upon the stage more as a happy chance 
 than anything else — indeed, he half con- 
 temptuously attributed it in a great measure 
 to his personal advantages. Man of the 
 world though he was, he had retained a good 
 deal of the single-heartedness and gener- 
 osity of youth, together with a modest 
 opinion of himself remarkable in one so 
 flattered and admired. He considered 
 George exceedingly clever, and likely to go 
 far, and this, combined with the recollec- 
 tion that he was in a way his sponsor in 
 London life, gave him a sense of responsi- 
 bility and real solicitude that his protege 
 should distino^uish himself. 
 
 It was he who proposed presently that 
 George should recite something, and he 
 whispered to the others that this young 
 man was a self-taught genius, and was
 
 256 BY WOMAN'S FAVOUR 
 
 going to be a light in the London world 
 presently. 
 
 George gave one of his own poems, 
 touching in itself, and to which his voice, 
 somewhat hoarse and uncertain from ner- 
 vousness, gave double pathos. 
 
 One of the ladies wiped her eyes the 
 whole time, and Mrs. Fellowes signalled 
 her approbation across to Vernon, who felt 
 like a schoolmaster whose pet pupil has 
 passed his examination triumphantly. 
 
 George, who to the end of his career 
 never learned the great art of leaving off, 
 would have gone on reciting for the next 
 hour, but Vernon, wiser than he, at the 
 end of his second poem got up and carried 
 him off; Mrs. Fellowes took a gracious 
 farewell of him, and gave him an invitation 
 to a large At Home for the following week. 
 George walked downstairs as if he were
 
 A FIRST STEP 257 
 
 treading on air, wliich did not prevent his 
 taking another observation of the butler, 
 who informed the cook, on his return to 
 the nether regions, that 'that noo young 
 gent, Mr. L'Estrange, was evidently fresh 
 from the country, and was not accustomed 
 to bein' waited ujDon by one of his own 
 sect.' 
 
 END OF VOL. I 
 
 VOL. I 
 
 17
 
 G. C. &^ Co. 
 Printed by R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUNOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 045830046