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 The Old Order Changes 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 rniN'TEU BY 
 
 .SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., XEW -STREET SQUARE 
 
 LONDON
 
 The Old Order Changes 
 
 Jl 'glODCl 
 
 BY 
 
 W. H. MALLOCK 
 
 AUTHOR OF ' IS LIFE WOHTH LIVTN'G ? ' ' SOCIAL EQUAUTY ' ETC. 
 
 'Cette importuue ecouomie politique se glisse partout et se mele 
 a tout, et je crois vraiment que c'est elle qui a dit, nihil hvmani a 
 me alien um /'?//o '— Bastiat 
 
 IN THEEE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON 
 RICHAKD BKNTLEY tk SON, NEW BURLINGTON STREET 
 
 ^ublis^ers in ©rbinarj) to ^er P^ajcstg i^z Qnccn 
 1886 
 
 All rirjhts rescrvei
 
 ^^3 
 v. I 
 
 BOOK I, 
 
 TOL. I. 
 
 B
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 |R. CAREW, tell me. Do we ever 
 meet without getting on this ques- 
 tion ? We discussed it the night 
 before you left London. I only came across 
 you again yesterday afternoon ; and see, 
 already we are once more in the middle of 
 
 it; 
 
 ' It is the only question,' said Carew, 
 ^ that to me has any practical interest. If our 
 old landed aristocracy ever come to an end, 
 my England will have come to an end also ; 
 and I shaU buy a chateau in some Hungarian 
 forest. I should not be leaving my country ; 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 my country would have left me. You don't 
 understand me — perhaps I shall never make 
 you. In these social discussions what stands 
 in our way is this : there are so many things 
 which it is very vulgar to say, and which yet 
 at the same time it is vulgar not to feel. 
 However, Mrs. Harley, at a more convenient 
 season, vulgar or not vulgar, I shall come 
 back to my point .^' 
 
 ' Very well,' she answered, as she looked 
 at him with a smile of amusement. ' But 
 never — I tell you beforehand — you will never 
 make me a convert. I'm sure,' she went on 
 as the idea suddenly struck her, ' if a stranger 
 overheard us discussing vulgarity here, he 
 would think the subject of our conversation 
 a little out of keeping with the scene of it.' 
 
 This observation was certainly not un- 
 justified. They were standing by the side of 
 a lofty mountain road, with a bank of savage 
 rocks abruptly rising behind them, and a
 
 THE OLD ORUEE CHANGES O 
 
 weather-stained crucifix, almost lost in the 
 gathering shadows, was stretching its arms 
 over them with a cold forlorn solemnity. 
 
 The lady was a handsome woman in the 
 girlhood of middle age. The man was appa- 
 rently some few years younger ; if not hand- 
 some, he had a certain air of distinction ; and 
 his face was shadowed, if not lit up, by 
 thought. A few paces away from them two 
 other men were standing ; and the pair of dis- 
 putants, as they brought their discussion to a 
 close, by common consent moved forward and 
 joined their companions. One of these last, so 
 far as appearances went, was remarkable chiefly 
 for the extreme shabbiness of his dress, coupled 
 somewhat incongruously with a look of the 
 completest self-satisfaction. The other, on the 
 contrary, was the very picture of neatness, 
 from his well- trimmed beard to his hand with 
 its sapphire ring. It was at once evident that 
 he was the lady's husband.
 
 6 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 * Listen George/ she said, laying her 
 hand on his arm. ^ As the carriage is so long 
 in coming, I shall go back and sit in it till 
 the coachman sees fit to start ; and you, gen- 
 tlemen, I shall leave you here to look at the 
 view until I pick you up. No, don't stir, any 
 one of you ; I would rather go alone. If you 
 must know the truth, I am the least bit sleepy, 
 and shall do my best to close my eyes for a 
 minute.' And with a slight but decided wave 
 of the hand, she moved away from them with 
 a firm and elastic step, and was presently lost 
 to view behind an angle of the descending 
 road. 
 
 The three men who were thus left to them- 
 selves did as they had been told to do, and 
 inspected the view in silence. It was certainly 
 worth the trouble. On either side, and below 
 them, forests of pine and olive fell like a 
 silent cataract over the enormous slopes of the 
 mountains, and, rising again fi'om innumerable
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 7 
 
 dells and gorges, seemed to pour themselves 
 over pigmy promontories into the faint sea 
 below. Meanwhile the sky overhead was clear, 
 and was already pierced by one or two keen 
 stars, and leagues of a red sunset were lying 
 along the aerial sea-line. It was a scene which 
 at any time would have been striking enough 
 to the imagination, and it was doubly striking 
 now in this soft and deepening twilight. But 
 what mainly gave it its peculiar and romantic 
 character was one solitary object which ap- 
 peared to dominate everything, as it faced the 
 road from the opposite side of a hollow. This 
 was an isolated and precipitous rock which, 
 rising abruptly out of a sea of foliage, lifted 
 high into the air a dim cluster of buildings. 
 A stranger might have been tempted to ask 
 whether such a seemingly inaccessible eagle's 
 nest could be m reality a collection of human 
 structures at all, and whether what looked like 
 houses, towers, and ramparts were more than
 
 5 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 spikes of crag or scars on the bare cliff. The 
 questioner, however, had he cared to look 
 steadily, would have at once been answered 
 by some wreaths of ascending smoke ; and 
 still more conclusively by the sudden note 
 of the Angelus, which in a few moments 
 vibrated from a domed belfry. It was a sin- 
 gular cracked sound, but it was not unmusical ; 
 rather it was like music in ruins, and it filled 
 the mind with a vague sense of remoteness — 
 a remoteness both of time and place. 
 
 ' I expect,' said Carew, in a tone of dreamy 
 soliloquy, as if it had acted on him like a 
 kind of mental tuning-fork — ' I expect that a 
 stranger of any kind is a rare apparition here, 
 and, judging from the road, a carriage one 
 rarer still. Look at these loose stones. They 
 tell their own tale plainly enough. Little dis- 
 turbs them from year's end to year's end, but 
 the peasants' boots and the hoofs of the pea- 
 sants' mules. Listen : at this moment there
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 9 
 
 are mule-bells tinkling somewhere, and here 
 come some of the very peasants themselves.' 
 As he spoke a procession of sombre figures, in 
 clusters of twos and threes, slowly emerged 
 out of the twilight, and defiled past them 
 towards the foot of the old town. They 
 were men with slouch hats and shy glancing 
 eyes. Some of them bore on their backs bur- 
 dens of some kind ; others were driving by 
 their side a fantastic shaggy goat ; and pre- 
 sently those descending were met by another 
 procession — a small caravan of heavily-laden 
 mules with their conductors. Carew stared 
 at these visions as they gi^adually melted out 
 of sight ; and then with a smile, turning 
 round to his friends, ' Are they really men,' 
 he said, ^ or ghosts out of the middle ages ? ' 
 
 ^ Upon my word,' said Harley, ' one does 
 in a place like this very nearly forget in what 
 century one is living. Eailways and intelli- 
 gent voters seem little more than a dream.
 
 10 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 
 
 The old town on tlie hill, as Tve see it now 
 against the sky, is just like a single huge 
 castle, the stronghold of some robber baron. 
 There is only one thing wanting to make the 
 effect complete, and that is for the baron 
 himself to suddenly appear with his men, 
 seize on our friend Stonehouse here, and send 
 us two back for the ransom.' 
 
 The shabby man, who had hitherto re- 
 mained perfectly silent, being thus alluded to, 
 took a glance at his threadbare waistcoat, 
 and plucking out a button that was hanging 
 on by a thread, jerked it away with a smile of 
 amused indifference. ^I am afraid,' he said, 
 ^ that the robber baron would find a very poor 
 capture in me. I have, unless I happen to 
 have dropped it, exactly four francs and fifteen 
 centimes in my pocket, and Carew's scarf-pin 
 or our excellent Harley's watch-chain would 
 buy me up as I stand ten times over. My 
 dear fellows, I am the happy vacuus viator ;
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 11 
 
 and as I intend to walk part of the way back, 
 you will no doubt tbink it lucky for me that I 
 am. But, bless my soul/ he exclaimed, sud- 
 denly facing round with a small prim smile of 
 minute but condescending interest, ^ what the 
 deuce can be coming now ? I doubt if we 
 have this seclusion so completely to ourselves 
 as we thought we had/ 
 
 What had caught his attention, and that 
 of the two others also, was a sound of wheels 
 and horses, evidently approaching them — not 
 up the hill, as their own carriage would have 
 done, but down it ; and in another moment a 
 sight presented itself which, considering the 
 place and hour, might well cause some sur- 
 prise in them. This was a large open landau, 
 with a servant on the box by the coachman, 
 which was descending the road slowly with a 
 lumbering and uneasy caution, and the body 
 of which, to make matters the more strana'e, 
 was seen, as it passed, to be altogether empty.
 
 12 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 
 
 There were, however, a number of wraps and 
 cloaks dimly visible upon the cushions, and 
 amongst them, in particular, the glimmer of a 
 white shawl. The three men watched it go 
 by in silence, and then broke out together into 
 expressions of conjecture and astonishment. 
 
 Presently the shabby man, with a gesture 
 of grave facetiousness, exclaimed, ' Of course 
 — I know what it is exactly. It is the chariot 
 of some milor who is making the grand tour. 
 We shall very soon see another carriage 
 following it, with the baggage, the lady's- 
 maid, the valet, the courier, and the blunder- 
 buss. My dear Harley, you are perfectly 
 right. One could almost fancy one was one's 
 own great-grandfather.' 
 
 ' Carew,' said Harley, * devoutly wishes he 
 was. Look at him! His eyes have gone 
 back again to the old town and its battle- 
 ments; and he is meditating over those coats of 
 arms which he found above the castle gateway/
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 13 
 
 The shabby man turned to Carew with a 
 lazy stare of amusement, which, though per- 
 fectly good-natured, was only not imper- 
 tinent because it happened to be not fixed 
 on a stranger. * Are you a herald,' he 
 said, ^ amongst your other many accomplish- 
 ments ? How droll now ! How excessively 
 droll!' 
 
 ' I am a herald only,' said Carew, with 
 a slight dryness of manner, 'in matters of 
 family history. With the shields of which 
 Harley s^Dcaks I was interested for a peculiar 
 reason. We, in the seventeenth century, were 
 connected by a marriage with the Lascaris, 
 who were once seigneurs in this part of the 
 country; and I was pleased to find above one 
 of those mouldering arches two of the quarter- 
 ings which are above our own lodge gates 
 at Otterton to-day.' 
 
 * Indeed!' said Harley. 'Otterton is a 
 very interesting, fine old place, isn't it ? '
 
 14 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 * It is,' said Carew ; ^ only two-tliirds of 
 it are in ruins/ 
 
 ' This,' went on Harley, ^ about the coats 
 of arms, is really extremely interesting ' 
 
 The shabby man, however, did not appear 
 to think so, and ignoring the information as 
 though it were some unsuccessful joke, he 
 placidly interposed with an air of subdued 
 banter : 
 
 ' My dear Carew, now can you tell me 
 what a chevron is, or a pellet? I am really 
 immensely anxious to know something about 
 a pellet.' 
 
 ^ Carew,' said Harley, in his turn ignoring 
 the interruption, ^ is exceedingly fortunate in 
 his number of foreign relations. There are 
 his Milanese cousins, who have offered him, 
 during the spring, their beautiful island villa 
 on the Lago Maggiore ; and his French cousins, 
 who have actually lent him the chateau where 
 he is now.'
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 15 
 
 ^ A chateau ! ' exclaimed the shabby man, 
 at once showing a little attention. ^ You 
 don't mean to say that you are living in a 
 chateau ? ' 
 
 ' Didn't you know? ' said Harley. ^ This 
 lucky Carew has a castle amongst the moun- 
 tains, lent him for the winter by his rela- 
 tion, the Comte de Courbon-Loubet. It's a 
 genuine castle, with ramparts, tower, and 
 scutcheons, and heaven knows what else ; 
 and it has a bed in it in which Francis the 
 First slept. So at least I discover in Murray's 
 Guide Book.' 
 
 The smile of the shabby man by a subtle 
 change now turned into one of more or less 
 serious interest. ' A chateau in France ! ' he 
 exclaimed, ' and a villa on an Italian lake ! 
 Upon my word it's a finer thing than I 
 thought to have a French count and an Italian 
 marquis for one's cousins. But I only hope/ 
 he added with a little inward chuckle, ^ that
 
 16 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 you won't be getting into trouble with any 
 more French countesses/ 
 
 Whatever this allusion may have meant, 
 Carew did not seem much pleased with it, and 
 contracted his brows slightly. The shabby 
 man, whose eyes were sharp as a needle, 
 detected this at once ; and in a tone of voice 
 that was somewhat like a slight pat on the 
 shoulder, said, changing the subject, ' My dear 
 Carew, one of these fine mornings I must 
 drive over and breakfast with you/ 
 
 ^ Do,^ said Carew ; and he was beginning 
 some further civility, when the sound of wheels 
 and horses was once more audible, coming this 
 time up the hill and not down it. 
 
 ' Here,' exclaimed the shabby man, with 
 an almost childish satisfaction — ^here is our 
 carriage at last ! I was beginning to get a 
 little bit in a fidget about the time ; and — let 
 me breathe it in your ear — I am also positively 
 ravenous.'
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 17 
 
 His satisfaction, however, proved to be 
 premature. A carriage indeed it was which 
 was now ascending ; but it was not their own : 
 it was the other which had just passed them, 
 and which was now returning, by the way it 
 came, with its company. This proved to 
 consist of an elderly gentleman, seated with 
 his back to the horses, and two ladies opposite 
 to him, one of whom seemed to be about the 
 same age as himself, whilst the other was so 
 muffled to the eyes in a soft white shawl that 
 it was difficult, at a first glance, to form any 
 conjecture about her. But, as she gradually 
 drew nearer to the group at the roadside, above 
 the cloud of the soft white shawl there became 
 distinguishable a cloud of soft fair hair, and 
 also a delicate hand that held the shawl 
 against her lips. This became distinguish- 
 able, and something more than this — the 
 glance of a pair of eyes, which at once, in 
 spite of the twilight, sent a curious thrill 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 
 
 throiigh at least one of the party before he 
 was clearly aware what it was that had 
 caused it. 
 
 Carew — for it was he who had found 
 himself thus susceptible — had just become 
 conscious of this singular and unexpected 
 excitement, when, as the carriage was in the 
 act of passing him, some light object fell 
 from it, dropped by one of the occupants. 
 In an instant he had stepped forward and 
 rescued it, and, with his hand on the door, 
 was presenting it — it was a fan — to whoever 
 might be the owner. A word of pleasure in 
 English escaped from the elder lady, who 
 then proceeded to tender her thanks in 
 French. The former, however, was plainly 
 her own language ; and Carew was pleased to 
 show her he was a fellow countryman as he 
 expressed a hope that the fan had not been 
 broken. Meanwhile his eyes, under the 
 kindly cover of the twilight, had sought those
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 19 
 
 of her companion, and liad not sought them in 
 vain. He was one of those happy men who 
 can look at a woman fixedly without the least 
 air of impertinence ; and the woman he was 
 looking at now seemed possessed of the yet 
 rarer faculty, that of returning such a look 
 without the least air of immodesty. In her 
 eyes, as they fixed on his with all their soft 
 fulness, there was not only an abandonment 
 to the impressions and feelings of the moment, 
 but mixed mth the tenderness of a woman 
 there was the steadfast frankness of a child. 
 
 Such a silent conversation between the two 
 perfect strangers could, of course, under the 
 circumstances, last a few moments only ; but 
 by the time the carriage had again moved on 
 Carew could have imagined that it had been 
 an afikir of hours. He felt as if he had been 
 having some new experience, as if he had 
 suddenly had a \dsion of some enchanting 
 country in May — a land blooming with lilacs 
 
 c2
 
 20 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 and hawthorns, its air breathing with all the 
 longing of spring — a land of promise wliich 
 filled him with the desire of exploring it. In 
 an instant he was sunk deep in a reverie ; and 
 so strangely jealous had he unconsciously 
 become of the subject of it, that he felt, and 
 even showed, some slight irritation when 
 Harley remarked to him, ^ AVhat a handsome 
 girl that was ! ' To this he replied with little 
 more than a grunt, and was then suffered to 
 enjoy a brief respite of silence ; but before 
 many minutes his thoughts were again dis- 
 tracted, and for the time being their train was 
 finally broken, by a sharp crunching sound of 
 something being cracked close to him. This 
 sound proved to proceed from the shabby 
 man, who was beguiling the time and taking 
 the edge off his appetite by eating a ginger- 
 bread nut. A few brown crumbs were still 
 clinging to his lips, and as soon as he saw that 
 Carew had noticed him, he produced another
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 21 
 
 from amongst the folds of his jDocket-handker- 
 chief, and holdmg it out, said, with his mouth 
 full, ' Have one ? ' 
 
 The offer being declined, he bit a large 
 crescent out of it himself, and then went back to 
 a point he had before touched upon — the late- 
 ness of the carriage and his own impatience in 
 consequence. He was at last relieving his feel- 
 ings by saying to Harley, ' I am afraid that this 
 robber baron we have all heard so much about, 
 has seized on it and carried it off — it, with 
 your wife into the bargain,' when both made 
 their appearance, and set his agitation at rest. 
 
 As soon as the party were settled, and had 
 begun to move on, Carew asked Mrs. Harley 
 if she had seen the interesting strangers. Mrs. 
 Harley had ] but she had not much to tell 
 him about them, except that their carriage 
 had met them at the foot of the old town, and 
 that they must have walked down to it from 
 the road above, through the olive woods. The
 
 22 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES - 
 
 conversation then turned to the old town 
 itself ; and Harley alluded to Carew's curious 
 discovery — that of a 'family scutcheon/ he 
 said, ' under the marquis's coronet on the 
 gateway.' The shabby man, meanwhile, had 
 been sunk in a placid silence, but this last 
 remark suddenly roused his attention ; and 
 with an animation surprising in one who 
 professed such an ignorance of heraldry, ' My 
 dear Harley,' he said, ' that was not a marquis's 
 coronet at all ; it was the coronet of a French 
 vicomte, which is a very different thing.' 
 This was all he said till the rough road they 
 had been ascending at last joined a magnificent 
 beaten highway ; and here, as the horses were 
 just quickening their 23ace, he startled the 
 coachman with a sudden call to stop. 
 
 'What on earth is the matter?' Mrs. 
 Harley inquired of him. 
 
 ' Well,' he said, ' mucli as I dislike to leave 
 this exceedingly pleasant carriage, I am obliged
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 23 
 
 to get out here, and walk down by a mule 
 path, through these terrific forests, to the little 
 railway station which Hes directly under us. 
 I shall just catch the train, and my servant 
 will meet me with a portmanteau. I arrive in 
 that way forty minutes sooner tlian I should 
 if I allowed myself the pleasure of being 
 driven to Xice by you.' 
 
 Mrs. Harley was full of surprised remon- 
 strances. ' Surely,' she ended by saying, 
 ' you can't be in such a hurry as all that ? ' 
 
 ^ The truth is,' said the other, who was by 
 this time in the road, ' I am engaged to dine 
 to-night with my friend the Grand Duke at 
 Mentone ; and as to time, upon these occasions 
 I am always most punctilious. Besides,' he 
 added just as he was saying good-bye, 
 * besides ' — and he laid his finger on his nose 
 with a kind of solemn waggery — 'you will 
 observe that I save seventy-five centimes on 
 my railway- ticket.'
 
 MmmmmmmmmimMmmm^ 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 HO/ exclaimed Mrs. Harley, as the 
 figure of tlie shabby man disap- 
 peared from them, ' would take 
 him for the heir to one of the richest duke- 
 doms in England? ' 
 
 ' Stonehouse,' said her husband, smiling, 
 * always amuses me. Life in general he seems 
 to regard as a kind of vulgar joke, which 
 assumes a classical character when embodied 
 in a great magnate like himself.' 
 
 * I,' said Carew, ' should be the last person 
 to abuse him; for on one occasion, with his 
 shrewdness, he was an excellent friend to
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 25 
 
 me. You remember, Mrs. Harley, the 
 trouble I had with my uncle when he took 
 it into his head I was going to marry that 
 French lady. It was Stonehouse entirely who 
 managed to put things right for me. Still I 
 must say this of him, and I don't mean it for 
 a compliment. Though he may not look to a 
 stranger like the typical heir to a dukedom, to 
 all who know him he is the very type of a 
 modern Whig — I mean,' Carew added, 'a Whig 
 who is shrewd enough to see his position, and 
 has no desire to hide what he sees from liis 
 friends.' 
 
 ' I'm sure,' said Mrs. Harley, ' you, with 
 your strong feelings about family, ought to 
 find in Lord Stonehouse a man after your own 
 heart. Ko one has those feelmgs more 
 strongly than a genuine Whig.' 
 
 ' There,' said Carew, ' is the very point 
 where you miss my meaning. It is perfectly 
 true that, as his father's heir, no one sets a
 
 26 THE OLD OKDER CHANGES 
 
 higher, though a less imagmative, value on 
 hnnself than does Stonehouse ; but of family 
 feeling, in my sense of the words, he has 
 nothing, or next to nothing. His family is 
 for him not so much a family as a firm, which 
 has been established so many years, and has 
 so many millions of capital. I was amused 
 just now to discover this in him — ^his know- 
 ledge of heraldry ends with the shape of his 
 own coronet ; and by the way, Harley, he 
 was perfectly wrong when he tried to correct 
 you about the coronet on the castle gate. 
 That was the coronet, not of a French vicomte, 
 but of a marechal of France, which, seen at a 
 distance, is very like that of a marquis. It 
 has eight parsley leaves with a pearl between 
 each, whereas the other is simply charged 
 
 with four large pearls. I think it is four ' 
 
 ^ Really, Mr. Carew,' broke m Mrs. Harley, 
 ^ you remind me of a treatise on heraldry there 
 used to be in my father's library, which began
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHAXGES 27 
 
 by saying that hardly a subject existed more 
 worthy of the attention of princes and of gentle- 
 men than the origin of those titles and dignities 
 which distinguish them from the rest of man- 
 hind,"^ 
 
 Carew laughed good-naturedly. ' My dear 
 Mrs. Harley,' he said, ' I'm not quite such a 
 fool about these tilings as you thmk me. I 
 may be prejudiced, but I don't think I'm 
 insane. As for heraldic signs, of course they 
 are signs merely. Is our national flag more? 
 That, in itself, is merely a rag of canvas. 
 You may call it a scarecrow, or you may die 
 for it. A coat of arms — I don't mean one 
 supplied by the coachmaker — is for each 
 family which is worth calling a family, the 
 Union Jack of its own past ; and what I am 
 saying of Stonehouse and AVhigs like him is, 
 that for their past, as their past, they have no 
 feeling whatever.' 
 
 ' My dear Mr. Carew,' interposed Mrs.
 
 28 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 Harley, ' what is it but their past which keeps 
 men like Lord Stonehouse from going over to 
 the Conservatives ? ' 
 
 ^ They merely feel/ said Carew, * like a true 
 trading firm, that they would lose, if they did, 
 the good-will of their political business ; as a 
 grocer would if he suddenly turned shoe- 
 maker. No doubt the Whigs value their past 
 in one way. They know that it has a power 
 over the opinions of others, and that it helps 
 to surround them with a certain ready-made 
 deference. Of course in this way it adds to 
 their own self-importance, but only as might 
 the possession of some remote ancestral castle, 
 which they like to possess but have no incli- 
 nation to visit. They are proud to think of 
 it as a celebrated show-place which oppresses 
 the imagination of the tourist, but which 
 never elevates the imagination of the owner. 
 It speaks for them, but it does not speak to 
 them. They don't listen for the voice which
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 29 
 
 haunts, if they would only hear it, every 
 mouldering turret and every gnarled oak-tree ; 
 the voice which whispers to them that they 
 are different from the rest of the world, not 
 because they are rich, but that they are rich 
 (if they happen to be so) because they are 
 different from the rest of the world. It is 
 only people to whom the past conveys this 
 feeling who really know the meaning of the 
 words Noblesse oblige' 
 
 ^If you are talking about Lord Stone- 
 house,' said Mrs. Harley, 'you are very 
 possibly right. You know him far better 
 than I do. But about the Whigs in general 
 I am quite sure you are wrong. Look at the 
 
 's, look at the 's, look at the 's. 
 
 Xo one — not the most bigoted Tory in Eng- 
 land — for bad and for good both, is more 
 closely wedded than they are to this gratifying 
 feeling you speak of.' 
 
 * Well,' said Carew, with a certain vindic-
 
 30 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 tive energy, ^ if they are wedded to it, tliey 
 keep their wife locked up; and they never 
 speak in public without denying the marriage. 
 However,' he went on, ^ as I said just now, we 
 will have all this out more fully some day. 
 It shall be when you come to see me at my 
 castle among the mountains. I am longing 
 to show you that. Everything about us will 
 be on my side there, and will explain my 
 meaning, and I think make you agree with it 
 — at all events partly. The old village still 
 clings to the shelter of the feudal ramparts. 
 In the valley below you look down on the 
 lord's mill, whose black wheel still turns in 
 the blue- green snow-water. The villagers all 
 touch their hats to you and seem proud of 
 your presence. For miles round every hectare 
 belongs to the House of Courbon-Loubet. 
 The concierge delights in pointing out to a 
 stranger certain of the scutcheons in the court- 
 yard, and telling him that Monsieur le Comte
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 31 
 
 has Bourbon blood in his veins ; and there is 
 a huge five- sided tower, that still stands erect 
 and stares at the landscape with all its old 
 effrontery. Indeed, if it were not for a 
 glimpse of the railway which that tower gives 
 you, you could fancy that you were living 
 before the French Revolution. Now, Mrs. 
 Harley, when are you coming to see me, and 
 leave the epoch of progress and the sovereign 
 people behind you? Will you come next 
 week? Do! I am expecting some friends 
 then. You probably know them all; and I 
 am quite sure you will like them.' 
 
 Mrs. Harley's eyes had been watching 
 Carew curiously, with a mixed expression of 
 interest, of dissent, and of amusement ; and 
 gradually, though there was still a serious 
 meaning left in them, they began to sparkle 
 with an irrepressible wish to tease. 
 
 ' I'm afraid, Mr. Carew,* she said, ' your 
 friends would be a great deal too smart for
 
 32 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 me. You know that is a point on which we 
 agree to differ. I don't like smart people, 
 whether they are Whigs or Tories. I'm 
 never at home or at my ease with them. I 
 like the other people far better.' 
 
 Her words produced the exact effect she 
 intended, and Carew's voice when he answered 
 her had a trace in it of annoyed incredulity. 
 ^ I know,' he said, ^ who you mean by the 
 other people. You don't mean people who are 
 something besides smart : you mean people 
 who are something opposed to smart. You 
 mean lions and celebrities who are nothing 
 but lions and celebrities, who have odd hair 
 and vagae wives and daughters, and who not 
 only are cleverer than average people of 
 fashion, but express their cleverness in a dif- 
 ferent social language. Now these people, if 
 you wish to consult them on their own special 
 subjects, are no doubt most interesting to 
 meet, and it may be curious to watch their
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 33 
 
 characteristics. But you surely — come, Mrs. 
 Harley, be honest — you surely don't prefer 
 them as friends, as daily companions ? ' 
 
 ^ Yes,' said Mrs. Harley, ^ I do. I prefer 
 them as friends, and as daily companions.' 
 
 ' I,' Carew retorted, ' agree with De Toc- 
 queville, and I think it the profoundest saying 
 in his whole book on Democracy, that a man, 
 if necessary, can learn to put up with any- 
 thing except with the manners of some other 
 class than his own. Of course I prefer just 
 as you do a clever man to a fool ; but cer- 
 tainly, in a friend, the first thing I should 
 look to would be, not that he should be fond 
 of the same books that I am, but that he 
 should look at society with the same inherited 
 prejudices. However, happily, one can find 
 friends who do both. There are surely plenty 
 of people who are clever and smart as 
 well.' 
 
 * Yes, clever, no doubt,' said Mrs. Harley. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 * But to what use do tliey put their clever- 
 ness? What do they talk about? What do 
 they think about? By what standard do 
 they measure themselves and you? They are 
 the smart set ; that is their great notion ; and 
 if you don't belong to that, they think you 
 are nothing and nowhere. And as for man- 
 ners — well, I can tell you this : I have seen 
 worse manners amongst these same smart 
 people than I have ever seen elsewhere in any 
 class of society/ 
 
 ^ Stop,' interposed Carew. ^ We are talk- 
 ing of diiferent things. You have run away 
 with the word smm% which I merely used as 
 a piece of convenient slang. You are talking 
 about one small clique, the 'personnel of which 
 is changing every season. You are talking 
 about a clique ; I am talking about a class, 
 or, if you like it better, a caste. That par- 
 ticular clique may be as little in my Ime as in 
 yours ; but surely in the class of which it is
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 35 
 
 proud to form a part — and of whicli, by the 
 way, some of its members do not form a 
 part — you will find as mucb. culture and 
 intellect as you will find anywhere else, with 
 social qualities in addition which you will 
 find nowhere else.' 
 
 ^ I don't deny for a moment,' said Mrs. 
 Harley, ' that there's a sort of glamour about 
 it all. There is. And besides, it is what 
 oneself one was born amongst and bred up to. 
 Even the people I was abusing just now — the 
 clique as you call it — and it is a clique — 
 through all their bad manners you can see 
 that they are ladies and gentlemen.' 
 
 ' Exactly,' said Carew ; ' they possess the 
 very thing which your other people are, in 
 spite of their talents, distinguished by not 
 possessing. The difference need not always 
 be grotesque or glaring ; but, in so far as it 
 exists, you surely must feel it a barrier between 
 yourself and them. It is not merely a ques- 
 
 1)2
 
 36 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 
 
 tion of how to come into a room. It is a 
 question of the whole perspective of life.' 
 
 ^ Yes/ said Mrs. Harley, ' and the people 
 I call my friends are the people, I think, who 
 see life most truly. I like them because they 
 embody the real meaning, the real life of the 
 time — its thought, its science, its art, its 
 politics, even its dreams and its impossible 
 aspirations.' 
 
 Carew j)aused for a moment, and then said 
 abruptly, ' Well, what do you say of our old 
 Catholic families, and the circle within a 
 circle formed by them ? Is no meaning 
 embodied there, or, if you like to call it so, no 
 impossible dream? As to politics, you are 
 partly right about that, more's the pity : it's 
 your other people, no doubt, who make the 
 Radical thunderstorm. And yet, on second 
 thoughts, if you stick to polite society, you 
 can see the sheet hghtning in the faces 
 of Whigs like Stonehouse. Anyhow, Mrs.
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 37 
 
 Harley, you must admit this : that, given 
 what you require in the way of aspiration and 
 intellect, this is seen to its best advantage, 
 and is most congenial to yourself, when you 
 find it in the world to which you yourself 
 belong.' 
 
 * No,' said Mrs. Harley; ^ speaking honestly, 
 I do not think so. I think that the polish and 
 charm which characterize the world you speak 
 of, and which I feel just as fully as you do ; 
 I think that the unexpressed sympathy which 
 exists between its members, and which forms 
 so subtle and pleasant a link between them — 
 I think that all this implies and is founded 
 upon a set of beliefs and assumptions with 
 regard to an aristocracy which, even if true 
 once, are certainly true no longer. Once, no 
 doubt, aristocracies did lead. Of whatever 
 life there was in the world they were th3 
 centre. But things are changed. The centre 
 is shifted now. Not only does the life of the
 
 38 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 world no longer centre in them ; it is not even 
 what it was till very lately, a tune that is 
 played under their windows. My dear Mr. 
 Carew, there is no use in disguising the fact. 
 Aristocracy as a genuine power, as a visible 
 fact in the world, may not yet be buried, per- 
 haps ; but it is dead.' 
 
 ^ Then, in that case,' said Carew, ^ let me 
 die with it. I am only thirty-five, but I have 
 outlived my time, and few and evil have been 
 the days of my pilgrimage. There are other 
 things,' he added presently — ^ there are other 
 things in my mind besides London drawing- 
 rooms — the winter sunsets beyond the park ; 
 the noise of rooks in the elm-trees over the 
 graves of those who are nearest to me ; old 
 servants; the tower of the village church; and 
 the welcome once ready for me in every cottage 
 in the village.' 
 
 He spoke with so much feeling that Mrs. 
 Harley was anxious not to jar upon it.
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHAXGES 39 
 
 * In one thing at least,' she said, ' I think 
 you are right. Amongst the old Catholic 
 families of England, and amongst the converts 
 who have been absorbed into them, there is an 
 ideal, there is an aspiration to live for ; and 
 I respect those who live for it, though with it 
 itself I have no sympathy whatsoever. And 
 yet,' she went on reflectively, ^ even as 
 Catholics their position narrows their views. 
 I have seen it, I have felt it, I have known 
 and stayed with so many of them. There are 
 my cousins the Burtons — a typical case if 
 there is one. You know how those girls — no 
 longer girls now, poor things ! — were brought 
 up. You know what Burton was in the old 
 Lord's time. I often think of poor Charley, 
 with the three Italian priests who were his 
 tutors ; the retainers, born on the property — 
 you could hardly call them servants — that the 
 whole place was swarming with ; the endless 
 horses in the stables ; the constant coming
 
 40 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 and going ; the meets, the scarlet coats, and the 
 foreign ecclesiastics — any number of them — 
 gliding quietly up and down the huge passages. 
 It was one of the last of the really great 
 households in England. Well, and what has 
 been the result in this generation on those who 
 were brought up in it and amongst the ideas 
 embodied in it ? As for Charley, well, we 
 won't say much of him ; but his sisters — they 
 are really noble, high-minded women, full of 
 intelligence, and anxious to do their work in 
 the world ; but of the world they are so 
 anxious to work in they know about as much 
 as Don Quixote. They have just the same 
 mixture in them that their parents had, of the 
 intensest pride and the intensest humility. 
 Each of these feelings is equally antiquated 
 and equally genuine. They support each 
 other like two cards in a card-house, and are 
 about as fit as a card-house is to endure the 
 weather of the century.'
 
 THE OLD OKDEE CHANGES 41 
 
 ^ About the elder ones,' said Carew, ' that 
 may be quite true. I do not know them well. 
 But you can't say the same about their half- 
 sister, Miss Consuelo.' 
 
 'No,' said Mrs. Harley, with a sudden 
 access of animation. ' In her, I admit, you 
 come to a totally different thing. She is like 
 the others in some ways, certainly. She has 
 all those prejudices for which you feel so much 
 sympathy ; but there is a passion, an energy, 
 in her nature which cannot be satisfied with 
 worn-out ways of showing themselves. She 
 doesn't hear much of any new ideas, it is 
 true ; but what she does hear of she drmks 
 in, as a traveller in the desert would drink in 
 drops of water. There is a hunger in her 
 eyes, you can hardly tell for what — whether 
 for a man to love or for some great duty to do 
 — ^perhaps for both. I often think that, could 
 she only find the conditions of life that would 
 suit her — could she only find a husband who
 
 42 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 could really understand and help her — she 
 would be the most mterestmg and the most 
 remarkable woman I know. Have you seen 
 her?' 
 
 ^ Seen her?' said Carew, half absently. 
 ^ Why, I know her ! ' 
 
 ^ I mean, have you seen her since she has 
 been out here ? ' 
 
 ^ Out here ? Out where ? I don't quite 
 understand you.' 
 
 ' Did not you know,' said Mrs. Harley, 
 ^ they have been here for the last fortnight — she 
 and two of her sisters. They are in the hotel 
 next to ours. Lord Stonehouse is there also, 
 and takes excellent care of them. I must say, 
 whatever his faults may be, he's most kind to 
 his own relations.' 
 
 Carew, for a moment, looked as if he 
 were going to speak. There was a light in 
 his eye, a moment's surprise and start ; but 
 his words died on his lips, and, leaning back
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 43 
 
 in his seat, lie stared absently at tlie view, 
 as if he considered the conversation ended. 
 Silence is nowhere so catching as in a car- 
 riage, and his two companions became silent 
 also. Meanwhile, the road had begun descend- 
 ino;. It no lono-er skirted the bare heisrhts of 
 the mountains, but was sweeping downwards 
 in a series of curves and slopes. Above and 
 under it were frequent masses of foliage. On 
 either side of it, alternately, as it turned and 
 circled, expanding inland landscapes showed 
 themselves to the eyes of the travellers, glim- 
 mering far under the rapidly brightening 
 moon ; and at last, like a large irregular 
 crescent of stars, the lights of some large 
 town were seen clustering along the sea, 
 below them. 
 
 At this sight Carew suddenly roused him- 
 self, and said abruptly : ' I shall sleep at Nice 
 to-night. I told my servants I should very 
 possibly do so.'
 
 44 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 Mrs. Harley gave a faintly perceptible 
 smile. ' Of course/ she said, ^ you are going 
 to dine with us ? We were counting on that 
 in any case. If you like it, I will send over 
 and ask the Burtons to meet you.' 
 
 Carew murmured an answer of acqui- 
 escence. Then again there was silence ; and 
 hardly a word further was spoken till the wall 
 of a villa garden made a white glare along the 
 road- side, in the light of a gas -lamp opposite, 
 and they saw they were approaching the town, 
 and that their day's expedition was ended.
 
 
 uO^^ ... 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 HE sense of the town roused tliem. 
 In another moment they passed a 
 suburban tramcar. The world they 
 had just leftj of forests, of laden mules, and of 
 mouldering mountam strongholds, lay like a 
 dream behind them. They were once again 
 in the glare and rattle of to-day. 
 
 * Mrs. Harley,' said Carew, waking up 
 into matter-of-fact alertness, ^ you must really 
 consider when you will let me expect you. 
 Thmk over your plans this evening, and you 
 shall tell me to-morrow before I go back to 
 the chateau.'
 
 46 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 ^ We have nothing to do next week, that 
 I know of/ said Harley, turning to his wife ; 
 ^ and if Mr. Carew would really like to have 
 
 us then To be sure, I forgot one thing. 
 
 There is that poor invalid, to whom we pro- 
 mised to show the country.' 
 
 ' Hush ! ' said Mrs. Harley. ^ Not another 
 word about him. Mr. Carew would never 
 speak again to us if he knew who this poor 
 invahd was.' 
 
 Had the invalid been a woman, it is pos- 
 sible that Carew might have been curious. 
 As it was merely a man he let the allusion 
 pass. ^ Perhaps,' he said with a slight accent 
 of consciousness, ^ I might get the Burtons 
 to join our party also.' 
 
 Mrs. Harley shook her head. ^ I'm afraid 
 not,' she said. ' What do you think, George? 
 Elfrida and Mildred have still their little 
 doubts about Mr. Carew.' 
 
 ' You mean/ said Carew, not wholly with-
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 47 
 
 out embarrassment, ^ you mean that I am not 
 a Catliolic?' 
 
 ^ Yes, that,' said Mrs. Harley, ^ and one or 
 two other little things besides.' 
 
 ' What ? ' said Carew. ' Do you mean 
 that ridiculous story which so frightened my 
 Uncle Horace, and which our good friend 
 Stonehouse was kind enouo'h to set him rio;ht 
 about ? ' 
 
 ' "Well, yes,' said Mrs. Harley. * More or 
 less I mean that. I don't say that Elfrida 
 and Mildred still think you were in love 
 with the lady, but they certainly once did 
 entertain the suspicion ; and, poor dear souls, 
 good and amiable as they are, although the 
 suspicion is quite cleared away, it has left 
 a little sediment in their minds of naive un- 
 worldly shyness. They are frightened of you, 
 not because you justified the suspicion, but 
 because you suggested it.' 
 
 ' The real fact is,' said her husband, laugh-
 
 48 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 ing, ^ they think him so good they can't for- 
 give him for not being better ; and to them 
 he seems far more immoral, because they com- 
 pare him with what they wish him to be, than 
 numbers of men far worse, on whom they 
 waste no wishes whatever. But I don't see,' 
 he added, half seriously, ' why, if you were to 
 take charge of her, they shouldn't allow Miss 
 Consueloto come without them. She, I am 
 sure, would only be too delighted.' 
 
 ^ That,' said Mrs. Harley, ^ would be luck 
 indeed for her. Doesn't Consuelo wish she 
 may get it, poor child ! Besides, my dear 
 George, we two are in rather bad odour with 
 Elfrida and Mildred ourselves. They will 
 never, I think, get over the shock of having 
 seen that poor man in our rooms. By the 
 way, Mr. Carew, as I warned you just now, 
 had you been there you would have been 
 horrified just as they were.' 
 
 ' Who on earth,' said Carew, ^ can this
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 49 
 
 mysterious person be ? Is it the invalid you 
 spoke of? Is your invalid so very alarming?' 
 
 ' Tell me, George/ said Mrs. Harley, 
 ^ shall we confess it to him ? He is sure to 
 find it out for himself, and after all he will 
 perhaps forgive us. Mr. Carew, our invalid 
 is Mr. Foreman.' 
 
 ^ Foreman ! ' exclaimed Carew, with a 
 genuine start of aversion. ' Do you mean 
 Foreman the agitator ? Do you mean the 
 Socialist ? Do you mean that lying egotistical 
 scoundrel, half dunce and half madman, who 
 is g-omcr about London harano-uino^ the un- 
 employed workmen — poor creatures, whom 
 huno;er has made at once savao^e and credu- 
 lous — and trying to rouse ui them ever}^ con- 
 temptible quality that can unfit them for any 
 human society — the passions of wild beasts 
 and the hopes of gaping children ? Is that 
 really the man you mean ? ' 
 
 ^ Poor Foreman !' said Harley, with a smile 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 of benign indifference, ^ I tliink society is safe 
 enough, as long as we have only him to 
 attack it/ 
 
 ' I don't know,' Mrs. Harley retorted. 
 ' In times of distress like these, especially on 
 the eve of a general election, a man like that 
 can do an endless amount of mischief You 
 know, George, don't you, that in a number of 
 constituencies he and his friends are going to 
 run Socialist candidates ? ' 
 
 *And yet,' exclaimed Carew, ^you are a 
 friend of this creature — you countenance him? 
 Good God 1 I can't understand it ! I would as 
 soon be friends with a forger. Besides, what 
 has he, who says that all riches are robbery — 
 what has he to do with a leisurely winter on 
 the Riviera, especially at Nice, that playground 
 of the idle and the profligate ? ' 
 
 ' Poor Foreman,' said Mrs. Harley, ^ is no 
 doubt mistaken, terribly mistaken, in a great 
 number of ways. But he is entirely un- 
 selfish, entirely honest in his opmions '
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 51 
 
 * Begging your pardon/ interposed Carew, 
 * that is just what I say he is not. He may 
 be fool enough to be honest in his Sociahstic 
 theories ; but he cannot be honest in the way 
 he denounces classes, who are no more to 
 blame for having been born rich than he is to 
 blame for having been born a biped.' 
 
 ' I can tell you,' said Mrs. Harley, ^ he has 
 done one thing, in which we might all of us 
 take a lesson from him. He has made himself 
 familiar with the actual face of poverty. Day by 
 day he has sought out and examined the squalor, 
 the destitution, the hopelessness that exist at 
 our very doors almost. No wonder, when his 
 mind is so full of the thoughts of misery, that 
 he feels indignant at us and at all our luxury. 
 I confess I sympathize with him. Often and 
 often after he has been talking to me, I have 
 felt that every superfluous morsel I ate would 
 choke me. I know he is a visionary about the 
 methods of curing the evil ; but he is certainly 
 
 li OF ^^ ^
 
 52 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 110 visionary about the evil that wants curing, 
 or about the sullen and restless sense of it 
 that is spreading amongst its victims. Yes, 
 Mr. Carew, you may talk as much as you like 
 about aristocracies, but the great question of 
 the future is the condition of the labouring 
 multitude.' 
 
 ^ And so,' said Carew, ^ Mr. Foreman is one 
 of your other iieojAe^ is he ? — one of the people 
 who embody the real life of the time ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Mrs. Harley, again relapsmg 
 into a smile. ^ Mr. Foreman is one of my 
 otliCT 'people. You asked just now what he 
 could be doing at Nice. He is here by his 
 doctor's orders. He is broken with over- 
 work. His chest is affected ; he is suifering 
 from the results of a chill, which he caught 
 when addressing a meeting of dock-labourers. 
 However, Mr. Carew, we won't inflict him at 
 dinner on 3'ou. If I can manage it, you shall 
 have your aristocratic Burtons instead. By
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 53 
 
 the way, it occurs to me now, from something 
 you said this morning, that the hotel where 
 you left your portmanteau, and where I 
 conclude you intend to sleep, is the very hotel 
 where the Burtons themselves are. Here,' she 
 continued, for the carriage was now stopping, 
 ^ here is ours, so you are only a few yards off; 
 and if you don't mind waiting whilst I write 
 it, I will give you a note for Elfrida, to ask 
 them to come this evening. I shall tell them 
 eight. It is now a httle past seven.' 
 
 The note in question was soon in Carew's 
 hand, and he turned towards his own hotel 
 with a pleasant feeling of expectation. When 
 he pushed open the heavy plate-glass doors, 
 the large hall was alive with groups of 
 loiterers ; most of them, so it seemed, fresh 
 from the table cThote, and about to separate in 
 quest of their various dissipations. Taken as 
 a whole, it was not an attractive company. 
 The men looked, to use Cardinal Newman's
 
 54 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 phrase, like ^ bad imitations of polished ungod- 
 liness/ whilst the ladies suggested the class 
 which polished ungodliness imitates. What, 
 then, was Carew's surprise when, amongst a 
 medley of toilettes unmistakably fresh from 
 Paris, he at once caught sight of two singularly 
 plain black dresses, and was aware in an instant 
 that the eldest Miss Burtons were before him ! 
 Surprise, however, was not his only emotion. 
 He became conscious of a sudden sense of em- 
 barrassment, the causes of which he had not 
 then time to analyze. He felt it impossible to 
 go up to them and give them Mrs. Harley's 
 note in person ; and slipping into the bureau, 
 in order to avoid their notice, he determined 
 to wait until they should go upstairs, intend- 
 ing as soon as they did so to send it up to 
 them by a waiter. 
 
 Unseen himself, he had now an excellent 
 view of them: they were, indeed, but a few 
 yards away from him, and he could also see
 
 THE OLD ORDEE CHANGES 55 
 
 some thing of what kept them in a scene so 
 incongruous. A middle-aged man, with his 
 back to Carew, was apparently holding them 
 in conversation; but the chilly smile with 
 which they both heard and answered him, 
 and the constant way in which theii* glances 
 wandered, showed plainly enough that they 
 were waiting for someone else, and that in 
 attending to him at all they were simply the 
 victims of their civility. Carew had no in- 
 tention of playing the eavesdropper; but the 
 gentleman had a trick of occasionally raising 
 his voice, and as he did so, reducing the pace 
 of his syllables, which forced what he then 
 said on the ears of every one in his neighbour- 
 hood. Nearly every time that this occurred, 
 Carew caught the name of some person of 
 high distinction; and had he been half asleep 
 in an arm-chair, his impression would have 
 been that somebody was reciting a page out 
 of the ' Peerage.' ' Lady Something did this,'
 
 56 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 and ^ Lord Something did that/ formed 
 apparently the jewels of the speaker's conver- 
 sation, to which all the rest of it was nothing 
 more than the setting. The Miss Burtons 
 listened with a kind of patient apathy, and 
 seemed to be giving him as little encourage- 
 ment to continue as one human being could 
 possibly give another ; when a statement he 
 made about a certain well-known duchess at 
 last roused the elder of them into a moment's 
 passing animation. 
 
 ' What a charming woman that is I ' he 
 said. ' I travelled down with her from Paris 
 only a fortnight since.' 
 
 ' Really ! ' exclaimed Miss Burton. ' How 
 odd that we didn't see you; for we were with 
 her ourselves, and we shared a coupe between 
 us.' 
 
 ' Well,' he said, somewhat taken aback, ' I 
 couldn't exactly get a seat in the same train; 
 but I came by the very next one, and I took
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 57 
 
 charge of her white dog for her. I preferred 
 to wait and get a whole couioe salon to myself. 
 But here/ he added, as if glad to change the 
 subject, ' here is your servant looking for you. 
 Ah ! he sees you now, I think. Ici, man — 
 Venez — this way — id.'' 
 
 The servant approached, and Carew could 
 plainly hear him as he spoke. 
 
 ^ Miss Consuelo, ma'am,' he said, ' is with 
 her maid, in Galignani's Library, and she 
 orders me to say that she will be in, in an- 
 other five minutes.' 
 
 ' Then send Louise to me,' said Miss 
 Burton, ' and we will dine in half an hour. 
 And, Eugene, go to the office and ask if 
 there are any letters or parcels.' 
 
 Both she and her sister immediately turned 
 towards the staircase, and with a slight bow, 
 as they did so, to the Duchess's late com- 
 panion, left him staring after them in an atti- 
 tude of despondent meditation.
 
 58 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 An irrepressible smile, meanwhile, had 
 been growing on Carew's lips, for it had 
 dawned on him some moments ago who this 
 fine gentleman was. ^ Of course,' he mur- 
 mured, ^ it is Inigo. It can surely be no one 
 else ; ' and if the smallest doubt had still 
 remained as to the matter it was presently set 
 at rest by Mr. Inigo himself, who strolled into 
 the bureau with an air of solemn abstraction ; 
 and finding the clerk absent, and not seeing 
 Carew, instinctively betook himself to the 
 book in which the names of visitors were 
 recorded. 
 
 Mr. Inigo was a man who, by long and 
 laborious effort, had lately arrived, in the 
 social world of London, at just enough cele- 
 brity for his presence to excite a smile. His 
 origin, thanks to his own diplomatic adroit- 
 ness, was veiled in j)rofound obscurity. He 
 was content to regard himself, and he hoped 
 he was regarded by others, as having entered
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 59 
 
 the life of fashion by a kind of spontaneous 
 generation. 
 
 ' I must say/ he muttered aloud to him- 
 self, as he stooped down to pore over the book 
 he had opened — ' I must say these two ladies 
 have not much manners. And yet, I should 
 like to know, what right have they to be 
 rude ? They were not at one — I know it 
 for a fact — not at one of the really smart 
 balls last season. I mean the very, very 
 smart ones.' A moment later he closed the 
 page contemptuously. ' Pooh ! ' he exclaimed, 
 * there's nobody that's much good there ! ' and 
 was turning to walk away when the clerk 
 returned, and with him the Burtons' servant, 
 who was inquiring after his mistress's letters. 
 ' Here is one,' said Carew. ' Will you be kind 
 enough to deliver it at once. It is from 
 Mrs. Harley, and wants an immediate answer.' 
 The moment he spoke he felt that Mr. Inigo's 
 eyes were fixed on him; and when he had
 
 60 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 finished some directions to the clerk about a 
 bedroom, Mr. Inigo still was there, in readi- 
 ness to claim his acquaintance. Carew recog- 
 nized that there was no chance of escape ; so 
 he submitted to a meeting which he would 
 have gone many yards to avoid. 
 
 ^ I'd no notion,' said Mr. Inigo, ' that you 
 were in these parts. You'll not stay long — 
 I can venture to predict that.' 
 
 * On the contrary,' said Carew, ' I mean to 
 remain till Easter.' 
 
 ^ Oh,' said Mr. Inigo, ' there's nobody here 
 this winter one ever heard of before ; in fact, 
 till the Darlingtons came I had hardly a 
 soul to speak to. Lady Darlington, Stone - 
 house, I, and a few more of us make up 
 a party now and then to the Opera or to 
 Monte Carlo ; but as for me,' said Mr. Inigo, 
 looking round, in the vain hope of an 
 audience, 'the sole reason why I'm here is 
 that the poor Grand Duke is expected back
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 61 
 
 from Mentone ; and wlien his cough is bad, I 
 amuse him with my stories in the evening. 
 But, by the way, tell me. A moment ago 
 you mentioned Mrs. Harley. Is she our 
 Mrs. Harley — the Mrs. Harley we all know? 
 And is she in Nice now ? ' 
 
 ' She is/ said Carew drily, ^ and as I am 
 going to dine with her, I fear I must leave 
 you and go upstairs to prepare myself.' 
 
 ^ Dear me,' said Mr. Inigo, ^ I must go and 
 
 call to-morrow. I shall ' and he wao-o-ed 
 
 his head knowingly, ' I shall get into dreadful 
 hot water if I don't pay my respects to her. 
 Perhaps,' he continued, as Carew was moving 
 off, ' perhaps, if I came, I should find her at 
 home this evening ? ' 
 
 ^Certainly,' said Carew, looking back, ^ she 
 will be in her own rooms ; but her servants 
 will tell you better than I can if she intends 
 to receive company.' 
 
 Whilst he spoke he had his foot on the
 
 62 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 first step of the staircase ; and just as he 
 turned to mount, he became aware that a 
 female figure had passed him. It had moved, 
 it had almost darted, with a noiseless graceful 
 rapidity, something like the flight of a bird, 
 and had nearly, by this time, arrived at the 
 first landing. But Carew's eyes and mind 
 comprehended the whole vision in an instant. 
 A knot of hair arranged with exquisite neat- 
 ness ; a hand in a grey glove for a moment 
 laid on the banister ; a jacket whose fit any of 
 the ladies in the hall might have envied ; but 
 with all this a proud refinement and dignity 
 which seemed to pervade their possessor, and 
 to linger in her wake like a perfume. A 
 second more, and she was on the landing. 
 Carew was not far behind her ; her eye, as she 
 turned, inevitably encountered his ; and he 
 saw what he had felt, but what he had not 
 distinctly expressed to himself — that it was 
 Miss Consuelo Burton.
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 63 
 
 It was more than a year since tliey had 
 met last; and when they had parted, it had 
 been with some circumstances of embarrass- 
 ment. The girl's face and movements be- 
 trayed that she was conscious of this. At 
 the first moment of recognition she stopped 
 short suddenly ; a deep colour flushed up into 
 her cheek, and her dark eyes seemed to ex- 
 pand as they fixed on him ; but he had hardly 
 uttered the most commonplace words of 
 greeting, and she replied to them in a manner 
 equally commonplace, when her cheek grew 
 pale again, she smiled quickly and nervously, 
 and saying, in a constrained voice, ' I am in a 
 hurry — my sisters are waiting for me,' with 
 another of her bird-like darts, she was gone 
 before he had time to recover himself.
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 AEEW, as he was dressing, restlessly 
 paced his bedroom, agitated and 
 plunged in reflection. Some eighteen 
 months ago, during part of one London season, 
 he had been by her side at nearly every party ; 
 and whatever might have been his own hopes 
 or intentions, he had taught her eyes to 
 brighten the moment she saw him approach- 
 inc: her. Her sisters, with whom vio^ilance 
 took the place of acuteness, quickly detected 
 this ; and, for a week or two they were not 
 displeased at it. They knew that Carew 
 belonsred to one of the oldest families in the
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 65 
 
 kingdom ; they understood that he was the 
 heir to sufficient, if moderate, property ; and 
 they hoped, from the gossip of many of 
 their own circle, that he would be shortly 
 received into the bosom of the Catholic Church. 
 Gossip, however, and their own observations 
 as directed by it, soon added other and very 
 different details about him. There was nothino: 
 definitely scandalous in anything they either 
 heard or saw ; but there was much by which, 
 to their minds, scandal was vaguely suggested. 
 They were warned that he was well known for 
 his levity in his conduct to women ; and though 
 by no means willing to believe these warnings 
 justified, they soon saw enough to convince 
 them, as regarded their sister, that she was 
 but one amongst many objects of his similar 
 and habitual attentions. 
 
 Finally something happened that was even 
 more serious. During the past year a certain 
 Comtesse de Saint Valery, divorced, it was 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 said, from her husband, who was supposed 
 vaguely to be in St. Petersburg, had been 
 glittering before the eyes of the fashionable 
 world, in that social penumbra by which the 
 fashionable world is surrounded. She was a 
 woman of much education and many accom- 
 plishments. She had eyes like a Magdalen 
 and a voice like a sorrowing angel. Numbers 
 of eminent men, it was rumoured, had been 
 in love with her ; and she had saved a child 
 from drowning in the waters of the Lago 
 Maggiore. That incident, which was certainly 
 no mere rumour, had made her acquainted 
 with Carew, who was staying in his cousin's 
 villa at the time. He had indeed himself 
 been present at the scene of the accident, 
 having just arrived in time to render some 
 help with a boat, and when she appeared in 
 London some months afterwards, he renewed 
 his acquaintance with her — his acquaintance, 
 or rather his friendship. So marked, indeed,
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 67 
 
 did this friendship seem to the small circle 
 which had opportunities of observing it, that 
 a muffled report reached the ears of one of his 
 uncles that he was actually intending to marry 
 this fair foreign adventuress. A family scene 
 ensued, which involved certain unpleasant- 
 ness ; and the consequences to Carew might 
 have been really serious if Lord Stonehouse 
 had not, by means of a certain accident, been 
 able to set the mind of the uncle in question 
 at rest. What happened was this. A first 
 cousin of Lord Stonehouse's, and a second 
 cousin of the Burtons' — a man well-known in 
 the laxer sets of society — dismayed his rela- 
 tions and excited his friends by eloping with 
 the lady, and carrying her off to the Con- 
 tinent. Till this event, the Miss Burtons had 
 hardly heard of her ; still less did they know 
 that she had any acquaintance with Carew. 
 Nor was this surprising. She had, indeed, 
 collected round her a little private clique of 
 
 p 2
 
 68 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 her own ; she had been constantly attended 
 by a number of well-known men, and caressed 
 by a few ladies who were known but no 
 longer countenanced ; she had been the ob- 
 served of all observers in the Park, at 
 Sandown, and at Hurlingham; but she had 
 never once appeared at any recognized ball or 
 party. It was at Hurlingham, indeed, that 
 she and her lover had been dining, with a 
 number of friends, the very night before their 
 elopement ; and of these friends it chanced 
 that Carew was one. He seemed — so rumour 
 was exceedingly careful to add — by no means 
 indifferent to the fair delinquent himself ; 
 and the rest of those present were precisely 
 the kind of people who would pardon her 
 delinquency, even if they did not actually 
 emulate it. It was then that the Miss Burtons 
 heard for the first time Carew's name spoken 
 of in this connection ; and they now heard it 
 so spoken of frequently. This brought their
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 69 
 
 changed opinion of him to a crisis. They 
 were fair enough to recognize that he had not 
 been convicted of anything definitely — not 
 even of trifling with the feelings of their sister ; 
 but they felt that he certainly could not be, 
 what they had at first thought him, a very 
 good man; and as he consorted with bad 
 men, he might possibly be even a very bad 
 man. Anyhow, as to their sister they came 
 to this conclusion, that from her acquaintance 
 with him she was running a double risk; that 
 if he were triflino^ with her she mio-ht have a 
 broken heart, or a husband with a doubtful 
 character and an unavowed religion, if he 
 were serious. 
 
 Carew, meanwhile, was perfectly unaware 
 of the way in which his merits were being 
 sifted. It is true that he gradually became 
 conscious that he saw less of Miss Consuelo 
 than formerly, and that her sisters' manner 
 had something stifi" and cold in it ; but what
 
 70 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 the change meant, or that it was really more 
 than his fancy, was not brought home to 
 him till a sinc^le incident revealed it. At a 
 brilliant evening party which enlivened the 
 decline of the season he had looked for the 
 Burtons everywhere, but had been unable to 
 find them. At last, when the whole world 
 was going, he came upon them downstairs in 
 a corridor, evidently waiting for their carriage. 
 He offered to call it ; but Miss Burton told 
 him drily that someone else had done so. The 
 someone else — a grey-haired gentleman — re- 
 appeared at the same instant, urging them to 
 hurry themselves if they would not lose their 
 opportunity. Still unaware that he had 
 suffered any repulse, Carew offered his arm to 
 Miss Consuelo. She took it ; but presently, 
 when her sisters were a few paces in front of 
 her, looking him straight in the face, and 
 speaking low and rapidly, ' My relations,' she 
 said, ' don't wish me to know you ; and so —
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 71 
 
 for the present — if we meet again, I must ask 
 you not to come up to me or to talk to me.' 
 Then relinquishing his arm, she hastily held 
 her hand out to him, and saying ^ Good-bye ! ' 
 in a voice that had a, little quiver in it, in 
 another second she was again close to her 
 sisters. 
 
 Carew was so super-sensitiveas to his own 
 shortcomings, and, despite his genealogical 
 pride, thought so meanly of his marriageable 
 qualifications, that it was his first impulse to 
 think that he really deserved this treatment ; 
 and he walked home that nis^ht with the 
 feelings of a dreaming criminal, conscious of 
 his guilt, and yet unable to recollect the nature 
 of it. 
 
 Gradually reflection brought him to a 
 juster condition of mind. He believed himself 
 repulsed because he was misunderstood ; and 
 he knew the elder Misses Burton quite well 
 enough to realize that, in their eyes, ap23ear-
 
 72 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 ances miglat easily be against him. But still 
 the uncertainty rankled in his heart ; and a 
 sense of desolation he was not in the least 
 prepared for filled his heart at this sudden 
 and unexplained separation. He felt that for 
 him Miss Consuelo Burton was dead ; and he 
 longed that she would come back to him but 
 for one moment from the grave, to tell him 
 distinctly what had taken her away from him. 
 He might have written and asked her with- 
 out her sisters' suspecting it ; sometimes he 
 thought of doing so : but the thought, when- 
 ever it rose, was instantly checked by a feeling 
 as strong and as strange as the sense of deso- 
 lation itself He felt that he would sooner 
 lose her acquaintance for ever than keep it by 
 tempting her to a single clandestine action. 
 
 He was not long, however, a passive prey 
 to dejection. By-and-by, as the weeks went 
 on, old cares of a more impersonal nature, 
 which, for some time past, he had forgotten,
 
 THE OLD OKDER CHANGES 73 
 
 and had ceased to trouble him, came back 
 again, like returning bailiffs, and again took 
 possession of the chief rooms of his mind. 
 The effect on his thoughts about Miss Consuelo 
 Burton was this. Though not obliterated 
 they were gradually pushed aside ; and in 
 their retirement they quietly and gradually 
 changed themselves. First, though still 
 regrettmg her, he grew resigned to her loss ; 
 and he ceased to speculate on the chances of 
 any renewal of their intercourse. Then, the 
 facts involved seemed slowly to change their 
 proportions. Whatever the reasons might be 
 which had prejudiced her guardians against 
 him, they probably, after all, might not be so 
 very serious ; and finally an impression grew 
 upon him, though it was not untroubled with 
 diffidence, that should he and the Burtons be 
 ever again thrown together, he would find 
 himself sufficiently whitewashed in the eyes 
 of his late censors, perhaps by their better
 
 74 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 judgment, perhaps even by their forge tful- 
 ness. 
 
 The strength of this impression had been 
 now just put to the test ; and the sense of 
 shyness which he had been unable to conceal 
 from himself at once convinced him that it was 
 not quite so strong as he had thought it was. 
 One thing, however, he found was stronger, 
 and that was the attraction which Miss 
 Consuelo Burton had for him. He had come 
 to wonder at times whether the place she held 
 in his heart were not less due to herself than 
 to his own reo:retful ima2:ination : and he was 
 startled to realize, in their late momentary 
 meeting, not only that her charm was an 
 actual and undeniable fact, but that it was — 
 as far as he could judge — even greater now 
 than formerly. 
 
 Pondering these matters as he went 
 through the process of dressing, he became 
 aware that, without having thought why, he
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 75 
 
 was doino* his best to make himself as late as 
 possible. His watch told him that it was 
 nearly dinner-time ; but he was still lingering 
 over his shirt studs and his neck -tie. Why- 
 was he doing so? He at last put the question 
 to himself ; and his heart at once made him a 
 very complete confession. He distrusted his 
 position with the elder Miss Burtons, regarded 
 merely in the light of common acquaintances ; 
 but his main reason for avoiding them had 
 been the far more practical fear that they 
 might suspect he would be dining with Mrs. 
 Harley, and might decline her invitation in 
 consequence. As it was, he never doubted 
 that they would accept it ; and he was anxious, 
 he discovered, that they should precede him 
 by some minutes, in order that when he 
 arrived he should find them prepared to meet 
 him. He felt sure that at first the elder ones 
 would feel some displeasure at the prospect ; 
 he felt sure, also, that Mrs. Harley would
 
 76 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 notice tliis. He counted, then, on having his 
 character rapidly canvassed ; on Mrs. Har- 
 ley putting it in the most favourable and 
 friendly light ; on the elder Miss Burtons 
 feeling that perhaps they had judged him 
 wrongly ; and on entering the room himself, 
 if not restored to their favour, at least with a 
 chance of winning his way back to it. 
 
 These reflections very likely evinced no 
 very great subtlety ; but they were better than 
 subtle, for they happened to be substantially 
 true. The Miss Burtons arrived at Mrs. 
 Barley's before Carew. The news that he 
 was coming embarrassed the younger, and 
 caused a shock of surprised annoyance to 
 the elder. 
 
 * We used to meet,' said Miss Elfrida drily, 
 * but we have seen nothing at all of him now 
 for a very long time.' 
 
 ^ Last season,' said Mrs. Harley, ' he was 
 hardly ever in London.'
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 77 
 
 * Really,' said Miss Elfrida, ' I have not 
 followed his movements. But I'm surprised 
 that so gay a gentleman could tear himself 
 away from his dissipations.' 
 
 ^ He stayed in the country,' said Mrs. 
 Harley, ' for his mother's sake, who is an old 
 lady. There was nothing to be alarmed at 
 in her condition, except the natural weakness 
 of age ; but he fancied he detected a wish in 
 her that he should not leave her that summer, 
 and, however he might like his dissipations, 
 he did, you see, tear himself away from 
 them.' 
 
 ' Really,' said Miss Burton, in a tone that 
 was somewhat softened, ' I should never have 
 thought that of him.' And she looked down 
 gently, as if lost in reflection. Her host, 
 however, would not leave her in silence. 
 
 * I always thought,' she said, ' that there 
 was nothing, in your opinion, too good for 
 Mr. Carew to have done — Mr. Carew, who is
 
 78 THE OLD OKDER CHANGES 
 
 SO great a friend of your Cardinal's. Surely 
 you must admire the man wlio, though merely 
 a wretched heretic, is yet asked by the Cardinal 
 to breakfast three times in a fortnight.' 
 
 Miss Burton's look and manner grew, for 
 an instant, cold again. 
 
 ^ I'm afraid,' she said, ' that acquaintance 
 is a thing of the past now. There are other 
 friends Mr. Carew has found more congenial.' 
 
 ' Well,' interposed Mrs. Harley, ' we shall 
 see what he finds us ; for, my dear Elfrida, he 
 is outside the door this moment.' 
 
 Had she said ' inside,' she would, perhaps, 
 have been more accurate, for the servant had 
 announced him almost before she had done 
 speaking. On first entering, it was evident 
 that he was somewhat shy. This, however, 
 did him no disservice. For, as in his boldness 
 there was nothmg impertinent, so in his shy- 
 ness there was somethmg graceful and digni- 
 fied. The reserved courtesy with which he
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 79 
 
 greeted the elder Miss Burtons, and which, 
 though reserved, was perfectly unresentful, 
 pleaded at once for him with their generous 
 and delicate instincts ; nor was the impression 
 altered when they saw at a smgie glance the 
 slightly different manner in which he ap- 
 proached their sister. In his short greeting 
 nothing of his demeanour was lost on them ; 
 and they realized, by a process more rapid 
 than conscious reasoning, that if he met them 
 with reserve he was meeting her with rever- 
 ence. Carew himself, by a somewhat similar 
 process, realized, for his part, what was passing 
 in their minds about him ; and though he did 
 not flatter himself that he was not still looked 
 askance at, he felt as if at least he were to be 
 granted a new trial.
 
 
 
 CHAPTER y. 
 
 E found at dinner that every circum- 
 stance favoured him. The elder Miss 
 Burtons, however they might differ 
 from him on some points, agreed with him 
 at least on one — his attachment to anything 
 which suggested the prae -popular epoch ; and 
 when Mrs. Harley began about the old town 
 amongst the mountains, their usual cheerful 
 gravity was at once roused to interest. Their 
 faces brightened, and the37' asked enthusiastic 
 questions. Carew, at first, was content to 
 say very little ; and he merely answered Mrs. 
 Harley about some facts as to which she ap-
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 81 
 
 pealed to him. Presently, however, seeing 
 that he was treated as an authority, the Miss 
 Burtons began to look at him when he spoke, 
 and both by their words and eyes to put their 
 questions to him for themselves. As for their 
 sister, her feelings were less evident. She 
 hardly opened her lips ; she listened to Carew 
 with intentness, and whenever his face was 
 averted her eyes were gravely fixed on him. 
 But the interest he excited in her seemed to 
 be hardly due so much to what he said, as 
 to the fact that he was saying it. 
 
 From the old town the conversation, by 
 easy steps, wandered away to other antiquities 
 of the neighbourhood, to similar towns, to 
 old villas and chateaux, and at last to the 
 chateau which Carew was himself inhabiting. 
 This at once seemed to captivate the eldest 
 Miss Burton's imagination, and now for the 
 first time Carew and she found themselves be- 
 ginning a direct conversation with each other. 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 * It's a place/ said Carew, ^ as Twas telling 
 Mrs. Harley, where one fancies, except for a 
 distant glimpse of the railway, that one is 
 actually living before the French Revolution. 
 Do you know the feeling, after having been 
 long separated from someone, and having 
 almost come to think you would never see 
 them again, of once again feeling yourself 
 all alone with them — securely and in peace, 
 face to face, and heart to heart ? I have just 
 the same feeling when living at Courbon- 
 Loubet. Imagine the delight, as you look on 
 the wide landscape, of knowing that you are 
 in an Eden where there are no political meet- 
 ings, and where a creature like Mr. Snapper is 
 as unknown as a zebra ! ' 
 
 Mr. Japhet Snapper was an opulent mem- 
 ber of Parliament, who at that time was push- 
 ing himself fast into notice, and struggling to 
 be recognized as a leader of the Radical party. 
 The moment his name was mentioned a rapid
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 83 
 
 look of disgust passed over tlie faces of both 
 the elder Miss Burtons. It seemed to affect 
 them as if it were some disas^reeable smell. 
 
 ' That man ! ' exclaimed Miss Mildred. 
 ' One can hardly bear to think of him.' 
 
 Mrs. Harley, however, was by no means of 
 this opinion. ^ I'm afraid,' she said, laughing, 
 Hhat you and I and all of us shall be obliged 
 to think of him soon. Mr. Snapper, Mildred, 
 is the future Prime Minister of England.' 
 
 ' Never ! ' said Miss Elfrida, with a quiet 
 but contemptuous gravity . ' We have sunk 
 low enough, but we have hardly come yet to 
 that. Fancy a man who, m public, lives by 
 denouncing gentlemen, and in private does 
 nothing but vainly struggle to imitate them ! ' 
 
 ' Yes,' added Miss Mildred, ^ and all he 
 succeeds in doing is to make himself look 
 like a " swell " outside one of Charley's comic 
 songs. Really, Evelyn, I wonder how you 
 can bring yourself to know such people.' 
 
 Q 2
 
 84 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 '1/ said Mrs. Harley, with lier eyes 
 gleaming mischievously, 'find Mr. Snapper 
 charming. So would you, Elfrida, if you 
 would only consent to meet him. What fun 
 it would be to see him taking you down to 
 dinner ! George, next season we must manage 
 that, mustn't we? ' 
 
 ' I think,' interposed Miss Mildred, ' that 
 we know him better than you do. Part of 
 Consuelo's little property is in the town where 
 he makes his money ; so we have had some 
 opportunity of looking behind the scenes and 
 learning the way in which he behaves to those 
 dependent on him. I can only say that to 
 me it is incomprehensible how a man who is 
 as brutal to them as he is in private can have 
 the face to pretend in public that he is their 
 friend and champion.' 
 
 ' Of course,' said Miss Elfrida, ' the man is 
 not a gentleman.' 
 
 ' You speak/ said Mrs. Harley, ^ as if a
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 85 
 
 man's not being a gentleman explained every 
 sin, and at the same time excused none.' 
 
 ' So it does/ said Carew, ' with sins of a 
 certain kind. It does so with the sins of 
 selfish schemers in politics. There are certain 
 forms of political dishonesty which are possible 
 only to j^eople of Snapper's kmd. A gentleman 
 could not commit them, let him be as 
 scheming and as selfish as you please, because 
 a gentleman lacks the sense by which the 
 temptation to commit them is appreciated. A 
 gentleman may forget the people, or offer 
 them stones for bread. It is only men like 
 Snapper who will attempt to coax them with 
 poison.' 
 
 Here, for the first time during dinner. Miss 
 Consuelo looked straight at Carew, and said, 
 a little abruptly, ' What do you mean by 
 poison? ' 
 
 'I mean,' said Carew, 'the poison of hopes 
 which he knows can never be realized, and of
 
 86 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 anger at conditions of life which he knows can 
 never be altered.' 
 
 ' Come, come,' said Mrs. Harley, ^ I really- 
 must stick up for my friends. I don't know 
 why you should assume that Mr. Snapper is 
 dishonest. My own belief is that, as regards 
 the poor, he does genuinely feel what he says, 
 and that he is genuinely anxious to remove or 
 to lessen their troubles. For, my dear Elfrida, 
 the poor have troubles. Even you and Mr. 
 Carew, I think, must admit that.' 
 
 ^ They have,' said Miss Elfrida ] ' no one 
 knows it better than I do. They have 
 many. But if you look at the few which Mr. 
 Snapper chooses to harangue about, you will 
 find that he chooses them for an exceedmgly 
 obvious reason — not because they are those 
 most distressing to the poor, but because he 
 can manage most easily to lay them to the 
 charge of the rich.' 
 
 ' You forget,' said Mrs. Harley, ' he is a
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 87 
 
 very rich man himself. He has, I can assure 
 you, no objection to riches.' 
 
 ' I beheve you there,' Miss Elfrida retorted. 
 ^ I should have said gentlemen, the ujDper 
 classes, the aristocracy. He hates them far 
 more than he loves the poor. Come, my dear 
 Evelyn, even you can't deny his bitterness.' 
 
 ^ Yes,' said Mrs. Harley, ' he is bitter — 
 no doubt he is ; and I confess that I don't 
 wonder at it. After all, he is only human ; 
 and when one thinks of the way in which he 
 has been treated in London — the snubs he has 
 had from all the fine lords and ladies — the 
 even worse snubs he has had from stuffy old 
 
 country gentlemen My dear Elfrida, if 
 
 you had seen him, as I have done, biting his 
 lip at dinner, and wincing at the way m Avhich 
 he was — well, treated by some people as if he 
 were one of the footmen ' 
 
 ^My dear Evelyn,' mterposed Miss Mil- 
 dred, with a little good-natured gurgle, ^ and
 
 88 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 what does the man want? One human being, 
 he says, is just as good as another. Why 
 should he wish to be treated better than foot- 
 men are? No, no; I've positively no patience 
 with him. As you yourself admit, he thinks 
 lords and ladies such wonderful people, that 
 he is mad with wretchedness if they don't 
 civilly notice him ; and then, to revenge him- 
 self, he goes and shrieks in his speeches that 
 they are so silly and wicked, that they ought 
 to be noticed by nobody. Besides,' slie went 
 on, ' in spite of his denunciations of landlords, 
 he has, I am told, been thmking of setting 
 up as a squire himself, and has been looking 
 about for an estate with a fine park belong- 
 ing to it. I hear from our agent that he 
 has his eye upon several in the West of 
 England — in your part of the world, Mr. 
 Carew.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Mrs. Harley, drily, ' to return 
 to what we were speaking about, I can only
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 89 
 
 tell you that when I have asked him for 
 money for charities, I have always found him 
 most ready to give, and generous.' 
 
 ' Yes/ said Miss Mildred, ' but you only 
 see one side of him. You say yourself he is 
 touchy because great people will take no 
 notice of him, and, of course, he is delighted 
 to curry favour with you. But we have seen 
 him, as it were, when he thought no one was 
 lookino;. AYe have seen him in the lio-ht, not 
 of what he recommends for the poor, but of 
 what he does for them. He has bouo^ht 
 several streets of workmen's houses at Bir- 
 chester; and I am not speaking at random 
 when I tell you this — that there is more 
 squalor, more overcrowding, more rack- 
 renting on his property than in any other^. 
 part of the town.' 
 
 ' I assure you, Evelyn,' said Miss Elfrida, 
 with a more subdued intonation, ^ Mildred is 
 quite right in all she says. She is an excel-
 
 90 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 lent woman of business, and knows thoroughly 
 well what she is talking about.' 
 
 ' Will nobody/ Miss Mildred continued — 
 * will nobody show him up? Will none of 
 the 2^eople themselves lift a voice against 
 him? There would be no need whatever to 
 abuse the man. Nothing would be wanted 
 but simply to state facts. I wonder that this 
 is not done by the gentlemen of even his own 
 party.' 
 
 ' I don't care,' said Miss Elfrida, ' who it 
 is who exposes him — gentleman or no gentle- 
 man. Indeed, I have often thought that a 
 man who was not a gentleman could do it 
 better than a man who was. If one of us were 
 to attack him, it might seem that we did so in 
 our own interests. If some one else did it, 
 everyone could see that it was done in the 
 interests of smcerity.' 
 
 ^ My dear Elfrida,' said Mrs. Harley, ' and 
 you too, Mildred, I am in great doubt whether
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 91 
 
 I sliall tell you something, or whether I shall 
 not tell you. I am considering how you 
 would both take it.' 
 
 ^ Tell us/ said both of them, with a smile 
 of almost childish curiosity. 
 
 'Well,' said Mrs. Harley, 'if I do, you 
 must not be horrified. Do you remember a 
 certain man — a poor invalided creature — 
 whom you were shocked the other day to meet 
 here, calling upon me? ' 
 
 ' What ! ' exclaimed Miss Elfrida, ' do you 
 mean that dreadful Mr. Foreman? I can 
 promise you, my dear Evelyn, I shall never 
 get over that. Why, he is ten times worse 
 than Mr. Snapper himself. ^Ir. Snapper 
 would only pick the landlord's pockets. This 
 man would murder everyone who has a decent 
 coat on his back. Mr. Snapper, too, whatever 
 he believes or disbelieves, never openly insults 
 the Church ; but this man is an avowed 
 Atheist, who utters his blasjDhemies in the
 
 92 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 parks and the public streets. He even ridi- 
 cules marriage, and advocates everything that 
 is horrible. I only speak from what you 
 yourself have told me.' 
 
 'And now/ said Mrs. Harley, ' I am 
 going to tell you something more. You were 
 wishing for somebody to denounce and to 
 expose Mr. Snapper. In Mr. Foreman you 
 have the very thing you were wishing for.' 
 
 ' Mr. Foreman ! ' exclaimed Miss Elfrida. 
 * He denounce Mr. Snapper ! He is far more 
 likely to egg him on than denounce him. 
 They are both of the same party, only one is 
 more extreme than the other. A Socialist 
 hates the upper classes even more than a 
 Radical does.' 
 
 ' No,' said Carew, ' I think you are wrong 
 there. What a Socialist hates is the middle 
 classes. No doubt he thinks landlords very 
 bad indeed ; but he thinks them good when 
 compared with a Radical manufacturer, and if
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 93 
 
 he seems to agree with the Eadical in so far 
 as he thinks them bad, the two come to this 
 conclusion for exactly opposite reasons. The 
 Radical hates landlords because he thinks 
 they differ from tradesmen ; the Socialist 
 hates them because he thinks they resemble 
 tradesmen.' 
 
 ^ You see, Elfrida,' said Mrs. Harley, ^ you 
 and Mr. Foreman will agree on this point to 
 perfection. Come, tell me : are you prepared 
 to meet him ? ' 
 
 Miss Elfrida and Miss Mildred had, both 
 of them, till now been listening with a patient 
 if somewhat puzzled attention ; but at this last 
 question, put, so it seemed, quite seriously, 
 their faces assumed a look of surprised re- 
 proach, and they drew themselves up with the 
 slightest indication of hauteur, Mrs. Harley, 
 however, went on placidly with her sug- 
 gestion. 
 
 ' If you like it,' she added, ^ I will ask him
 
 94 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 to come in after dinner. He is staying in the 
 hotel.' 
 
 Had Mr. Foreman been the plague or the 
 cholera personified, the two elder Miss Bur- 
 tons could hardly have started more. 
 
 ^ In this hotel ! ' they gasped, as soon as 
 they had recovered their voices. ^ I hope and 
 trust, Evelyn, you will not ask him to do 
 anything of the kind.' 
 
 ' I,' said Carew, ^ quite agree with the Miss 
 Burtons. I have no wish to meet one scoun- 
 drel simply because he exposes another. All 
 the same, I believe Foreman to be far more 
 honest than Mr. Snapper.' 
 
 * If,' said Miss Elfrida, having apparently 
 reflected a little, ' he were not so horrid in other 
 things than his politics, I might perhaps bring 
 myself to see him, and to talk to him. We 
 might — who knows? — make him useful, and 
 perhaps put liim right in some ways. But 
 a complete unbeliever — a man who insults the
 
 THE OLD OHDER CHAXGES 95 
 
 name of Almiglity God in public, and who 
 glories in despising every rale of morality * 
 
 Miss Elfrida stopped. Her feelings were 
 too strong for utterance. 
 
 ^ Of course/ said Mrs. Harley, ^ that side 
 of him is very shocking ; but you are quite 
 wrong — you think that he has no morals at 
 all. On the contrary, he has a code of the 
 strictest and most difficult kind ; and the first 
 law in it is the law of justice with regard to 
 property, and the material means of living a 
 decent life. Without such justice he thinks 
 every other virtue is a mockery ; and justice 
 with him means not only talk about the poor, 
 but it means exceedingly real and exceedingly 
 rude self-sacrifice for them.' 
 
 ^ I think,' said Miss Elfrida, ' the Church 
 could have taught him this without his taking 
 the trouble to think it out for himself The 
 Church has taught charity to the poor for 
 some eighteen hundred years : and Mr. Fore-
 
 96 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 man's charity ends with their bodies — for you 
 cannot imagine that he has any care for their 
 souls.' 
 
 ' What Mr. Foreman thinks,' said Mrs. 
 Harley, ^ is this. He thinks that so long as 
 their bodies are treated as they at present are, 
 to work for their souls is a hopeless, is even a 
 ridiculous task. How, he asks, shall they be 
 pure and temperate, how shall they have any 
 of the virtues which good Christians prize, so 
 long as they are housed like pigs and fed 
 worse than pigs — so long as they have no 
 knowledge, and no leisure, and nothing from 
 their childhood that so much as suggests 
 happiness, except drink, and things worse 
 than drink? How shall we tell them to be 
 clean when they have only sewage to wash 
 in?' 
 
 ' Surely,' said Miss Mildred, ' it is the 
 mission of the Church to bring them water. 
 Its first message is to those in want and
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 97 
 
 misery ; its chief work lies among them. It 
 enjoins the rich to relieve wretchedness, and 
 it helps the wretched to bear it.' 
 
 'Think; Miss Elfrida added, 'of the 
 monastic orders. In some the work is harder 
 than that of any labourer ; in others the food 
 is coarser and more meagre. In this way they 
 are perpetually teaching the poor that there is 
 nothing necessarily degrading either in con- 
 stant toil or in privation.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Mrs. Harley, ' but the hushed 
 asceticism of the monastery or of the convent 
 is a very different thing from the brutal 
 starvation of the streets. Mr. Foreman's ideal 
 of duty differs from yours in this. You look 
 on poverty as a thing that must be endured 
 or at best palHated ; he looks on it as a thing 
 that must be utterly done away with. Your 
 notion is that the rich ought to help the poor. 
 His notion is that there should be no poor to 
 help. Please don't think that I agree with 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 him in all his views ; still less do I think him 
 right in the ways he takes to disseminate 
 them. But I want to show you that he is 
 something quite different from what you 
 imagine him — a cross between a libertine and 
 a criminal lunatic. Whatever may be your 
 opinions of Mr. Snapper's zeal for the poor, 
 Mr. Foreman is perfectly genuine. You, 
 George, though you don't think much of 
 him, will at least answer for that.' 
 
 ^ Yes,' said Harley, in a genial tone of 
 amusement, ' he is a genuine zealot ; no one 
 can doubt that who knows him ; and if you 
 compare him with Snapper, there is something 
 almost grotesque in the contrast. What is 
 genuine in Snapper is his hatred of the aristo- 
 cracy; what is genume in Foreman is his 
 feehng for the labouring classes. Foreman 
 only denounces the rich as a means of rousing 
 the poor; Snapper only rouses the poor as a 
 means of attacking a certain section of the rich.'
 
 THE OLD ORDEK CHANGES 99 
 
 During all this conversation Miss Consuelo 
 had remained silent ; but though silent she 
 had been not inattentive. On the contrary, 
 her attention had been increasing. She looked 
 first at one speaker, then at another, in par- 
 ticular at Mrs. Harley; and seemed several 
 times to have been on the point of asking a 
 question, if the presence of her sisters had not 
 for some reason embarrassed her. At last she 
 began, just as the ladies were rising, ' I have 
 heard the Cardinal speak about Mr. Fore- 
 man ' 
 
 ^My dear Consuelo,' exclaimed Miss Mil- 
 dred, ^ what can the Cardinal have possibly 
 said about Mr. Foreman to you ? ' 
 
 ' He was not talkino- to me — he was talkinor 
 to someone else; and there was much about 
 Mr. Foreman with which he said he sym- 
 pathized.' 
 
 ^ My dear child,' said Miss Mildred, ' you 
 must have misunderstood the Cardinal.' 
 
 H 2
 
 100 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 * Indeed,' said Carew, ^ I venture to think 
 not. The day before I left England, I spent 
 an entire evening with hiro, and he happened 
 to say the very same thing to me. Of Fore- 
 man, personally, he knows nothing, nor of 
 the infamous falsehoods employed by him to 
 further his cause ; else I am sure his opinion 
 would be very much modified. He did know, 
 however, that Foreman was a complete atheist; 
 and yet, in spite of that, he distinctly told me 
 of him, that there was much in his social 
 views, and much in his efforts to spread them, 
 with which, as a Catholic, he himself agreed.' 
 
 The effect of this speech on the elder 
 Miss Burtons was considerable. It did not, 
 indeed, seem to alter their views about 
 Mr. Foreman; for Miss Elfrida merely re- 
 marked quietly, * We all know that the Car- 
 dinal's a bit of a Radical.' But the fact that 
 the Cardinal was still intimate with Carew 
 worked wonders for the latter in restoring
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 101 
 
 him to their good opinion; and in the way 
 they looked at him, as he held the door open 
 for them, there was a returning gleam of their 
 original frank friendliness. Miss Consuelo, 
 too, as she passed, for a moment raised her 
 eyes to him.
 
 !4^g::s:?::?:?^^:^^:^^:^::Sii{ 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 HEN the two gentlemen rejoined the 
 rest of their party, the first sound 
 that greeted Carew's ears was his 
 own name being uttered by Mrs. Harley. 
 
 ^ Did you hear us,' she said, ^ taking your 
 name in vain ? We were not abusing you 
 much, so you need not discompose yourself. 
 We have been talking again about the won- 
 ders of Courbon-Loubet ; and I have been 
 telling the Miss Burtons the reasons why you 
 like it. You like it, I was saying, for just the 
 same reasons that the ostrich likes to hide his 
 
 head in the sand. 
 
 You lose sight there of the
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 103 
 
 progress of the sacred democracy, and you 
 think, accordingly, that the democracy has 
 ceased progressing.' 
 
 Carew chanced at the moment to be stand- 
 ing close to Miss Consuelo. 
 
 ' Perhaps,' she said to him, speaking low 
 and quickly, ^ you think, also, that the poor 
 have ceased suffering ? ' 
 
 There was a vacant chair beside her, and 
 he sat down on it. Diffident, however, of 
 even seeming to engross her, he hardly did 
 more than glance at her ; and with a laugh 
 of forced indifference he addressed himself to 
 the party generally. 
 
 ^ If we were inclined to forget democratic 
 progress,' he said, ' some of us here, before 
 dinner, had an excellent reminder of its 
 reality, in the presence of — come, Mrs. Harley, 
 whom do you think ? — a most eminent man, 
 and a very dear friend of yours.' 
 
 ^ Of mine ! ' said Mrs. Harley. ' Do you
 
 104 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 mean Mr. * * * * ? ' and she named a distin- 
 guished statesman. ' He, I know, is expected 
 here.' 
 
 ^ No,' said Carew ; ' I mean — I mean — 
 guess once more ! — Mr. Inigo.' 
 
 The elder Miss Burtons broke into a hearty 
 laugh. 
 
 ' What ? ' they exclaimed. ' And have 
 you seen him too ? ' 
 
 ^ That man ! ' said Mrs. Harley. ^ You 
 don't mean to say that he's here ! He is no 
 friend of mine. I have never allowed him to 
 be introduced to me.' 
 
 ^ In that case,' said Carew, ' he must be in 
 a very forlorn condition ; for he assured me 
 just now that you were the best friend he 
 possessed.' 
 
 * Well,' said Mrs. Harley, ' now I come to 
 think of it, I believe that one night he did see 
 me to my carriage — yes, and ever since he 
 has been constantly leaving cards on me.'
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 105 
 
 ' My dear Evelyn,' said Miss Elfrida, ^ I 
 can tell you lie's a very grand gentleman. 
 Mildred and I felt quite frumps by com- 
 parison.' And she began a description of 
 their encounter with Mr. Inigo in the hall. 
 
 Carew now turned to Miss Consuelo ; and, 
 for the first time addressing himself to her 
 exclusively, ' You have never,' he asked, 
 ^ met Mr. Foreman, have you ? ' 
 
 ' No,' she said ; ' but I am not like you, 
 and I think I should like to do so. I often feel 
 about the j)Oor — often, perhaps always — just 
 as I gather he feels. I could never forget 
 them because I saw none of them suffering 
 near me.' 
 
 * Neither do I,' said Carew gravely. ^ If 
 you go merely by what I have just been 
 saying, you will be doing me the greatest 
 injustice — much more than you think. But I 
 do agree with your sisters, that you, with a 
 religion like yours, may find all the assistance
 
 106 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 and sympathy you can ever require in it, 
 without going to a soured and unscrupulous 
 enthusiast like Foreman.' 
 
 ' If you/ said Miss Consuelo, ' had been 
 brought up as I have been, you would not 
 perhaps think my religion so sufficient as you 
 do now. And yet, no ! ' she exclaimed, ^ why 
 have I said that? It is not what I mean. I 
 don't know how to express myself. Of 
 course the Church possesses all the teaching 
 and all the sympathy you speak of somewhere 
 — but where ? No, I can't go on ; you would 
 not be able to understand me.' 
 
 ^ Try,' said Carew, ^ and see. I think I 
 should.' 
 
 There was a pause of a moment or two, 
 and then she broke out abruptly, ^ Look at 
 my two sisters. They are far better people 
 than I am. The aim of their lives is to be 
 and to do good ; and yet I always feel them 
 to be aiming wide of the mark. They are
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHA^'GES 107 
 
 constantly thinking of tlie poor, and, as they 
 imagine, working for the poor ; but — well, to 
 me it all seems like weeding a flower-garden 
 instead of ploughing a field. Mildred, whilst 
 I am under age, manages my affairs for me. 
 She is practical and business-like enough, and 
 has done much to improve some bad cottages 
 and houses. Still, to hear her talk, one would 
 think that bad cottas-es and houses were sent 
 into the world that we might do ourselves 
 good by improving them ; and, as for Elfrida, 
 she is far more pleased at seeing two hundred 
 people in one chapel than she is pained at 
 seeing twenty families in one house. Some- 
 times, when I watch her trotting off to Mass in 
 the morning, looking as if she were doing the 
 whole duty of woman, I feel as if, myself, I 
 should never be religious again.' 
 
 She spoke low, but with strong and evident 
 feeling. There was a flush in her cheeks ; 
 her eyes were fixed on her lap, and she was
 
 108 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 trifling nervously witli the crimson feathers 
 of her fan. 
 
 ' You know/ she went on presently, with 
 the rapid frankness that sometimes springs 
 from shyness, ' you know how my sisters 
 keep guard over me — over the parties I go to, 
 over the men I dance with or speak to. You 
 know that, Mr. Carew, don't you ? No one 
 knows it better than you do.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Carew ; ^ no one better than I.' 
 ' What care,' she resumed, ' they think 
 necessary to keep me from doing something 
 dreadful! Perhaps they are right,' and she 
 gave a slight ironical laugh. ' But if we, in 
 our class, can be so easily demoralized by our 
 surroundings, if goodness is a flower that must 
 be so very carefully nursed, what must be the 
 case with the great majority of our poor ? I 
 think I am a standing proof that wickedness 
 must be the fruit of circumstances, and that 
 men like Mr. Foreman are the only men who
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 109 
 
 are right when they tell us we must begin by 
 attacking the circumstances first.' 
 
 Carew raised his eyes, and saw that the 
 eldest Miss Burton was watching him. Having 
 observed this, he instinctively raised his voice, 
 and addressed his answer to the company in 
 general rather than to ]\liss Consuelo. 
 
 ' My quarrel with Foreman,' he said, ' is 
 not that he wishes to alleviate misery, but 
 that, as a matter of fact, he adds to it. As a 
 preliminary to satisfying the natural wants of 
 the poor, he thinks he must madden them with 
 wants that are exotic and unnatural. To the 
 pangs of poverty he must add the pangs of 
 envy ; and this you may take for granted— if 
 poverty is the parent of some sins, envy is the 
 parent of more ; and the wants of poverty can 
 be appeased, but the wants of envy are 
 insatiable. Poverty is the thirst of a man on 
 earth ; envy is the thirst of a man in hell.' 
 
 * My dear Mr. Carew,' Mrs. Harley here
 
 110 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 interposed, ' do you think for one instant that, 
 were there no Mr. Foreman in existence, the 
 people conld possibly rest content in the state 
 in which they are now ? Do you think that 
 sooner or later they will not insist on a 
 change? ' 
 
 ^ They have taken,' said Carew, ' a good 
 many thousand years to think about it ; and 
 they are no worse off now than they have 
 been in other ages. Suffering and want there 
 have always been in the world. No one can 
 deplore this more than I do ; but to exag- 
 gerate the fact is even more mischievous than 
 to neglect it. Multitudes of the poor, so far 
 as happiness goes, enjoy practically as good a 
 chance as the rich, until the agitator comes 
 like the harpy, to ruin their simple banquet.' 
 
 ^ It's all very well,' retorted Mrs. Harley, 
 'for us to sit still and say misery has 
 always existed, and the people have always 
 borne it j but in the first place, we must
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 111 
 
 remember that by this tiaie we have educated 
 them. We have made theh' skins tender and 
 sensitive, and they are now maddened by 
 things which they hardly felt before.' 
 
 * I admit,' said Carew drily, ' that educa- 
 tion, as the Radicals conceive it, is a crueller 
 engine of torture than was ever dreamed of 
 by Nero.' 
 
 ' Oh, but,' said Mrs. Harley, her manner 
 growing more and more earnest, ^ the hardest 
 and cruellest evils are those which, unhappily, 
 it needs no education to point out to us ; and 
 these, in our great cities at least, certainly are 
 increasing. Think of these terrible periods, 
 which people now call crises, when men by 
 thousands, with wives and children dependent 
 on them — strong men, men willing to work — 
 rise up in the morning without any certainty 
 at all that they will be able to earn so much 
 as a crust of bread by the evening.' 
 
 ^ Yes,' said Carew ; ' but be fair as well as
 
 112 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 compassionate. There are crises now ; in old 
 days there were famines.' 
 
 * Think/ Mrs. Harley went on, ' of the 
 mothers who see their children dying simply 
 for the want of a breath of wholesome air ; 
 and they know all the while what wealth is 
 being wasted round them. It is a hard life, 
 and it is a bitter life. It is hard enough when 
 trade is good; but when trade is depressed, as 
 it is now, no one can conceive it who has not 
 looked close at it.' 
 
 ^ Things,' said Carew, ' have been often as 
 bad before.' 
 
 ' It seems,' said Mrs. Harley, ' that the 
 people themselves don't think so. Anyhow, 
 even if their burdens have not increased, what 
 has increased is their own impatience of bear- 
 ing them. Have you ever looked into the faces 
 of an East End mob? Have you ever realized 
 what an appalling sight they are ? The French 
 Ambassador has several times said to me that
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 113 
 
 he thinks things in England in a most critical 
 and dangerous condition, and that the savage 
 and sullen spirit fermenting throughout the 
 country now is just what there was in Paris 
 before the great Revolution. And at this 
 moment, to add to it, there is all the wild 
 excitement of a general election, which will 
 largely be managed by agitators. JSTothing 
 would surprise me less, if we have hard 
 weather this spring, and the misery of cold is 
 added to the misery of hunger, than to hear of 
 serious troubles and outbreaks in London, and 
 elsewhere also. Did you read the accounts of 
 what was said and what happened at Fore- 
 man's street meetinors some two months ao^o? 
 He is going to repeat them as soon as ever he 
 can get home again.' 
 
 Mrs. Harley was here interrupted by a 
 loud rap at the door. Throughout the room 
 there was a startled sense of expectation, 
 broken only by Mrs. Harley's faint ^ Come in.' 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 Then the door was thrown open wide by a 
 waiter, and there, framed in the doorway, was 
 the figure of Mr. Inigo. One of those sudden 
 silences fell on the whole party which, so far 
 as their meaning goes, are a kind of congealed 
 laugh, and which fill a room with an atmo- 
 sphere of slightly displeased surprise. This, 
 however, gave Mr. Inigo no distress whatever. 
 It seemed, on the contrary, to be his native 
 element, and he entered it as naturally as a 
 duck takes to the water. The punctilious but 
 blank politeness of Mr. and Mrs. Harley and 
 the slight bows of the Miss Burtons, did 
 nothing to disturb his usual solemn smile and 
 his odd composite air of determined yet apolo- 
 getic assurance. Indeed, in little more than 
 a minute he was sipping a cup of coffee ; and, 
 unconscious of having silenced one conversa- 
 tion by his entrance, to make up for it he was 
 already leading another. Oddly enough, too, 
 he commanded an attentive hearing.
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 115 
 
 ' I confess/ he said to Mrs. Harley, ' con- 
 sidering all the things that probably will 
 be happening at home, I am surprised at your 
 spending the whole winter abroad. I shall 
 be back in London by the week after next, at 
 farthest. And you, Miss Burton — do you 
 mean to tell me actually that you will be away 
 also ? ' 
 
 Mr. Inigo's voice grew very grave and im- 
 pressive. ' I think it's a pity/ he said. ' We 
 may expect many things to be happening soon 
 in London — several of them very important — 
 which will practically change the whole aspect 
 of society. Nobody ought to miss them.' 
 
 If Mr. Inigo had startled his hearers at 
 first, he startled them now still more. They 
 were filled with a double wonder — first at his 
 train of thought being so nearly the same as 
 their own, and secondly at his being capable 
 of such a train of thought at all. ' And pray 
 how/ said Mrs. Harley, with an odd puzzled 
 
 i2
 
 116 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 expression, ' pray how, Mr. Inigo, do you get 
 
 this gift of prophecy ? ' 
 
 Mr. Inigo eyed the company one by one, 
 
 the light of suppressed knowledge sparkling 
 
 in each pupil ; and at last he gave utterance 
 
 to this astonishing answer. 'Ah,' he said, 
 
 ' ah — a little bird has told me.' 
 
 If he liked attention, he certamly had it 
 
 now, for everyone stared blankly at him. 
 
 ' You certainly,' said Mrs. Harley, ' take 
 
 the matter very philosophically.' 
 
 ' Oh,' said Mr. Inigo, ' as for me, I shall 
 be back in a fortnight, so I shall come in 
 for everything, and nothing will have begun 
 before then. It will be three weeks, in fact, 
 before the real movement is perceptible ; not 
 that even now there are not premonitory 
 symptoms. For instance,' he continued, ' take 
 my own case. The week after next I have 
 three dinners in London already, and I think 
 probably a funeral — poor Lord Bayham's.
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 117 
 
 A very smart — I raean to say, a very sad affair 
 that will be. Everyone about the Court will . 
 of course have to be there. Gull, I am told, 
 gives him only ten days more. It's very sad. 
 He was a dear, dear friend of mine. He used 
 to ask me to luncheon three times every season. 
 However,' Mr. Inigo continued, suppressing 
 an elaborate sigh, ' what I was going to tell 
 you is this. The week after, the little bird I 
 spoke of, has told me that there will be a fancy 
 ball in a house we all know of at one corner of 
 Grosvenor Square ; and another, two days 
 later — I am not at liberty to say where ; and 
 in all probability there will be three Eoyalties 
 at it. Now these are specimens, but they are 
 specimens only, of all the things we may very 
 soon be expecting. Why, there's been nothing 
 like it, out of June and July, before.' 
 
 Mr. Inigo's news was received in discreet 
 silence, which seemed to him to argue ab- 
 sorbed attention ; and presently turning from
 
 118 THE OLD OBDER CHANGES 
 
 the social future in England, he proceeded to 
 discuss the social present on the Riviera. He 
 gave a brief analysis of the Visitors' List at 
 Cannes, from which it appeared that, of the 
 villas let for the winter, two only had been 
 taken by English peers. ' In fact,' he con- 
 cluded, ' the whole place is going to the dogs,' 
 Then, like a bird winging its way back to its 
 young ones, he returned to the subject of his 
 own engagements in London ; and he might 
 have gone on for some indefinite time dis- 
 cussing them, if it had not been for an ac- 
 cidental remark of Carew's. 
 
 A pause occurring in Mr. Inigo's list of 
 gaieties, Carew said, with a smile : ' I suppose 
 you never honour with your company Mr. 
 Foreman's alfresco entertainments ?' 
 
 It was an unambitious joke, and the 
 company received it as such — all except Mr. 
 Inigo. He certainly had not a reputation for 
 being sensitive ; but for some unaccount-
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 119 
 
 able reason this piece of banter seemed to 
 offend and stagger him. He stared at 
 Carew in silence, the smile died from his 
 lips, and at last he said, ^ I beg your pardon,' 
 in a manner which, had he ever ventured to 
 let his words go out of a walk, would have 
 plainly expressed a mixture of surprise, sus- 
 picion, and ferocity. Mrs. Harley concluded 
 that he thought he was being laughed at ; 
 and, though not in her heart at all sorry that 
 he should think so, she civilly tried to set 
 matters right again. ' We have been talk- 
 ing,' she explained, ^ about socialism in the 
 East End, and Mr. Foreman's street meetings. 
 But that, I suppose, has very little interest 
 for you.' 
 
 Mr. Inigo saw that she wished to please 
 him. His smile, like a sun through clouds, 
 made fitful struggles to shine out again. But 
 his spirits flagged ; his air of triumph was 
 gone ; he was no longer jubilant in the
 
 120 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 memory of having had twelve invitations for 
 a single night last season ; and before long 
 he rose and took his departure. * I must go/ 
 he said, nerving himself to retire with honour, 
 ' and see if a telegram has come for me from 
 the Grand Duke about to-morrow. Poor old 
 boy, I'm afraid he's getting very shaky.' 
 
 He closed the door, and descended the 
 stairs slowly. There were no listeners, but 
 had there been any, and had their ears been 
 sharp enough, they might have overheard him 
 muttering, in a tone of anger and perplexity, 
 ' I wonder if that fellow Carew could have 
 meant any impertinence by that which he 
 said just now. Let me catch him spreading 
 any absurd stories about me, and I little know 
 myself if I am not even with him some 
 day!' 
 
 The Miss Burtons presently rose to depart 
 also, and they accepted with a very good 
 grace, and without any air of distance,
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHAXGES 121 
 
 Carew's natural offer to see tliem back to 
 their hotel. He told the Harleys. as he said 
 good-night to them, that he would call the 
 folio wins: morning:, before he went back to 
 the chateau, to know on what day he might 
 expect them to come to him ; and he even 
 ventured during his short walk with the 
 Miss Burtons, on a diffident suggestion that 
 they too should drive over and lunch there. 
 Miss Elfrida's answer, however, though good- 
 natured, was not altogether encouraging. 
 
 * Thank you,' she said, with a little ner- 
 vous laugh. ' The expedition would, I am 
 sure, be most interesting.' But she imme- 
 diately added that they were leaving Xice 
 soon, and that, for the next few days, their 
 time was already occupied. This statement 
 brought them to the portico of the hotel ; 
 and as she at once followed it by an abrupt 
 though friendly good-night, Carew felt that 
 even yet he was but half restored to their
 
 122 THE OLD ORDEE CHANGES 
 
 confidence. The next instant, however, there 
 was some compensation for him ; and this was 
 the glance that Miss Consuelo gave him as 
 she and her sisters were disappearing through 
 the folding- doors. Carew did not follow 
 them. He felt no inclination as yet to retire 
 to rest, and he remained meditating outside 
 in the moonlight.
 
 
 CHAPTER TIL 
 
 HE hotel was one which opened on 
 the Promenade des Anglais ; and be- 
 fore Carew's eyes, as he stood silent 
 and solitary, there rose and fell the mysteri- 
 ous flash of the Mediterranean. In his state 
 of mind at the moment, the sight had a spe- 
 cial charm for him. The air, too, was warm 
 as the air of a summer evening ; and far and 
 faint, from an undistingiiishable quarter, there 
 came to his ears for an instant a vague sound 
 of music, floating and dying away like a 
 wandering scent of flowers. He looked at his 
 watch. It was far earlier than he had thought
 
 124 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 it was. It was only half-past ten. He lighted 
 a cigarette ; and, obeying some restless im- 
 pulse, he crossed the road to the side nearest 
 the sea. 
 
 He stood for some moments, leaning on 
 his stick, and taking the scene in. The moon 
 was shining brilliantly, and right away from 
 him, following the long curve of the coast, the 
 broad esplanade, with its fringe of gas-lamps, 
 seemed to stretch itself out into the heart of 
 some unknown solitude. On one side of it 
 was the sea, on the other its succession of 
 houses, blanched like a row of lilies— lodging- 
 houses, villas, hotels, and, conspicuous at a 
 certain distance, the lighted blinds and win- 
 dows of the great Cercle de la Mkliter ranee. 
 In those windows there was a certain strange 
 suggestiveness. They gave to the moonlight 
 a sense of passion and recklessness, which was 
 presently added to by the bells of a smart- 
 looking Russian carriage, as it rattled by,
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 125 
 
 with two men in sables in it, and left in its 
 wake a faint smell of cigarette- smoke. Mean- 
 while, far off on the horizon the lighthouse 
 of the Cap d'Antibes was shining with its 
 steadfast eye ; and near at hand some vessels 
 were lying black in the moon- track, whose 
 coloured lights, as they moved almost im^^er- 
 ceptibly, gleamed like rubies and emeralds 
 floating on the breast of the pale waters. 
 
 The hour and the scene were full of hints 
 and whisperings, as various as the thoughts 
 by which Carew was already agitated ; and 
 his mind began to work as if under some new 
 stimulus. He was conscious of a sense not of 
 happiness but of exaltation. He was not 
 happy ; on the contrary, he was perplexed 
 and anxious : but all his feehngs and percep- 
 tions, whether of trouble or of pleasure, 
 seemed to him to be quickened, and, somehow, 
 to move to music. This was the case even 
 with his sense of the ridiculous, as he almost
 
 126 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 directly realized ; for in another moment, on 
 the opposite side of road, he caught sight of the 
 figure of Mr. Inigo posting off in the direction 
 of the Cercle, and intent, as Carew divined, on 
 finding some fashionable acquaintance, open 
 to being victimized into what might be called 
 a friend. Carew began moving in the same 
 direction also, with no other purpose than 
 to prolong the grotesque amusement he was 
 aware of in watching the other. Having, 
 however, been once set walking, it was not 
 long before he quickened his pace, and was 
 soon lost in thoughts with which Mr. Inigo 
 had but little connection. 
 
 At first they were far from pleasing. He 
 knew that he had carried away from Mrs. 
 Harley's some secret discontent with himself. 
 Now this discontent began to disclose its 
 nature. The part he had taken in the even- 
 in o-'s conversation came back to him -, and 
 certain of his sentences, like accusing spirits,
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 127 
 
 began to say themselves over and over again 
 to him. They were not sentences that he had 
 uttered to Miss Consuelo Burton. They had 
 nothing to do directly either with her or her 
 sisters ; though with her, no doubt, indirectly 
 they had to do. What they referred to was the 
 poor in the modern world — the great industrial 
 masses ; and the claims and struggles which 
 Mrs. Harley said would be made by them. 
 
 ^ And I,' he began murmuring, ^ have 
 done nothing but meet these claims with a 
 sneer. I set them aside this evening with a 
 bitter and contemptuous flippancy, as if they 
 were nothing but the cant of a sect, or of 
 some scheming radical faction. And all the 
 while I myself believe in them, with a belief 
 that is always at my heart like a dull physical 
 pain. For the past two years what have I 
 thought of else ? All the future is contained 
 in them — in these hopes and claims of the 
 people — the duties, the hopes, the fears, the
 
 128 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 whole life of the world. And we ' — his reflec- 
 tions here grew less distinct again — ' and we, 
 what will he our part? Is our world — the 
 world of us who are made of different clay 
 from the others, of us who inherit all the 
 traditions of centuries — is that world to dis- 
 solve like a dream, and leave no trace behind 
 it ? Or shall we find that still we have a 
 place amongst the leaders left to us ? ' 
 
 Presently, into thoughts like these a new 
 image intruded itself, and this was the image 
 of Miss Consuelo Burton. It seemed to come 
 to him like an answer to his vague questions. 
 The feminine charms of her smile, her face, 
 her figure, all came back to him, making a 
 vivid picture ; but it was not this that at the 
 present moment a23pealed to him. What ap- 
 pealed to him was the pride that betrayed 
 itself in her every movement, the self-posses- 
 sion underlying every sign of embarrassment ; 
 and, above all, a look that he had seen in her
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 129 
 
 eyes that evening — a look of want and in- 
 quiiy, of desolation and vivid expectancy — a 
 look in whose beauty there was nothing to 
 flatter his own vanity, but which made him 
 exclaim half aloud to himself at the thought 
 of it, ' She too watches as 1 watch, but she 
 can see farther. She asks for an answer. 
 She must and she will command one. If 
 ever a woman's face meant anything, hers 
 this evening meant, '' Show me the face of 
 Duty." ' 
 
 His thoughts were moving something like 
 clouds in moonlight, not disconnected hi any 
 abrupt way, but constantly dissolving and 
 shifting into new and changing shapes. Often, 
 so far as his own consciousness went, he was 
 little more than a passive, and even an absent 
 spectator of them ; but now and again they 
 would, as it were, arrest him ; and, with his 
 whole intention, he would take an active part 
 in them. It was thus that his thoughts be- 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 haved with regard to Miss Consuelo Burton. 
 ^ Show me the face of Duty.' He said this to 
 himself several times over, as if it gradually 
 merged into a personal ejaculation of his 
 own ; and then, after some minutes of wan- 
 dering and indistinct meditation, he caught 
 himself once more murmuring in articulate 
 and coherent words. 
 
 ^ Different ! ' he said. ' I should think she 
 was different ! Nothing could produce her 
 but a race separate from the rest of the world 
 — separate from them and completely above 
 them. Nothing could produce her but that 
 which has produced her — the old aristocracy 
 of an old country such as ours. Yes, we are 
 different,' and as he said this his pace grew 
 quicker, and his steps as they beat the pave- 
 ment took something of the emphasis of his 
 thoughts, ^ we who can look back through the 
 vistas of centuries, and hear the past speak to 
 us, in our own private language, of our bu^th-
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHAXGES 131 
 
 right of rule and leadership. Through the 
 avenues of the past voices come echoing down 
 to us, which the people can never hear. They 
 place us for ever on a different level from 
 theirs ; they make for us, if we only choose 
 to listen to them, a second conscience, an 
 
 added moral faculty ' 
 
 Here, both in his thoughts and his walk, 
 he stopped short suddenly, interrupting him- 
 self with a low ironical laugh. ^ And much 
 good,' he exclaimed, ' this faculty does us ! 
 How does it advise us to exert ourselves? 
 And how do we try to exert ourselves ? ' And 
 like many other men perplexed with moral 
 problems, he forgot his laughter, and looked 
 up at the stars. One or two of the constella- 
 tions he instantly put a name to ] and he then 
 began idly reflecting how completely he had 
 forgotten the others. Presently, by one of those 
 whimsical caprices with which our thoughts 
 so often startle and entertain us, he found
 
 132 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 himself dwelling on the image of an old re- 
 flecting telescope, once the toy of his boyhood 
 on many a summer night. A moment more, 
 and, like a figure in a shaken kaleidoscope, that 
 image was gone, and in place of it was the 
 face of Miss Consuelo Burton. ' Her eyes,' 
 he said, ' to me are like the astronomer's 
 speculum, in which I see the star that my 
 naked eye cannot see — the star of duty and 
 labour, that shines over the gate of heaven. 
 The dreams of passion — is this a time for these, 
 when the world is full of trouble, and change, 
 and danger? My star is the star not of 
 passion, but of sacrifice.' 
 
 Occupied still with reflections of this kind 
 — with that unwritten poetry which at times 
 visits nearly all of us, and which lifts the 
 minds of the most prosaic to higher levels 
 on the storm of its 'unheard melodies' — he 
 gradually became aware of some external 
 influence by which his mood underwent an
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 133 
 
 unbidden change ; and the dreams of passion, 
 which were a moment ago so distant, invaded 
 him, like music, with a tender and yet tumul- 
 tuous sadness. He started as he realized 
 what the external influence was. It actually 
 was music in the literal sense of the word ; 
 and he felt convinced, though he hardly 
 knew why, that it was the same which had 
 fallen on his ears as he was quitting the 
 portico of the hotel. He had not even asked 
 himself then what it was that produced it. 
 He now felt certain that it was a woman's 
 voice. 
 
 He listened intently. For a moment it be- 
 came inaudible. He waited, and then again 
 there swelled another passionate cadence. 
 Faint and far ofl* as it seemed, he could not 
 mistake its meaning. He moved slowly in 
 the direction from which he judged it pro- 
 ceeded, keeping his eyes fixed on the windows 
 of the houses opposite him. Here and there,
 
 134 THE OLD OEDEK CHANGES 
 
 through blinds or transparent curtains, was a 
 glow of yellow lamplight ; but in most cases 
 the Venetian shutters were closed, with the 
 moonlight lying white on them. The voice 
 had now ceased. There was no one stirring. 
 The whole Promenade was silent. Presently, 
 as he was beginning to think that his search 
 would prove useless, he heard — and now not 
 very far off from him — the clear notes of a 
 piano. His eye instinctively fixed on a semi- 
 detached villa, standing back from the road, 
 with a raised garden in front of it. The 
 ground-floor windows were almost concealed 
 from view ; but the upper part of them could 
 be seen from the pavement opposite ; and 
 Carew perceived that a bright light was 
 shining from them, and that one of them 
 was wide open. He had found the house 
 at last ; this was at once plain to him ; 
 and, conscious of a pleasant, half-boyish 
 expectancy, he sat down on a seat which 
 opportunely tempted him; and watched and
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 135 
 
 waited for the song which, he divined was 
 imminent. 
 
 A few more chords, struck, it seemed, al- 
 most at random, came sounding across to him, 
 rich and deep and vibrating, and above them 
 the brilliant ripple of a few notes in the treble; 
 but they suggested no air — nothing but the 
 touch of a musician. AU of a sudden, how- 
 ever, he felt them change their character, and 
 appeal to a something deep down m his 
 memory. They suggested something he was 
 certain he had heard before. But when, and 
 where ? he asked. In a moment the doubt 
 was answered. In a moment, to his surprise, 
 the following song broke on him. It was 
 not sung loudly, but with a liquid and mourn- 
 ful softness ; yet every word was distinct, for 
 his memory now assisted his hearing. 
 
 ' OIij World! ivhose days like sunlit waters glide, 
 
 Whose music links the midnight with the morrow, 
 Who for thine own hast Beauty, Power, and Pride — 
 Ohj World, what art thou ? ' And the World replied, 
 ^ A hush of pleasure round a heart of sorrow.''
 
 136 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 ' Oily Child of God ! thou ivho hast sought thy icaij 
 
 Where all this music sounds, this sunlight gleams, 
 Mid Pride, and Power, and Beauty day hy day — 
 And what art thou ? ' / heard my own soul say, 
 ' A ivandering sorroiv in a ivorld of dreams' 
 
 That song Carew had heard once before, 
 and he had heard it once only ; and the 
 memory of the woman who then sang it to 
 him breathed from the air and verses as if it 
 had been some perfume they were full of. 
 ^ Could it be she who was now singing it ? ' 
 he at once began to ask himself. There were 
 many reasons for rejecting the idea as fan- 
 tastic ; yet there in the moonlight he could 
 not resist playing with it ; and he remained, 
 when the song had ceased, still sitting and 
 still watching the villa. There was no more 
 music ; but presently he heard, or thought he 
 heard, the voice of a woman talking ; and 
 then another sound which, though ftunt, was 
 quite unmistakable — the rattle of an electric 
 bell. Then, a second or two later, he saw the
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 137 
 
 top of one of the open window-sashes move 
 a little ; he heard a light sound of gravel 
 crunching under footsteps, and became aware 
 that someone was approaching the end of the 
 garden. 
 
 Half ashamed of being caught there listen- 
 ing, and yet still more ashamed of letting 
 such a feeling betray itself, he kept his posi- 
 tion with what he hoped was an air of in- 
 difference, pretending to be occupied for the 
 moment with a cigarette and a matchbox. 
 Meanwhile he was conscious that a female 
 figure had advanced to the balustrade, and 
 was leaning her arms on it, as she stood be- 
 tween two palm-plants. 
 
 A vague impression was conveyed to him 
 of colour, and silk, and glitter ; but it was 
 some moments before he collected courage 
 to raise his eyes and look at the apparition 
 directly. The moment he did so he sat wp- 
 right with a start. The woman he saw
 
 138 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 before him was so singular and so brilliant 
 in her aspect, that she might well have 
 arrested the attention of anyone ; though had 
 it not been for an air of sadness and refine- 
 ment about her, she would hardly have sug- 
 gested to the moralist a world he would call 
 respectable. She was closely enveloped in a 
 light blue opera-cloak bordered with white 
 fur and gorgeous with gold embroideries. On 
 her arms, which were partly visible, and were 
 of dazzling whiteness, was a gleam and a flash 
 of diamonds ; whilst her hair, of the palest 
 flaxen, with a few starry blossoms in it, 
 shone over her forehead like a tissue of woven 
 moonbeams. 
 
 She must have seen Carew ; but she was 
 not looking at or attending to him. Her 
 lips were parted, as if with a soundless sigh ; 
 and her eyes seemed to be gazing far away 
 upon the sea. She might have passed for a 
 siren taken from her native element, and
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 139 
 
 longing for the oblivion to which she had 
 once tempted others. 
 
 If she, however, was not noticmg Carew, 
 Carew, for his part, was intently staring at 
 her; and a full minute had hardly elapsed 
 since her appearance, when he rose from his 
 seat, walked straight across the road to her, 
 and, raising his hat as he did so, exclaimed, 
 ^ Madame de Saint Yalery ! ' 
 
 She started at first, with a start of alarm 
 and wonder ; for though she had been aware 
 of a figure seated on the bench opposite her, 
 she had given it no attention : but before 
 Carew had reached the pavement under her, 
 she had divined who he was, and with a gasp 
 had pronounced his name. 
 
 ^ You here ! ' she said. ' And to think of 
 you here ! ' 
 
 ' Why not? ' he replied. ^ This is surely a 
 place of meetings. It is I, rather, who should 
 be surprised at the sight of you. When
 
 140 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 last I heard of you, I heard you were in South 
 America.' 
 
 ^ You have heard much about me probably 
 that had very little truth in it. Some of your 
 friends may even have told you I was en- 
 joying myself. But answer me this — if you 
 did not know I was here, how is it that I find 
 you watching my windows ? ' 
 
 ' Your song brought me,' he said. ^ I came 
 to it like a moth to a candle. Do you remem- 
 ber the time when I heard you sing it first ? 
 Until to-night I have never heard it since.' 
 
 ' Since then,' she murmured, ' many things 
 have happened to me.' 
 
 Carew bent his head, and said in a low 
 tone, ' What things ? ' 
 
 ' I have eaten the fruit that you urged me 
 not to eat.' 
 
 * Well,' said Carew, with his head still 
 bent, 'and was the fruit good for food ? What 
 have you found life since then ? '
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 141 
 
 ' Listen,' she said, and she leaned forward 
 and looked down on him, ' shall I tell you 
 what I have found life since then — ^yes, and 
 before then ? ' 
 
 ' Tell me,' he answered. 
 
 She paused till he raised his eyes to her ; 
 and then, in a low voice that was almost as 
 musical as her smging, said slowly : 
 
 ^ " A husk of pleasure round a heart of 
 sorrow." ' 
 
 Carew looked at her with an odd sensa- 
 tion of wonder. There was something in her 
 radiant aspect, touched as it was with melan- 
 choly, which made it seem as though some 
 unreal light was playing on her, and produced 
 a feeling in him that he was going through a 
 scene in an opera, rather than one in actual 
 life. He was not pleased at the meeting. He 
 was not pleased with the memories awakened 
 by it. He had long ceased to think Madame 
 de Saint Yalery worthy of the interest he had
 
 142 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 once felt in her, and tlie trouble he had taken 
 to advise her and guide her prudently. Yet 
 all the same, as he heard her voice and looked 
 at her, he began to understand again a thing 
 which he had almost forgotten — how that 
 interest which he had once felt had been ex- 
 cited by her. Presently, however, his atten- 
 tion was suddenly diverted ; she too, at the 
 same moment, turned her head rapidly; and 
 there, standing close beside her, was another 
 female form, as beautiful or even more beau- 
 tiful than her own. The hair was slightly 
 darker, the dress was far simpler, and there 
 was something childlike in the unabashed 
 soft eyes. 
 
 Madame de Saint Valery exhibited no 
 confusion on seeing her. ' Violet,' she said, 
 ^ here is an old friend of mine, Mr. Carew. 
 Mr. Carew, I think you have never met my 
 cousin. Miss Capel.' 
 
 On Miss CapeFs eyes Carew's were fixed
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 143 
 
 intently, and hers met liis without any sign of 
 flinching. 
 
 ' Yes,' he said, ' I think I have met her — 
 and so few hours ago, that I hope she has not 
 forgotten it. I had the good luck to prevent 
 her losing her fan. It was you, wasn't it? ' 
 he went on, addressing the fair stranger 
 directly. ' Indeed, if I am not mistaken, there 
 is that veiy fan in your hand now. Let me 
 look at it — will you? — and I then shall be 
 quite sure.' 
 
 She made no movement whatever to do as 
 Carew asked her ; but she looked at him 
 fixedly as if he had been some inanimate 
 object, and a grave tantalizing smile became 
 slowly visible on her face. Then, by way 
 of answer, she opened the fan wide, and with 
 a little abrupt gesture pressed it against her 
 breast. Carew, as he watched her standing 
 in this attitude, was conscious of precisely the 
 same impression as that which her presence
 
 144 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 had produced on him at their first meeting 
 amongst the mountains. Again it was as if 
 some new country were opening out before 
 him, all its ways blossoming with lilacs and 
 hawthorns, full of the scents and the alluring 
 air of spring, and yet sad, like spring, with a 
 longing for something that is yet to come. 
 This state of mind, however, was almost in 
 an instant disturbed by the appearance of 
 a servant, who spoke to Madame de Saint 
 Valery; and Carew^ gathered from what the 
 man said that there was a carriage at the 
 door to take Miss Capel away. 
 
 ' And so,' he said, ^ you are not living 
 with your cousin? ' 
 
 ' No,' she replied, with an accent of slight 
 displeasure at the question. ^ I am with my 
 parents. They have been to-night to the 
 theatre, and I must be back by the same time 
 that they are.' 
 
 * Indeed you must,' said Madame de Saint
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 145 
 
 Valery. ' This young lady is kept in tlie 
 very greatest order. It is only by way of a 
 treat that I have been allowed to have her 
 this evening. Violet, come, it is late ; your 
 maid is waiting for you, and we must bid 
 Mr. Carew good-night. Perhaps, if he is 
 staying long here, he will come and see me 
 some day.' 
 
 Carew, left once more to himself, remained 
 for a few moments eyeing the villa ab- 
 stractedly; and then turned to resume his 
 walk along the Promenade cles Anglais. It 
 was perfectly quiet. Two men, indeed, just 
 as he was in the act of turning, were visible at 
 a short distance, strolling slowly arm-in-arm 
 together; but they disappeared presently down 
 a side street, and except for Carew himself, 
 there was not a creature stirring. 
 
 Stimulated by the solitude, his meditations 
 became as busy as ever again. He was not 
 sorry to have escaped from Madame de Saint 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 Valery; still he could not help thinking about 
 her, and wondering what kind of life she was 
 leadmg. He soon found, however, that his 
 thoughts persisted in dwelling on her, less on 
 her own account than on account of her 
 relationship to the girl — to the strange mag- 
 netic presence, who was with her. That soft 
 regard, which was at once earnest and languid, 
 passionate and yet ingenuous, mature and yet 
 childlike, haunted his memory as though it were 
 still present. Then the image recurred to him 
 of Miss Consuelo Burton, and he broke for a 
 moment into a low laugh of amusement at the 
 fickleness and agility with which his senti- 
 ments changed their object. But the sense of 
 amusement presently died away ; and though 
 these two female figures still held their ground 
 in his consciousness, he ceased to regard the 
 fact in a grotesque or ludicrous light. On the 
 contrary, as he pursued his walk, it assumed 
 a meaning that grew in depth and in suggest-
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 147 
 
 iveness, tintil two ways of life seemed opening 
 out before him: and one of these firares uro^ed 
 him to tread the one, and the other allured 
 and pleaded with him to be her companion 
 on the other. They were two ways, leading 
 to two different worlds. 
 
 One was the world of love, and passion, 
 and poetry, where the hidden prizes of life 
 seemed to be sleeping in the heart, as the 
 rose in the unfolded bud, or the statue in the 
 unhewn marble. The other was a world of 
 ever-widening duties, where love was not ab- 
 sent, but by itself never could satisfy. It 
 was a world where lovers looked beyond their 
 own circle of bliss, and felt that there could 
 be no rest for the soul but in sufferino- 
 
 o 
 
 for those that suffer and labouring for those 
 whose lot their labour could make lighter, 
 and where their deepest union was not when 
 their eyes met, but when side by side they 
 were fixed on a common altar of sacrifice. 
 
 l2
 
 148 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 ' Once,' he said, ' it was enough to work 
 out one's own salvation — to see that the 
 blossom of one's own heart expanded, and 
 that the dew of the spirit was lying clear 
 upon it ; but now — is not the world chang- 
 ing ? Is it any longer enough if my rose 
 blossoms whilst a million rose-trees round me 
 are leafless and have only thorns ? Can I,' 
 and he seemed to see the eyes of Miss 
 Consuelo Burton looking not at but away 
 from him, ^ can I forget that the poor are 
 suffering, merely because I may see none 
 suffering round me? ' 
 
 The current of these reflections was here 
 suddenly broken by a hand laid on his arm, 
 and a man's voice at his ear. He started and 
 looked round, and there at his side was 
 Mr. Inigo. Whether Mr. Inigo's resentment, 
 whatever its cause, had actually evaporated or 
 no, there was at all events no trace of it in 
 either his look or manner. On the contrary,
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 119 
 
 his eyes gleamed Tvith an expression of inti- 
 mate knoTvingness, and fixing them on Carew, 
 as if they were a couple of gimlets, he said, 
 after a moment's pause : 
 
 ' Upon my word, you're a pretty fellow, 
 you are ! "We saw you just now — the Prince 
 and I, as we were passing — going through a 
 charming little scene with Madame de Saint 
 Yalery — something quite in the style of 
 Romeo and Juliet. I can tell you that there's 
 been a regular sensation about her at Mce 
 this winter.' 
 
 Carew stared at Mr. Inio;o with a frioid air 
 of surprise. 
 
 * There has been,' he said, ' as you amusingly 
 suggest, an impromptu play. It seems that, 
 also, there has been an impromptu audience.' 
 
 Mr. Inigo winced slightly, as if he had 
 been accused of eavesdropping ; and then, in 
 a voice of calm and lofty explanation, ' I 
 passed you,' he said, ^just now, as I was
 
 150 THE OLD OKDER CHANGES 
 
 seeino; Prince 01o:ourki home. I went back 
 with him from the Cerde, as far as his own 
 door.' He seemed as he spoke to be buoyed 
 up above the levels of criticism ; and presently 
 with a sigh of proud and privileged sorrow, 
 ' By the way/ he added, ^ the beggar — he's 
 just won twelve hundred francs from me — bad 
 luck to him ! ' 
 
 By this time they were close to their hotel, 
 and Carew, acknowledging the information 
 with distant but scrupulous politeness, bade 
 Mr. Inigo good -night and made an instant 
 escape from him. 
 
 Mr. Inigo stood for a moment motionless, 
 staring at the door by which Carew had 
 entered. ' Confound the fellow ! ' he muttered. 
 ' "Who is he, I should like to know, that he 
 should give himself these deuced airs with 
 me? If he did mean anything by that which 
 
 he said just now — if Well, trust me for 
 
 being even with him, that's all ! '
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 'AREW the followincr evenins' was 
 once more in his chateau. He 
 had gone early in the day to Mrs. 
 Harley's hotel, but had not at once paid his 
 respects to her. He had found some mys- 
 terious business there, of which he told her 
 nothing. Having transacted this, he had 
 then spent half an hour with her, and finally 
 made an arrangement that she and her hus- 
 band should come to him three days later, 
 which would give him time to communicate 
 with the other friends he was expecting. 
 He was now sittino- in solitude at his writins;- 
 table, and before he went to bed he had
 
 152 THE OLD OKDER CHANGES 
 
 finished the followmg letter. It was a letter 
 to Mrs. Harley. 
 
 ' Since/ it began, ' I am so soon to see 
 you again, you will wonder, on receiving 
 this, what on earth I can have to say to you. 
 Well, first of all, I am going to say some- 
 thing which certainly sounds most inhospit- 
 able. Glad as I am that you are coming, I 
 am glad you are not coming till Thursday. 
 I will now tell you my reason. There are 
 one or two things as to which I wish to 
 explain myself ; I should like to do so before 
 we meet again ; and I can do so better by 
 writing than I could by word of mouth. In 
 a moment you will see my meaning. 
 
 ^Whenever we meet, as you truly said 
 yesterday, we have always, for some time 
 past, got on the same subjects — subjects so 
 near to the daily lives of all of us, but which 
 people in our class are accustomed to think 
 so little about. You know, of course, what
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 153 
 
 I am speaking of: not of the incidents of 
 mere party politics, but of something com- 
 pared to which these are merely bubbles on 
 the surface. I am speaking of our existing 
 social civilization, and our own class in 
 particular, with the future that lies before 
 it — of wealth and poverty, of privilege, and 
 of popular power. We get on these subjects 
 because we both feel their importance — be- 
 cause we both feel that the history of our 
 own coming years is involved in them. I 
 know, for my part, that I think about little 
 else. Night and day they disturb and oc- 
 cupy me, haunting my mind as rooks haunt 
 a rookery. The noise of society may for a 
 time frighten them away, but they come back 
 aofain the moment the noise ceases, and all 
 the boughs are black with them. I say they 
 are like rooks. So they are, but with a 
 difference. They have the habits of rooks, 
 but they have the voices of ravens.
 
 154 THE OLD OKDER CHANGES 
 
 ^ However, let tliat pass. The practical 
 point is this. When you come here next 
 Friday, we shall no doubt begin about them 
 again ; and I want first to say one or two 
 things to you, which will help you to see 
 clearly what my own position is. You know 
 how your own views on some social points 
 surprise me. You know, in fact, how — not to 
 mince matters — I can hardly believe that you 
 are quite as sincere in them as you fancy. 
 You, a woman of old and distinguished 
 family, bred in the very heart of an aristo- 
 cratic society, with the tastes of an aristocracy 
 visible in every one of your surroundmgs, 
 and the manners of an aristocracy visible 
 in every mstinctive movement — in the way 
 you carry your head, in the little things 
 you laugh at — it is impossible for me to 
 believe that you can really ignore the differ- 
 ence between yourself and — ^^vell, how shall 
 I best describe them? — those excellent people
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 155 
 
 we were talking about yesterday, who, how- 
 ever great they may be in point of talent, 
 have not the advantages of the same social 
 history. I am not talking of the qualities 
 which distinguish you as an individual. I 
 am talking of those which distinguish you 
 as belonging to a certain class. For social 
 purposes, individual qualities are very little 
 more than the strings are in a violin ; but 
 that class which you belong to, with its na- 
 tural position, with its memories, with its 
 historic consciousness, is the body of the 
 violin itself. And think what a structure 
 this violin is ! All the centuries of our 
 country's life are embodied in it. It is as 
 subtle a piece of work as any masterpiece of 
 Stradivarius ; and suppose it destroyed, be- 
 fore we could reproduce it we should have 
 to reproduce a thousand years of history. 
 Think what you mean yourself by high-bred 
 ladies and gentlemen. Think of the social
 
 156 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 tone that prevails amongst them. You will 
 realize as fully as I do that its ease combined 
 with courtesy, its grace without affectation, 
 is possible only amongst a privileged circle 
 of people with a special present position which 
 reposes on a special past. 
 
 ^ Have I said one word in which you do 
 not agree with me ? In sj^ite of all your 
 fondness for the " other people " who amuse 
 you so much, I am perfectly confident that 
 you must agree with me thus far. Now, 
 however, I am going to part company with 
 you, and soar into the regions of what you 
 would call the ridiculous. I'm not at all 
 certain that I don't myself agree with you. 
 But I can't help it. What I feel I feel. Do 
 you know old Lady Mangotsfield ? Just 
 before I left London I dined with her, and 
 during dinner the conversation turned upon 
 heraldry. " My dear," she said to me, " we 
 have none of us our right number of quarter-
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 157 
 
 ings ; our shocking system of marriage has 
 always prevented that. You and I ought 
 bo til of us to have a hundred and twenty - 
 eight. "W^e are the only people in England 
 they would not be thrown away upon." 
 ^\e\l, so far as I am concerned, Lady Man- 
 gots field was perfectly right. As for a 
 hundred and twenty- eight, I won't speak 
 about that. I will content myself with sixty- 
 four ; and I can honestly tell you that, were 
 such a bargain possible, I would, for the 
 power to prove my own sixty-four quarterings, 
 pay a good third of the income that will be 
 probably mine some day. In the male line, 
 as you know, we go straight back to the 
 Conquest; and we have married into some 
 of the very noblest families, not only of 
 England, but of France and Italy also. But 
 — there is always a hut somewhere — we have 
 married into other families as well ; and if, 
 in such a place as the old hall at Otterton — the
 
 158 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 old hall which it has always been my dream 
 to restore — I were to prepare places for the 
 sixty-four shields I speak of, twenty of them 
 at least would be blanks. Each of the blanks, 
 every time I looked at it, would be a blow 
 to me. Can you imagine anything sillier ? I 
 doubt if I can; and the logic of my pre- 
 judices isj in actual life, constantly melted 
 or blown to the winds by friendship. But, 
 particular cases apart, the prejudice still 
 exists in me. It is deep in my heart ; I 
 can't get rid of it. My feelings as to this 
 matter are Austrian far more than English; 
 and when I hear it discussed whether such 
 and such a man is a gentleman, I long to 
 put the question in the simpler language of 
 the Continent, and ask to be told whether 
 or no he is nolle, 
 
 ' This being so, you will easily enough 
 understand the constant sense of — ^what shall 
 I call it ? — anger, contemptuous amusement,
 
 THE OLD OKDER CHANGES 159 
 
 and blank despair for my country, with whicli 
 I see the irruption of these new classes into 
 Parliament. The very presence of such a 
 man as Mr. Snapper in the Cabinet seems to 
 me like a rotten egg flung in the face of civili- 
 zation. I was present at a debate not very 
 long ago. Good heavens! what hats, what 
 boots — above all, what hair! Do you re- 
 member what Yoltaire said of the Prophet 
 Habakkuk? '' A man with a name like that 
 is capable of anything." Well, men with 
 beards and with expressions like that are 
 capable of anything also. Brutes ! Were 
 I honestly to speak in public what I really 
 feel in private, there is not, at this moment, 
 a popular audience in England which would 
 not hoot me, or laugh me, or else pelt me, 
 from the platform. 
 
 * There's one side of me ; and I think I 
 have drawn it plainly enough. I now come 
 to the other : and it is this other side which
 
 160 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 I am most anxious to show you. During 
 the last three or four years — the very years 
 during which my class prejudices have been 
 strengthening — I have been setting myself to 
 do something which I never did before. I 
 have been studying the condition, the sorrows, 
 the claims, and the hopes of the poor. I have 
 been studying the classes who live by manual 
 labour — those on whose shoulders all civiliza- 
 tion rests. 
 
 ^ How many of us die, having known that 
 these classes exist, and yet having never, in 
 any vital way, realized it ! I have realized it 
 at last; the idea of them and their lot has 
 become constantly present to me, and I have 
 been affected by it very much in the same way 
 as a man who has passed his whole life by a 
 duck -pond is affected by the sight of the sea- 
 shore and of the Atlantic. 
 
 ^ I said just now, in speaking of social 
 tone, in speaking of certain commanding and
 
 THE OLD OEDEE CHANGES 161 
 
 graceful qualities, that the individual as an 
 individual was nothing more than a violin 
 string, whilst the body of the violin, on which 
 the tone depended, was an historical and here- 
 ditary aristocracy. Let me use the same 
 comparison again, but with a deeper meaning. 
 If an historical aristocracy is the body of the 
 social violin, the People is the body of the 
 moral violoncello. The vibrations of our moral 
 existence become music only through their 
 relations to that, and through the resonance it 
 gives them. 
 
 ^ Are you not astonished to hear me speak 
 like this, especially considering the way in 
 which I was speaking only last night, and the 
 wonderful confessions with which I began this 
 letter? And yet, can you wonder that when 
 the People are mentioned I sometimes ex- 
 press contempt — that the very word itself is 
 enough to revolt and shock me? It is like 
 the handle to the door that leads to my own 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 convictions ; but the Radicals, by fingering 
 it, Have made it so foul and filthy that, until 
 it has been washed, I shudder each time I 
 touch it. 
 
 ^ Let me believe, however, that so far as 
 you are concerned, I have washed it — that it 
 is perfectly clean ; and that, as I use it now, 
 it is not in the least sticky with any of its 
 usual associations. The popular voice, as I 
 should wish to hear it, would be the quiet 
 murmur of a million happy hearths, not the 
 hootings round so many thousand polling- 
 booths. The word People suggests to me 
 no menace to an aristocracy, but simply the 
 foundation on which all civilization rests ; 
 and the voice which is constantly sounding 
 in my ears, says to me, " Civilization must 
 cease to rest on squalor and misery." 
 
 ^Are the two feelings that possess me 
 utterly inconsistent? Is the pride that makes 
 me resent the presence of an upstart like
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 163 
 
 Snapper, that makes the very grin on his face 
 and the cut of his coat offensive to me — is 
 that pride inconsistent with the sense of wrong 
 and of foreboding which fills me when I think 
 of the lives of so many of those that labour? 
 I myself cannot believe that it is so. I will 
 not believe it. But you — you, perhaps, will 
 think that my popular sympathies are merely 
 a piece of sentiment with which I idly like to 
 amuse myself in a seclusion, where I have 
 given myself no chance of ever putting them 
 into practice. That, however, is certainly not 
 the case. I love this castle, these walls and 
 towers, these painted ceilings, these carved 
 and emblazoned chimney-pieces, for the same 
 reason that I love these old mediaeval towns. 
 I love them because they are to my mind 
 like a mirror in which the past is reflected, 
 when Radicals were not and equality was not 
 dreamed of — the past when men recognized 
 their superiors, and ordered themselves reve- 
 
 M 2
 
 164 THE OLD OKDER CHANGES 
 
 rently, with no sense of humiliation. But 
 I am here, usually alone, not for the sake 
 merely of flattering my own prejudices ; I am 
 here to continue a study of things which are 
 essentially modern. I am here to study that 
 greatest of modern questions — not how to 
 reconcile the People with their ]3resent lot, 
 but how to make their lot one with which 
 they shall be willing to be reconciled. 
 
 ' No doubt you will wonder what I can 
 mean by all this. AYhen you come, I will 
 show you. 
 
 ^Anyhow, as for my views, here is an 
 honest sketch of them. I wonder if you 
 agree with them. There is one person, at 
 any rate, who, I think, does ; and that is 
 Miss Consuelo Burton. I wish you could 
 have brought her here with you. Unless I 
 misunderstand her on the point I have just 
 alluded to, she would have added much to 
 the interest of the party. But I fear that
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 165 
 
 her coming is quite out of the question. You 
 shall judge for yourself, however. You saw 
 that her sisters were very fairly civil to me, 
 especially when they found that I was still 
 friends with their Cardinal. But I did ven- 
 ture last night to suggest to them an ex- 
 pedition here, and I saw plainly that they 
 were not anxious to come. It is hardly 
 likely, therefore, that they would let her 
 come without them. Still, if your diplomacy 
 could manage the matter, you know what 
 will please me ; and, now I come to think 
 of it, you might mention to them, what is 
 quite true, that I am expecting amongst my 
 visitors two most excellent Catholics, Lady 
 Chislehurst and a genuine live priest. 
 
 ' You told me yesterday that my friends 
 would be too smart for you. But my priest 
 — will he be too smart ? You won't say so, 
 I think, when you have seen him. I have 
 mentioned him particularly, not merely as a
 
 166 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 bait to catch Miss Consuelo with, but also 
 because a little tale hangs on his visit to me ; 
 and I have confessed to you already so many 
 of my own follies, that I am gomg to ven- 
 ture to add this to their number. 
 
 ^ Well, in spite of my idle life and many 
 faults, some of which have been real enough, 
 some only invented for me, you give me, I 
 know, credit for having at least enough notion 
 of duty to make me unhappy — I don't say at 
 not doing it, but at not even seeing clearly 
 what ought to be done. You know how 
 widespread is the sense of doubt and be- 
 wilderment amongst all classes, and specially 
 amongst our own, as to what we should do 
 with ourselves, not only as moral beings, but 
 also as people inheriting a particular place in 
 society. And I can tell you honestly, and 
 without any exaggeration, that, for my own 
 part, unless I am to loathe my very existence, 
 some clear notion of duty I must possess or
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 167 
 
 struggle for ; and if other people are to inspire 
 me with any real interest, the same want must 
 be in their natures too. 
 
 ' Such being the case, towards the end 
 of the London season, when many things had 
 gone wrong with me, and all the preceding 
 weeks stared me in the face — a cluster of 
 wasted days — I was sitting one morning in 
 the park, and thinking, with a sense of rest, 
 of making a retreat to my cousin's beautiful 
 villa, with its fountains, its terraces, and its 
 oleanders, on the breast of the Lago Maggiore. 
 I was thinking of this, when the idea sud- 
 denly flashed upon me of getting together 
 a small informal society, whose members were 
 to be bound together only by the four follow- 
 ing links. They were all of them to have this 
 same sense I speak of — that we each of us 
 have some duty, could we only find it out ; 
 and that, having no duty, we simply are 
 beasts and fools ; and they were all to
 
 168 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 appreciate the changing state of society, suf- 
 ficiently to see that our duty wa s no longer 
 clear to us. Secondly, they were all of them, 
 I do not say to be Christians, but at least 
 to regard Christianity with minds open to 
 conviction, and take at their true worth the 
 maudlin inanities of the Humanitarians. 
 Thirdly, as to their personal conduct, there 
 were to be no severe requirements. A mem- 
 ber, for instance, would not be expelled even 
 supposing he had run away with another 
 man's wife ; though naturally he would not 
 be allowed to bring the lady to our meetings. 
 He would be expelled for one thing only — 
 namely, if, having run away with her, or 
 made himself too agreeable to her, he accom- 
 modated his theories to suit his practice, and, 
 by persuading himself that his conduct was 
 right, deliberately closed his ears to the 
 religion which would pronounce it wrong. 
 The last qualification of the members was,
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 169 
 
 that tliey were all to be ladies and gentle- 
 men ; andj considering the remarks with 
 which I began this letter, you will know well 
 enough what I mean by that. 
 
 ^ And now you will ask, What was this 
 society to do? With what object was it to 
 be got together ? The question, I confess, 
 is a little hard to answer. That object, when 
 I try to describe it in words, seems to shrivel 
 up or vanish directly the words touch it ; 
 or, at least, to become so slight and trivial 
 as to look like a quaint fancy strayed into 
 the daylight from a dream. But, if your 
 imagination and sympathy will meet me half- 
 way, you will see, perhaps, that my words 
 suggest more than they actually describe. 
 Well, what the society was to do was this. 
 Its members were simply to meet each other 
 at certain intervals, at various country houses 
 belonging to one or other of them, and such 
 meetings would constitute a kind of informal
 
 170 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 retreat. Yes, you say, but what then ? 
 When these good people met, what was to 
 be their programme ? Were they to read 
 papers, or to have formal discussions, as if 
 they were members of a Social Science Con- 
 gress? Nothing of the kind. There was 
 to be no programme whatever; nothing out 
 of the common was to be expected of them. 
 They were to be free, if they liked, to behave 
 themselves as idly and as pleasantly as they 
 would if they were paying any ordinary 
 country visit. How, then, you may ask, 
 would such meetings diiFer from such a visit ? 
 They would differ, I hoped, in this way : not 
 in what those concerned would be required 
 to do, but in what they would naturally do. 
 Naturally, easily, without any stiffness or 
 formality, some talk would arise, some ex- 
 change of ideas, with regard to those subjects 
 which were the basis of their association. 
 Sometimes it would be cynical, sometimes
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 171 
 
 flippant ; sometimes it would be earnest and 
 serious; sometimes it would deal with^the^sub- 
 jects in question directly; sometimes merely 
 by implication J tbe immediate subject being, 
 perhaps, a piece of gossip. Its tone would 
 vary, and I should expect it to vary. Some- 
 times there would be little of it, and some- 
 times much. But I am persuaded that, could 
 my idea ever be carried into execution — and I 
 have by no means given it up — the members 
 would, when such a meeting was over, carry 
 away from it some idea or experience which 
 would make life certainly richer, possibly 
 more clear, and which, even if it did not 
 make them practically more useful, would at 
 any rate sharpen their moral sight sufficiently 
 to make their uselessness a deeper and more 
 unpardonable sin. 
 
 ^ Well, such was my scheme. I conceived 
 it, as I told you, in a moment of depression and 
 perplexity, when I felt the want of some
 
 172 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 sense of companionship ; and though I can- 
 not say that, as yet, my society is actually 
 formed, I have one or two friends who 
 already understand me, and are willing, when 
 the occasion comes, to be members of it. 
 One of them is the Catholic priest I spoke of. 
 The other is Lord Aiden. These are not all, 
 but I mention them specially now, because 
 they will both, I hope, be here during your 
 visit. 
 
 ^ Lord Aiden you know ; so I needn't 
 say much about him. But think of him for 
 a moment, and I am quite sure you w^ill agree 
 with me that he is the very man cut out to 
 be a brother of our order. No doubt he 
 is not a man who directly would guide or 
 strengthen us. He wants a new gospel ; he 
 certainly has not got one, and even as for his 
 w^ants, he takes them rather lazily ; but his 
 presence always seems to fill a room with 
 suggestion. Think how many of the fruits
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 173 
 
 of life be has tasted. He has written poetry 
 which is read all over Europe ; all over 
 Europe women have fallen in love with him : 
 at the same time, he has been an astute 
 man of affairs, and has occupied one of the 
 most splendid and brilliant posts which a 
 pubhc career can offer a British subject. And 
 yet he has not found the pearl of price. He 
 is old enough to know that he has not found 
 it. He is not so old that he has lost the 
 desire to find it. 
 
 ^ '•' Yes," you will say, " Lord Aiden is all 
 very well ; but what possible place in your 
 society can there be for a Catholic priest ? 
 Whether he is right or wrong in his idea 
 of duty, what duty is must, for him, be 
 beyond question. He has got his pearl, or 
 what he thinks his pearl, and he must stick 
 to it." I expect you will say that ; it is a 
 very natural thought ; but wait till you see 
 him, and then you will think differently. You
 
 174 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 yj^i/ don't like Papists, I know ; but you won't 
 object to this one. I don't mean to tell 
 you tbat he is not perfectly orthodox ; and 
 he's just as intolerant as most intellectual 
 Catholics are, — that is to say, for a man 
 who has any convictions, he is certainly one 
 of the most tolerant men imaginable. He is 
 also a perfect man of the world. He was 
 once in the Guards, once he stood for Par- 
 liament, and he once had a confidential 
 appointment under a Conservative Home 
 Secretary. If it were not for his dress, 
 you would not on first meeting him suspect 
 him to be a priest. You would only, per- 
 haps, wonder at two things — the shadow on 
 his face as of premature old age, and the 
 knowledge of the world stamped on it, with 
 the absence of any taint of the world. Also, 
 unless the conversation were to turn directly 
 on religion, you might talk for days to him 
 without knowing what his religion was. I
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 175 
 
 say you might ; but there I am wrong, and 
 I retract the word. Yon would, I think, in 
 time detect the truth ; but this would not be 
 because he flashed his spiritual lamp into 
 your eyes, but because, though the lamp was 
 hidden, you would recognize the light that 
 fell from it on all the secular subjects which 
 have been for years past engrossing him. 
 What these subjects are you will discover 
 when you come here ; and I think the dis- 
 covery will be very interesting and whole- 
 some for you. 
 
 ' There is nothing in him that could 
 offend, there is no tiling in him that could even 
 annoy you ; but there is, on the ocher hand, 
 much — ^yes, I must say this again — that will 
 interest, astonish, and be good for you. You 
 will see that fixed though his religious views 
 are, the problems presented to him by this 
 epoch of change we liv^e in are to him as 
 perplexing and real as they are to you and
 
 176 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 me, and that his ears are as open as ours 
 can be to the cry that is rising around us 
 for some new moral revelation. Of course, 
 the Church is always, according to his view, 
 the same ; but the world is always changing, 
 and its needs are always changing, and there 
 is always in this way something new for the 
 Church to discover. ^' The Catholic Church," 
 he once said to me, "is the Columbus of 
 modern society who will guide us eventually 
 to the new moral continent which other 
 explorers are trying to reach in vain." 
 
 ^ However, there is no occasion for me 
 to go on describing him. When you come 
 here, you will be able to judge of him for 
 yourself. He was the first person to whom 
 I spoke about my projected society, and he 
 is the person who has best understood my 
 idea and most fully sympathized with it. 
 He approves thoroughly of my rules, even 
 my moral ones, and especially those relating
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 177 
 
 to our social qualifications and fastidious- 
 ness. 
 
 ' I tell you all this because I have some 
 hope it may interest you. But do not alarm 
 yourself with the thought that when you ar- 
 rive next Thursday you will find the society 
 in conclave, and be asked to take part in its 
 deliberations. My society, as I tell you, is 
 as yet not even formed ; it possibly never 
 will be. Our party here will be nothing but 
 an ordinary meeting of friends ; I venture to 
 hope, a pleasant one. 
 
 ' I have one other scheme — I might almost 
 say plot — in my head, with regard to one other 
 person ; but it is so daring and requires so 
 much resolution to bring about, that I must 
 tantalize you for the present by observing a 
 discreet silence about it. If it comes to any- 
 thing, you will find it out quite soon enough. 
 Meanwhile, it may amuse you to puzzle 
 over it. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 THE OLD OEDER CIIAXGES 
 
 * I wait for Thursday with impatience. I 
 am longing to show the chateau to you. 
 Good-night. The clock in the tower, which 
 is striking half-past eleven, was given to a 
 Courbon-Loubet by Henri Quatre.'
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 M 2
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "jHE inland district which lies between 
 ^i^^m ^i^^ ^^^ Cannes can be reached by 
 '"^ carriage with perfect ease from either 
 place ; but to the average visitor who frequents 
 these towns in the winter, it is a district prac- 
 tically as strange and as far off as Siberia. 
 Of course, from the railway he has general 
 hasty views of it. He is familiar enough with 
 the shapes of its distant mountains, and the 
 white and sparkling dots which he knows 
 must be mountain villages. He is aware also 
 of the vast intervening landscape ; and he 
 constantly looks towards its soft, bewildermg
 
 182 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 
 
 ranges, expecting tliem to yield to the atmo- 
 sphere some new surprise of colour. But of 
 these ranges as objects of local knowledge, 
 with a local civilization lurking in their folded 
 hollows, he thinks no more than he does of 
 the clouds that surround a sunset . He never 
 asks why this variety of colour visits them — 
 why some are a pearly grey, and why others 
 are fledged with purple. He never dreams 
 that here are fields of violets, and here ter- 
 raced vineyards, and here romantic regions of 
 unconjectured pine-forests. Still less does he 
 dream of the people by whom the district is 
 inhabited ; of the embattled ramparts that their 
 villages are still surrounded by ; of the streets 
 and fountams that have been unchanged for 
 centuries ; of the vaulted smithies, the old 
 echoing drinking- shops, which are the same 
 as they were in the days of the seigneurs ; 
 of the feudal mills and farm-houses, still 
 used and tenanted ; and of the roofless
 
 THE OLD OKjDEE CHANGES 183 
 
 castles that on many a hidden eminence still 
 rear their towers, with hardly a sign of ruin. 
 
 Certainly these sights and scenes were en- 
 tirely new to Mrs. Harley, as with two com- 
 panions — her husband and another lady — 
 she was passing through them on her journey 
 to Courbon-Loubet, in a huge old-fashioned 
 travelling carriage which Carew had sent for 
 them. For the first half-hour or so they had 
 rumbled through the suburbs of Xice. The 
 express from Paris had been sweeping by 
 with its sleeping-cars, and the walls on each 
 side of the road were red and blue with ad- 
 vertisements. An hour later, and the stamp- 
 ing horses ^veYe dragging them over rough 
 medieval paving- stones, through a street 
 where the newest and gaudiest-looking house 
 had been last re- decorated before the Fu'st 
 Revolution ; where the old women sat at their 
 doors spinning, with hats like those of witches 
 and with distaffs worthy of the Fates ; where
 
 184 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 brown shy faces peered at tliem through grated 
 windows, or from under mysterious arches, 
 out of wells of darkness ; and where every 
 head, as the carriage passed, was raised and 
 bent with a mixture of grave respect and of 
 frankness. All seemed to belong to an epoch 
 not the present, from the fantastic beggar 
 with his fur cap held out to them, to the old 
 coachman, gaudy in faded livery, and the 
 arms and coronet repeated on every panel. 
 
 ^In fact,' said Mrs. Harley, when they were 
 once more in the country, and were entering 
 a road that led through a wild pine- forest, 
 ' Mr. Carew was perfectly right in telling us 
 that a visit to him would be an excursion into 
 the last century. Of course,' she added, ' he 
 can know nothing except the surface of things 
 — no more do we. But so far as the surface 
 goes, I must say the illusion is perfect. It's 
 quite as good as a scene at a first-rate 
 theatre.'
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 185 
 
 Presently there Tvas visible through a sud- 
 den opening of the trees a far-off village 
 perched on the side of an Alpine precipice ; 
 and the coachman, gathering from their ex- 
 clamations what it Tras that had attracted 
 them, tui-ned round and said in a grave 
 whisper, that it was a village of bad re- 
 pute, and that all the women in it were 
 sorceresses. 
 
 ^ Better and better still,' exclaimed Harley 
 in high good humour. ^ Let us hope, how- 
 ever, that the RepubHc does not bum them. 
 Look, what a forest this is ! It covers the 
 whole ridge, and here we are about to toil 
 to the top of it. The very place for the 
 witches to have a midnight picnic with the 
 Devil in ! I shouldn't wonder if it were the 
 beginning of the domain of Courbon-Loubet ; 
 and I am every moment expecting to catch 
 some glimpse of the chateau frowning down 
 at us over these savage pine-trees.'
 
 186 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 They all looked about them with a grow- 
 ing sense of excitement, prepared to be 
 startled at every fresh opening with a vision 
 of roofs and turrets. They were, however, 
 doomed to be disappointed. Time went on ; 
 the forest was left behind them ; and not 
 a sign of a chateau was to be seen any- 
 where. Harley suggested that they should 
 make an inquiry of the coachman. The two 
 ladies, however, would by no means assent to 
 this. It would be, they said, like looking 
 at the end of a novel ; and whatever the end 
 might prove in the present case, they wished 
 their uncertainty to be kept up to the last. 
 
 Meanwhile, they were descending the hill 
 on the other side, into a richer but far tamer 
 region. In place of the wild pine-forest 
 there were soft groves of olives, and below 
 were winding meadows kept green by sparkling 
 watercourses. Here they would pass a field 
 of as yet bloomless roses ; here another that
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 187 
 
 was mottled with purple violets, and made 
 all the air jfragrant. Presently tufted palms 
 began to be not infrequent ; an occasional row 
 of e'eraniums made a rude liedo-e alono- the 
 roadside ; and in another moment they were 
 in a land of orange- trees, that reminded them 
 too strongly of the well-known suburbs of 
 Nice. They could trace for some distance the 
 course of the road ahead of them. They could 
 see how it wound round the base of a wooded 
 knoll • how it passed an antique oil-mill, roofed 
 with rugged tiles ; how it mounted a stone 
 bridge with quaint irregular arches, and then 
 lay like a ribbon between a curving line of 
 poplars. 
 
 There was somethino- in the whole scene 
 eminently warm and southern — too much so, 
 indeed, to entirely j)lease the travellers . 
 
 ' I declare,' said Mrs. Harley, ' we have 
 been taken in after all. This is like Italy far 
 more than feudal France. It is a country for
 
 188 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 villas, not a country for castles. See ! ' slie 
 went on, when they had proceeded somewhat 
 farther, and were skirting a hill crowded with 
 luxuriant foliage, ^ the very forests here are 
 like gardens more than forests ! Look at 
 these trees, George : neat to the very sky- 
 line!' 
 
 But before Harley could make any re- 
 sponse to his wife, they were both startled 
 by a sudden exclamation from their com- 
 panion. ^ Look ! ' she said, ' look — not at 
 the trees, but above them ! What is that 
 brown thing rising up in the air there ? ' 
 
 They looked, and sure enough they per- 
 ceived the object in question. It was tall and 
 straight, but otherwise of uncertain figure ; 
 and at first, except for its singularity, con- 
 veyed no impression to anyone. In another 
 moment, however, Harley had solved the 
 enigma. ' It is the five- sided tower,' he said, 
 * of the Chateau de Courbon-Loubet, and the
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 189 
 
 seigneur's flag, as large as life, on the top 
 
 of it; 
 
 He was still speaking when the carriage 
 turned sharply round, and, meeting a side 
 road, which had not till then been visible, 
 paused presently before some rusty h'on 
 gates. They were gates adorned with twisted 
 ciphers and coronets, and were hung on two 
 stately but now crumbling pillars. At one 
 side was a lodge, with a defaced cipher upon 
 it also ; and opposite this, and looking equally 
 uncared for, was a gaunt wooden crucifix, its 
 base covered with brambles. A whistle from 
 the coachman brought out an old tottering 
 man, scrambHng into a coat that had been 
 once part of a livery. He raised his hat with 
 an almost religious reverence ; the gates were 
 opened, and the carriage plunged forward. 
 The travellers found themselves enterino; a 
 long shadowy carriage-drive, which wound 
 gradually upwards round the sides of the
 
 190 THE OLD ORDEE CHANGES 
 
 wooded liill. Above and below them were 
 banks of mossy tm^f, and liere and there a 
 small lawny opening ; but whichever direc- 
 tion the eye took the view was bounded by a 
 network of trees or shrubs. The approach 
 seemed endless, as they still kept mounting 
 higher ; and nothing more had as yet been 
 seen of the chateau. By-and-by, however, 
 the forest trees became fewer, and the shrubs 
 larger and more closely massed together, the 
 sunlight fell on the golden globes of oranges, 
 and walls of dipt myrtle, tier above tier, were 
 discernible. At last, rising bright over one 
 of these green ramparts, Mrs. Harley's eyes 
 caught sight of a fountain of white camellia 
 blossoms ; and at the same time a wall with 
 a succession of low towers was seen through 
 the screen of leaves to be beetling directly 
 over them. A moment later every screen had 
 vanished ; they had emerged on an open 
 platform, from which, for miles and miles,
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 191 
 
 they could see the country like a luminous 
 map below them — village and mountain, 
 gardens, fields, and vineyards, and farther 
 away still the shining hyacinth of the sea. 
 But the revelation was instantaneous only. 
 They had hardly had time to realize it when 
 it was again hidden from them, and they 
 were passing in darkness under the arch of 
 a sombre gateway. Then the hoofs of the 
 horses stamped on a wooden drawbridge ; the 
 carriage again swept out into the daylight ; 
 and now, for the first time, with all its details 
 distinct to them, before their eyes was the 
 Chateau de Courbon-Loubet. 
 
 It was a large building, in shape an irre- 
 gular square, with the tower which they had 
 seen already standing at one end of it, and 
 here and there a turret, of the same height as 
 the walls, breaking their monotonous surface 
 with a bulging semicircle. It was certainly 
 different from what the party had pictured to
 
 192 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 themselves. Architecturally it had no beau- 
 tiful feature. The many windows, disposed 
 at uneven heights, were mere square apertures, 
 and were flanked with Venetian shutters ; 
 and the pile, from roof to basement, was 
 covered with dingy stucco. But in spite of 
 this, it had an air of dejected dignity ; the 
 stucco itself must have been more than a 
 century old, and have expressed the taste of 
 a man who wore a periwig ; whilst here and 
 there, where a piece chanced to have fallen, 
 a glimpse could be caught of the mediaeval 
 masonry. The arched entrance at which the 
 carriage drew up presented several sights 
 that were even more pleasing to the imagi- 
 nation. Amongst them was an enormous 
 scutcheon and coronet, which had been only 
 so much damaged by the popular zeal of the 
 Eevolutionists as to give to its survival an air 
 of tranquil defiance. But other things struck 
 the travellers, of equal or even greater interest.
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 193 
 
 Two carriages, very much like their own, only 
 older, dustier, and under the charge of postil- 
 lions, were being emptied of portmanteaus 
 and boxes by a mixed group of domestics, 
 mostly French, but with a few maids and 
 footmen unmistakably English amongst them. 
 
 ' Here's grandeur ! ' said Mrs. Harley. 
 ' Maids, cockades, footmen, and gentlemen's 
 gentlemen ! We little knew what our friend 
 was letting us in for.' 
 
 The carriage had stopped just as she was 
 in the act of speaking, and Harley' s valet, 
 directed by the coachman, had already tugged 
 at a dangling iron bell-pull, and elicited a 
 clang that would have done honour to West- 
 minster Abbey. But its summons was hardly 
 necessary. A liveried concierge, gaudy and 
 faded as the coachman, with armorial buttons 
 as big as a five-franc piece, was already 
 descending the steps, slow with age and 
 dignity, and was receiving the arrivals as if 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 they had been all of the blood royal. Mean- 
 while, at a moment's notice, he had been 
 reinforced by a tribe of other retainers — odd- 
 looking footmen whose clothes were a trifle 
 smarter, and a brisk butler with a grui of 
 delighted welcome, who, to judge by his looks, 
 had probably come from Paris, and alone of 
 all his surroundings suggested the civilization 
 of to-day. 
 
 Under his guidance the party passed 
 through the archway, and found themselves 
 in an open court which occupied the centre of 
 the building, and which, to their surprise, they 
 found was alive with people. Here the im- 
 pression that they had dived into another age 
 became, if possible, more complete than ever. 
 There were many more traces of early archi- 
 tectural detail. Over every door was some 
 shield or monogram; there was a curious well 
 in the middle, railed round with ironwork. But 
 it was the human element that contributed to
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 195 
 
 the effect most. Close to the well were loi- 
 tering several green- coated chasseurs, with their 
 guns slung over their shoulders and their 
 powder-horns at their sides ; whilst slowly 
 moving past them a body of swarthy peasants 
 were pushing a rude truck, with the carcass 
 of a wild boar in it, towards a smoky door 
 which suggested the regions of the kitchen. 
 To crown all, high overhead the great flag 
 was fluttering on the top of the tall tower, and 
 Mrs. Harley, for a moment looking up at it, 
 was startled to see that it bore on it no private 
 blazon^ but that it was neither more nor less 
 than the royal banner of France. Presently 
 there was observed a general slight commo- 
 tion; there was a touching of hats, men were 
 movino; aside, and Carew the next instant 
 was advancing to meet his visitors. 
 
 ' The others,' he said to Mrs. Harley, as 
 he was escorting them into the house, ' have 
 not arrived yet, but will be here before dinner, 
 
 2
 
 196 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 and their lufro:afre has come before them. 
 And so you have actually been able to bring 
 your companion with you ! You may ima- 
 gine my pleasure when I got your note this 
 morning.' 
 
 Their arrival was well-timed. The warmth 
 and the brilliance of the afternoon was ending 
 just as they had driven up to the chateau ; 
 and by the time they had got rid of the dust 
 of travel, and had met in a small saloon round 
 a quaint cluster of tea- cups, the west had 
 begun to flush with the first colours of the 
 sunset. They were full of the glimpses they 
 had already had of the interior — the narrow 
 crooked corridors, pale with Italian frescoes ; 
 the wide oak staircase, hung with dmgy 
 portraits ; the size of their bedrooms, and the 
 stately canoj)ies of their beds ; whilst the 
 white- and-gold wainscot which now sur- 
 rounded them would have made the lieart of 
 a Bond Street decorator flutter.
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 197 
 
 ' I have,' said Mrs. Haiiey, ' already re- 
 marked during our drive here that our 
 whole adventures to-day seem exactly like 
 a scene out of a play; and the boar in the 
 courtyard and the royal flag on the tower — 
 they, Mr. Carew, make the impression almost 
 complete. Nothing is wanting now but a 
 chorus of virtuous peasants to dance on the 
 green — if you have a green — by moonlight.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Carew, smiling, and yet with 
 an air of gravity, ' I shouldn't be surprised if 
 we did manage something of that kind.' 
 
 His manner was such as to make Mrs. 
 Harley stare at him. ' My dear Mr. Carew,' 
 she said, ' what have you been getting up to 
 amuse us ? ' 
 
 * Perhaps,' said Carew presently, after a 
 little more catechizing, ' I had better tell you 
 at once what is in the wind for this evenino:. 
 To-day is the birthday of a certain distin- 
 guished personage, who would, if he had his
 
 198 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 rights, be now on the throne of France ; 
 and my cousin, Gaston de Courbon-Loubet, 
 whether he has been here or not, has always 
 had the day kej)t as a fete at the chateau. 
 After to-night our party will be only a small 
 one; but, for to-night, a few people are coming 
 over from Cannes, and in Gaston's place we 
 must do our best to entertain them.' 
 
 ' Who are they ? ' said Mrs. Harley. 
 ^ Please let us know whom we are to meet.' 
 
 ^ Our own party, as I call it,' said Carew, 
 ^consists of Frederic Stanley; of Lady Chisle- 
 hurst, who will arrive to-morrow ; of Lord 
 Aiden, who arrives this evening — he ought 
 to be here now ' 
 
 ^ Hark ! ' interposed Harley ; ' did not 
 you hear a bell ? ' 
 
 ' I did,' said his wife ; ' it is certainly 
 some one coming.' And she begged Carew, 
 both for herself and her young companion, that 
 they might make their escape upstairs to rest
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 199 
 
 t liemselves, before the appearance of any fresh 
 arrivals. 
 
 Seated at her window, in an old brocaded 
 chair, with a faint smell of antiquity breathing 
 from the hangings close to her, Mrs. Harley 
 leaned on her hand reflectively, and watched 
 the change outside that was stealing over the 
 wide landscape. The sun had already sunk ; 
 the twilight had lost its clearness ; colour 
 after colour was fading from cloud and moun- 
 tain ; and presently all was grey but one 
 long tract of primrose, and the far off Esterels 
 cutting it with their peaks of violet.
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 HERE are few moments, during a visit 
 to a country house, of such general 
 interest to the whole party assembled 
 as the first meeting before the first dinner ; 
 and in the present case, to Mrs. Harley at 
 least, this interest was even keener than usual. 
 All the conditions were so much out of the 
 common, she was in a pleasing uncertainty 
 as to what to expect next ; and whilst she 
 was dressing, the passage outside wa3 con- 
 stantly creaking with the hurry of unknown 
 footsteps. Everything, indeed, was suggestive 
 of coming surprise.
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 201 
 
 Her first surprise was the room iii which 
 the meeting took place. Mrs. Harley, on 
 entering it, found herself in such a blaze of 
 candle-light, glittering everywhere from chan- 
 deliers and sconces, that her dazzled eyes could 
 hardly realize where she was ; but when she 
 recovered herself, the first impression produced 
 on her was that she had been suddenly trans- 
 ported into some antique Italian palace. The 
 mosaic floor, the gorgeous painted ceiling, on 
 which Phaeton was seen in the act of falling 
 from his chariot, the damask walls, and the 
 heavy gilded furniture, all suggested Genoa of 
 two centuries back. It was indeed the work 
 of a renowned Genoese artist, and in old 
 times it was celebrated as one of the wonders 
 of Provence. 
 
 What struck the Harleys, however, both 
 wife and husband too, was not the room only, 
 but the company that was already assembled 
 there. There were a number of ladies, cer-
 
 202 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 tainly not English, some of whom — one in 
 particuLir — ghttered with pearls and diamonds, 
 whilst those others who were anything less 
 than splendid were almost more imposing by 
 their semi-religious dowdiness. There were 
 men, as certainly not English, also, amongst 
 whom were a couple of rosy priests, and several 
 pairs of languid eyes and moustaches, the vision 
 of which made Harley's insular mind at once 
 frame to itself the ungenerous word ' Puppies ! ' 
 He and his wife were receiving this general 
 but confused impression, when Carew came 
 forward to meet them, and a distinguished - 
 looking man with a star and a blue ribbon 
 along with him. The latter, to judge by ap- 
 pearances, was probably about eight-and-forty ; 
 but appearances in his case were, in one way, 
 oddly ambiguous. His thoughtful and piercing 
 eyes were at once alert and dreamy ; his dress 
 suggested at once fashion and negligence ; and 
 altogether he produced a mixed impression, as
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 203 
 
 of a younger man than he was, with the 
 burdens of one far older. 
 
 He greeted the Harleys in an ahnost 
 caressing manner, and Mrs. Harley had just 
 
 begun a sentence, ' My dear Lord Aiden ' 
 
 when she was aware that someone had slowly 
 approached the group — another man, of a very 
 different character — and that Carew was 
 waiting to introduce him. A glance at his 
 face was enough to show that he was a cleric; 
 a glance at his dress enough to show that he 
 was a Catholic priest. But his type was very 
 different from that of the two French ahhes ; 
 and Mrs. Harley, even before his name was 
 mentioned, felt sure that she was in the 
 presence of Mr. Stanley. 
 
 * And now,' said Carew j)resently, ^ you 
 must know some of the others.' He hastily 
 pointed out to her several French ladies of 
 distinction — ornaments of the Faubourg Saint 
 Gennain ; and one princess — the most gor-
 
 204 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 geous person present, who had reigned as a 
 beauty under the Second Empire. He then 
 added a word or two with respect to the men ; 
 and in another moment she and her husband 
 also were being made acquainted with various 
 viscomtes and duchesses^ whose family titles, 
 if not their personal names, are part of the 
 history and part of the fame of France. 
 Presently Mrs. Harley, amongst the murmur 
 of strange voices, heard herself being ad- 
 dressed, with an air of command, in English. 
 Turning round, she was conscious of the light 
 tap of a fan ; and there, with a cold shoulder 
 given to the Princess and her diamonds, and 
 a smile almost of deference to a lady in black 
 next her, herself even blacker and dowdier, 
 was sitting Lady Mangotsfield. There she 
 was, the greatest of great ladies, the finest 
 specimen of the fossil Tory in existence, 
 whose political principles had been so firmly 
 fixed in her childhood, that they were the one
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 205 
 
 thing in England which time had been unable 
 to change, and were still just what they had 
 been before the first Reform Bill. 
 
 Mrs. Harley, no doubt, was a little bit 
 afraid of her ; and, thinking her in Lon- 
 don, was taken aback at seeing her. When, 
 therefore, a greeting had passed between 
 them, she was somewhat relieved at beinof 
 again addressed by Carew, who began to 
 speak to her in a low tone of voice. ' Every- 
 one is here,' he said — ' everyone but your 
 'protegee! 
 
 '- To be sure,' said Mrs. Harley. ^ It's the 
 very thing I was thinking of. Had I known 
 there would have been all these people, I 
 would have waited and come down with her. 
 She's a bit late, for she has only my maid 
 to dress her. If you will allow me, I will 
 go up and fetch her.' 
 
 Carew assented, and she was preparing 
 to do so when, turnino; towards the door.
 
 206 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 she saw that it was opening ; and a moment 
 after, in an exquisite white dress, a bunch 
 of scarlet berries at her breast, and another 
 cluster of them in her hair, tugging a little 
 impatiently at one long gant cle Suede, and a 
 little embarrassed with the other glove and 
 her fan, Mrs. HvlAqj'' ^ protegee entered — Miss 
 Consuelo Burton. 
 
 The eyes of the younger Frenchmen were 
 in an instant fixed on her ; an old and 
 portly due raised his eyeglass with interest ; 
 and Lord Aiden, laying his hand on Carew's 
 shoulder, gently murmured, ' My dear fellow, 
 who is this beautiful creature ? ' 
 
 ^ She is the person,' said Carew, ^ who will 
 be one of your neighbours at dinner. You 
 
 will have to take in the old Duchesse de ; 
 
 and ask her to show you the locket she has 
 on, with the most beautiful picture imagin- 
 able of Marie Antoinette in it.' 
 
 He had hardly done speaking before]^the
 
 THE OLD OKDER CHANGES 207 
 
 announcement was made to him — the solemn 
 announcement — that Monsieur's dinner was 
 served. Two tapestry curtains at the end of 
 the room parted ; two gilded doors were 
 slowly flung open ; another constellation of 
 lights was seen shining beyond ; and to this 
 the company, between two lines of domestics, 
 were presently moving — a stately and bright 
 procession. 
 
 ^ Magnificent ! splendid ! ' murmured Lord 
 Aiden dreamily, as his eyes wandered over 
 the plate and china on the table. ' This is 
 altogether a wreck saved from the past. 
 Those dishes are all of the finest Sevres.' 
 
 * Yes,^ said the old ducliesse next him. 
 * And there's hardly a thing here which has 
 not some history — you may be perfectly sure 
 of that. The Courbon-Loubets once were 
 one of the greatest houses in France ; and 
 amongst the old houses they are still one 
 of the richest.'
 
 208 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 Soon, however, tlieir attention was taken 
 from plate and china by a sound of political 
 discussion, which had sprung up round the 
 table. The politics discussed, for the most 
 part, were French, not English ; and this was 
 perhaps natural ; for not only amongst the 
 company were the French in a large majority, 
 but whilst England was on the eve of an 
 election, France was actually in the middle of 
 one ; and strong hopes were entertained all 
 over the country that the world was about to 
 witness in it a Conservative and a Royalist 
 reaction. 
 
 ' I think I should die happy,' said Carew, 
 towards the end of dinner, ' if I could see the 
 time when the Parisian gravers Avould once 
 more, in humility, be dedicating their engrav- 
 ings '^ to the King." ' His nearest neighbour 
 smiled, and received this speech with sym- 
 pathy ; and Carew, having turned for a moment 
 to whisper something to a servant, added.
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 209 
 
 ^ And I should die even happier if I could 
 know that Paris had once more a Bastille.' 
 
 ^ And we/ said an old marquis, with a 
 look in his worn face half of melancholy, half 
 of past dissipation, ^ should have something 
 fit to live for if we had only a king to die 
 for.' 
 
 Carew glanced from him to one or two 
 of the younger dandies, with a feeling, if not 
 an expression, of something like contempt. 
 Then he cast a hasty look behind him, as if 
 to see whether some order was being executed. 
 
 The old marquis, who had been intently 
 watching him, seemed to divine his thoughts, 
 and said^ with a glance at the younger dan- 
 dies also, ' They, too, would die, as their 
 fathers died before them.' 
 
 At that instant the conversation stopped 
 suddenly, and all the company started. Sud- 
 denly the room had been filled with a burst 
 of orchestral music ; and it was then perceived 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 tliat at one end of it was a musicians' gal- 
 lery, almost lost in the shadow, and that 
 now this was occupied by a band, and glim- 
 mering with shaded lights. By the time the 
 surprise of the sound and the discovery had 
 subsided, the company found they were listen- 
 ing to an air which, for them at least, was 
 charged beyond all others with meaning, 
 with hope, with memories. It was ^ Oh, 
 Richard, oh, mon Roi, Tunivers t'abandonne ; ' 
 and for a moment it almost seemed to them 
 that the dining-room of Courbon-Loubet had 
 become transformed into the memorable Hall 
 of the Opera. 
 
 Other airs followed, various and more 
 lively ; and the excellence of the performers 
 having attracted general comment, Carew 
 informed his friends that he had had them 
 over from Nice, and that one or two of them 
 had been members of the orchestra at Monte 
 Carlo.
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 211 
 
 At last the time came when the company 
 rose ; and the ladies and gentlemen, following 
 the French fashion, left the room together. 
 The drawing-room presented a scene not more 
 brilliant, but more animated, than it had done 
 before dinner. Lady Mangotsfield was en- 
 throned on a comfortless Louis Quinze sofa, 
 with a Legitimist due on one side, and a 
 Legitimist duchesse on the other ; and the 
 three were quietly rejoicing in the complete 
 concord of their prejudices. Lady Mangots- 
 field differed from her friends upon two points 
 only. She could never forgive the society of 
 some sixty years back in Vienna for pre- 
 suming to think that Lady S Y 
 
 was not a suitable match for Prince E or 
 
 for any man ; and also the Pope and all his 
 works were things she could not abide. The 
 first sore point, however, there was now no 
 call to touch upon ; and as to the second, 
 in spite of her sound Protestantism, though 
 
 f2
 
 212 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 
 
 fasting and the Mass did little good to the 
 soul, she considered them as excellent j)rotests 
 against Republican principles. 
 
 Meanwhile, from the younger Frenchmen 
 
 Miss Consuelo Burton was receiving a great 
 
 deal of attention — in especial from one, who 
 
 was a great admirer of England, and whose 
 
 English, if not so correct, was as fluent and 
 
 as impertinent as his French. There were 
 
 tw^o people who were not quite pleased at 
 
 this spectacle. One was the Princess ; but she 
 
 was partially consoled by Lord Aiden, with 
 
 whom she discussed many curious scenes at 
 
 the Tuileries. The other was Carew, who 
 
 had no consolation of that kind, but before 
 
 long found one, w^hen, on receiving a message 
 
 from a servant, he begged the company to 
 
 come all of them to the windows ; or, if 
 
 they were not afraid of the air, to go outside 
 
 on to the ramparts. There was at once a 
 
 general movement, and a general sense of
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 213 
 
 expectation. The elderly ladies presentl}^ 
 had all of them their faces at the panes ; the 
 others, the night being mild, were already 
 m the open air, and Carew, through the 
 exercise of a little social diplomacy, con- 
 trived to find himself close to Mrs. Harley 
 and Miss Consuelo Burton. 
 
 The ramparts on which they were stand- 
 ing commanded a deep valley, with the 
 huddling roofs of the village almost directly 
 under them, and on the opposite side a 
 succession of wooded hills. In a moment 
 or two Mrs. Harley became aware of a noise 
 like that of a crowd hoarsely murmuring 
 somewhere ; and looking over the parapet, 
 she saw that some fifty feet below her 
 was an open space, completely filled with 
 people. 
 
 ' You see,' said Carew, ^ there are our 
 virtuous peasants — the one thing which, ac- 
 cording to you, was wanting.'
 
 214 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 A cry of surjirise here broke from every- 
 one. There sounded through the night the 
 clear notes of a bugle, and suddenly, from 
 point after point on the hills opposite, and 
 again from the brushwood deep down in the 
 valley, there burst forth a succession of 
 coloured fires — blue, green, purple, gold, 
 and crimson — growing, tremulously fading, 
 and then again growing, palpitating like 
 enchanted glow-worms. They burnt for a 
 minute or two, and then showed signs of 
 dying ; but before they were out the horn 
 again sounded, and high into the air, with its 
 long trail, sang a rocket, and then broke noise- 
 lessly into a falling flock of stars. Another fol- 
 lowed, and another, in brisk succession. Then 
 a glow was perceived in a different quarter, 
 and, at various spots on the ground below 
 and opposite, cascades and wheels of fire 
 began to revolve and glitter. These, though 
 pretty enough, were in themselves not out
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 215 
 
 of the common ; but when at last they had 
 come to an end, and there had been a dull 
 interval of a moment or two, fresh S23arks 
 simultaneously were struck in a number of 
 places, and, the second after, the whole of 
 the sloping woodland became a glittering 
 garden of white and quivering fieurs-de-lys, 
 A shout rose from the whole assembly below, 
 which was echoed in milder tones by those 
 above them on the ramparts. The royal 
 flowers remained for some time bric]:ht and 
 steadfast ; then at last they too became 
 visibly fainter. But they were not jQi out, 
 or at least only a few of them, when a central 
 glow, brighter than any of its predecessors, 
 gathered to itself the whole attention of every- 
 body. Its shape and meaning were for a few 
 seconds uncertain. Then, clear and shinino- 
 in each minutest detail, there burst on the 
 spectators the likeness of a colossal crown. 
 It remained for a second only — only long
 
 216 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 enough to be distinguislied by them — and 
 then, as it faded, up from the very same spot 
 a bouquet of rockets rose, so brilhant and 
 numerous that the whole prospect was nothing 
 but a vision of soaring fire. Then that too 
 subsided ; the dark sky had its own again ; 
 the shouts of the villagers hoarsely sank into 
 silence, and the party on the ramparts re- 
 turned regretfully to the drawing-room. 
 
 Regret, however, was almost directly 
 banished. One distraction had ended only to 
 make room for another. A pair of folding- 
 doors were already standing open, giving 
 access to a small saloon beyond ; and Carew 
 was already leading the way into it. Some 
 of the younger men had instant visions of 
 dancing; but very few moments sufficed to 
 dispel these. The saloon, which in shape was 
 circular, was not only small, but was more 
 than half filled with a number of gilded chairs; 
 and without delay or question the docile
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 217 
 
 company seated themselves. They then per- 
 ceived that facmg them was a rich but faded 
 curtain of pale blue brocade, festooned grace- 
 fully with tarnished gold tassels ; and they 
 were hardly settled into the first stage of 
 expectancy, when a lively strain of music 
 broke from an unseen orchestra ; two footmen 
 went round distributing programmes, and the 
 curtain presently rose, disclosing a small stage, 
 on which a troupe of really excellent artistes, 
 from Nice, gave a representation of Moliere's 
 Bourgeois Gentilhomme, 
 
 Everyone present had a delightful sense of 
 the malicious applicability of the play to our 
 own times, and the actors met with an ap- 
 plause even beyond what they themselves 
 could account for. After the performance, 
 some of the spectators mounted on the stage 
 out of curiosity. Amongst the last to do 
 so was Miss Consuelo Burton, and she still 
 chanced to be standins: there after the others
 
 218 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 had descended. The footlights shone on 
 her delicate white dress and her bunches of 
 scarlet berries. She made, as she stood there, 
 with her dark eyes glittering, a beautiful but 
 unconscious picture. Almost immediately the 
 young Frenchman, who had been so voluble 
 and attentive to her before, joined her at one 
 bound, and, placing himself beside her, called 
 out to Carew, ^ Come, let us have some tahleaux. 
 Mademoiselle Burton shall be the Maid of 
 Orleans, and the Princesse, Agnes Sorel.' 
 Miss Consuelo Burton at first turned and 
 stared at him with an expression of tranquil 
 and yet half- contemptuous wonder ; and then, 
 with a smile just sufficient for civility, dropped 
 her eyes, and quietly stepped down again 
 amongst the spectators. 
 
 ^Ah,' said the Princesse^ with a clear 
 metallic laugh to the Frenchman, 'you will 
 not, mon cher, have any tableaux to-night.' 
 
 ^ We have seen,' said Lord Aiden, in a
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 219 
 
 murmur to Lady Mangotsfield, ^many in- 
 teresting and many charming things; but 
 Miss Consuelo Burton is the most charming 
 and interesting of them all, and embodies as 
 much as any of them the best of what the 
 world is losing. There's enough high breeding 
 in the mere way in which she carries her head 
 to turn the blood of a whole Radical meeting 
 into gall.' 
 
 ^ I don't/ said Lady Mangotsfield, ' think 
 much of that young vicomte. His father was 
 a gentleman, but his mother was a notary's 
 daughter. Consuelo don't like him either. Of 
 course one could see that ; but she shows her 
 dislike without any blushing or gaucherie,^
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 HE following morning, till close upon 
 midday, quiet possessed the chateau, 
 but about that time the bustle of life 
 began again ; and by half-past twelve the 
 whole of the distinguished company, from the 
 youngest Frenchman to the oldest of the abhes 
 and duchesses ^VT\\h all the English party, except 
 LadyMangotsfield, were gathered together in a 
 voluble circle round the breakfast- table. The 
 French contingent had come for the night only, 
 and were to start for Cannes betimes in the 
 afternoon. Having celebrated last night their 
 attachment to the Monarchical cause, to-night
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 221 
 
 they were most of them about to forget the 
 Republic at a fancy ball given by a charming 
 American. It was therefore important to 
 them, to the younger men especially, that 
 they should be back in time for a final in- 
 spection of their dresses ; and their carriages 
 accordingly were to be ready for them as soon 
 as breakfast was over. 
 
 At the last moment, however, Carew had 
 a parting surprise for them. He and his 
 English friends would accompany them half 
 the way, and arrangements had been made for 
 tea in a certain forest, at a beautiful spot 
 which lay not far from the road. Secretly one 
 or two were a little uneasy at the delay ; but 
 on reaching the spot in question, they felt 
 well repaid for their patience. Every pre- 
 paration, they found, had been made already. 
 In a green glade there was pitched a pretty 
 pavilion, gaily fluttering with pink bows and 
 ribands, and above it, moving on a lazily-
 
 222 THE OLD ORDER CIIAXGES 
 
 moving flag tHey once more beheld the royal 
 lilies of France. The grass in front was 
 spread with scarlet blankets ; a little fire made 
 a blue smoke in the background ; cups of tea 
 and chocolate were presently handed round, 
 with cakes and sweetmeats piled up in wicker 
 baskets. Nor was this all ] for three boy 
 musicians — one fiddler, and two who performed 
 on clarionets — emerged from behind the 
 pavilion as soon as the company were seated, 
 and played a succession of touching and 
 simple airs with a sweetness and feeling that 
 charmed even the most fastidious. 
 
 'Watteau,' said Mrs. Harley to Carew, 
 when the French guests had departed, and the 
 others, in a large wagonette, were on their way 
 back to the chateau, ' Watteau himself never 
 painted a scene of more delightful and of more 
 unreal simplicity. But it is impossible to tell 
 you at once all I think of your entertainment. 
 It must dribble out bit by bit.'
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 223 
 
 * Well/ said Carew, ' you may speak your 
 mind quite freely. The entertainment was 
 not mine, it Tvas really my cousin Gaston's. 
 He pays for it. He has something like it 
 every year, only it happened that this time it 
 fell to my lot to manage it. What brought 
 me to Nice the other day, Tvhen I first met 
 you, was something I had to settle with the 
 actors and the firework man. However, it's all 
 finished now except the pleasantest part of it, 
 and that is the talkmg it over amongst our- 
 selves this evening.' 
 
 ^ Nothing,' said Lord Aiden, ^ is so de- 
 pressing as to be left with oneself by one's 
 friends ; nothing is so charming as to be 
 left with one's friends by one's acquaint- 
 ances.' 
 
 * And,' said Carew, ^ even to-night we 
 shall not be without an excitement. Not 
 only shall we see Lady Mangotsfield, who has 
 been keeping in her room all day, but there is
 
 224 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 to be another arrival, whom I hope you have 
 not forgotten.' 
 
 ' Who? ' said Mrs. Harley. 
 
 ' Surely,' said Carew, ' I told you. No 
 less a person than Lady Chislehurst.' 
 
 At the mention of this name Mr. Stanley's 
 eye lit up for an instant with a faint twinkle 
 of humour. ^ That,' he said, ' will indeed be 
 a treat for all of us.' And his tone was one 
 of sincerity, just touched with genial sarcasm. 
 
 Now Lady Chislehurst was nothing if not 
 Catholic. Her zeal was a proverb; her name 
 was international property; and Mrs. Harley, 
 who had caught the priest's expression, felt 
 him at once rise many degrees in her estima- 
 tion. She herself, too, had been reminded 
 of a treat awaiting her, which perhaps she 
 regarded with a temper akin to his — the com- 
 pany of Lady Mangotsfield, and most likely a 
 lecture from her. They had returned to the 
 chateau, however, and were assembled for
 
 THE OLD OEDEE CEAXGES 225 
 
 dinner ; dinner at last was announced, and 
 tlie dining-room door flung open ; yet neither 
 Lady Mangotsfield nor Lady Chislehurst had 
 put in an appearance. Mrs. Harley was 
 conscious of two distinct sensations — one of 
 relief, the other of disappointment ; when 
 Carew, as he gave his arm to her, at once 
 cured her of both. ' Lady Mangotsfield,' he 
 said, ^, will not come down till afterwards, 
 and Lady Chislehurst, who has only just 
 arrived, sent a special message to beg that we 
 would not wait for her.' 
 
 The table, in spite of the diminished size 
 of the party, was, in the matter of plate and 
 china, as remarkable as it had been yesterday. 
 
 ^ What a magnificent fellow,' said Harley, 
 ^ Carew's cousin is ! This chateau of his 
 must be a complete museum.' 
 
 Lord Aiden, who again had been fas- 
 cinated by the Sevres china, looked up, and 
 said with a look of dreamy wonder, * Do you 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 22G THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 mean to say tliat he gives you carte blanche 
 to use all this ? ' 
 
 ^ It is hard to tell you/ said Carew, 
 ' where my ca7ie blanche ends. Look at this 
 table ; look at these lights, these servants ; 
 think of the whole of this large house kept 
 going. I pay for the food we eat certainly ; 
 but everything else is done by my cousin 
 Gaston ; and as for yesterday, Gaston paid 
 for the food too — actors, dinner, fireworks, 
 fiddlers, all. When I tell it you first it 
 sounds just like a fairy-tale ; but the real 
 history of it is this. Gaston is a widower, 
 and is childless. He had two children once ; 
 but they both died here of diphtheria, and 
 since that time he has never revisited the 
 place. But it is the oldest possession of his 
 family. It is, moreover, one of the very few 
 chateaux that were practically untouched by 
 the Revolution. The old life has gone on 
 without a break in it, and though he himself
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 227 
 
 may never again inhabit it, he means that 
 the full household shall be still mamtained to 
 the last. He used to keep a white horse 
 in the stables, on which he hoped that the 
 King would one day ride into Paris. For 
 four or five winters he has lent this house 
 to his mother-in-law, but this year she is 
 gone to Madeu'a, and knowing I was coming 
 south, he was good enough to offer it to me.' 
 
 * But what do you mean,' said Mrs. 
 Harley, ' by the household being maintained 
 to the last ? And what is this last which 
 you speak of in so melancholy a manner ? ' 
 
 ' The family,' said Carew, ' were so 
 popular in this neighbourhood that during 
 the Eevolution their house was hardly in- 
 jured ; but that which escaped the vio- 
 lence of the Revolution will perish in the 
 next generation under the blight of the 
 Code Napoleon. The estate will be divided, 
 and this place will be sold.' 
 
 q2
 
 228 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 ' Mr. Carew, I am so glad that you did 
 not wait for me ! ' The voice that uttered 
 the words was like a clear ripple of music, 
 with a rustle of silk for a soft but rapid 
 accompaniment ; and all were at once aware 
 of the advent of Lady Chislehurst. Her 
 handsome face wore its most benignant of 
 smiles ; the very sound of her dress seemed 
 somehow an ecclesiastical benediction, and 
 her eyes were like the sun : they shone on 
 the just and unjust. She called Miss Con- 
 suelo ' her darling ' 5 she asked her how were 
 Elfrida and Mildred ; and, taking the seat left 
 for her by the side of ^Ir. Stanley, slipped 
 into his hand a letter, which, she said, she had 
 been keeping to show him. ^ I want you,' 
 she murmured, ' to see there the account of 
 the Holy Father.' Then with a brisker and 
 more mundane accent, ' I knew,' she said, ' I 
 should be late ; and it turns out that I am 
 even later than I thouQ-ht I should be. The
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHAXGES 229 
 
 fact is, Mr. Carew, I found out that you have 
 a chapel here, and there has been no Mass 
 said in it for over seven years. You must 
 allow me to-morrow to do something to the 
 altar ; and, if it can be managed, to have my 
 Mass there on Sunday. ^Ir. Stanley and I 
 will talk about that — won't we? ' 
 
 Carew could not help glancing across the 
 table to Miss Consuelo, and she acknowledged 
 a community of thought by a little momen- 
 tary moiie. The Church, however, having 
 had its share of attention, Lady Chislehurst 
 now turned to the world ; and no one cer- 
 tainly gave to general conversation an easier 
 flow or a more varied interest than she. She 
 had thought much, she had read much, she had 
 seen much of life. She had sought and she 
 had made, the acquaintance of nearly everyone, 
 to whom she saw any chance of being either a 
 friend or benefactress, and she thus had a wide 
 experience of all ranks except the middle.
 
 230 THE OLD OKDER CHANGES 
 
 The gossip of Mayfair and the wants of the 
 crowded alley — she thought most of the last, 
 but she was equally familiar with both. If 
 she could be said in society to have any fault 
 at all, it was a slight tendency to group her 
 ideas round one out of two centres — herself 
 or the Catholic Church. She had had adven- 
 tures in every quarter of the globe. She had 
 had them at Brixton, she had had them in 
 the tropics ; but whatever happened, there 
 was always sure to be someone, some voice 
 which exclaimed from a three-pair back or an 
 earthquake, ' Oh, Lady Chislehurst, my lady, 
 can that be you ! ' And yet, if she some- 
 times irritated as well as amused her friends, 
 she could say of them truly what can be said 
 truly by few : none of them whenever she 
 was present could bring themselves to desire 
 her absence. 
 
 Certainly to-night at dinner no one was 
 even tcm^Dted to do so — not even Mrs. Harley,
 
 THE OLD OKDEIi CHANGES 231 
 
 though her back did go up for a moment, 
 when she heard what to her was a res23ectable 
 but mdifFerent superstition talked of as ' The 
 Faith/ without a single word of apology. 
 That, however, went for nothing ; and putting 
 that aside, there was but one other jar on the 
 religious feelings of anybody ; and this was 
 experienced by Lady Chislehurst herself. It, 
 too, was slight, and it was occasioned merely 
 by the thought that in the drawing-room she 
 was presently to encounter Lady Mangotsfield. 
 As a great lady, Lady Mangotsfield com- 
 manded her highest opinion ; but Lady 
 Mano'otsfield was the most unbendmo; of Pro- 
 testants, and her embodiment of pure Chris- 
 tianity was a Prince Bishop of Durham. Lady 
 Chislehurst, however, was not in a mood to 
 be ruffled. Two words were enough to ex- 
 press and relieve her feelmgs. Smiling her 
 sweetest, she whispered to Mr. Stanley, ^ Old 
 cat ! ' and she then went on eating her dinner,
 
 232 THE OLD ORDER CEAKGES 
 
 prepared for, and resigned to, tlie situa- 
 tion. 
 
 She had every reason to be in a good 
 humour ; for she at once gave to the party a 
 life that before was wanting. She was beset 
 with questions as to public feeling at home, 
 the preparations for the impending elections, 
 and the prospects of the various candidates. 
 She had only left England five or six days 
 ago, so she had much to say that was not by 
 this time old. The week before last she had 
 been in the East End of London, and had found 
 herself in the middle of a mob of Social De- 
 mocrats. They had just been listening, she 
 said, to one of their newest leaders — a soured 
 unsuccessful man, once an officer in the army, 
 who had been suggesting, amongst shouts of 
 applause, as the most useful measure for them- 
 selves, that they should cut the throats of 
 everyone who was rich enough to pay income- 
 tax. What would have happened to her she
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 233 
 
 was quite unable to tell, if three men, each of 
 whom she had tended during an illness, had 
 not suddenly appeared, and secured an escape 
 for her carriage. On the evening of the same 
 day she had dined with the Liberal Prime 
 Minister, who, though aware of misery as a 
 permanent factor in politics, had not been 
 informed that at the present moment it had 
 any detailed existence anywhere out of Ire- 
 land. A day or two later she had been in 
 one of the Midland counties, canvassing rural 
 voters on behalf of her Tory nephew ; and 
 the last few days she had devoted to going 
 to church from the most dio;nified mansion in 
 the whole Faubourg Saint Germa'n. 
 
 This last piece of news at once turned the 
 conversation to the previous night's festivi- 
 ties, and all that Lady Chislehurst had lost. 
 Lady Chislehurst already knew she had lost 
 something ; but she had not realized how 
 much till now. On hearing the names of the
 
 234 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 Frencli ladies who had been present, she 
 found that she had known all the eldest ones 
 from her infancy. It even appeared she had 
 received presents from all of them, beginning 
 with a rattle and ending with a book of devo- 
 tions. Then Lord Aiden, in a tone of indolent 
 despondency, returned to the subject they had 
 been speaking of when Lady Chislehurst en- 
 tered, and informed her of the fate that was 
 hanging over the chateau. ^ You see,' he 
 said, ^ what it is that France is coming to.' 
 
 Lady Chislehurst' s mind was sufficiently 
 full of forebodings to make her listen to this 
 with an almost emulous sadness. ' Yes,' she 
 said, ^ and it is just the same in England. 
 The chateaux there have the same future 
 before them. No, Mrs. Harley, I assure you 
 you need not laugh. One could hardly have 
 imagined, till the approach of the election has 
 vshowed it, how flxr the influence of the country 
 gentlemen has declined. In my nephew's
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 235 
 
 county — the place I have just been in — who 
 should you think the Liberal candidates are ? 
 An architect is one, if you please ; and some 
 nobody from the Stock Exchange is another. 
 I have not seen either of them ; but one can 
 quite imagine the sort of thing — men whose 
 public programme is to abolish the Lords, and 
 whose private programme is to dine with them.' 
 
 Mrs. Harley, with a face half sad and half 
 smiling, said : ' As for the chateaux, I fear 
 that their days are numbered.' 
 
 Carew was determined that nothing should 
 go without a fight for it, and Lord Aiden 
 wondered whether anything were left worth 
 fighting for. 
 
 Harley, who was by far the most cheerful 
 person present, believed tliat of existing in- 
 stitutions two at least would be permanent. 
 These were the institutions of property and 
 marriage. Everj^thing else, he thought, was 
 rapidly decomposing. ' Still,' he added, ad-
 
 236 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 dressing liimself to Lord Aiden, 'the terri- 
 torial classes might last a good bit longer, if 
 they would only wake up a bit and appeal 
 more to the people.' 
 
 ' Yes/ Lord Aiden replied, ' and a weary 
 work that would be.' 
 
 ' My dear Lord Aiden/ said Lady Chisle- 
 hurst winningly, ' there's only one thing can 
 save us, and that is the Church. I sometimes 
 think that the Church is the only thing that 
 will be saved. Mr. Stanley, tell me, do you 
 agree with me ? ' 
 
 Mr. Stanley looked gravely at her. ' Any 
 institution may be saved,' he said, ' which has 
 not lost the power of adapting itself.' 
 
 ' And yet,' said Harley, casting his eyes 
 about him, ' what could adapt itself better 
 than this chateau to all the demands of our 
 simple modern luxury ? And all the same, 
 you tell us that we shall not save this chateau.' 
 
 ' Let us hope,' said Lady Chislehurst, ' if
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHAXGES 237 
 
 it must go out of tlie family, that it will be 
 bought as it stands by someone who will 
 take care of it.' 
 
 ' It could be bought as it stands,' said 
 Carew, ^ by no one except a milKonaire. In- 
 deed, I am not sure that I would not sooner 
 think of it as a ruin than as furbished up and 
 inhabited by some rich Radical bourgeois.^ 
 
 ^ That,' said Mrs. Harley, ' is a sentiment 
 worthy of Lady Mangotsfield.' 
 
 ' Lady Mangotsfield,' said Carew, evadmg 
 this piece of the criticism, ' at all events is 
 perfectly happy. She is having her dinner 
 in a room that was occupied by Charles the 
 Fifth, and her bed which, in grandeur, is quite 
 as good as a throne, has been aired for her by 
 Francis the First, who slept, I am told, three 
 weeks in it.' 
 
 ' And so,' said Lord Aiden, presently, ^ a 
 few years more, a very few years, and our 
 present surroundings will be all a dream of
 
 238 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 the past — everything scattered to the four 
 winds of heaven. Well, this chateau is only 
 an illustration of what we have just been say- 
 ing. It is very much like the world in which 
 we have been brought up from our childhood 
 — our world, I mean — the world of us who are 
 here now. It is not gone ; but it is going : 
 as,' he added with a laugh, ' the auctioneer 
 will be saying about this beautiful china 
 some day.' 
 
 * Our world,' said Carew, ^ will, you think, 
 be knocked down as this china will. It may 
 be knocked down, but it will be handed over 
 to nobody.' 
 
 He had hardly done speaking when a 
 grave and majestic footman, his hair snowy 
 with powder, who had not waited at dinner, ap- 
 proached Carew deferentially, and murmured 
 a few words to him. Carew turned to his 
 guests, and, smiling, explained the message. 
 
 ^ Lady Mangotsfield,' he said, ' has just
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 239 
 
 come down. Let us keep up our French 
 habits, and all of us go in to her together.' 
 During the general movement, for a second or 
 two Miss Consuelo Burton was next to him. 
 ^I am glad,' he said to her, ^that you have 
 again got your red berries on. I picked them 
 myself, both yesterday and again this evening, 
 and I gave orders that they should be taken 
 to your room. You wore berries like that — 
 perhaps you may not remember it — the last 
 evening I ever saw you in London.'
 
 QvC>C<>0000'>0<>OOCh>OOC>0<X><Xh>OOC^OO<>OOC>0<«:>000000000<^ 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 a liasty giance that had not learned 
 to discriminate, Lady Mangotsfield 
 might have passed for the meekest 
 of living women. The party from the dining- 
 room found her smiling placidly in the hard- 
 est and uneasiest of all the chairs available. 
 Her black silk dress, which was the same she 
 had worn last night, was dowdy and put 
 on with negligence ; what shape it had was 
 obscured by a yet dowdier shawl ; and her 
 long hands, crossed on her lap before her, were 
 covered with wrinkled gloves that had only 
 been half drawn on. But the real meaninoj
 
 t:ip: old oeder changes 211 
 
 of her toilette was the very reverse of what 
 it seemed to be. It expressed not her esti- 
 mate of herself as compared with the world 
 at large, but her estimate of the world at 
 large as compared with her : and the placid 
 smile, when studied a little longer, seemed 
 less that of a person disposed to notice every- 
 body, than of one who had been accustomed 
 only to people fit to be noticed. 
 
 With the present company she was luckily 
 quite satisfied — even with Mr. Stanley, having 
 found out who was his father. In a general 
 way too, it appeared, she had been pleased 
 with the party of last night ; and she began 
 almost directly to make Carew a number of 
 pretty speeches about the way in which he 
 had managed the entertainment. 
 
 ' I had often heard,' she said, ' from old 
 Madame de Courbon-Loubet, of all the fine 
 doings which your cousin still kept up here ; 
 and so when I learnt it was you who were 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 at the chateau this winter — and I only learnt it 
 by the merest accident from a stranger — I sent 
 you a note at once and said I was coming to 
 see you. I've been writing this morning to 
 your poor dear Uncle Horace, telling him all 
 about it. He gets out very little ; and any 
 bit of news amuses him. By the way/ she 
 added, ' you made one mistake, you shouldn't 
 have invited that woman — I always forget 
 her name ' 
 
 ^ Who ? ' said Carew, though he knew 
 quite well what was coming. 
 
 ^ That woman with all the diamonds — 
 that princess — that banker's daughter. It 
 don't do. She don't mix with the others.' 
 
 ' I know,' said Carew, ' that they don't 
 exactly like her ; but at least they visit 
 her ; and I couldn't avoid asking her. Be- 
 sides, our party was to celebrate a Koyal 
 birthday, and who has been admired by so 
 many Royalties as she? '
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHAXGES 243 
 
 ^ Yes/ said Lady Mangotsfield, with an 
 odd little low laugh ; ' the Royalties can do 
 what they like. That's just what we can't.' 
 Then somewhat abruptly turning to Mrs. 
 Harley, 'Well, my dear,' she went on, 'and 
 what have you been about lately ? Last 
 nio'ht I had hardlv a moment to talk to you. 
 Have you been having any more of those 
 dreadful men of genius to your parties?' 
 
 Mischief at once liijhtened in Mrs. 
 Harley's eyes. 
 
 ' Our last dinner, Lady Mangotsfield, 
 before we left London, was given,' she said, 
 ' in honour of Mr. Snapper.' 
 
 The shot told to perfection. Lady 
 Mano;otsfield moved back her chair with a 
 genuine start of horror. 
 
 ' You don't mean to say,' she exclaimed, 
 ^ you have actually asked him? ' Then, as 
 if horror were a feeling far too flattering, she 
 lowered the offence to the level of an ill- 
 
 R 2
 
 24.4: THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 judged joke ; and, shaking lier fan at Mrs. 
 Harley with a tremulous air of reprimand, 
 ' If you do that agam,' she said, ' I can tell 
 you I wash my hands of you.' 
 
 That matter being settled, she turned now 
 to Lord Aiden, and was understood to ask 
 him if he did not a^-ree with her that it was 
 * really too bad ' that such a man as Mr. 
 Snapper was ' in existence,' meaning by ex- 
 istence his being obtruded within the sphere 
 of her notice. Lord Aiden agreed that it 
 was. ' Nothing,' he said, ' is now what it 
 used to be. Twenty years back such a man 
 would have had no chance.' 
 
 ^ Of course,' resumed Lady Mangotsfield, 
 we all know what their object is. Their one 
 object is to abolish primogeniture ; and if 
 ever they do that, it will of course be the 
 ruin of England.' 
 
 Everyone hung on her clear but faltering 
 accents, if not with conviction at all events
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHA^'GES 245 
 
 with curiosity, and waited for her to confide 
 to Lord Aiden her farther views of the situ- 
 •ation. It appeared, as she went on, that it 
 made her angry rather than apprehensive. 
 What is commonly spoken of as the growing 
 power of democracy, she seemed to regard as 
 an outburst of passing popular naughtiness. 
 The people, in her eyes, was a child with 
 a fit on it of impertinence and perversity ; 
 and the best punishment its natural leaders 
 could inflict on it was not to notice it till 
 it had OTown obedient and o-ood ao-ain. Real 
 political life was still confined to the old 
 families; and political knowledge, as much as 
 herds of deer, was secluded in the precincts of 
 country gentlemen's parks. Lord Aiden, as 
 he listened to her, had a quiet cynical smile ; 
 but, all the same, he listened with obvious 
 sympathy. He inclined to her view of things 
 much as he inclined to Catholicism. It was 
 not true ; but no other view was tolerable.
 
 24 G THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 ' By the way,' said Carew to Lady Man- 
 gotsfield as soon as slie liad finished her 
 politics, ' you said just now you heard of 
 my being here from a stranger. May we 
 know who the stranger was ? ' 
 
 ^ That/ said Lady Mangotsfield, ' is the 
 very point on which you must enlighten me. 
 You know him quite well. He assured me 
 he was a great friend of yours. Plis name — 
 what was his name, now ? Upon my word 
 I can't recollect it. It was not one that 
 conveyed any idea to my mind.' 
 
 ' AVho,' said Carew, ' introduced him to 
 you ? ' 
 
 ' Who introduced him to me ? Why, 
 oddly enough, Stonehouse did. I was sitting 
 in my carriage at the band, and Stonehouse 
 had just left me, when I saw this gentleman 
 go suddenly up and whisper to him ; and 
 then, after a moment or two, Stonehouse 
 came back to the carriage again, and in his
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHAXGES 2-±7 
 
 queer little precise voice — so like in that he 
 is to his dear father — '' Aunt Hilda," he said, 
 "will you allow me to introduce to you 
 
 a " ah, I have it now — " will you allow 
 
 me to mtroduce to vou a Mr. Inio'o, who i 
 
 y 
 
 D^5 
 
 IS 
 
 dying to pay his respects to you ? You'd 
 better know him. I think he'll very likely 
 amuse you." I suppose — I don't know — 
 but I suppose, that I drew back a little ; for 
 Stonehouse said, " You needn't be frightened 
 of him. I assure you he won't bite." He's 
 always so droll, is Stonehouse. Well, the 
 long and the short of it was, this Inigo was 
 brought up to me, and before I knew where 
 I was, he was telling me some long story 
 about the Grand Duke, and how anxious 
 he was to see me. God bless the man, I 
 thought, I didn't want to be told that. I 
 had been with the Grand Duke nearly all the 
 morning already. However, that's not the 
 point. The point is that I heard you were
 
 248 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 here from Mr. Inigo : and now I want you 
 to tell me, if you can, wlio this ]\Ir. Inigo 
 is; 
 
 ^ How like Stonehouse ! ' exclaimed Miss 
 Consuelo Burton, who, though rather in awe 
 of Lady Mangotsfield, was overcome by her 
 sense of amusement. ^ He played just the 
 same trick on us.' 
 
 ' What, my dear ? ' said Lady Mangots- 
 field sharply. ' Lord Aiden, what was it 
 this young lady said ? ' 
 
 ^ Stonehouse,' said Miss Consuelo, ^ finds 
 Mr. Inigo rather an affliction ; and he thinks 
 it a joke sometimes to introduce him to other 
 people.' 
 
 Lady Mangotsfield reflected for a moment 
 on who Stonehouse was — her own nephew, 
 and his father's eldest son ; so she decided 
 on being slightly amused, and said, ' It was 
 very naughty of him. But come — you have
 
 THE OLD OBDER CHANGES 249 
 
 none of you yet told me who the gentleman 
 is. Is he a gentleman ? That's what I want 
 to o'et at.' 
 
 ' 1/ said Carew, ' have an exceedingly 
 slight acquaintance with him, but he's become 
 lately a sort of gentleman-in-waiting to my 
 Uncle Horace, who is less fastidious than he 
 used to be, as his si^'ht and hearino; are fail- 
 ing him, and who finds Mr. Inigo useful to 
 play whist with him, and even on occasions 
 to write out invitations to dinner.' 
 
 ^ Well, Evelyn,' said Lady Mangotsfield to 
 Mrs. Harley, ^ and what do you say of this 
 wonder ? ' 
 
 ' He's far too fashionable,' said Mrs. 
 Harley, ' for me to be mtimate with ; so I, 
 for one, can hardly venture on an opmion.' 
 
 ^ Nonsense, my dear,' said Lady Mangots- 
 field ; ' how can you say such a thing ? The 
 man's not fashionable, else I should have
 
 250 THE OLD OKDER CHANGES 
 
 heard of him. But you all seem to know 
 him. Has he any position of his own? ' 
 
 * Yes/ said Ilarley, ' he certainly has one. 
 His position is at the top of every staircase in 
 London he can get to.' 
 
 '- And,' said Carew, ' if you don't think 
 that makes him a gentleman, I can only say 
 that your opinion is very different from 
 his.' 
 
 Lady Mangotsfield could appreciate many 
 things, but not a tone of banter when it 
 happened to be addressed to herself. ^ Our 
 friend here,' she said, turning again to Mrs. 
 Harley, ^ should not talk about things which 
 he does not understand. I can only say that 
 if this Mr. Liigo is the fashion, fashion is 
 very much changed from the thing that it 
 was in my day. Besides, even in my day 
 this was always true — the men who were seen 
 everywhere were the men who were sought 
 for nowhere. And you, Consuelo — when
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 251 
 
 you're going about to your parties — I'll tell 
 you one thing, and remember an old woman 
 told it to you — wlien a man of fashion is not 
 a gentleman, there is no one in the world so 
 vulgar as a man of fashion.'
 
 
 '■^■^^■(^^^^■<■^■^^■^■^■;■^TTT!l^■^■l^■^^^| ■^■^- ^■^^^^■^^ ■f^^ ■^■^■l^^■^■t■ f■f^{■^ :l■^■^^■ l-;^■l ^^ry ^T^ 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 sooner had Lady Mangotsfield re- 
 tired, which she did before any of 
 the others showed any symptoms 
 of weariness, than Carew went to one of the 
 windows, and looked out at the night. The 
 curtains, as he drew them aside, let in a flood 
 of moonlight. Then Avith permission he 
 threw the window open ; and the moonlight 
 was followed by a warm fresh odour of orange- 
 blossoms. By this time the others were all 
 standino' close to him ; and the vision that 
 met their eyes was so alluring and brilliant 
 that hats and cloaks were sent for, and they 
 all of them went outside.
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHAXGES 253 
 
 Riglit below tlie window was the old moat 
 of the chateau, with a little bridge crossing 
 it to the broad ramparts beyond. The moat 
 was nothing now but a sunken cincture of 
 orange trees ; and the ramparts had been 
 turned into a terrace from which the whole 
 landscape was visible. To this terrace they 
 passed. They had stood there the night before, 
 and the same hills fronted them that had been 
 alive with fiery flowers and fountains. But 
 the moon then had been hidden behind a thick 
 bank of clouds ; everything near and far had 
 been lost or blurred in obscurity, and their 
 minds and eyes had been occupied almost 
 exclusively by the numbers of people, and the 
 bewildering blaze of the fireworks. Now 
 everything looked so wholly difi*erent that 
 they could hardly believe it was really the 
 same scene ; and for a time they were almost 
 silent before its fantastic beauty. 
 
 The sides of the tall tower, as it rose
 
 254 THE OLD OPiDEK CHANGES 
 
 soaring and solitary, had a strange gleam on 
 them, and showed traces of Moorish orna- 
 ment. By common consent they all moved 
 slowly towards it. Around its base, and 
 again below the ramjoarts, the tops of unfami- 
 liar palm trees made feathery arches in the air, 
 as though they were exotics which grew here 
 in some magic summer. Mysterious gardens, 
 too, which none of the guests had visited, 
 were now seen to descend all that side of the 
 hill ; and here and there, as peering eyes 
 looked down on them, far in the depths was a 
 white glimmer of flowers, or a winding gravel 
 walk, that shone like a thread of silver 3 
 whilst farther away the mountains, woods, 
 and villages, the terraced olive-yards, and the 
 keen crags above them, were at once so clear 
 and faint, at once so brilliant and so shadowy, 
 that they looked less like a real landscape 
 than a reflection in a sorcerer's mirror. 
 
 ^ Why should we walk ? ' said Lady Chisle-
 
 THE OLD OrvDER CHANGES 255 
 
 hurst, presently. ' AYe are all wrapped np. 
 There are seats. What does everyone say to 
 sittmof down ? ' 
 
 The suggestion proved welcome, and the 
 group settled themselves pensively. 
 
 ^ Thank God,' murmured Lord Aiden at 
 last, ' we can forget politics here.' 
 
 Lady Chislehurst looked at him with an 
 expression of motherly sadness. ' My dear 
 Lord Aiden,' she said, ' if I may make a per- 
 sonal speech, it's a pity that you ever took to 
 politics at all. The world would have gained 
 if you had never deserted poetry.^ 
 
 There were many reasons why, as uttered 
 by her, these few words had a special effect on 
 her hearers, and came to them charged with the 
 weight of many associations. Lady Chisle- 
 hurst, it was known, had had her own private 
 history ; through the breath of scandal having 
 never presumed to touch her, it had always 
 remained for the world a respectful and vague
 
 256 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 conjecture. In early life slie had possessed 
 uncommon attraction; and she had enjoyed 
 the credit of having broken numerous hearts, 
 without the discredit of having ever designed 
 to do so ; but, though she had twice made a 
 devoted and blameless wife, having found 
 herself at forty for a second time a widow, 
 there was still a legend about her that, in the 
 breaking of hearts and the mending of them, 
 one alone had been broken really; and that 
 one was hers. It has been said that she had 
 read much. She had also written something. 
 She was known to have been the authoress 
 of an anonymous volume of poems, of which 
 George Sand had said in her old age that it 
 recalled to her the saddest and the purest 
 feelings of her youth ; and many observers of 
 Lady Chislehurst's sympathy with sorrow 
 were convinced that she could only have 
 learnt it from sorrow and desolation of hei 
 own.
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 257 
 
 Lord Aiden was fully aware of the 
 character of the woman who had spoken to 
 him ; and by no means the sort of man, under 
 ordinary circumstances, to submit to a reproach 
 or even advice in public, he replied to Lady 
 Chislehurst with a frank and reflective sim- 
 plicity, which might have been almost called 
 humble had it been a little less indolent. 
 
 'I,' he said, ' didn't desert my poetry. 
 Quite the contrary : my poetry has deserted 
 me. Even if I had not lost the ability, I have 
 lost the impulse to write.' 
 
 ' And doesn't it,' said Miss Consuelo 
 Burton, ' come back to you on a night Hke 
 this?' 
 
 Lord Aiden was touched by the interest 
 in the girl's luminous eyes. ' The impulse,' 
 he answered, ' to think poetry may come back, 
 but the impulse to write it, never. I suppose,' 
 he went on, in a more cynical tone, ' that we 
 may venture to admit, in Lady Mangotsfield's 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 absence, that in more ways tlian one this is a 
 democratic age : and what has silenced me is 
 the growth of the reading pubHc. The sense 
 of private life is completely taken away from 
 one ; and to write poetry now would be much 
 the same, to my mind, as discussing one's 
 private affairs at a table d'hote or in a railway 
 carriage/ 
 
 ^ Besides that,'' said Harley, with his usual 
 geniality, 'the world, or at least civilizations, 
 when they grow to a certain age, lose their 
 voices, as men do. Europe is too old for 
 poetry ; America is too young.' 
 
 ^ No, no,' said Lady Chislehurst, ' it is not 
 the age of Europe that is the matter with us. 
 M)^ dear Mr. Harley, the world is old enough, 
 but to each new heart it is still as young as 
 ever. The first time that a girl loves, to-day, 
 love is as fresh to her as it was to Eve in Eden.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Carew, ' there are many things 
 in life — many things and thoughts, let them
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 259 
 
 be never so often talked about, which, until we 
 have learnt to realize them, are as strange and 
 unknown as death.' 
 
 ' You, Lord Aiden,' said Mrs. Harley after 
 a pause, ' once wrote a poem in which you 
 said something just like that. You said — 
 do you remember ? — that '* Death was as 
 strange as love." ' 
 
 ' Did I ? ' he said, with a little contemp- 
 tuous laugh, common to poets when their own 
 works are alluded to. ' I believe I did, now 
 that you come to remind me of it. I forget 
 the name of the critic who once pointed out 
 that nearly every simile had the makings in it 
 of two : and that, like a coat, if you turned it, 
 you could make a new one.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Carew, ' and often one just as 
 good. The other day, I was driving along 
 the Corniche road, and there constantly kept 
 recurring to me a line or a phrase of Ten- 
 nyson, in which he describes the very waters 
 
 s 2
 
 260 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 that were under me as "bays, the peacock's 
 neck in hue." No simile could be more per- 
 fect or beautiful ; but if you wished to describe 
 a peacock, it would be just as perfect inverted ; 
 and you might say that the peacock's neck 
 was the colour of a Mediterranean bay.' 
 
 ' That,' said Mr. Stanley, ' is perfectly 
 true ; and the simile helps the imagination as 
 much in one case as in the other. It's an odd 
 thing, but it is so.' 
 
 ^ ^ I think,' said Lord Aiden, growing gra- 
 dually more animated, ' I think that the ex- 
 planation of it is this. The mind at rest is 
 full of vivid images, which have settled on it 
 everywhere like a flock of brilliant and quick- 
 eyed birds ; but the moment we approach any 
 one of them, and set about examining it 
 carefully, its wings are spread, and with one 
 flash it is gone. But when we employ a 
 simile to illustrate anything, the thing which 
 we want to illustrate acts as a kind of
 
 THE OLD ORDEK CHANGES 261 
 
 stalking-horse, and the image which is to 
 ilkistrate it is caught before it knew we were 
 near it.' 
 
 ' My dear Lord Aiden,' exclaimed Lady 
 Chislehurst, ' you are still a poet at heart. 
 As you were speaking this last moment, one 
 would have thought you were your old self 
 again. Do you remember at Vienna, many 
 years ago, one pleasant night when you re- 
 cited one of your poems to us ? Recite us one 
 now, if you never mean more to publish 
 any. Do ; and let me live over old times 
 again.' 
 
 ' Ask Carew,' said Lord Aiden ; ' he's a 
 better poet than I am ; and a wiser one, too, 
 for he never published at all.' 
 
 ' Come, Mr. Carew,' said Lady Chislehurst. 
 ^ Doesn't this scene inspire you ? ' 
 
 ' This scene,' said Carew, ^ or this country, 
 is the only thing that for many years past ever 
 has inspired me. Would you really like to
 
 262 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 hear me repeat something? I will if you 
 like — not because the verses are good, but 
 because I mean what is said in them so much 
 that I find a pleasure in resaying it. One 
 person here, however, knows them only too 
 well already. I wrote them for Mrs. Harley, 
 when she set up an album, and asked me to 
 contribute something — which she was good 
 enough to call poetry. They are headed 
 " Lines to the Riviera." ' 
 
 ^ We are listening,' said Lady Chislehurst. 
 
 Carew repeated as follows : 
 
 Ab, what ailed you to bid rhyme for you 
 
 me — me who have done with rhyme ? 
 Would you ask of a tree figs when you 
 
 know well it is past the time ? 
 See the lute that I breathed love to ! It 
 
 hangs now on a broken string. 
 One song only of all songs have I 
 
 now courage or heart to sing. 
 
 Oh, my luminous land, glowing with 
 
 blue under and blue above ! 
 
 Land whose violets breathe sweeter than 
 
 all mouths that have murmur'd love !
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 263 
 
 Oh, my land of the palm, olive, and 
 
 aloe ! land of the sun, the sea ! 
 
 Still my heart is a child's, turning in 
 
 long longing to thee, to thee ! 
 
 Carew was sitting next to Miss Consuelo 
 Burton, and ttie consciousness that she was 
 listening gave a depth and feeling to his 
 intonation, which endowed the verses with 
 a merit which was possibly not their own. 
 After they had been accorded a fitting acknow- 
 ledgment. Lord Aiden was again beset by 
 Lady Chislehurst with entreaties that he 
 would follow Carew's good example, and give 
 them something, if only a few lines, of his 
 own. This time he proved to be more open 
 to persuasion. A sense of intimacy gradually 
 had sprung up amongst them all. A tone 
 now seemed natural that half an hour ae^o 
 would have been singular, and Lord Aiden 
 yielded to the spirit of the moonlight and the 
 moment.
 
 264 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 'Here,' he said, 'is the last thing I have 
 written. It is not published, and it will not 
 be. Like Carew's, it was written in answer to 
 a friend's request, who was good enough some 
 time since to wish to have my autograph — a 
 gifted and beautiful woman,' he went on, 
 speaking into the collar of his coat, and 
 brushing some cigarette ash off the fur of it, 
 ' who was suffering from the most unfeminine 
 of all our modern maladies — a want of belief in 
 any future existence. What I wrote for her 
 was this: 
 
 Far in a doubtful world I place my treasure, 
 
 And in this near world you : 
 But will you find that your world gives you pleasure ? 
 
 Or I, that mine is true ? 
 
 ' My dear Lord Aiden,' said Lady Chisle- 
 hurst presently, ' shall I tell you why your 
 Muse has deserted you ? ' and she smiled at 
 him with a look of benignant — of almost con- 
 descending interest. ' It is because you have
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHAXGES 265 
 
 lost faith. That is the simple reason. You 
 can't sing of your treasure unless you are 
 certain that your treasure exists.' — ' 
 
 ^ Surely/ said Miss Consuelo, with a slight 
 sense of perversity, ' men did so in the days 
 of the Renaissance.' 
 
 * Their case/ interposed Carew, ^ was very 
 different to ours. They may have been 
 doubtful, or even careless about the old trea- 
 sure; but their life was vivid with the illusion 
 that they were finding a new one.' 
 
 ' I,' murmured Miss Consuelo Burton half 
 audibly, ' have not ' 
 
 There she stopped short. Only Carew 
 heard her. He looked round at her, and 
 in a low tone asked, ' What did you 
 say ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing — nothing,' she answered. Again 
 he whispered, ^ Tell me.' She paused for a 
 moment, took one hasty glance at him, and 
 then, in a voice lower than ever, spoke : ^ I
 
 266 THE OLD OKDER CHANGES 
 
 was going to say that I had not even the 
 comfort of the illusion.' 
 
 ^ You, Mr. Carew,' Lady Chislehurst was 
 meanwhile proceeding, ' you, I know, are on 
 my side. You agree with me, don't you, in 
 what I have just told Lord Aiden? ' 
 
 ^ My dear Lady — my dear friend,' said 
 Lord Aiden, ' we agree with you one and all 
 of us. Apart from religion, I can conceive 
 of no good in life ; and of only one evil — I 
 mean democratic progress. But we none of 
 us have any religion — our want is precisely 
 that.' 
 
 'I think,' said Mr. Stanley with an odd 
 half-humorous smile, *I think. Lord Aiden, 
 your generalization is a little too sweeping. 
 You forget that three of us here to-night are 
 Catholics.' 
 
 * And Mr. and Mrs. Harley,' said Lady 
 Chislehurst, ^ are very excellent Protestants. 
 I can only hope that I shall see them some-
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 267 
 
 thing better some day.' Haiiey, on hearing 
 this, laughed to himself somewhat, as Sarah 
 did behind the tent door ; but Lady Chisle- 
 hurst, though angelic in many respects, could 
 not hear like the angel ; and continued quite 
 um^uffled : ' There's one thing,' she said, 
 ^ about which I am quite sure. If we all of 
 us try to find the truth, we certainly shall 
 find it ; and if we all of us help each other, 
 we shall find it still more quickly.' 
 
 Carew looked at her with an odd expres- 
 sion on his face, and then said abruptly, 
 ^ Will you join my Society ? ' 
 
 ' What Society is that ? ' said Lady 
 Chislehurst with an inquiring softness. 
 
 ' A Society of people whose one link to- 
 gether is the wish to find the truth, as you 
 say they are sure to find it.' And Carew 
 proceeded to explain at sufiicient length the 
 project which already he had confided to Mrs. 
 Harley. He was altogether surprised at the
 
 268 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 result of his communication. He was sur- 
 prised at tlic quickness with which Lady 
 Chislehurst grasped his idea, and the enthu- 
 siasm with which she entertained it. Even to 
 his own mind, a moment ago it had been little 
 more than a dream ; but now that it had been 
 seized on by hers, it seemed suddenly to have 
 become a reality. 
 
 r ' Let us found your Society to-night/ she 
 said, ' and let us join it, one and all of us.' 
 
 Harley for a moment sounded a mild note 
 of discord by observing that Lady Chisle- 
 hurst could hardly be a seeker for truth, be- 
 cause, according to her own principles, she 
 possessed it. But Mr. Stanley at once replied 
 to this : 
 
 ^^ ' I, at any rate, must claim to be numbered 
 amongst the seekers. Faith is a compass, 
 and the object of faith is fixed ; but human 
 society is as unfixed as the sea. Winds afi'ect 
 it, mists obscure it, and it is crossed at times
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHAXGES 269 
 
 by currents which we call, or miscall, pro- 
 gress. Often, the more faith we put in the 
 compass the more anxious shall we be as to 
 how to sail and steer by it.' ^ 
 
 ' In that way,' said Mrs. Harley gravely, 
 ' I am sure we must all agree with you. 
 Putting aside the religious beliefs which we 
 do not share, I feel as fully as Mr. Stanley 
 does the perplexities which we do share. 
 Yes — I too am one of the seekers — I am one of 
 those who require both help and knowledge.' 
 
 Miss Consuelo Burton drooped her head as 
 she murmured, ' Of whom I am chief.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Lady Chislehurst, 'let us 
 consider that we have made a beojinninoc, and 
 before our party breaks up here we must 
 make some arrangement with regard to our 
 next meeting. I don't know, I'm sure, what 
 everybody's plans may be, but I should sug- 
 gest, let us meet at Rome at Easter. How- 
 ever, as to that, we have some days before us
 
 270 TEE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 to tliiiik about it, and wlio knows mean- 
 while what conclusions we may not have 
 come to. We shall expect our host/ she went 
 on, with her most benignant smile at Carew, 
 ' we shall expect our host to be a host indeed, 
 and to give his ideas to us as well as his 
 hospitality. He must tell us a little more 
 how he himself approaches the problem.' 
 
 ' To-morrow,' said Carew, ' I shall perhaps 
 be able to show you. Part of the secret is 
 hidden in this chateau.'
 
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 CHAPTER XL 
 
 1ITTLE did the guests, as tliey took 
 themselves off to bed, expect what 
 the morrow was going to bring forth. 
 Carew's last words, indeed, had roused in 
 them some slight expectation ; it had also 
 been arranged that they should do what they 
 had not done yet — go round the house and 
 see all its curiosities thoroughly. But events 
 were in store for them far more startling than 
 these, and quite as startHng to Carew himself 
 as to anybody. 
 
 The morning, however, passed off calmly 
 enough. This was spent in the promised
 
 272 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 tour of sight- seeing, which had been specially 
 arranged in honour of Lady Mangotsfield, as 
 that afternoon she meant to return to Nice. 
 She found that the chateau even more than 
 answered her expectations ; and, with one 
 exception, she was in high good humour 
 with everything. This exception was sup- 
 plied by the chapel. But it was not the 
 structure or the associations of the chapel 
 itself that disturbed her : it was the sight of 
 Lady Chislehurst's maid, who was discovered 
 in the act of arranging on the altar two tall 
 silver candlesticks, taken from her mistress's 
 bedroom, whilst the floor at her feet was 
 littered with leaves and flowers. 
 
 Carew, as the scene burst upon the party 
 entering, observed how Miss Consuelo Burton 
 glanced for a moment at Lady Chislehurst, 
 first with a smile in her eyes, and then a 
 half- contemptuous irritation. Lady Chisle- 
 hurst, meanwhile, quite unconscious of this,
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 273 
 
 was saying to Carew in her sweetest and 
 most beatified accents : ^ How much nicer 
 it looks now, doesn't it ? I couldn't bear 
 to think of its being left as I found it yes- 
 terday evening.' Lady Mangotsfield heard 
 the words, and took in the whole situation 
 perfectly ; but it was often her way, when 
 she felt displeased at anything, to affect an 
 extreme deafness ; and turning to Carew with 
 a slight sharpness in her voice, ' What,' she 
 said, ' have you got going on here ? Is that 
 young woman going to hang up a mistletoe 
 bough ? ' Carew murmured an explanation, 
 which contained the name of Lady Chisle- 
 hurst. ' Oh,' said Lady Mangotsfield, rais- 
 ing her eyebrows, ' Lady Chislehurst ! ' That 
 was her only answer. It was given in the 
 mildest tone, and accompanied by the mildest 
 smile, but the smile and the tone between 
 them seemed somehow to fiU the atmosphere 
 with a delicate but unmistakable essence of 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 politely -pitying Protestantism. Lady Chisle- 
 hurst was more conscious of this than any- 
 one. She was, however, quite equal to the 
 occasion ; and her own pity, which rose at 
 a moment's notice, was more than a match 
 for that of her antagonist. * Yes, dear Lady 
 Mangotsfield,' she said, very much as if she 
 were an angel instructing a child, ^ there is 
 going to be Mass said here to-morrow morn- 
 ing. To-morrow is Sunday, and a feast of 
 one of the Church's saints.' 
 
 ' Sunday, my dear ! ' retorted Lady Man- 
 gotsfield, ' yes, of course it's Sunday. As 
 I always do when I'm at Nice, I shall go and 
 hear Mr. Fothergill. Come, Mr. Carew, we'll 
 look at the kitchens now.' 
 
 But it little availed her to cover her re- 
 treat thus. Lady Mangotsfield felt that Lady 
 Chislehurst was the victor, and she was 
 made to feel it again more than once after- 
 wards. Lady Chislehurst, however, fought,
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 275 
 
 when she did fight, simply and solely by the 
 extra vigour of her sweetness. Her charity 
 and her conversation became like a douche of 
 balm, administered with a force just sufficient 
 to make them sting. 
 
 ' It strikes me,' said Lady Mangotsfield at 
 luncheon, ^ that you were all of you very late 
 in getting to bed last night. What were you 
 all doing ? ' 
 
 'We were out on the terrace,' said Lord 
 Aiden, ' talking and quoting poetry.' 
 
 ' We were doing more than that,' said 
 Lady Chislehurst, leaning graciously to- 
 wards Lady Mangotsfield; ' we were founding 
 a Society.' 
 
 'Eh? What?' said Lady Mangotsfield, 
 shielding herself again behind her buckler of 
 deafiiess. ' What does she say. Lord Aiden? ' 
 Lord Aiden informed her. 'Well,' she con- 
 tinued, ' and your Society, what is it to do, 
 pray? ' 
 
 T 2
 
 276 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 'Dear Lady Mangotsfield,' said Lady 
 Chislehurst, 'it is to find, and to clear the 
 way to, a recognition of a Catholic truth.' 
 
 'It's a Society, then, is it, to make you all 
 turn Roman Catholics ? ' 
 
 ' If you like it. Lady Mangotsfield, we will 
 drop the word Catholic^ and call it merely a 
 Society for the recognition of truth. It is 
 going to be joined by many of the keenest 
 intellects in London.' 
 
 Carew and his friends stared at Lady 
 Chislehurst, nor did their wonder lessen as 
 they listened to what followed. ' We are 
 going,' she continued, 'to have the Duke of 
 Angmering with us, Lady Carlton, Lady St. 
 George, the Cardinal, the Duke of Renfrew, 
 and the Prime Minister — everyone, in fact, 
 whose opinions ought to be influential.' 
 
 ' Then, in that case,' said Lady Mangots- 
 field, ' your Society will be an exceedmgly 
 small one.'
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 277 
 
 ' Its members,' said Lady Cliisleliurst, 
 ' are to have one qualification, at least, which 
 you, dear Lady Mangotsfield, are quite sure 
 to approve of. They are to be all of them 
 ladies and gentlemen.' 
 
 This information, no doubt, was in itself 
 conciliating, and several of the names just 
 mentioned were those of personages Lady 
 Mangotsfield held high in honour; but, at the 
 same time, the Society, if it meant anything, 
 must, she felt, be a species of Popish plot, 
 and the very fact of its being talked of affected 
 her as some afiront to herself. 
 
 ' Well,' she said, with an odd perversity of 
 temper, ' if you mean your members to be all 
 ladies and gentlemen, I should advise you as 
 soon as possible to elect Mr. — what's his name 
 — Mr. Inigo. I dare say I shall see him at 
 Nice, and if so I shall tell him all about 
 you all. Eh, John? What's this? How did 
 this come?'
 
 278 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 These last words were addressed to her 
 footman, who had been standing behind her 
 chair, with a silver tray in his hand, waiting 
 for the first moment when he might venture 
 to tender to her a letter. 
 
 ' The post-chaise,' he said, ' has just come 
 for your Ladyship, and this is a letter that 
 was sent by Dr. Williamson.' 
 
 Dr. Williamson was Lady Mangotsfield's 
 own doctor, who had lived in her house for 
 the last twenty years, and generally travelled 
 with her to attend to her health and to her 
 travelling-rugs. She glanced at the letter 
 rapidly, and then, as if slightly disturbed by 
 it, ' John,' she said, ^ tell my maid to come to 
 me. Let her go into the drawing-room. I 
 will come in there to speak to her.' 
 
 She had hardly risen and reached the 
 door, when Carew, who was holding it open 
 for her, was addressed by a servant also, and 
 for him too there was a tray with a missive
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 279 
 
 lying upon it. Moreover, like Lady Mangots- 
 field, he seemed slightly disturbed by receiving 
 it; and murmuring some excuse to his guests, 
 he likewise left the dining-room. 
 
 'It's exactly,' said Lord Aiden, 'like a 
 scene in a Greek j)lay. First comes one 
 messenger, then another. But, my dear 
 Lady,' he added, turning to Lady Chislehurst, 
 ^ our Society, according to you, is far larger 
 than we had any idea of.' 
 
 ' I've no doubt,' said Lady Chislehurst 
 with the frankest smile imaginable, ' I've no 
 doubt that Henry Renfrew and all the others 
 would join us. Xothing is wanting but for 
 me to write and ask them ; and even if we 
 decide on keeping our Society to ourselves, 
 it will have done Lady Mangotsfield good to 
 hear what we just told her. It will have 
 woke her up a little. She is,' Lady Chisle- 
 hurst added, pausing for a word, and almost 
 making it classical by the apologetic hesitation
 
 280 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 which prefaced it, ^ she is such an old stick- 
 in-the-mud.' 
 
 A slight smile in a moment or two 
 flickered on every lip, for Lady Mangotsfield 
 almost directly returned again, and having 
 called for some rice pudding that had been 
 specially made for her, informed the company 
 that her departure had been put off till to- 
 morrow, her doctor having forbidden her to 
 drive when the wind was east. ' And where's 
 our host,' she said. ' I must tell him he'll 
 have to keep me.' 
 
 Carew, however, did not return to the 
 table, and in a very few minutes a message 
 was brought from him to Mrs. Harley, beg- 
 ging that she would be good enough to go 
 out and speak to him on the ramparts. 
 
 She at once rose, and hardly knowing 
 what to expect, she found him with all the 
 air of a man in some great perplexity. 
 
 ^ Do you remember,' he exclaimed, as he
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 281 
 
 went forTrard to meet her, ' how I told you in 
 my letter that I bad perhaps a surprise in 
 store for you ? ' 
 
 ' You did,' she said. ' But I thought we 
 had had it already — your plays, your fire- 
 works, your musicians, and your Legitimist 
 duchesses.' 
 
 *No, no,' said Carew, ' what I meant was 
 something quite different. In a few hours 
 time, who do you think will arrive here ? ' 
 
 There was something in his tone which 
 made Mrs. Harley look at him anxiously. ' I 
 can't conceive,' she said. ' I hope it's no one 
 very alarming. Tell me, who is it? ' 
 
 Carew kept her in suspense for a few 
 moments, and then said, ' Mr. Foreman. ' 
 
 Astonishment, incredulity, and something 
 nearly akin to consternation were visible on 
 Mrs. Harley 's face. 
 
 ' Mr. Foreman ! ' she echoed. ' Xever — 
 you can't possibly mean it I '
 
 282 THE OLD OKDER CHANGES 
 
 * I do though/ said Carew, ' and I only wish 
 I didn't. The mine has exploded sooner than 
 I intended. Listen a moment, and I'U^tell you 
 how it happened. For the last few years 
 Foreman has known my name. Several of his 
 statements I have exposed in the papers, and 
 he and I, in that way, have had more than 
 one passage-at-arms together. We have also 
 exchanged one or two private letters. Well, 
 as you know, I heard from you that he was 
 at Nice ; and my first impulse when you told 
 me so, putting aside his illness, would have 
 been to kick him rather than seek his com- 
 pany. But several things were said that night 
 which I thought over afterwards. I was 
 struck by the interest which the mention of 
 him and his views seemed to excite in our 
 friend Miss Consuelo Burton ; and to make 
 a long story short, the morning after I dined 
 with you — in fact, just before I paid you 
 my early visit — I had a little surreptitious
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 283 
 
 interview with him, and hardly thmking that 
 he would dream of accepting my invitation, I 
 suggested that whilst you were with me he 
 should come over and meet you here.' 
 
 ' Indeed,' said Mrs. Harley, still aghast at 
 the news. ' He said nothing about it to me. 
 And did you tell him who else would be here? ' 
 
 ' If he did come,' said Carew, ' I suggested 
 that his day should be Monday. Lady Chisle- 
 hurst would by that time have been gone, 
 and I never really looked on Miss Consuelo's 
 presence as a possibility. But somehow or 
 other, he can't have understood me properly, 
 for a terrible telegram which has just arrived 
 informs me that our gentleman will be with 
 us this afternoon.' 
 
 Mrs. Harley looked down meditatively. 
 ^ It's an awkward thmg, I admit,' she said ; 
 and she tapped the gTavel with the tip of a 
 dainty boot. 
 
 ' My great difficulty, you see/ said Carew,
 
 284 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 * is this. What will be said to the meeting 
 by Miss Consuelo's sisters by-and-by ? And 
 what will be said to it by Lady Chislehurst 
 now ? As for Aiden, it will amuse him ; 
 and he will do his best to make thino-s 2:0 
 smoothly/ 
 
 ^ And Mr. Stanley ? ' said Mrs. Harley. 
 
 ' He will be more than amused. If 1 
 know him at all he will be interested. Indeed 
 he is my chief hope. My fear is that Foreman 
 may say something violent ; that he may 
 horrify Lady Chislehurst ; and that in addi- 
 tion to a scene at the moment, she may make 
 mischief afterwards. There they are at the 
 window — Aiden and Lady Chislehurst both. 
 If I could only catch his eye, I'd get him 
 to come out and speak to us.' He at last did 
 what he wished to do, and Lord Aiden 
 emerged. ' My dear fellow,' cried Carew, 
 ^ for pity's sake come and console me. I've 
 a live Socialist coming here this afternoon —
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 285 
 
 that animal Foreman who spouts revolution 
 in the parks. Please support me by telling 
 me that you don't much mind meeting him.' 
 
 Lord Aid en for a second looked just a 
 trifle annoyed ; but he then said carelessly, 
 * Not I — I shall like it. A little variety is 
 always rather amusing. I believe, by the 
 way, this is a person of some education.' 
 
 ^ Dear, yes,' said Mrs. Harley. ' He was 
 the Fellow of a College at Cambridge.' 
 
 ^ See,' said Carew, ' here come all the 
 others — Miss Consuelo, Frederic Stanley, and 
 Lady Chislehurst. They're not coming near 
 us, but I had best call them. Now for it — I 
 must break the news to her ladyship. You 
 see us. Lady Chislehurst,' he said, ' in rather 
 a troubled conclave. A guest is goino^ to 
 arrive whom I had not at all expected, and 
 whom, I fancy, some of us may not like. I 
 mean he's a roughish man, not much used to 
 society. He's a man who spends his life in
 
 286 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 working amongst tlie East End poor. In 
 fact,' said Carew, taking courage as he pro- 
 ceeded, ' you may possibly know his name, as 
 the Cardinal takes an interest in him. His 
 name is Foreman.' 
 
 Lady Chislehurst's face beamed with in- 
 quiring graciousness. ^ No,' she said, ^ I don't 
 think I can have heard of him. But anyone 
 who interests the Cardinal is sure to be worth 
 meeting, even if he should be a little — 
 well — not quite like ourselves.' Suddenly, 
 however, she seemed to recollect something. 
 ^ He surely,' she said, ^ can't have anything to 
 do with that horrible man Foreman, who is 
 the ringleader of the East End Socialists ? ' 
 
 Carew, in spite of his perplexity, could not 
 help smiling at this. He turned to Mrs. 
 Harley, and with the frankness of utter 
 despair, he exclaimed aloud, ' Well, now, all 
 the fat is in the fire ! ' 
 
 The suspense for a moment was dreadful,
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 287 
 
 but help was almost immediate. ^ I,' said 
 Mr. Stanley, ^ know the man's name well 
 enough. Tell me, Carew : he's a disciple of 
 Karl Marx, isn't he ? ' 
 
 ^ He is,' said Carew. 
 
 ' Then, by all means,' said Mr. Stanley, 
 ' let us welcome him. There's nobody in the 
 world I should like better to have a talk 
 with.' 
 
 In Lady Chislehurst's alarm there was a 
 sudden and miraculous lull. Still, it was 
 with anxiety, though anxiety tempered by 
 faith, that she asked Mr. Stanley if Socialists 
 were not of necessity Atheists ; and added 
 that, to judge of them from the mob she 
 herself had encountered, they were the most 
 sinister and desperate people she had ever seen 
 in her life. Mr. Stanley, however, replied very 
 coolly, ^That is probably why the Cardinal 
 admires him for working amongst them. And 
 as for religion, I take it the case is this : a
 
 288 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 Socialist may be a good Christian, though 
 hardly a very sensible man. Still,' he added, 
 turning to Lord Aiden, 'in mere point of 
 argument, they have a great deal to say for 
 themselves. Did you ever read Karl Marx's 
 treatise on " Capital ? " It is the profoundest 
 piece of imperfect reasoning that I ever met 
 with in my life ; and my only wonder is that 
 it has not made more heretics. I allude, Lady 
 Chislehurst,' he added, with a smile, ' to 
 economic heretics, not to theological ones.' 
 
 Carew seemed somewhat reassured by the 
 turn which events had taken ; but suddenly 
 with a start, ' God bless my soul ! ' he ex- 
 claimed, ' I ought to be going in, and seeing 
 something of Lady Mangotsfield.' 
 
 ' Oh,' said Mrs. Harley, ' my husband is 
 with her, amusing her.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Carew, ' but she'll be oflP, 1 
 suppose, presently ; I must be going in and 
 paying my last civilities to her.'
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 289 
 
 A moment's silence settled on the group 
 round liim. Then Mrs. Harley said, ' AYhat ! 
 and you haven't heard ? ' in a voice that made 
 him feel there was still some disaster in store 
 for him. ' I forgot,' she went on ; 'of course 
 you have not. Lady Mangotsfield has been 
 asking for you, in order to let you know — 
 that she can't go to-day, and is obliged to 
 sto^D till to-morrow.' 
 
 Carew was thunderstruck. ' AYhat ! ' he 
 stammered, ' not go ? AYhy can't she ? ' 
 
 ' Her doctor,' said Mrs. Harley, unable to 
 repress a smile, ^ won't allow her to travel in 
 the east wind.' 
 
 Carew looked up with a blank expression 
 of helplessness. ' AYhat's to be done ? ' he 
 said. ' What do you think will happen ? 
 Foreman and Lady Mangotsfield meeting at 
 one table ! — Will the world go on, or the sun 
 ever shine after it ? Yi'hy was this Socialist 
 — why was he ever born ! Or why am I not 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 possessed of all the droits of a seigneur^ that I 
 might send some minion to meet him and have 
 him scragged on the road ? ' 
 
 ' I have it ! ' said Mrs. Harley, with a burst 
 of unlooked-for cheerfulness. ^ Leave him to 
 me, and I'll manage him beautifully. When 
 does he come, do you say ? At any rate not 
 till tea-time. Let me get at him before he 
 sees Lady Mangotsfield, and I'll engage that 
 she finds him a delightful person.' 
 
 All looked at ]\Irs. Harley with eyes of 
 relief and wonder. ' Listen,' she went on to 
 Carew. ' You proposed, I think, taking us 
 for a drive this afternoon. Of course the dear 
 old lady won't come, and if Foreman arrives 
 in our absence ' 
 
 ^ That,' said Carew, ' will of course never 
 do. I must stop in, and tackle him the very 
 moment he sets foot in the precincts.' 
 
 *N"o,' said Mrs. Harley, 'there is no 
 occasion for that. Before we go out I will
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 291 
 
 write him a letter, which your servants must 
 give him before he sees anybody. Lady 
 Mangotsfield, ten to one, will be in her own 
 room; but even if they do meet, my letter will 
 have made him harmless. Stay, my husband 
 will not drive. He shall prepare Lady Man- 
 gotsfield. You may tell her that a Mr. 
 Foreman is coming ; and George shall manage 
 the rest.' 
 
 Miss Consuelo Burton had listened to all 
 this intently ; and when by-and-by the car- 
 riao:es came for their drive — two carriao-es, 
 which were a large barouche and a pony- cart — 
 she found herself by design or accident in the 
 latter, with Mr. Stanley. This arrangement 
 was a shght disappointment to Carew, and 
 often durinsf the drive, he saw with a oiance of 
 envy, with what animation and earnestness 
 she was talking to her companion. But on 
 going home the Fates were entirely kind to 
 him. It seemed to suit everyone that !Miss 
 
 u 2
 
 292 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 Consuelo should be faithful to the pony-cart, 
 and Carew, in the most natural way, changed 
 places with Mr. Stanley. 
 
 ^ I little thought, Miss Burton/ he said 
 presently, ' I little thought, the other evening 
 at Nice, that a few days later I should be 
 driving you here, and still less that I should 
 be on the point of welcoming Foreman as a 
 visitor. Do you know this ? it was partly 
 the interest you expressed in him that made 
 me think of asking him if he would come 
 to me. Are you pleased at the thought of 
 seeing him? ' 
 
 * I am,' she said gravely, with downcast 
 eyes. ' I have been talking about him to 
 Mr. Stanley. Of the man himself I know 
 nothing. It is his work and his views I care 
 for.' 
 
 ' He's a little uncouth, but perhaps you 
 will not mind that.' 
 
 ' No,' she said, laughing, ^ I don't think I
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHA^'GES 293 
 
 shall. He might drop his h's and not be 
 dressed for dinner, and in all probability I 
 should not even notice it — at least it would 
 make no matter to me/ 
 
 ^ Well/ said Carew, 'he's not quite so bad 
 as that.' 
 
 ' I always feel,' she went on, pursuing her ' 
 own line of thought, ' that anyone can meet 
 anyone with ease, whatever their social dis- 
 tance, when they meet upon points that are 
 of equal concern to both. In a relation like 
 that it is absurd to feel any difference, as in 
 any other it is to affect equality. Besides, if 
 Mr. Foreman is a little rough, he will be all 
 the more of a change from Lady Chislehurst.' J 
 
 ' I saw,' said Carew, ^ when we went into 
 the chapel this morning, your look of amuse- 
 ment at the signs of Lady Chislehurst's zeal. 
 I was amused myself — I confess it ; and yet — 
 will you let me say it to you ? — I was shocked 
 at seeing that my amusement was shared by
 
 294 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 yoii. Yes/ he went on, wlien he found that 
 she did not speak ; ' by you, whose position 
 is so far other than mine. I know I should 
 feel, if that altar meant to me even a tithe of 
 what it, of course, must mean to you, that no 
 act of homage done to it, supposing it done 
 sincerely, could be really ridiculous, no matter 
 how ill-judged. Perhaps you laugh at the 
 dolls' frocks and the tinsel that the Italian 
 peasant delights to see on the Madonna. I 
 don't laugh ; the tinsel to him is beautiful ; 
 and his doll is to me like a child's half- 
 articulate hymn. But perhaps it is natural 
 that you should treat things as you do. 
 Everyone knows that man must live by food, 
 but food is a jest to those who have never 
 known famine.' 
 
 ' What ! ' she exclaimed, ' and am I alto- 
 gether a riddle to you ? I'm stupid, I know, 
 whenever I try to explain myself ; but still, 
 with your cleverness, I thought you might
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 295 
 
 have seen sometliino;. I can as little under- 
 stand wliy you are not a Catholic as you can 
 understand why I am not satisfied with Catho- 
 licism. There— did you hear that ? There 
 I go agam, saying just what I don't mean. 
 I had better not talk at all, or else I shall give 
 you scandal. Mr. Stanley knows my meaning 
 — at least I think he does. But you — hoAV" 
 shall I put it to you ? ' She was silent for 
 some moments, and then she broke out 
 abruptly, ' The world is changing, and the 
 Church stands apart from the change.' 
 
 ' What change ? ' said Carew. 
 
 ' Oh, I don't know,' she said hurriedly. 
 ^ At least I can't describe it to you. It is the 
 change we were talking of last night at dinner. 
 I feel it. It is in the streets ; it is every- 
 where. It must come, and we must take our 
 part in it.' 
 
 ' Well ? ' said Carew, as she was silent, 
 though evidently still wishing to speak.
 
 296 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 ^ And wliat,' she went on at last, with a 
 sound like a stifled sob, ' what has the Mass 
 got to do with this ? It might have so 
 much, but at present it has nothing. It 
 distracts us from our duty ; it does not nerve 
 us to follow it. What right have I to be 
 listening to the singing of angels, when out- 
 side the chancel wall are the groans of the 
 crowded alley ? Often, often, often, when I 
 have heard the organ playing, " Hang the 
 organ ! " I have thought ; "let me listen to 
 the crying of the children ! " Think of this ; 
 it is a scene I shall always remember. I 
 used once to go to lectures at the Koyal 
 Institution ; and arriving one night at the 
 door, I saw through a lower window two 
 professors, discussing what apparently was a 
 fossih I see their faces now — grand intel- 
 lectual faces, full of what I suppose it is 
 right to call elevation. And just outside^ 
 only a few paces away from them, were twa
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHAXGES 297 
 
 cabmen, quarrelling over a pot of beer. AYhat 
 two different worlds were there side by side ; 
 and what o'ood did the hio-her do to the 
 lower ? Look at me — do you think I am 
 worldly ? Perhaps you don't ; but I am. 
 I am fond of dress, I am fond of gaiety, I 
 am fond of admiration. I have everything 
 in my nature that I ought not to have ; and 
 yet my one wish at one time was to enter a 
 convent : I believe, too, that I had a vocation. 
 But now,' she said, clasping her hands, and 
 speaking with a nervous earnestness, ' I could 
 never endure that I shall never again feel, 
 till I learn how to work for others, that it is 
 more than solemn child's-play to be feather- 
 ing my own spiritual nest.'
 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 HE pony-cart reached the chateau 
 
 i before the lar^e 
 
 carnage ; 
 
 and 
 
 Carew, havmg exchanged a few 
 words with the concierge, turned to ]\Iiss 
 Consuelo Burton and said, ' The great pro- 
 phet has come. Let us wait here for Mrs. 
 Harley. I have sent for her husband, and 
 before we meet Foreman it is absolutely 
 necessary that we all have a conclave.' 
 
 ' I suppose,' said Miss Consuelo, who liad 
 recovered her usual spirits, ' he will not have 
 hoofs and a tail. If I must confess the truth, 
 I am beginning to get nervous.'
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 299 
 
 The others arrived presently ; and at 
 almost the same moment Harley emerged 
 from the house, with a smile of subdued 
 amusement. His wife hurried up to him ; 
 they had a brief consultation, and then, at 
 Carew's request, the whole party, with all the 
 feelings of conspirators, retired into a disused 
 room facing that of the concierge, 
 
 ^ Well? ' said Carew, and he paused, turn- 
 ing to the Harley s, as if to indicate that it 
 was they who were looked to for instruction. 
 
 ^ Everything has happened,' said Mrs. 
 Harley, 'just as I hoped it would. There is 
 only one thing that we must remember to 
 do, and that is to avoid certain subjects. 
 Let us keep as clear as we can of property 
 and the wrongs of the poor ; and if we must 
 talk politics let it be party politics only. 
 Foreman is an enthusiast, and, like most 
 enthusiasts, he has a temper almost as bad 
 as a naughty child's in a nursery. Social
 
 300 THE OLD ORDER CIIAXGES 
 
 politics miglit bring us to grief in a moment. 
 He miglit fire up at a phrase ; his eyes would 
 roll and glitter, and we should have him 
 exploding as if he were a packet of dynamite. 
 But keep him on party politics, and all will 
 go more than well.' 
 
 Everyone saw that there was something 
 else to come ; and after a slight pause Mrs. 
 Harley went on again. 
 
 ,r^ * You will, I dare say, be amused and 
 surprised to hear that Foreman at one time 
 either was or thought he was a Conservative; 
 and if he had not been snubbed by some of 
 the understrappers of the party, he would 
 have been prophesying the millenium in the 
 capacity of a Conservative candidate. Well, 
 on one point he is still as sound as ever, and 
 that is his contempt for the Liberal, above all 
 for the Eadical, party. Let us keep him 
 on that, and his words will be music to 
 Lady Mangotsfield. There is, however, one
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 301 
 
 preliminary difficulty. He is not very polislied 
 and not very compromising in liis ways, and 
 Lady Mangots field would be wondering who 
 this strange person was, and why he should 
 be presuming to have any opinions at all. 
 Now, it so happened that during his Conserva- 
 tive days he had several conversations on the 
 
 labour question with Lord B , and Lord 
 
 B really listened to him with a great deal 
 
 of attention. I have therefore got George, 
 whilst we have been out driving, to recount 
 and, so far as he could without imperilling 
 his soul, to magnify this incident to Lady 
 Mangotsfield; and the result is, that when she 
 sees Foreman this evening she expects to 
 meet someone, having an historical interest, 
 
 as a specimen of Lord B 's sagacity 
 
 in detecting genius beneath an uncouth 
 exterior.' 
 
 ' I told her, too,' added Harley — ' and it is 
 just as well to say that we have really not
 
 302 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 been obliged to go beyond the truth — I told 
 her that Foreman's chief and most bitter 
 opponents, at the time when he was anxious 
 to come forward as a candidate for Maryle- 
 bone, were the big shopkeepers and the vestry 
 men. "Ah!" she said, "what a pity that 
 things are changed! In the good times we 
 might have easily found a borough for him." ' 
 
 ^ And where is he now ? ' said Carew. 
 
 ' In the room where the tea is,' said 
 Harley, ' counting the tea- cups, and wonder- 
 ins: who's 2:oino; to drink out of them.' 
 
 ' Listen ! ' said Mrs. Harley : ' whilst you 
 are all of you getting your things off, I will 
 go to him and stroke him the right way a 
 little. I told him in my note something of 
 what we should expect of him ; and unless 
 unhappily his temper should get the better of 
 him, he has a certam sense of humour, and 
 will fall in with our plans.' 
 
 She had not apparently indulged in any
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 303 
 
 exaggerated promises ; and Trlien the rest of 
 the party — all except Lady Mangotsfield — 
 met together again, about half an hour after- 
 wards, they found that she and Carew had the 
 Socialist tame in a chair, and were between 
 them offermg tea and cake to him. He was a 
 man of perhaps forty, with a broad forehead 
 and quick but genial eyes, and though there 
 was a coarseness in the actual shape of his 
 features, and a certain wildness in his bushy 
 moustache and beard, his expression was 
 intellectual and by no means without refine- 
 ment. The only immediate sigTi of any 
 divero^ence in him from common o-ood breedino- 
 was a certain easiness and want of deferent 
 distance in his manner of acknowledging his 
 introduction to the various strangers. For 
 the rest, there was little to distinguish him 
 from any average man who, without many 
 social advantages, had been brought up at a 
 university. There was little, and yet there
 
 304 THE OLD pRDEK CHANGES 
 
 was one thing. This was a certain air as if 
 he were something or somebody — as if he 
 possessed, or at least represented, a power, 
 which it quietly amused him to see that the 
 others but half realized. 
 
 Nothing could be better than the way in 
 which matters began. Lord Aiden shook 
 hands with him humanely, as if he were some 
 zoological curiosity; Mr. Stanley did so with 
 a keener and far friendlier interest ; and Miss 
 Consuelo Burton fixed her eyes on him, as if 
 he were a sphinx who with regard to the 
 social riddle, not only asked, but was per- 
 haps able to answer, it. Mrs. Harley was 
 anxious about no one except Lady Chisle- 
 hurst ; and Lady Chislehurst in a moment 
 sent all such anxiety to the winds. Gracious- 
 ness hardly describes her manner as she 
 approached Foreman. It seemed as if a flock 
 of blessings flew out of her mouth when she 
 spoke to him, and settled all over him, even
 
 THE OLD ORDEE CHANGES 305 
 
 upon the back of his chau^ : nor had many 
 sentences passed between them before she was 
 attackmo^ him with the mao;ic name of the 
 Cardinal. 
 
 ' Yes/ he answered, smiling, • the Cardinal 
 means well, but ' 
 
 He looked at Lady Chislehurst ; and to 
 all but Lady Chislehurst herself the pause 
 expressed a reserved contempt for Cardinals, 
 far too complete to have any tincture of hos« 
 tility. It was plain, however, that he had 
 every wish to be civil ; and, clearing his 
 throat, he added a moment afterwards : ' In 
 one point at least we Socialists agree with 
 you. The first great wrong ever done to the 
 English people was, in our estimation, the 
 theft of the monastic properties.' ' • 
 
 He spoke calmly and pleasantly ; but 
 Carew could not help observing that his 
 hands for a second clenched themselves, as if 
 m unconsafcious anger. 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 Lady Chislehurst was charmed with what 
 she had heard. 'Yes, of course/ she said. 
 ^ The Church was always the best friend of 
 the poor. Mr. Foreman, let me give you 
 another cup of tea ; and come, 1 must get 
 rid of that nasty slop in your saucer for 
 you.' 
 
 ' Mr. Foreman,' interposed Mrs. Harley, 
 * please let me remind you that you are 
 under a solemn compact with us not to 
 say anything till to-morrow — Lady Mangots- 
 field goes to-morrow, doesn't she, Mr. Carew ? 
 — not to say anything till then about such 
 dangerous matters as "we Socialists," And 
 yet — George, we must ask him this before 
 we go up to dress for dinner — tell us, Mr. 
 Foreman, about your Socialistic candidates. 
 He,' she added, explaining her question to the 
 others,*' has twenty Socialist friends, who are 
 standing at this election.' 
 
 ' Yes, Foreman,' said Harley, ' tell us
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 307 
 
 about your candidates. You surely don't 
 expect to get all of them in — or indeed any of 
 them ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Harley looked at her husband with 
 some 'anxiety. 'Do let him take care,' she 
 murmured to herself, ' or we shall be having 
 a scene in no time ! ' 
 
 Foreman meanwhile had sat straight up in 
 his chair ; and though his expression had not 
 ceased to be friendly, a flush of excitement 
 had mounted into his cheek, and there was a 
 momentary glance in his eyes like a flash of 
 faint sheet -lightning. ' No,' he said, ' / am 
 expecting to get in nobody : for revolutions 
 are things that are never made by an indi- 
 vidual — any more than they are ever stopped 
 by one. But you are right as to twenty 
 successes. Those I do not expect : but in 
 the next Parliament, as sure as I sit here, the 
 Social Revolution will have at least fifteen 
 representatives.'
 
 308 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 * My dear Foreman,' said Harley, 'you are 
 a master of statistical prophecy.' 
 
 ' Does anyone remember,' said Lord 
 Aiden, ' what was the number of the Beast ? 
 Because I have sometimes fancied it might 
 be the number of the existing House of Com- 
 mons.' 
 
 This pleasantry seemed hugely to tickle 
 Foreman ; and he startled the company by 
 bursting into vociferous laughter. ' Capital ! ' 
 he gasped, as by degrees he recovered himself. 
 ' A middle-class House of Commons, a parlia- 
 ment of Japhet Snappers ! I doubt if any 
 prophet ever foresaw such a Beast as that. 
 Allow me, however, with regard to my own 
 Apocalypse, to say that my statistics have not 
 been revealed to me in an ecstasy. They are 
 based on the books of the League of Social 
 Democrats, which allow us to test the rate at 
 which our opinions spread.' 
 
 ' Suppose,' said Mrs. Harley, who saw
 
 THE OLD OEDER CHANGES 309 
 
 here an opportunity for interrupting him, 
 ' suppose you tell us about all that to-morrow; 
 and at dinner, if you would wish to make 
 somebody really happy, tell Lady Mangots- 
 field what you think of the House of Commons. 
 By the way,' she hurried on, determined to 
 change the conversation, which she saw had 
 already begun to alarm Lady Chislehurst, 
 ' talking of books, Mr. Foreman, is this book 
 yours ? I found you reading it, and I have 
 only just seen what it was.' 
 
 ' What is it ? ' cried several voices. 
 ' What ! ' said Mrs. Harley, holding it up. 
 ' It is one of Thackeray's novels. I'm sur- 
 prised that Mr. Foreman, who wants to 
 reform away everything, should condescend 
 to be amused at such a trifling writer as 
 Thackeray, whose whole view of life was 
 confined to poHte society.' 
 
 ' Oh,' exclaimed Foreman, rubbing his 
 hands, and raising his eyes to the ceiling with
 
 310 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 
 
 a thoughtful leer of appreciation, ' Thackeray 
 to me is delicious — absolutely and altogether 
 delicious. He's the greatest political novelist 
 of this or of any country. Of no party 
 movement has there been ever so exquisite 
 an analysis as that which forms the substance 
 of all Thackeray's novels. It's worth all the 
 histories of modern Radicalism put together.' 
 
 Lord Aiden eyed Foreman with a stare of 
 tolerant curiosity ; and then turning to 
 Harley who stood next him, ' I don't know,' 
 he said, ' about Thackeray's politics ; but of 
 all great novelists he is to my mind by far 
 the most vulgar.' 
 
 ' Vulgar,' replied Foreman, who caught 
 the word, ' of course he is vulgar — gloriously 
 vulgar ! ' and here he began laughing ; but 
 his laugh was abruptly drowned by the over- 
 powering clang of the dressing-bell. 
 
 ' Mr. Foreman,' said Mrs. Harley, as they 
 were all preparing to separate, ' you have been
 
 THE OLD ORDER CHANGES 311 
 
 talking riddles to us. At dinner we shall call 
 on you to explain yourself. I think,' she added 
 to Lady Chislehurst, as they were leaving the 
 room together, ' Thackeray's novels and Mr. 
 Snapper's iniquities ought to see us safely 
 through the evening — at least till Lady 
 Mangotsfield has retired.' 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VoLUAlE. 
 
 G. & C. 
 PRTXTED BY 
 f;rOTnP"WOODE and CO., NEW-PTRKET SQrAKE 
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