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FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
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FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 'my title is 'the spendthrift, the ruined earl. ,w 
 
 The time was noon of a brilliant June day, the place 
 a gloomy office in a London court which belonged to 
 Arley Ransome — a square room that contained tables 
 covered with deeds and papers, iron safes securely 
 fastened, shelves filled with works on the British law 
 and constitution, bill-files that could literally hold no 
 more, maps of ''different estates lying carelessly open, 
 large inkstands, pens, sheets of blotting-paper. There 
 was a mingled odor of parchment and sealing-wax. 
 The sun, bright as it was, could not manage to shine 
 into the room — the grim, gloomy windows absolutely 
 refused to admit his rays; yet, dark and gloomy as 
 the place appeared, there was a prosperous look about 
 it — an atmosphere of business seemed to pervade it. 
 
 Pen in hand, his keen, shrewd face full of deep 
 thought, the owner and occupier, Arley Ransome, sat 
 at the square table, a large parchment deed spread 
 open before him. He was oblivious of everything 
 except the sheet at which he was looking. Drowsy 
 flies hummed and buzzed in the window-panes, and he 
 never heard them; they committed suicide in the great 
 
 577858 
 
6 
 
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 inkstands, and he never saw them. To the shining 
 sun and the bright summer morning he was equally 
 indifferent. He read on and on, the lines of his face 
 relaxing, until a cold, satirical smile curled his lips. 
 He started as though half-alarmed, when his clerk, 
 opening the door of the room, suddenly announced: 
 "The Earl of Caraven, sir." 
 
 44 1 am ready to see him," was the reply. But, 
 before the earl entered, the lawyer quickly folded up 
 and put away the deed that had engrossed his atten- 
 tion. 
 
 "Am I too soon? " asked a mellow, indolent voice. 
 Arley Ransome looked up with a smile at the 
 speaker. 
 
 44 No. my lord; I was expecting you." 
 
 l4 It is something after the fashion in which a spider 
 expects a fly," said the young nobleman. "There is 
 one thing to be said: I am a perfectly resigned fly. 
 I know that evil hours await me, and I am prepared 
 for them." 
 
 The clerk placed a chair, and at a signal from his 
 master, quitted the room, but the Earl of Caraven 
 declined the proffered seat. He stood by the mantel- 
 piece, leaning with careless grace upon it. 
 
 "It is not the thing to smoke in a lawyer's office," 
 he said, "but I must ask permission to do so. I shall 
 derive some kind of comfort from it." 
 
 Arley Ransome bowed, and the Earl of Caraven 
 applied himself to the task of selecting and lighting 
 a cigar. 
 
 "I suppose," he said, "that I should furnish an 
 excellent moral as a lesson for all bad boys-" 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 7 
 
 * # You would form an excellent warning, my lord," 
 was the grave reply. 
 
 "It is the same thing. And now I am prepared for 
 the worst. What is it?" 
 
 Arley Ransome looked at the speaker. There was 
 something of admiration, of pity, and of contempt in 
 the long, lingering glance of those shrewd eyes; yet 
 he could not have looked at a comelier face or figure 
 than those of the young earl. 
 
 Handsome with a worn, haggard kind of beauty 
 that told its own story — that told of days and nights 
 spent in wild dissipation, told of prodigal habits, of 
 an utter absence of self-control, told of an idle, useless, 
 purposeless life, of a nature spoiled and vitiated — • 
 the face might have been a noble one but for the lines 
 that self-indulgence had marked there. The head was 
 well-shaped and proudly set; it was covered with 
 clusters of fair hair, waving in lines of perfect beauty 
 from a broad, white brow. The face itself was clearly 
 cut, with handsome features, dark blue eyes, clear, 
 straight brows; the lips were well shaped, and half 
 hidden by a fair, drooping mustache. The figure was 
 tall, well knit, finely formed, with a certain careless, 
 easy grace. The Earl of Caraven, as he stood await- 
 ing his sentence, was a handsome and comely young 
 Englishman in the springtide of life, retaining much 
 of his natural strength and vigor, although he had 
 done his best to destroy them. 
 
 There was no trembling, no hesitation in his manner; 
 his easy grace and nonchalance did not desert him even 
 while he listened to words that must have been terri- 
 ble to him. 
 
8 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Now, Mr. Ransome," he said, at last, with haughty 
 impatience, "there is no need, figuratively speaking, 
 to keep the ax suspended over my head; tell me the 
 worst at once." 
 
 "The worst, my lord, is utter, irretrievable ruin — 
 ruin so complete and so entire that I do not see a 
 chance of saving even one shilling from the wreck." 
 
 The earl listened quite calmly; his lips, half-hidden 
 by the fair mustache, grew a trifle paler — but there 
 was no flinching in the handsome, haggard face. 
 
 "Utter ruin," he repeated. "Well, as they say in 
 bonnie Scotland, 'you cannot both eat your cake an(? 
 have it.'" 
 
 "True, my lord," assented the lawyer. 
 
 "I have eaten my cake," continued the younger man 
 — "and I do not deny that the taste of it is bitter 
 enough in my mouth — it has turned to ashes, like Dead 
 Sea fruit. Still, it is eaten, and there is an end of it." 
 
 "It is eaten indeed," said the lawyer. 
 
 "You see no loophole — you can suggest nothing?" 
 said the earl. 
 
 "Every loophole is closed, my lord," was the brief 
 reply. 
 
 "And you are quite sure, Ransome, that there is 
 nothing left on which I can borrow money— nothing 
 more that I can mortgage?" 
 
 "I believe honestly that the only object belonging 
 to the Ravensmere estate which remains unmortaged 
 my lord, is yourself," replied Arley Ransome. 
 
 "It is equally sure that no one will lend money on 
 me," said Lord Caraven, laughingly. "Give me — not 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 9 
 
 the details, but a resume; give me some faint Idea of 
 how I stand." 
 
 Arley Ransome, lawyer and money-lender, the calm, 
 inscrutable man of business, looked at the young 
 earl — perhaps he wondered at his perfect calmness; 
 then he glanced at a sheet of paper lying on the desk. 
 
 "It will not be pleasant to hear, Lord Caraven," he 
 said, slowly; "but you ask for it. To begin. At the 
 age of twenty-one you succeeded ta the Ravensmere 
 estates and title; the estates were clear of all debts and 
 incumbrances; the rent-roll was thirty thousand per 
 annum; there was beside a sum of fifty thousand 
 pounds in the funds, the savings of the late earl — that 
 is correct, I believe?" 
 
 ''Quite so," was the curt reply. 
 
 'You are now twenty-eight years of age, my lord, 
 and in seven years you have run through a fortune." 
 
 "Keep to facts; no comments — plain facts," said the 
 earl. 
 
 "The 'plain facts' are these," continued the lawyer 
 — "the fifty thousand went, I believe, to pay the first 
 year's losses on the Derby." 
 
 "Yet my horse won," interrupted Lord Caraven. 
 
 "The winning of that Derby was your ruin, my lord. 
 After that you continually forestalled your income by 
 borrowing money; then your losses on the turf and the 
 gaming-table were so great that you were compelled 
 to raise a heavy mortgage on the estate; then you 
 borrowed money on the pictures, the plate, and the 
 furniture at Ravensmere. In fact, my lord, briefly 
 told, your situation is this — you are hopelessly, help- 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 lessly ruined. You owe sixty thousand pounds mort- 
 gage money, you owe forty thousand pounds borrowed 
 money — and you have nothing to pay it with. You 
 received notice from me six months since that the 
 mortgage money was called in. Unless it is paid in 
 six weeks from now, the estate — Ravensmere Castle, 
 with all its belongings — passes from you; it will be 
 seized with all it contains." 
 
 "And you are quite sure that I can borrow no 
 more?" asked the earl. 
 
 "Quite sure, my lord; you have sold all the timber 
 that you could sell; as I told you — the only thing left 
 is yourself, H 
 
 "Then, unless I repay sixty thousand pounds in six 
 weeks, Ravensmere becomes the property of the man 
 who lent the money?" 
 
 "Precisely so," replied Arley Ransome. 
 
 "Then I hope he may live to enjoy it, for I have 
 not sixty shillings. Hush!" he continued, seeing that 
 the lawyer was about to speak — "no comments! I am 
 a ruined man, as you say, but I will not submit to" 
 criticism; I say frankly, that I have been a wicked 
 spendthrift— a prodigal; I say frankly that, if I could 
 begin life again, I would live differently. I have been 
 worse than a fool, I have been a dupe. It is all over 
 now and I have the price of my folly to pay." 
 
 "It is a bitter price, too, my lord. May I ask -what 
 you think of doing?" 
 
 "You may ask — I know no answer. In six weeks I 
 lose Ravensmere, and with it all sources of income; 
 and, beside that, I am forty thousand pounds in debt, 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 It 
 
 and I have not forty shillings to pay it with. It seem? 
 to me there is but one thing to be done." 
 
 Arley Ransome looked up anxiously. "What it 
 that? " he asked. 
 
 "I had be.tter invest the trifle I have remaining in 
 the purchase of a revolver — you can imagine for what 
 purpose; it will be but a fitting end to such a career 
 as mine. I really do not think, Ransome, that I have 
 had a hundred thousand pounds worth of pleasure. 
 What comments the newspapers will make upon me! 
 They will head their paragraphs 'Suicide of a Spend- 
 thrift Earl' — they will draw excellent morals and warn- 
 ings from my f^te. Men of my age will read it and 
 think what a dupe I must have been: it will not be a 
 noble ending for the last of the Caravens." 
 
 "It will not indeed," said Arley Ransome. 
 
 "I remember that on the day I came of age I meant 
 to do better than this — Ransome, before heaven, I 
 did. They called me the handsome, the hospitable 
 earl: now my title is the spendthrift, the ruined earl. 
 There is nothing for it but a revolver. I cannot beg, 
 I cannot work, I cannot live without money and luxury 
 and pleasure; without these I must die." 
 
 He spoke calmly, as though he were arranging 
 some plan of travel. Arley Ransome looked admir- 
 ingly at him. 
 
 "How this blue blood tells!" thought the lawyer. 
 "Some men would haVe cried and moaned, would have 
 asked for time and for pity. He faces ruin much as 
 his ancestors faced death on the battle-field." Then 
 seeing the earl's eyes fixed on him, he said, "It is a 
 sorry ending, my lord/' 
 
12 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 M Yes, a sorry ending for the last of the Caravens. 
 My poor father called me Ulric, after one of our an- 
 cestors who saved a king's life by his bravery. I have 
 not been a worthy descendant of that Ulric Caraven 
 who received in his own breast the sword meant for 
 his liege lord. There is nothing for it, Ransome, but 
 the revolver. I have lived like a king, I have spent 
 royally — I have given royally too, but that does not 
 matter; I have done good, as I believed; I have lav- 
 ished thousands; I have gambled and betted; I have 
 poured out wealth like water under my feet. Now it 
 is over; it has been a short life but a merry one. I 
 could not live in poverty; I could not count shillings 
 and pounds, measure, weigh, and calculate. I loathe 
 the name and thought of poverty. As I have lived so 
 I must die. I deserve no better fate." 
 
 Arley Ransome looked at the calm, handsome face. 
 
 "You do not seriously mean that you will take your 
 own life, my lord?" he interrogated. 
 
 "It seems to be the only thing left for me to take/' 
 replied the earl; "I have lost everything else." 
 
 "Will you listen to me, Lord Caraven — listen in 
 patience? I have something to say." 
 
 The earl laid down his cigar. The lawyer was so 
 earnest, so intent, that he carried the other's weaker 
 will with him. 
 
 "I have worked hard all my life/' said Arley Ran- 
 some — "worked as few men have ever done before — 
 from sunrise to sunset, and often through the long, 
 silent night I have worked because I love money — 
 because I am ambitious; because I have had an end 
 
tfROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 in view, You know, my lord, that beside practicing 
 as a lawyer I have been, and am now, a money lender; 
 it is no news to you that I advanced the mortgage- 
 money on Ravenemere, and that,^ unless you pay it, 
 the estate becomes mine." 
 
 The earl's pale, handsome face flushed hotly. It 
 was hard to picture his grand ancestral home in the 
 plebeian hands of a money-lender. 
 
 "There is, as Milton says, <a lower depth/ and 
 Ravensmere will fall into it," he said. 
 
 "It becomes mine," continued Arley Ransome. "The 
 castle, the estate, the plate, the pictures — they are all 
 mine. Now listen, my lord, I have made a fortune; 
 you inherited one, I have made one." 
 
 "You might well do so, lending money at a hundred 
 per cent." 
 
 "Never mind how it has been made — I have it," 
 said the lawyer; "and my fortune amounts to two 
 hundred thousand pounds." 
 
 "Heaven help those by whom you have made it!" 
 
 "It has been honestly made. You have gambled, my 
 .ord; I have speculated — and my speculations have all 
 turned out well. I have two hundred thousand 
 younds, and— I have a daughter." His voice sank, 
 as though he were somewhat ashamed of his words; 
 then he continued: "1 have made money because I 
 love it; I want to make a position because X am am* 
 iitious. Would to heaven that I had a son! I have 
 spent my life toiling in these gloomy offices; hope 
 has brightened them. Would to heaven that I had a 
 son to carry out my dreams, my hopes, my plans! 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 If I had a son to succeeed me, my lord, I would fore* 
 close at once, and make him master of Ravensmere." 
 
 "Thank you," interposed Lord Caraven. 
 
 "I have a daughter, and she must take the place I 
 would fain have given to my boy. My lord, I make 
 you this offer. You are a ruined man; you tell me 
 there remains for you no hope — nothing but death. 
 Now I will give you life, liberty, wealth. I will make 
 you greater than any of the Earls of Caraven have 
 been yet. I will give my daughter a dowry of two 
 hundred thousand pounds if you will marry her. " 
 
 Lord Caraven lost his self-possession for one half 
 minute; he literally looked as he felt — bewildered. 
 
 "I do not understand," he said, slowly. 
 
 "Then I will make my meaning even plainer," Re- 
 turned Arley Ransome. "Make my daughter Countess 
 of Caraven, and I, in return, will make you a rich 
 man. " 
 
 The earl laughed a little incredulous laugh that 
 made the lawyer's face flush. 
 
 "Listen, my lord," he said; "wait before you speak. 
 I am ambitious — I am ambitious for my daughter. 
 Make her Countess of Caraven, and hear what I will 
 do for you. I will first pay the mortgage-money, the 
 sixty thousand pounds; I will clear the estate of all 
 incumbrances, and you shall have your rent-roll free. 
 I will also pay the forty thousand that you owe, leav- 
 ing you a free man. The rest of the money I shall 
 settle on my daughter for her own use and benefit 
 Think before you answer me." 
 
 "I am not a slave-dealer," was the opiet reply. 
 
PROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 *5 
 
 "Nor am I, my lord. I am speaking of my daughter, 
 who is no slave. " 
 
 "Yet you are selling her as a Southern planter 
 might have sold his servant," replied the earl. 
 
 "Nothing of the kind, Lord Caraven. I want rank 
 — you want money. Give me rank — I will give you 
 money. It is a fair, honest bargain." 
 
 "I have been a spendthrift and a prodigal, but I 
 have not fallen so low as that, Mr. Ransome. I do 
 not think that I shall purchase my life, my safety, 
 my fortune, with a woman's gold." 
 
 "It is not a woman's gold; it is mine, my lord," 
 said the lawyer. "Marry my daughter, and you will 
 not have another care in the world. She will be happy, 
 you will be free and wealthy, I shall be content." 
 
 "I have known the time," remarked Lord Caraven, 
 when I should have horsewhipped any man who dared 
 to make such a proposition to me. I imagine all fine 
 feeling has become extinct in me. Can you not man- 
 age all this for me without asking me to marry your 
 daughter? M 
 
 "No," replied the lawyer, quietly. "As I have told 
 3'ou, if I had a son, he should have been master of 
 Ravensmere; failing that, my daughter must be its 
 mistress." 
 
 "Not witK my consent," said the earl, haughtily. 
 
 "Your rt usal to marry her makes her more certainly 
 so. If y**u refuse — if you prefer ruin, disgrace, dis- 
 honor, shame, and death, to marrying an innocent girl, 
 whose fortune would set you straight in the world — it 
 is at yo'*r own option. If you refuse to make my 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 daughter Countess of Caraven, in two months' time 
 she will be known over the land as Miss Ransome of 
 Raveftsmere — you will have gained nothing by your 
 refusal." 
 
 The earl saw it, and for the first time during the 
 interview the calmness of his face and manner was 
 broken. 
 
 "I have never seen the girl — I do not know if I 
 could endure her. I tell you, Ransome, this affair of 
 yours outrivals the bids in the slave markets." 
 
 'Nonsense, my lord; I have only copied a French 
 custom. All that nonsense about love is but a relic 
 of barbarism. The French are the most civilized of 
 nations. How do they arrange their marriages? Just 
 as I wish to arrange this. Who hears of love before 
 marriage with them? You want money— I offer you a 
 certain sum, with a fair young wife." 
 
 "You must know that, although I am a ruined man, 
 there is an immense difference between the Earl of 
 Caraven and the daughter of a money-lender," said 
 the" young nobleman. "There can be no happiness in 
 marriage where there is so great an inequality." 
 
 "The advantages and the losses are equal," replied 
 Arley. "There are men who, in my place, would not 
 act as I am doing — who would think twice before offer- 
 ing wife and fortune to one — pardon me — so little 
 deserving them." 
 
 'You cannot care much for your daughter, to be 
 willing to sacrifice her to a spendthrift," said the earl. 
 
 "My lord, each one among us has his price. I want 
 title, rank and position for my daughter. You ran 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 17 
 
 give them to her. You want wealth — she will bring 
 that to you. Will you give me an answer?" 
 
 "I should not purchase a picture without looking at 
 it," said the earl. "I cannot promise to marry a lady 
 whom I have never seen." 
 
 "You shall see her, my lord — at once, if you will." 
 
 The earl looked around him. "Where?" he asked, 
 briefly. 
 
 The lawyer's face flushed. 
 
 "I do not keep my daughter here, Lord Caraven, 
 among deeds and papers. She is a lady by education, 
 and lives at her own home." 
 
 "Where is that?" asked the earl, carelessly. 
 
 "At the Hollies, near Kew, my lord. If you please, 
 we will drive down there." 
 
 "I do not know — it is not right — I do not care to 
 save myself in such a fashion. Even if I married your 
 daughter, I am quite sure that I should not like her." 
 
 "Every one likes Hildred," said Mr. Ransome. 
 
 "Hildred! That is a pretty, quaint name," said the 
 earl. "I do not mind going to the Hollies with you, 
 but I shall make no promise. If I should not like 
 your daughter, she would be very miserable." 
 
 "As you please, my lord; I shall urge no more. I 
 am determined that my daughter shall marry into the 
 Peerage; my whole heart is set upon it. You are not 
 the only nobleman on my books. I will say no more 
 about it. You will have the money ready for me or 
 give up Ravensmere at the appointed time." 
 
 While the lawyer urged him, Lord Caraven had 
 been firm in his refusal. Now that he stood face to 
 
iS 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 face with bitter, black ruin, shame, and disgrace, with 
 ignominy and death, now that the urgent pleadings 
 ceased, he at once began to waver. 
 
 "I will go down to your place with you," he said. 
 
 "As you please, my lord, " was the cautious answer. 
 
 Mr. Ransome began to perceive that the less he said 
 the better it would be for his cause. 
 
 * My cab is at the door^' continued the earl. "We 
 can go in that." 
 
 Without another word they started, Lord Caraven 
 feeling more decidedly ashamed of himself than he 
 had felt yet. It was one thing to be considered the 
 "fastest" man, the greatest spendthrift of the day, 
 and another to purchase his safety by such a marriage 
 as this. 
 
 "A money-lender's daughter! I cannot do it," he 
 said to himself more than once. "She is sure to be 
 vulgar; she will have red hair, and will be highly 
 delighted at the idea of being a countess. What 
 should I do with such a wife — I who have worshiped 
 a hundred beautiful women?" 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 "she will never be a loved wife of mine" 
 
 The Earl of Caraven was on the whole rather sur- 
 prised when the cab stopped. The Hollies was of far 
 greater extent than he had thought — a pretty villa 
 standing in its own grounds, those same grounds 
 beautifully laid out. On this bright June morning he 
 saw flowers and trees, the silver spray of a fountain, 
 the drooping branches of a grand old cedar; and he 
 owned to himself that it was a far better style of 
 place than he had expected to see. He said so to Mr. 
 Ransome, who answered quietly that he might be as 
 agreeably surprised about his daughter as he had been 
 about his house. 
 
 Lord Caraven* s face fell. 
 
 "Do you know, I had almost forgotten why I was 
 here," he said. "I have the grace left to feel ashamed 
 of myself." 
 
 Without another word the lawyer entered the house, 
 the earl following him 
 
 "Where is Miss Ransome?" asked the master of the 
 place. "Say that I want her at once." 
 
 Again, when they entered the drawing-room, Lord 
 Caraven was agreeably surprised. Whatever it might 
 be, it was not a vulgar room; there was no new gild- 
 ing, no tawdry coloring; it was all harmony — a room 
 
 19 
 
20 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 filled with soft rose-light and the odor of fragrant 
 flowers — a room that gave one the impression that a 
 lady used it; no vulgar woman, no would-be fine lady, 
 would have given so refined a character to a room. 
 
 He was pleased without knowing why. The day 
 was warm and sultry; he was tired, and the fragrance, 
 the silence, the pleasant shade of the room, soothed 
 him. 
 
 There was a sound of footsteps. Mr. Ransome rose 
 hurriedly. . 
 
 "Here is my daughter," he said. 
 
 Lord Caraven looked up with some faint gleam of 
 curiosity. He had expected a vulgar school-girl, a pert, 
 affected "miss," who would smile and blush, and exer- 
 cise all the little arts of coquetry that she had learned 
 at some third-rate boarding-school. He was quite 
 wrong. He saw before him a tall, slender girl, with 
 beautiful dark eyes, and a pale face, a girl graceful 
 and self-possessed, grave and earnest — not beautiful 
 yet, although there was the promise of a magnificent 
 womanhood. No, certainly she was not beautiful; her 
 figure was tall and slender, but it lacked roundness 
 and grace. The hands were beautiful, but the arms 
 were thin; there was something too much of the child, 
 without sufficient of the grace of the woman. 
 
 "She is not vulgar, at least," he said to himself, as 
 the grave, dark eyes met his own. "I should really 
 have run away had she been what my fancy painted 
 her — thank heaven she is not. Unformed, shy, inex- 
 perienced, half-frightened, what a wife for me — what 
 a mistress for Ravensmere! I have no fault to find 
 with her, but I shall never like her." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 21 
 
 So he thought, as in few, brief words the money- 
 lender introduced his client to his daughter. There 
 was nothing awkward in her manner, but she was shy 
 — frightened. She answered the few questions he 
 asked — her voice was sweet and clear, with a true ring 
 about it that he liked — and then relapsed into silence. 
 
 Her father asked her for a set of engravings, and, 
 as she crossed the room, Lord Caraven saw that she 
 had a queenly head, crowned with a profusion of beau- 
 tiful dark hair; she also had a pleasant grace of move- 
 ment that for an unformed school-girl was rare. 
 
 "Is it to be 'Yes' or 'No'?" asked Arley Ransome 
 as his daughter passed for a minute or two out of 
 sight. "You have seen Hildred now — you can judge 
 for yourself; give me your answer." 
 
 With a sudden smile — and it was wonderful how 
 that smile changed his face — Lord Caraven turned to 
 his host 
 
 "I really think," he said, "that she is emphatically 
 a nice girl — too nice to be sacrificed." 
 
 "It is no sacrifice — she will be happy," replied her 
 father. "Do you say 'Yes' or 'No/ my lord? Time 
 is money to me.' 1 
 
 "You give me less time for consideration than you 
 would give to a man buying a picture," he replied. 
 "I see no hope in any other way; if I did, I should 
 refuse. I tell you frankly that I shall never like your 
 daughter; you thrust her upon me, you make her the 
 only plank between my miserable self and the dark 
 waters of death. I shall never like her — first of all, 
 because she is your daughter; secondly, because she 
 is not at all the style of girl that I do admire." 
 
22 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "You are very frank, my lord. Will you answer me 
 
 one question? Do you love anyone else?" 
 
 The young earl looked puzzled. 
 
 "The fact is," he said, "that I have loved so many, 
 I really*-" 
 
 "What I mean is, you are not betrothed — you have 
 never made an offer of marriage to anyone else?" 
 
 "I have not had time even to think of marriage — 
 that is why I dislike the idea of it now." 
 
 "Then that settles the matter. You say 'Yes,' and 
 I say 'Yes;' Hildred will be willing — girls love posi- 
 tion, and she is very proud. " 
 
 Something akin to pity stirred in the earl's heart. 
 
 "What is Miss Ransome's age?" he asked. 
 
 "She will soon be eighteen," replied the lawyer. 
 
 "And," said Caraven, "so young as that, do you 
 feel no reluctance at giving her to a man who tells 
 you honestly that he will never like her?" 
 
 "You will like her well enough in time," replied the 
 lawyer. "Some of the happiest marriages in the world 
 have begun with a little aversion." 
 
 "There might be more hope if mine were a little 
 aversion," said Lord Caraven. , "It is something worse 
 — it is profound, fatal indifference. Your daughter 
 may be Countess of Caraven, if that be your ambition, 
 but she will never be loved wife of mine. She is not 
 the style of girl that I admire. She is shy, unformed; 
 I like a graceful, lovely, radiant woman — that she 
 never will be." 
 
 'She has the clearest sense, the soundest judgment, 
 and the best disposition of anyone I know" 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 3 3 
 
 "Possibly," said the earl, carelessly. "Now you 
 know the terms, it remains for you to say 'Yes/ Your 
 daughter shall be Countess of Caraven; she shall go 
 to court; she shall be the leading lady of the 
 county; she will have the family diamonds and all 
 that vain women most desire — but I shall never love 
 her, and, what is more, I shall never even pretend 
 to do so." 
 
 Arley Ransome laughed. 
 
 "Hildred will do very well without that," he replied. 
 "Then the bargain is struck, my lord. We will say 
 nothing to my daughter to-day; to-morrow I will 
 speak to her myself. Allow me to congratulate you; 
 you are a free man now, Lord Caraven, and a wealthy 
 one." 
 
 "I should have been a wiser one had I taken the 
 revolver," he replied; and then Miss Ransome returned 
 with the engravings. 
 
 After a few courteous words he went away, leaving 
 Arley Ransome in a state of great delight and elation. 
 
 The Earl of Caraven thought more of himself than 
 of the girl. He was ashamed of the bargain, although 
 it was to save himself from ruin and death. 
 
 "Every time I look at her," he said to himself, "it 
 will be a perpetual reminder of the most cowardly 
 action of my life. I had rather a respect for myself as 
 a thorough-going spendthrift ; I despise myself as 
 being the chief partner in such a sorry bargain. I 
 ask pardon of all the dead and gone Caravens for 
 bringing a money-lender's daughter to Ravensmere." 
 
 He was ashamed of himself! He had lived without 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 restraint; but, as his flatterers said, "his vices were 
 those of a gentleman." He had done nothing that 
 they considered unworthy of one. He had no broken 
 heart, no ruined home, laid to his charge. In his way 
 he had always respected innocence and purity. His 
 faults lay in another direction. 
 
 It had been the misfortune of Ulric, Earl of Cara- 
 ven, to be born in the purple. All the good qualities 
 innate in him had been carefully stifled and stamped 
 out by the most foolish indulgence of parents who 
 called insolence and tyranny high spirits, who con- 
 sidered selfishness clever, who fostered his faults 
 instead of correcting them. He grew up with the idea 
 that the world was made for him — that he by some 
 especial privilege was better than anyone else — that 
 everything and everyone must give way to him. His 
 weak, foolish mother died first; and as she lay dying, 
 some doubt of the wisdom of her behavior evidently 
 came over her, for the last words she whispered to her 
 husband were: 
 
 "I am sorely afraid for the boy." 
 
 But Ulric's father had no fear; he continued the 
 ruinous system — the child did as he liked, said whaV 
 he liked, thought what he liked. As for restraint of 
 any kind, it never occurred to his parent to exercise 
 it; the boy was denied nothing that he wished. He 
 grew up to have no thought but of himself. 
 
 So, when the old earl died, and he succeeded, he 
 thought the world was at his feet for him to use as 
 he would; his estate was to be burdened and mort- 
 gaged to give him money, the tenants were to be dis- 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 25 
 
 tressed and hard-worked to pay him extra rents. 
 When he discovered that matters were going wrong, 
 he made them worse by engaging an agent, a Mr. 
 Blantyre, who was to oppress, more than he himself 
 dared to do. There was no restraint on the earl as a 
 man; he was surrounded by flatterers, by bad com- 
 panions; he soon became a proficient in all fashion- 
 able sins. It was an unfortunate day for him when 
 the turf mania seized him. His flatterers — those who 
 intended to win his money, and who did win it — per- 
 suaded him that he was the best judge of horses in 
 England; in reality he knew nothing about them. 
 But when he once began betting his career was a 
 short one. In seven years he was a ruined man; still 
 in the spring of his life, he had run through a noble 
 fortune. In despair at the prospect before him, he 
 placed all his affairs in the hands of Arley Ransome, 
 one of the shrewdest and cleverest men in London. 
 Guided by him in all things, he had gone steadily to 
 ruin; and on this bright June day, when the sunshine 
 bade the whole world be gay, he stood a ruined, hope- 
 less, helpless man. 
 
 He was quite serious in saying that he preferred 
 death to life and poverty. He had lived in luxury 
 from the day of his birth; death had less horror for 
 him than the ennui, the misery, the loathsomeness of 
 poverty. The day came when he wanted twenty 
 pounds and could not raise it — when Mr. Blantyre 
 threw up his hands, declaring that the estate had been 
 drained to its last farthing. Then the earl, suddenly 
 brought to his senses, wrote to Arley Ransome, asking 
 
26 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 him to let him know the exact state of his affairs. The 
 result was his knowledge of inevitable ruin. 
 
 Then came Arley Ransome's scheme, the plan that 
 he had brooded over for long years. He was the son 
 of a lawyer who had not succeeded very well in the 
 world, and he had vowed to succeed himself. He had 
 studied the law — he was a keen, clever, shrewd man, 
 but his fortune had been made by money-lending. His 
 practice as a lawyer brought him into contact with 
 moneyed people, also with people who wanted money, 
 and he made fhe most of his advantages; he had 
 acquired an enormous fortune. His money-lending 
 business was carried on under another name in another 
 part of the city; his plan was to send all his needy 
 clients to this office, and his gains were enormous. 
 
 He lived for an object, and it was ambition. To 
 his bitter sorrow he had no son; but he was deter- 
 mined that his daughter should marry one whose posi- 
 tion and title should shed their reflected glory on him. 
 To be the father of a countess, to speak of his daugh- 
 ter as the Countess of Caraven, was the height of his 
 ambition — and now it was to be gratified. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 "xS LOVE A NEEDFUL PART OF MARRIAGE? " 
 
 Arley Ransome had decided upon telling his daugh- 
 ter of the future that awaited hue. He was not quite 
 sure of her. He had studied law in all its branches, 
 money-making in all its forms; but he had not studied 
 character — his daughter was almost a stranger to him. 
 She had been educated abroad. Her mother died 
 soon after her birth, a id he, devoted to business, had 
 not cared to have a ch id distract his attention. He 
 lived then at his chambers. Bat when Hildred was 
 seventeen he went over to Germany to see her, and 
 was charmed with her He found her highly edu- 
 cated, brilliantly accomplished ami intelligent, and, 
 in his opinion, she gave great promise of a beautiful 
 womanhood. 
 
 She was not a beautiful girl, but she was striking 
 and distinguished-looking. If one entered a room full 
 of people and she was there, her face would strike 
 one first; it would be remembered the longest. It 
 was a face indicative of capability, Spanish in its 
 coloring. Her grandfather was a Spaniard, and some- 
 thing of the spirit of the old cavaliers of Spain had 
 descended to her. 
 
 The hones in which Mr. Ransome had indulged 
 became almost certainties to him when he saw his 
 
 27 
 
28 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 daughter. She must marry well, and his ambition 
 must be gratified through her. He had no son. On 
 this dark-eyed girl must devolve the duty of carrying 
 out his schemes. 
 
 He smiled at himself as he thought that on his 
 books he had the names of noblemen who would be 
 thankful for a wife with such a fortune as he could 
 give Hildred. He had but to choose among them, 
 and his choice fell upon the Earl of Caraven. His 
 title was the most ancient, his estates were the larg- 
 est, his ruin was the most complete. 
 
 "I could build up one or two more earldoms," 
 thought the ambitious lawyer to himself. "Who says 
 that money is not the prop of the world?" 
 
 He decided at once on taking a house in the out- 
 skirts of London and installing his daughter as mis- 
 tress there. It was done at once, and then Mr. Ran- 
 some began to put his scheme into action. He knew 
 that the young earl had come to the end of his re- 
 sources It would all be plain sailing for him now. 
 
 But there was one person he had not taken into 
 account, and that was his daughter. He had never 
 dreamed of anything except blind submission from 
 her. Now he began to ask himself, "Will she ob- 
 ject?" She had plenty of character, plenty of spirit 
 life, activity, energy. Would she submit to his barter 
 and exchange? Would she blush and smile after the 
 fashion of girls who are delighted? Would she be 
 pleased to be a countess, or would she draw herself 
 up in disdain and tell him she was neither to be 
 bought nor sold? He was doubtful as to which it 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 29 
 
 would be, and he therefore approached the subject 
 with some little hesitation. 
 
 That same evening — for it was a rule of Arley Ran- 
 some's to do quickly what required doing at all — he 
 told her. He remembered it long years afterward — as 
 did she. 
 
 It was a lovely June evening, and the world seemed 
 to be full of music and perfume. The sun had set, 
 and dim, mystical twilight lay over the land, enshroud- 
 ing the river and the tall green trees; the birds seemed 
 loath to give up singing; now and then a faint sweet 
 song stirred the dewy air. It was one of those even- 
 ings on which it seems impossible to believe in any- 
 thing but what is good, and true, and beautiful, when 
 the dew, and the flowers, and the sunset take our 
 hearts and thoughts to heaven. 
 
 Hildred had gone through the grounds down to the 
 banks of the river; slv. sat there watching the color of 
 the water change as the twilight deepened. A tall beech 
 tree, with superb spreading branches, grew near; the 
 grass was studded with white and golden flowers. 
 There Arley Ransome found her, the daughter on 
 whom he had built all his hopes of fame and fortune, 
 her dark eyes fixed on the tranquil stream, her white 
 hands lying listlessly on her knee. 
 
 "Hildred," said Arley Ransome, "I have something 
 very particular to say to you. I will sit down by yojir 
 side. How gloriously beautiful the river looks to- 
 night! H 
 
 Hildred Ransome loved her father— he was the only 
 relative she had except a cousin whom she had never 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 seen — but it was not with the ordinary love of a girl 
 for her father. She had not quite made up her mind 
 about him. She watched him with keen interest, and 
 the sharp-witted, keen, shrewd lawyer, who could fright- 
 en a witness into saying anything he wished him to 
 say, shrank before the dark eyes of his daughter. 
 
 She looked up at him now with some little curiosity. 
 What had he to say to her? How was it that the 
 clear gaze of those dark eyes troubled him so greatly? 
 
 "Something to say to me?" she repeated, dreamily. 
 "You could not have chosen a better time for saying it, 
 papa. I never care to talk on nights like these. I 
 can only listen." 
 
 "The brightest hope of my life has been accom- 
 plished to-day, Hildred," he began; "that which I have 
 longed for has been given to me. I have been pleased, 
 proud, and happy." 
 
 He saw that her interest was awakened, that her 
 eyes brightened. She looked earnestly at him. 
 
 "Pleased, proud, and happy? That seems a great 
 deal, papa." 
 
 "It means a great deal, Hildred. To day the Earl 
 of Caraven has asked permission to make you his 
 wife." 
 
 He has stretched the point; but of what service 
 would it have been to have studied law if he had to 
 keep to facts? 
 
 If he had expected any demonstration of delight he 
 was disappointed. She made none. She did not 
 biush or look pleased or displeased; the calmness of 
 her face was unbroken. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 31 
 
 "The Earl of Caraven. That is the gentleman I 
 saw to-day, papa. " 
 
 "Yes, that was Lord Caraven, and he wishes to 
 make you his wife." 
 
 "But how can that be, papa? He has seen me only 
 once. Why should he wish to marry me?" 
 
 "That I cannot say, Hildred," he answered; "I am 
 better versed in law than in love; I can only repeat 
 what I have told you. The earl wishes you to be his 
 wife." 
 
 The dark, eloquent eyes traveled slowly from his 
 face to the river, and then back to the shrewd, eager 
 countenance. 
 
 "And that is the dream of your life, papa — that 1 
 marry him?" 
 
 "That you marry someone who has title and position 
 to give you," he replied. "Yes, I have built my 
 hopes on it; that is my way to greatness, my ambi- 
 tion realized." 
 
 "I liked him very well," she replied, with an air of 
 calm musing; "he is very handsome. But I know 
 little about him." 
 
 "Liked him!" repeated Mr. Ransome. "That is a 
 cold word. I can tell you, Hildred, that some of the 
 loveliest women in London would be flattered at 
 receiving attention from him." 
 
 "Then why does he not marry one of those lovely 
 women?" she asked, quietly. 
 
 "Because he has asked to marry you, Hildred." 
 
 She thought for a few moments in silence, and then 
 she said: 
 
32 
 
 FR01*I OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "I should be a countess, I suppose, papa, One o\ 
 the girls from St. Roche, our school, became a count- 
 ess — everyone envied her; but her marriage was not 
 a very happy one." 
 
 "All marriages would be happy if women expected 
 only a little less than they do, and were rational," ho 
 said, hastily. 
 
 She knitted her fair, white brow, while she though" 
 deeply, silently. 
 
 "The Earl of Caraven wants to marry me, papa-— 
 did he say that he loved me?" 
 
 "Gentlemen seldom speak to lawyers about love, ' 
 he replied, impatiently. "This is not a mere senti- 
 mental, nonsensical love affair; it is of far greater 
 importance. Give it your serious attention, Hildredj 
 put aside all the nonsense." 
 
 Again the dark eyes wandered from the rippling 
 river to the blue sky, to the green trees, the soft, dewy 
 grass, the sleeping flowers— wandered uneasily, as 
 though reading something there that did not harmo- 
 nize with her father's words; then she spoke to him— 
 years afterward she remembered her words. 
 
 "That is your dream, papa—to see me Countess c\. 
 Caraven. Tell me — I have been at school all my life, 
 and I know so little of real life — it seems to n:3 that 1 
 have done nothing but study — I have read few novels, 
 I know nothing of what people call love, but you, my 
 father, would not deceive me — tell me, is love a need- 
 ful part of marriage? Is it right to marry without it? 
 Are people happy without it?" 
 
 He made no answer, he could not look into thosff 
 
 4 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 33 
 
 dark, eloquent eyes and say what he knew to be false. 
 
 "Because," she continued, "in those few novels 
 which I have read, love was the motive, the pivot on 
 which everything else turned; those who married with- 
 out it were punished, those who had it overcame every 
 obstacle. That was all wrong, then?" 
 
 "Novels are only fiction, Hildred; you cannot be- 
 lieve anything in them." 
 
 "I thought they were pictures of real life," she 
 rejoined. 
 
 "Only ideal pictures; and, as love happens to be a 
 pretty peg on which writers can hang pretty thoughts 
 and words, they make the most of it. In reality it is 
 all nonsense." 
 
 Again those dark, earnest eyes were raised to his. 
 
 "You assure me of that, papa — that love is nothing 
 but nonsense?" 
 
 A moment's fancy, a dream of a beautiful young 
 face, of dark eyes looking into his, of sweet lips he 
 had kissed with a fast beating heart in the moonlight, 
 came to him. He drove the memory away. She was 
 looking at him with expectant face, with parted lips, 
 and anxious eyes. 
 
 "I ask you," she continued, "because I say this to 
 myself, papa- — if there be no such need for love — if 
 love is only the poet's dream and the novelist's chief 
 resource — why, then I may just as well be Countess 
 of Caraven as anything else." 
 
 "Most decidedly," he replied, with an air of relief. 
 
 "But," she went on, "if there is a reality of love, 
 if love is needful for happiness, do not let me marry 
 
34 
 
 FROM OUT TH£ GLOOM 
 
 without it. You are my father, my only friend, I 
 
 appeal to you." 
 
 He asked heaven to pardon him for answering such 
 an appeal falsely. He looked profoundly wise. 
 
 "My dear Hildred," he said, "you express yourself 
 so oddly. I believe that the greater part of what you 
 read and hear about love is the greatest nonsense — the 
 happiest marriages are founded on esteem." 
 
 "But I do not know enough of Lord Caraven to 
 esteem him," she replied, slowly. 
 
 "Some of the happiest marriages," continued the 
 lawyer, "have been when people have learned to love 
 each other after marriage." 
 
 "Then love does creep in before or after?" she said. 
 
 "Possibly, in many cases. The most sensible way 
 of looking at marriage is this. It is a civil contract 
 between two people who can best make their way in 
 the world by going through life together — for instance, 
 a young farmer marries a girl whose dowry enables 
 him to improve his farm, while her education gives 
 her an interest in it; a nobleman with an impover- 
 ished estate and an ancient title marries a city heiress 
 whose grandfather was, perhaps, a soap-boiler." 
 
 She was listening in amazement. 
 
 "A civil contract!" she said, slowly. "I thought 
 marriage was a religious ceremony, papa?" 
 
 "So it is, certainly — most decidedly. I am speak- 
 ing of it from my point of view." 
 
 "Is your point of view the same as other people's, 
 papa?" 
 
 x "All sensible people have the same ideas on the 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 35 
 
 subject/' he replied; and again his daughter's dark 
 eyes sought the lovely, gleaming river. 
 
 "I did not think," continued Hildred, slowly, "that 
 marriage was a contract of any kind. I had a different 
 idea of it. I thought it took place when two souls 
 were attracted insensibly to each other, and life became 
 nobler and better and higher because of their love; 
 and I thought that some love began in time and ended 
 in eternity. " 
 
 Arley Ransome looked in wonder at his daughter. 
 
 "Hildred," he said, "I hope you are not going to 
 turn out romantic." 
 
 "I hope not," she replied, quietly. "You have told 
 me the truth, papa, and, though it has astonished me, 
 I thank you for it— one should not have false notions. 
 I have asked because it strikes me that it would be a 
 terrible thing to marry without love, and then for love 
 to come afterward." 
 
 The lawyer held up his hands in horror, 
 
 "Such a thing could not be. Every woman with a 
 well regulated mind loves her husband; every husband 
 in the same way loves his wife." 
 
 "Then, if I marry the Earl of Caraven now," she 
 said, quietly, "I shall learn to love him afterward?" 
 
 "Certainly," he replied, with a wish that she were 
 not so earnestly sincere. 
 
 "I have not thought of marrying," she continued, 
 in the same earnest, simple tone. "You see, papa, 
 there was nothing tQ make me think of it. There 
 were no gentlemen at St. Roche, and I have been so 
 busy with my books. I liked study. I like it now. I 
 
36 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 like the idea, too, of being a countess — it has a pleasant 
 sound — 'Lady Caraven.' And you are quite sure, papa, 
 that I shall love my — love Lord Caraven after mar- 
 riage, if not before?" 
 
 "I am quite sure," he replied, with unnecessary 
 fervor. 
 
 Suddenly she looked up at him. 
 
 "Papa," she said, "do you remember the song that 
 1 sang to you last night? 
 
 " 'There's nothing half so sweet in life 
 As love's young dream.'" 
 
 "I remember it, Hildred. What about it?" 
 
 "Why, what does it mean — 'nothing half so sweet 
 in life?' If I marry the earl, shall I have no 'love's 
 young dream?'" 
 
 His eyes dropped uneasily from hers. He knew he 
 was deceiving her, and she trusted so entirely in him. 
 
 "You ask me the most extraordinary questions," he 
 replied. "My dear Hildred, do you expect me to 
 extract common sense from novels and poems? I can 
 tell you what will be much more useful to you than 
 talking about love. As Countess of Caraven you will 
 be one of the most popular ladies in London. You 
 will have two magnificent homes — Ravensmere Castle, 
 in Devonshire, a fine old castle, and Holly House, in 
 town. You will have diamonds to wear. You will go 
 to court. You will rank among the peeresses of the 
 realm. You will have wealth, rank, fashion, gayety, 
 influence, all at your command. You will be able to 
 gratify every wish of your heart. The whole world 
 
FROM OUT TKE GLOOM 
 
 37 
 
 will flatter you and pay you homage. You will have 
 all that a woman's heart holds most dear." 
 
 "Except love — and that is to come afterward," she 
 said. 
 
 "Certainly. You seem to think a great deal of this 
 same love too, Hildred?" 
 
 "Yes; because I know, papa, that is what some 
 women's hearts hold most dear." 
 
 "Quite right. You will find all that kind of thing 
 comes quite right, my dear. Now what is your an- 
 swer, Hildred? " 
 
 She looked round once more in her thoughtful 
 fashion. The faint light gleamed on the river. The 
 faint light was dying in the daffodil sky. The western 
 wind stirred the green boughs; the song of the birds, 
 the ripples of the river, the whisper of the wind, were 
 all repeating the refrain of the song: 
 
 "There's nothing half so sweet in life 
 As love's young dream." 
 
 What was it like, this dream that was to come to 
 her — after marriage, not before — this dream that seemed 
 to send poets and novelists mad, since they wrote and 
 sang so much about it — this love for which some con- 
 sidered the world well lost, and which her clear- 
 headed, sensible father said was all nonsense? She 
 would have liked to know something of it. Love's 
 young dream — what did it do to the dreamers? Did 
 it make the world any fairer? She wondered if there 
 were people for whom the dream faded and who mar- 
 ried afterward. She was sq long silent that the law- 
 
38 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 yer became uneasy; there was no telling what answer 
 
 she might give. 
 
 "Your answer, Hildred," he said again. 
 She turned slowly to him. 
 "I will marry the earl," she said, simply. 
 He looked delighted. 
 
 "I shall see him and tell him to-morrow," he said. 
 "Now remember, Hildred, this is a very solemn mat- 
 ter. You cannot go back after you have once pledged 
 your word." 
 
 "I shall not want to go back," she said. "It is a 
 fair destiny — why should I wish to change it? Count- 
 ess of Caraven! When shall I see him— the earl — 
 again, papa?" 
 
 Arley Ransome could not suppress a slight pang of 
 reproach. If she expected to find a gallant wooer in the 
 spendthrift earl, she would be wofully disappointed. 
 It would perhaps be best to prepare her. < 
 
 "Very soon; and I am quite sure that he will be 
 pleased. But, Hildred, I want to say something else 
 to you. Common people have common customs. When 
 Darby goes to woo Joan, he sits with his arm round 
 her waist. Men like" — then he grew confused, remem- 
 bering that men are alike the world over — "men like 
 the earl woo in a different fashion." 
 
 "What is their fashion?" she asked quietly. 
 
 "They say little of love — they talk no nonjsense — 
 they send princely presents of diamonds and jewels — 
 they prove their love by actions more than by words." 
 
 "I see." 
 
 Then she added, naively; 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 39 
 
 "Do you know, papa, I think I should like what 
 you call the Darby-and-Joan fashion best." 
 
 Her simplicity appalled him, remembering what the 
 earl had said — that he would do his best to make her 
 happy, but that he should never like her. Arley Ran- 
 some began to wonder how it would end. 
 
 "Are there no Darbies and Joans in high life, papa? 41 
 she asked. 
 
 "My dear Hildred, high rank has great responsibil- 
 ities. Men like Lord Caraven have something more 
 to think of than love — that is very well for school-girls 
 and beardless cornets. Try to forget it, and think of 
 the brilliant future that awaits you as Lady Caraven. 
 You will be a beautiful woman, Hildred, and I shall 
 see my hopes realized in you. Then I may tell the 
 earl it is all settled?" 
 
 "Will he not say anything to me himself?" she 
 asked. 
 
 Now that she had promised to marry him, she began 
 to recall his face. 
 
 It was very handsome — indolently handsome; she 
 thought it would be pleasant to see those blue eyes of 
 his warm and brighten, to see the handsome face grow 
 earnest and eloquent; beside, she would like to hear 
 what he had to say. Her heart beat faster as she 
 thought of it. Of course he would not *call her 
 "Honored Miss," and kneel down, as the heroes in 
 old-fashioned stories did; but he would talk to her — 
 he would tell her why from the whole world of women 
 he had chosen her. Sweet words would have a pleas- 
 ant sound coming from him. 
 
4-0 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "He will speak to me himself?" she repeated, plaint 
 
 ively. 
 
 "Of course — later on — not just now, perhaps; he is 
 not a bold wooer, your handsome earl, Hildred. You 
 are sure to think him reserved and cold; in time all 
 that will wear away. I may tell him to-morrow that 
 you accept his offer?" 
 
 "Yes," she replied. 
 
 And then to her surprise, her father, who was one 
 of the most undemonstrative of men, bent down and 
 kissed her. 
 
 "You have made me very happy," he said. 
 
 "Why, papa, one would think you wanted this mar- 
 riage! " she cried. "You seem very anxious about it." 
 
 "It is my hope realized, Hildred," he said, gravely. 
 "I am very happy." 
 
 Then he rose and left her seated by the river-side. 
 
 "Lady Caraven— Hildred, Lady Caraven!" 
 
 She repeated the words to herself; they had a pleas- 
 ant sound, and it was pleasant to think that she 
 would be a countess — pleasant to remember that the 
 handsome young earl had sought her in marriage. 
 How little she had dreamed of this when she sat down 
 by the river-side an hour before! 
 
 He would come to see her on the morrow, there 
 was no doubt. What would it be like — this brilliant 
 Jfe in which gayety, fashion, love, and happiness 
 were all to have their part? The light had died in the 
 western skies, the birds had sung their last song, the 
 flowers were all asleep, but it seemed to Hildred Ran- 
 some that she would never sleep again; the restless, 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 41 
 
 beatiiig heart was stirred for the first time from its 
 passionless rest. It was fancy, of course — all fancy 
 — but the long, low wash of the waves certainly sang 
 "Love's Young Dream." It must be fancy, but the 
 wind did whisper it: 
 
 "There's nothing half so sweet in life." 
 
 "I will go in," thought Hildred, "and sing some- 
 thing that will take the sound of those words from 
 me." 
 
 It so happened that the first sheet of music she 
 took up was Mrs. Jameson's pathetic ballad, set to 
 sweet, sad music: 
 
 "I have had joy and sorrow, I have proved 
 What life could give — have loved and been beloved; 
 I am sick and heartsore 
 
 And weary — let me sleep; 
 But deep — deep — 
 Never to waken more!" 
 
 The words struck her with new meaning. "Have 
 loved and been beloved;" it was like Thekla's song: 
 
 "I have tasted the highest bliss; 
 I have loved and have been beloved. 
 
 This was not in accordance with her father's assur- 
 ance that love was all nonsense. 
 
 But she had forgotten that these were poets writing 
 according to their lights — only poets, and not to be 
 believed. It was perhaps a pity after all, she thought, 
 that they — these sweet singers — should teach people 
 to. estimate things so falsely — should try to place love 
 above everything else — above wealth, fame, rank, 
 title, gold — when her father, a shrewd, clever man, 
 
4 2 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 assured her that it was but nonsense — that people were 
 .better and happier without it. 
 
 She felt very wise, very superior to these poets. 
 Life had higher things than love, she said to herself. 
 It was very well in its way. She, for one, was quite 
 content not to know it. Life held duties — noble duties, 
 noble work. What was love but recreation? It was 
 ver}' well for school-girls to talk of in whispers, or for 
 poets to write sweet, sad rhymes about; but for men 
 and women — Her father, perhaps, was right — it was 
 better to be without it. 
 
 When this lover of hers came on the morrow, would 
 he mention love to her, or what would he talk about? 
 She sighed as she rose from the piano, flattering her- 
 self that she had sung all sentiment away — sighed 
 with a sweet, half-sad longing. 
 
 And then, after all her trouble — after singing to 
 drive the words away — after moralizing, and trying to 
 make herself a stoical philosopher at eighteen — she 
 found herself, as she went to her room, singing: 
 
 "Oh, there's nothing half so sweet in life 
 As love's young dream!" 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 "are you asking me to decide as to my wedding-day" 
 
 Hildred Ransome was engaged to be married, she 
 was to be Lady Caraven, and on this day her lover 
 was to visit her. 
 
 Arley Ransome went off to business early. The 
 first thing he did was to send a note to the earl, say- 
 ing that all difficulty was removed; his daughter had 
 consented. The only thing remaining was for him to 
 ask her to settle the wedding-day. 
 
 Lord Caraven read it through, then crushed it in 
 his hands, and finally tore it into shreds and threw it 
 under his feet. He had not brought himself to a prop- 
 er state of submission yet. He would have given 
 the whole world to escape from Arley Ransome; but 
 the choice was plain enough — ruin, shame, and de- 
 spair, or marriage with the dark-eyed girl who was 
 "not his style," and whom he was quite sure he should 
 never like. 
 
 Then his thoughts veered round a little. It would 
 be pleasant to restore Ravensmere Castle to its old 
 prestige — it would be pleasant to pay his debts, to 
 feel the load of care and anxiety removed from him — 
 it would be pleasant to take his place in the world 
 again. As for the price, he must pay it. If Arley 
 Ransome would not save him upon any other condi- 
 
 4? 
 
44 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 tions, he must marry his daughter. If the father was 
 content to give his child to one who honestly owned 
 he did not like her, surely he need not pity her. 
 Surely, again, if she were willing to marry a man 
 whom she had seen only once, she herself deserved no 
 pity. 
 
 The marriage should take place in due course. The 
 Ransomes had, as it were, drawn him — nay, forced 
 him into it; the consequences must recoil on them- 
 selves. In his own mind he considered the daughter 
 quite as bad as the father — indeed he made little dis- 
 tinction between them. The union was to be; there 
 was no further need for scruple. They wanted his 
 title; he wanted their money. He would be civil to 
 them; they could not expect more. 
 
 On that evening Hildred Ransome received a letter 
 and a ring. The envelope bore a crest, and she knew 
 at once that it was from Lord Caraven. The contents 
 were short, but to the purpose; it was not a love-let- 
 ter, for there was no semblance of love in it. 
 
 "My dear Miss Ransome — I have to thank you 
 for your consent to my" — then came a word that had 
 been carefully obliterated and "wishes" written over 
 it — "With your permission I will call to-morrow. I 
 have sent you an engagement ring — will you wear it? 
 I am yours" — here there was an illegible word. 
 
 "Ulric Caraven." 
 
 She laid the letter down with a sigh and a smile. 
 She had fancied that a love-letter would be very dif- 
 ferent. She opened the little parcel that accompanied 
 the note; it contained a magnificent diamond ring — 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 45 
 
 her engagement ring. She placed it on her finger, and 
 the sun falling on it made it shine like fire. Still, as 
 she looked at it, her eyes filled with tears. She would 
 have liked someone to put «the ring on her finger; 
 although she was engaged to be married, and was to 
 be a countess, she felt very lonely and desolate. 
 
 Arley Ransome smiled when he saw the ring. At 
 least it was an earnest of good things to come. 
 
 "Very nice, very appropriate," said the lawyer — 
 "really a ring suitable for the coming Lady Caraven." 
 
 The day after brought Lord Caraven himself. 
 
 That interview was something to be remembered. 
 Mr. Ransome, hoping to make matters smooth and 
 pleasant, had invited his future son-in-law to dine 
 with him, and that he might not feel dull had asked 
 the humorous and brilliant talker, Mr. Carwey, to join 
 them. 
 
 It was well that he had done so, for the actual pres- 
 ence of her lover seemed to strike Hildred dumb. 
 She looked at him whenever she found that he was 
 looking elsewhere. She thought him very handsome. 
 His indolent, careless grace contrasted so favorably 
 with her father's sharp, brisk manner. She wondered 
 why the earl looked worn and haggard. He was only 
 twenty-seven, her father said. She wondered, too, why « 
 he was not more empresse in his manner. He took her 
 down to dinner, and the only words they exchanged 
 were about the warmth of the day. During dinner 
 they never spoke, save for the most ordinary civilities. 
 When dinner was over, the earl evidently preferred the 
 society of Mr. Carwey to hers. 
 
46 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Why had he asked to marry her if he did not care 
 to talk to her?" she said to herself. "How strange it 
 was!" Then her father invited Mr. Carwe} r to have a 
 game at chess, and the^ earl walked slowly across the 
 room to where she was sitting. He stood by her side, 
 tall, stately, despite his indolent grace of manner. Her 
 heart beat. What was he going to say? He bent his 
 head somewhat stiffly. 
 
 "I have to thank you, Miss Ransome," he said, "for 
 honoring me by wearing my ring." 
 
 She looked up at him, and there was something in 
 the calm gaze of the pure eyes before which he shrank 
 as her father had done. 
 
 "You wished me to wear it, did you not?" she asked. 
 "My father thought so." 
 
 'Certainly. I am delighted." 
 
 Try as he would, he could not conceal a touch of 
 irony. She detected it, and looked at him again. 
 He bowed and continued: 
 
 "I am fortunate, indeed. I have to ask you, Miss 
 Ransome, now that you have consented to — to be- 
 come Lady Caraven, to tell me when — that is to say 
 — what day will suit you." 
 
 "Day for what?" she asked, innocently. 
 
 "A day to be married on," he replied. 
 
 A look of rebuke stole over the girlish face. 
 
 "You spoke of it so lightly," she said, "that I 
 fancied you meant a day for going out somewhere. 
 You spoke as if you were asking me to arrange a day 
 for boating on the river." 
 
 "What shall I say, then?" he asked, smiling despite 
 his annoyance. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 47 
 
 "It is not for me to tell you," she replied, in all sim- 
 plicity. 
 
 He laughed aloud. 
 
 "Shall I say, 'Loveliest, fairest?'" 
 
 With an air of grave displeasure she rose from her 
 seat. 
 
 "Lord Caraven, I will hear no more," she said, "your 
 manner does not please me." 
 
 He longed to retort, "Nor do you please me; " but 
 he was merely a fly in the spider's web — he could not 
 escape. He followed her. After all, he was a gentle^ 
 man, and she was to bear his name. 
 
 "I am unfortunate- Miss Ransome," he said, "in 
 having displeased you — pardon me. I had every inten- 
 tion of asking you the question with all due decorum 
 — pray permit me to repeat it." 
 
 She was still so much of a child that she was puz- 
 zled what to answer. Her manner rather puzzled him, 
 too — it was so calm, so self-possessed. There was 
 not the faintest flush on her face, no light in the 
 grave, beautiful eyes, no latent smile — there were no 
 little airs and graces such as surely belong to a young 
 countess-elect. 
 
 "Do I understand you rightly?" said the grave, 
 sweet, girlish voice. "Are you asking me to decide 
 as to my wedding-day?" 
 
 "I am, indeed, so brave, he replied. 
 
 "Then I must decline to do so — my father will know 
 best what time will suit him." 
 
 "I understood from Mr. Ransome that six weeks 
 from now would be convenient, " said the earl. 
 
48 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 Her face did not change — no flush or pallor told 
 that the words had affected her. 
 
 "Six weeks," she said, musingly; "I shall be eight- 
 een in four weeks from to-day." 
 
 "I wish," he remarked, "that I could be eighteen 
 over again." 
 
 "Would you be the better for it?" she asked, curi- 
 
 ousl} r . 
 
 "I should at least be wiser," he answered; and she 
 made no comment. 
 
 "You will speak, then, to Mr. Ransome? " he contin- 
 ued, after moodily reflecting upon all he had lost. 
 
 "I speak to my father," exclaimed Hildred. "No. 
 I am ignorant enough of the world, but surely that 
 should be done by you." 
 
 She went away then under the pretext of seeking 
 something, leaving Lord Caraven alone. 
 
 "She has a little more spirit than I thought she 
 had," he said to himself. 
 
 Then, when he had the opportunity, he told Arley 
 Ransome that he had been unfortunate in his interview 
 with his daughter. Mr. Ransome quickly made every- 
 thing smooth — the wedding-day was to be on the 
 third of August. 
 
 "Something may happen before then," the earl 
 thought; "if not, I have always one resource, always 
 one haven. Much may happen before the third of 
 August. " 
 
 While Hildred Ransome said to herself that, if she 
 liked her future husband no better in six weeks' time 
 than she did now, it would be but a sorry wedding* 
 day. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 ''you will be one of the happiest women in the 
 world" 
 
 Hildred Ransome did not feel particularly pleased 
 when she came to think about her interview with Lord 
 Caraven. True, she had not expected anything, and 
 therefore she had no right to resent the total want of 
 interest and affection. The thought of refusing him 
 or rebelling in any way against her fate had not yet 
 occurred to her. She had been so completely drilled 
 into obedience and accustomed to obey those in com- 
 mand over her, so used to accepting directions with- 
 out inquiring as to their merits, that she never dreamed 
 of refusing her consent to the marriage. Asked it 
 had been, she knew, but it was a matter of form; 
 there was no real honesty in the asking. She knew 
 her father's will to be of iron, and she could not 
 resist it. Her lot in life was settled. She was to 
 marry the Earl of Caraven. 
 
 She told herself over and over again that she need 
 feel no surprise at his strange wooing. His ways 
 were not as her ways. Her father had told her that 
 she must not expect such wooing as Darby and Joan 
 indulged in, and that love was to come afterward — 
 after marriage instead of before it. 
 
 "Rank has its privileges — it also has its penalties/ 
 
 49 
 
FROM OtJT TfctE <Jl06ST 
 
 said Arley Ransome, often enough for his daughter 
 to remember the words. One of these penalties was 
 
 undemonstrativeness as regarded love. 
 
 She was to be married on the third of August. 
 There was not much time to spend in preparations. 
 Her father had said no expense was to be spared. He 
 took her himself to the court milliner and left the 
 trousseau entirely in that lady's hands. Hildred was 
 frightened as order after order was given without the 
 least thought of expense. 
 
 "Papa," she said, as they drove home, "do you know 
 that what you have ordered will cost hundreds of 
 pounds?" 
 
 Arley Ransome laughed and rubbed his hands. 
 "I should not care if it cost thousands, Hildred," 
 he replied. 
 
 "I did not know you had so much money," she 
 said, slowly; and again the lawyer laughed — laughed 
 as he remembered how wealthy he was, and how little 
 his daughter guessed that it was for that very wealth 
 she was to be married. 
 
 She was young enough — only eighteen — to enjoy the 
 magnificent trousseau as box after box came home, to 
 linger with admiring eyes over the beautiful dresses 
 —the rich silks, the costly laces, the fine velvets — 
 before the thousand and one elegancies provided for 
 her. It seemed wonderful to her that she should pos- 
 sess all these. She had never thought of her father 
 as a rich man. He was a lawyer, she knew — she knew 
 also that he had something to do with finance; but 
 that he was wealthy enough to spend all that he hai 
 
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 spent on her she had never guessed. She was young 
 enough and woman enough to feel a keen delight in 
 the magnificent trousseau, to feel a keen pleasure in 
 the idea that she was to be a countess, wife of the 
 handsome young earl. 
 
 One day, Arley Ransome showed her a paragraph in 
 the Fashionable Chronicle, It stated that a marriage 
 was on the tapis between the Right Honorable, the 
 Earl of Caraven, and Miss Ransome, the only daughter 
 and heiress of Arley Ransome, Esq. The girl laughed 
 as she read it — a sweet, happy laugh. 
 
 "Heiress! I wonder what that means, papa? Why 
 do they call me heiress?" 
 
 "I should imagine that they think I have made a 
 little money and that it will all come to you," he 
 replied. 
 
 Since he had made closer study of his daughter's 
 character, he had thought it well to keep her in igno- 
 rance of the fact that she was a wealthy heiress; other- 
 wise it might occur to her why she was about to be 
 married. 
 
 "How do the newspaper people know?" she asked 
 again, after thinking for a few minutes. 
 
 "I should imagine that the earl himself has wished 
 the intelligence to be known," he replied, and again 
 Arley Ransome smiled as he fancied how many anx- 
 ious creditors would be consoled by reading the news. 
 
 The earl was attentive. He seldom went to the 
 Hollies; but he sent tickets for the opera, for the 
 theaters — he sent bouquets of flowers, books, and, 
 above all, jewels. Arley Ransome said and thought 
 
52 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 that flowers were very well in their way, but that 
 jewels meant more. The earl appeared but rarely 
 himself. When he did go it was to dine, and Mr. 
 Ransome was careful always to find another guest on 
 whom the burden of conversation should fall, so that 
 the visits were not very dull ones. 
 
 One morning a parcel reached the Hollies from Lord 
 Caraven, and when Hildred unfastened it, it was 
 found to contain a suite of jewels — pure, pale pearls. 
 
 Mr. Ransome cried out in admiration that they were 
 the most beautiful he had ever seen. Hildred sighed 
 as she laid them down in the soft velvet cases. 
 
 "Sighing, with such a gift as that in your hands, 
 Hildred?" he said. 
 
 "Papa, I cannot help wishing," she replied, "that 
 Lord Caraven would give me fewer jewels, but come 
 oftener to see rne. I am to be married in ten days 
 from now, and, do you know, he seems like a stranger 
 to me." 
 
 The words touched him a little. He had not much 
 heart, this ambitious man; he would have sacrificed 
 everything he had for his own social advancement; he 
 loved his daughter after his own fashion — she was a 
 stepping-stone. to gratify his ambition — but he would 
 have broken her heart over and over again to accom- 
 plish his wishes. Still the words touched him, and on 
 the day following, when he met Lord Caraven for' the 
 signing of business papers, he said to him: 
 
 "My daughter would be pleased to see you. She 
 thinks it strange that you do not call oftener." 
 
 They were mild words, but the earl knew he was 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 53 
 
 under the harrow — he must go. He went the next 
 day and found Hildred at home and alone. He hesi- 
 tated when he heard that she was alone; he had not 
 wished for a tete-a-tete. What was he to say to her? 
 He could not feign love-making; he did not like her. 
 He had always admired fair women with golden hair; 
 this girl had hair as dark as night and a Spanish face. 
 He was compelled to marry her, but he had not an 
 idea as to what he should say to her. 
 
 He was shown into the pretty drawing-room where 
 Hildred was reading Goethe. She looked up when he 
 was announced, and placed her book on the table. 
 She bowed coldly, not knowing what to say. She had 
 wished him to call, but she felt, now that he was really 
 there, uncertain how to entertain him. Had he been 
 an ordinary friend of her father's, she would have 
 sought for and found some topic of conversation that 
 interested him. She looked into the earl's handsome 
 face, and, remembering that in ten days she was to 
 become his wife, she was silent. Looking at her, he 
 remembered the same, and turned away with a sigh of 
 despair. 
 
 "How dark her hair and eyes are!" he thought to 
 himself. "If I purchase a picture I can surely please 
 myself about its coloring; in taking a wife I have not 
 even that option." 
 
 "I have not interrupted you I hope, Miss Ransome?" 
 he said. "You were reading — may I ask what?" 
 
 She held the book out for him to see. 
 
 "German!" he cried. "Do you read Germai?" 
 
 M Yes and speak it. I like it," she replied; ' T Hka 
 
54 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 German literature, after English, better than any. H 
 
 "Better than French?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, much better/ 1 she replied— "English first, 
 German next." 
 
 "I thought all ladies preferred French to German," 
 he said, "because it is lighter and more graceful." 
 
 "Do all ladies prefer the light and graceful?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Do they not, Miss Ransome?" he replied. 
 
 "Nay," said Hildred, 'it seems to me that we asked 
 each other questions without waiting for the replies." 
 
 "I have never learned German," he said, absently. 
 
 "Then you will never make an embassador or a di- 
 plomatist," she remarked quietly; "they require to know 
 many languages." 
 
 He looked at her, wondering at her words. 
 
 "I have no particular wish to be either," he said. 
 
 "Have you not? I wonder at that. If I had been 
 a man of position, I should have liked to be an 
 embassador. I like any occupation, any employment 
 that exercises one's brains, and I always imagine 
 diplomatists to be accomplished men." 
 
 "And you admire accomplished men, Miss Ran- 
 some? I think you must admit one thing — diplomatists 
 are seldom sincere or truthful men." 
 
 "Insincerity and untruth are not confined to them," 
 she replied; and Lord Caraven began to think that 
 perhaps she was fond of argument. 
 
 He talked to her about Goethe, but not with her 
 enthusiasm — he could not even understand it. He 
 was tairly startled at last, when, raising her dark, 
 Jbvely eyes tp his fece, she said: 
 
PROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 55 
 
 "You give me the impression of having been asleep 
 the greater part of your life." 
 
 He was startled, but he answered: "On the con- 
 trary, I have been remarkably wide awake — I am past 
 the age of enthusiasm." 
 
 "It is better to die at once than to outlive enthusi- 
 asm," she said, calmly. "I call it the salt of life." 
 
 He remained talking to her for half an hour. They 
 were to be married in ten days, yet he said no word 
 of love. He did not mention their marriage or even 
 allude to it ever so distantly. He might have been 
 the merest stranger, the most unconcerned of guests. 
 He took his leave, and even then he did not offer to 
 touch the hand that she half held out to him. 
 
 It was very strange. When he was gone she took 
 up her book, but she could not read. This man who 
 had been talking to her with such indifference, who 
 had spent one solitary half hour with her, and had 
 evidently felt it to be a dull one — this man who had 
 not paid her the least compliment, who had not even 
 touched her hand — was in ten days' time to be her 
 husband, the arbiter of her destiny, the master of her 
 life. 
 
 How strange it was! He had asked her to marry 
 him, yet he did not mention the word "love." Did 
 he love her? Was this nonchalant, indifferent style 
 of wooing fashionable? Would he ever talk of love 
 to her at all? Why were her thoughts always running 
 on that one word "love?" 
 
 She was restless, anxiou . not unhappy, but puzzled. 
 In ten days' time she would be a wife — she would 
 
56 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 enter the realm that poets call fairyland. Oh, if this 
 were all, love was a cheat, a delusion, a snare — there 
 was nothing in it! It was supposed to confer such 
 unbounded happiness, and she was not happier — not 
 even so happy as when she studied German at St. 
 Roche. 
 
 "But," she mused, "I am forgetting; I always forget. 
 The love in my case is to come after marriage, not 
 before." 
 
 She liked Lord Caraven's face; to her girlish fancy 
 it was even beautiful. She wished to see it brighten. 
 It seemed to her like a veiled picture. Then, half 
 shyly, she wondered if he liked hers; though, to be 
 sure, he must have liked it, she thought, or he would 
 not have wished to marry her. 
 
 She went quietly to the glass and looked at her 
 face. There was a promise of magnificent beauty in it, 
 but the promise was not yet fulfilled. Nothing could 
 have been lovelier than the dark, starry eyes and the 
 dark, waving hair; but the face was one which lingered 
 where womanhood and childhood meet. Hildred felt no 
 great elation as she looked upon it. 
 
 "I shall not be a beautiful countess after all,' 1 she 
 said; "and beauty, they say, keeps the heart that love 
 wins." 
 
 A book was lying on the drawing-room table — one 
 among many others that Arley Ransome had sent home. 
 She opened it mechanically. The first line she read 
 struck her. It was only a simple poem, written by a 
 great master of ^oesy, but to her it seemed instinct 
 with sorrow and love: 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 57 
 
 "Then I took a pencil and wrote 
 On the mossy stone as I lay — 
 'Here lies the body of Ellen Adair, 
 And the heart of Edward Gray/" 
 
 Over and over again she read the words, so sweet 
 and simple and sad. Of course they were lovers and 
 they had quarreled; his heart lay buried with her. 
 That was love. 
 
 After all, there was some strange, sweet, mad witch- 
 ery in this love. She was going to be a countess; 
 she was to have jewels and money, pleasure and fame; 
 yet a conviction came upon her that it would have been 
 better to be Ellen Ad^ir, to sleep in a grave on the 
 windy hill and be so dearly loved, than to be a count- 
 ess. Who cared for her as this lover Edward Gray 
 cared for his dead love? 
 
 "If I died to-morrow," she cried, with sudden pas- 
 sion, "who would grieve except my father, whose heart 
 would be buried in my grave? Not Lord Caraven. If 
 he heard i was dead, he would look up calmly and 
 say, 'Dead, is she? I thought her a strange kind of 
 girl. ' Then his life would go on as though I had 
 never been. I should like — ah, me! I hope it is not 
 wicked — but I should have liked someone to love me 
 like the lover in the song! Perhaps love will come, 
 but I should like it best now." 
 
 "Papa," she said that evening, as she stood watch- 
 ing the sunset, "we have but one life — that seems to 
 me a sad pity. If we could live once to gain experi- 
 ence, and live again to use it — I should like that." 
 
 "My dear Hildred," said the man of law, "it is 
 simply incomprehensible to me how I came to have 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 such an imaginative daughter. If I had cultivated my 
 imagination, I do not know where we should be now. 
 What were you going to say?" 
 
 She was standing watching the sunset; the great 
 boughs of the cedar drooped near her; her young face, 
 raised with its dreamy, wondering expression to the 
 skies, might have touched a harder heart than his. 
 
 "We have but one life," she said, "and if it be all 
 spoiled there is no remedy. Papa," she cried, with 
 sudden passion, "do not let me spoil mine— do not 
 deceive me — do not let me marry without love, if love 
 be needful for happiness. I should like to be loved, 
 papa. Listen to me — I do not really care to be a 
 countess — I could be happy without that — I could be 
 happy without much money or without jewels, but I 
 begin to fear that I shall never be really happy with- 
 out love. I think women value love more than men. 
 Do you think I can be happy without it?" 
 
 He never forgot the pleading expression of her face. 
 It touched him so that he half hesitated as to whether 
 he should sacrifice her to his ambition or save her— 
 save her, and let her live her womanly life of love. 
 But the hesitation passed as quickly as it came. What: 
 did it matter? Love marriages, as they were called, 
 often ended in disgust. 
 
 She went close up to him and laid her hand on his 
 shoulder; her dark, bright eyes seemed to look through 
 his into the very depths of his soul. 
 
 "Now, papa," she said, "we are quite alone here, 
 you and I — only the silent stars are our witnesses — now 
 tell me, in the presence of heaven, can I be happy 
 without love?" 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 59 
 
 He was silent for one minute. It was hard to 
 deceive her, but there was no help for it. He took 
 her hand in his. 
 
 "I prophesy for you, Hildred," he said, "that you 
 will be one of the happiest women in the world." 
 
 "Then I am content. You would not deceive me," 
 she replied. _ 
 
 And, turning away from him, she re entered the 
 house. 
 
 It must be right; her father would not deceive her 
 — would not let her do that which would wreck her 
 whole life. It was she herself who had been mis- 
 taken — she who had dreamed that life had more of 
 sweetness and of poesy than it really possessed. 
 
 * * # * * 
 
 The ten days had come to an end. How time had 
 passed so quickly Hildred Ransome could not tell. 
 The preparations for her marriage were complete. 
 There was a slight dispute between the earl and the 
 lawyer. Lord Caraven wished to have the ceremony 
 performed quietly and away from London — Arley Ran- 
 some insisted that the marriage should take place at 
 St. George's, Hanover Square. 
 
 "And so, my lord," he said, "let us distinctly un- 
 derstand each other. My daughter is bringing you a 
 fortune that might be the dower of a princess, and 
 she must be treated with due respect. I will not have 
 one detail omitted. The marriage must be conducted 
 as though you were espousing a lady of your own 
 rank." 
 
6o 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 Lord Caraven laughed; he knew that there was no 
 opposing such a decree — it must be complied with. 
 He made the best of it. He invited his half-cousin, 
 the Lady Frances Riche, a superannuated coquette, 
 who still believed herself young and charming, to be 
 bridesmaid. Lord St. Maure was "best man." A 
 small but select party of guests were invited. Noth- 
 ing was omitted. 
 
 For many days past the great world had been on the 
 qui vive about the marriage. The wedding-dress had 
 been shown at the court milliner's, the jewels could 
 be seen at Messrs. Burford's. All fashionable Lon- 
 don discussed the union, and all fashionable London „ 
 knew what the girl herself did not know — that she 
 was being married for her money, that her marriage 
 was as much a matter of sale and barter as though 
 she had stood in a slave market with an auctioneer by 
 her side. 
 
 Yet no one thought it wrong; an impoverished earl 
 with a grand old title and a bankrupt estate — there 
 was nothing for him but to marry money, and Hildred 
 Ransome, the lawyer's daughter, had plenty. There 
 was not one of all the men and women who read 
 about the marriage, heard of it, or discussed it, who 
 would have dreamed of interfering — no one to say: 
 "Have pity on her youth and her ignorance; think 
 before you sacrifice her young, sweet life, her chance 
 of happiness." There was no one to plead or to pray 
 for her; on the contrary, the fair women of the world 
 looked on her with envy. It was not every heiress 
 who could purchase a coronet like that of Caraven. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 6l 
 
 Her father thought her a most fortunate girl, and did 
 not scruple to tell her so. 
 
 She herself could not analyze her own feelings. 
 She was living quietly with her father in a river-side 
 villa; a little later on she would be Countess of Car- 
 aven, one of the stars of the fashionable world. At 
 present she was, as it were, on the threshold of exist- 
 ence: in a little while a glowing, luxurious future 
 would be before her. 
 
 "You must have a clever maid, Hildred," said Arley 
 Ranscme. "Ask Lady Riche to find you one." 
 
 Lady Riche succeeded, and Hildred rejoiced in the 
 attendance of a bright, quick Parisienne, who foretold 
 that the day would come when her mistress would be 
 acknowledged one of the most beautiful women in 
 England. 
 
 "She wants a little training; she will have to travel 
 and mix in society — then you will see," reported 
 Amiee. "I have never seen a face or figure of greater 
 promise. " 
 
 The day before Hildred's wedding-day the Hollies 
 had been one scene of excitement and confusion; 
 there had been so many visitors, the number of pres- 
 ents were so great. Late in the evening a magnifi- 
 cent bridal bouquet arrived from Lord Caraven. The 
 wedding-breakfast was all prepared, the trunks con- 
 taining all that was needed of the grand trousseau were 
 packed and corded — the labels were already addressed, 
 "Lady Caraven, passenger to Paris," for the earl had 
 decided on spending the so-called honeymoon there; 
 every detail of the morrow's ceremony was arranged, 
 
62 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 and late at night Hildred Ransome stood with the 
 earl's bouquet in her hand. 
 
 They revealed nothing to her, those odorous flowers ; 
 they were of magical sweetness, but they brought her 
 no message. There was something pathetic in the 
 picture — the drawing-room full of strange shadows, 
 the light of the lamp falling where she stood, a con- 
 trast to the darkness around. She wore a dressing- 
 gown of white, soft, clinging material, fastened with 
 crimson cords, her wealth of dark hair lay negligently 
 over her shoulders, her eyes were bright with unshed 
 tears. 
 
 It was a sweet, sad, girlish face; a motherly woman 
 looking at it would have drawn the girl's head down 
 on her breast, and have soothed her with loving words. 
 The morrow would be her wedding-day; the tired serv- 
 ants were all sleeping, her attentive little maid had 
 gone to rest, her father had retired quite early to his 
 room. The morrow would be her wedding-day, and 
 they had told her that she could live without love. 
 Her wedding-day! No laughing young sisters came to 
 talk over the great event with her; no gentle, loving 
 mother folded her in her arms, and prayed heaven 
 to bless her in her new life; no laughing, bright, fond 
 school friends were there as companions; she was 
 quite alone, her heart aching and burning with a new 
 sense of desolation and loneliness. Her wedding-day! 
 Her toilet-table was laden with jewels; her fianct had 
 been lavish in his presents; no duchess had more 
 elegant or costly surroundings — yet she would have 
 given all, she thought, for someone to love and com- 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 «3 
 
 fort her. Her wedding-day! Yet he had not been, 
 he had sent no note with the flowers, only his card 
 and his compliments; there was no promise of the love 
 that was to come after marriage, not one kindly word 
 to allay her doubts or her fears. There could be no 
 picture more touching than this of the lonely girl with 
 the flowers in her hand. She had turned to them as 
 she would have turned to a living creature; her lover, 
 who on the morrow was to be her husband, had not 
 been near, but he had sent the flowers, and in her 
 forlorn fashion she had fancied she should get some 
 comfort from them. 
 
 But they revealed nothing to her. The costly blos- 
 soms lay cold, fragrant, without meaning. As she 
 stood holding them there came into her mind a story 
 she had read of a young girl on her wedding-eve — a 
 girl who had stolen out in the sweet, soft starlight to 
 meet her lover by the garden-gate. She remembered 
 that the story told how the gallant young lover had 
 kissed his bride — kissed her lips and her hands, calling 
 her by every sweet name a lover could invent — how 
 they had stood under the starlight among the trees and 
 the flowers, how full of hope and happiness the young 
 lover went away, and was never seen again. 
 
 She thought of this story now. Her face flushed; 
 her heart beat. She dreamed how she woi Id have 
 liked to steal out under the stars and hear her hand- 
 some lover whisper sweet words to her. 
 
 She was desolate and lonely. The stars were shin- 
 ing, the wind was whispering low — but no lover was 
 near. She held the flowers to her face* 
 
54 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 'Tell me, pretty blossoms," she said, "have you no 
 message from him? None? Then, if in all this world 
 one sentiment is more false than another, it must 
 surely be this: 
 
 "^There's nothing half so sweet in life 
 As love's young dream* 9 " 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 "some people are never satisfied" 
 
 Hildred Ransome did not seem to understand either 
 the day or the event until she stood before the altar of 
 St. George's Church. Then, with a cold shock and a 
 cold, dull pain, the full realisation of it all came to 
 her. It was her wedding-day, and she was about to 
 marry the handsome, indifferent earl who stood by her 
 side. All that had passed before seemed like a dream. 
 The sunshine had awakened her. There came a con- 
 fused vision of maids in waiting, of silk and lace, 
 jewels and flowers. She had heard her own maid 
 Amiee say: 
 
 "Poor young lady, it is hard to have neither mother 
 nor sister." 
 
 Lady Riche had swept into the room, and had ad- 
 mired the beautiful wedding-dress. The only sensa- 
 tion that Hildred had had was one of cold, sick faint- 
 ness. When she was dressed her father had kissed 
 her and said: 
 
 "You will make a beautiful countess, Hildred. " 
 
 She had thought the morning might bring her some 
 token from her lover — a note or present — something to 
 remind her of him; but it did not, and her heart mis- 
 gave her sorely. Then, after a long drive, she found 
 herself in the fashionable church of St. George's, 
 
 05 
 
66 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 Hanover Square. There was a string of carriages out- 
 side; the church was crowded with spectators. 
 
 Amid the throng, the odor of flowers, the rustle of 
 silk, the gleaming of satins, the shining of rare gems, 
 with the white-robed minister before her, and the 
 handsome earl by her side, she realized the fact that 
 it was her wedding-day; hitherto everything had 
 seemed as in a dream. 
 
 When would the reality grow less bitter for her? 
 When would she cease to remember that, as he stood 
 by her side, the earl seemed to avoid even touching 
 the silken dress and wedding veil — that when his hand 
 touched hers it was cold? No loving pressure reas- 
 sured her; he barely touched her finger-tips; he 
 averted his face, and never once, during the whole of 
 the ceremony, looked at her. Would she ever forget 
 the hard, cold voice that repeated the impressive words, 
 "to love and to cherish till death do us part?" How 
 false it all was! Who could look at him and believe 
 that he loved her? 
 
 It seemed to her that she passed through a sea of 
 faces — the people crowded round her as she went down 
 the church. She saw the long line of carriages, the 
 profusion of wedding favors. She made no attempt 
 to speak; if she had done so, she would have lost her- 
 self in a passion of tears. 
 
 At home again, her father took her in his arms and 
 kissed her face, whispering: 
 
 "My daughter, the Countess of Caraven." 
 
 Lady Riche had attempted a very mild caress. 
 
 "It went off very well," she said. "Lord Caraven 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 6 7 
 
 looked tired. I had no idea that we should have so 
 many people there. I hope my fichu was all right. 
 There were some very handsome dresses." 
 
 "A very pretty wedding," put in Lord St. Maure. 
 "I feel that I have been busy to day in a good cause." 
 
 But the man who had married Hildred Ransome 
 spoke never a word. 
 
 Then came the wedding-breakfast. Arley Ransome 
 made a speech — described the day as the proudest of 
 his life, passed a magnificent eulogium on his son-in- 
 law, and then sat down. There was deep silence 
 when the newly made husband stood up to make his 
 speech. No one quite knew why, but an uncomforta- 
 ble sensation came over all. He had but little to say. 
 If he had put into words the thoughts that surged 
 through his brain, he would have said: 
 
 'Ladies and gentlemen, I have been a spendthrift 
 ?nd a prodigal; I have wasted my substance; I have 
 sp^nt a large fortune — but I committed the shabbiest, 
 wickedest act of my life to-day. I have married a 
 young girl for her money, and I do not even like her; 
 what is still worse, I never shall." 
 
 That was what he thought. What he said was an 
 indistinct murmur; an attentive listener could distin- 
 guish only the words "honor," "pleasure," and "future." 
 The earl sat down again, without having once looked 
 \t the face of his wife. 
 
 It seemed to her that she had been sitting there for 
 hours; a small bunch of purple grapes lay on her 
 plate, a glass of wine stood untouched by her side; 
 someone was speaking to her, appealing to her by 
 her new name. 
 
68 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "What does Lady Caraven say?' 
 
 She did not know what had preceded the question, 
 so could not answer it, but looked round with a smile 
 that satisfied the questioner. 
 
 Then the carriage drove up to the door, and the bride 
 went to change her dress. Lady Riche went with her; 
 the girl's forlorn manner and wistful face had touched 
 even that worldly heart. 
 
 "I hope you will be happy, Lady Caraven," she 
 said. "When they read the account of your wedding, 
 every woman in London will envy you." 
 
 "Envy me," she re-echoed — I, who have neither 
 mother nor sisters!" 
 
 "My dear Lady Caraven, you have a husband and 
 a father, which I think better. Let me give you one 
 little bit of advice. You are going to face the great, 
 cold world; have nothing to do with sentiment, and 
 as far as possible care more for yourself than anyone 
 else." 
 
 "That is not a happy marriage," thought Lady 
 Riche, as she turned away. "What a sad tace the 
 girl has! Yet she has married an earl. Well, some 
 • people are never satisfied." 
 
 Lord Caraven bade his adieux; he shook hands 
 with Arley Ransome, cutting short a gushing speech 
 that the lawyer had carefully prepared. Then Arley 
 Ransome was touched again. Someone said that 
 Lady Caraven was in the morning room, waiting to say 
 good-bye to him there alone. 
 
 The tender arms were clinging round him, the dark 
 eyes looking into his — a sad, wistful face, full of 
 pathetic inquiry, was near his own. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 6 9 
 
 "Papa," she .whispered, and there was an agony of 
 entreaty in her voice, "you are quite sure that you 
 have not deceived me — you are quite sure that I can 
 be happy without love?" 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 "You will find that the Countess of Caraven has 
 more to think about than a trifle like love, Hildred. " 
 
 Her arms fell from him; she raised her sad, sweet, 
 girlish face from his breast. 
 
 "I will believe you, papa," she said; "I will trust 
 you to the very end." 
 
 Then she went away, and Arley Ransome would 
 have spent a far happier day if those words had not 
 lingered with him. v 
 
 * * * # # * 
 
 Hildred was alone with her husband at last. Now 
 surely he would say something to her — speak to her of 
 that love that he must feel for her; he would not keep 
 up the same indifference now she was his wife. The 
 words that she thirsted for, that she longed to hear, 
 he would surely utter; surely he would bend over her 
 and say something, were it only the two words, "My 
 wife." 
 
 What were his first words? She had thought of 
 many things that he might say to her — sweet, tender 
 words; the reality was far different. He leaned- back 
 with an air of utter weariness. 
 
 "I never remember to have found time pass so 
 slowly in my life," he said. "The sun is very warm. 
 Would you like the carriage hood raised?" 
 
fROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 She made no answer. He did not even seem to 
 notice it. 
 
 "I wish/' he said, "someone would bring in a bill 
 for the abolition of wedding-breakfasts." 
 Her face flushed with anger. 
 
 "A bill for the abolition of weddings would be even 
 better," she said. 
 
 He was so far from understanding her that he 
 laughed. The pain in her voice did not reach him. 
 
 "Do you like being on the sea at night?" he in- 
 quired, after a long pause. 
 
 "I hardly know my own likes or dislikes yet," she 
 replied. "Why do you ask?" 
 
 "Because the boat leaves Dover for Calais about 
 eleven, and I thought we would take it." 
 
 "As you please," she replied. 
 
 Her face was quite pale, her lips were white and 
 pressed firmly together. In her heart was a sense of 
 desolation that words could not describe. He wondered 
 at her silence, her gravity. It was the height of the 
 season at Dover, and the band was playing on the 
 pier. He sat with his wife in the dining-room of the 
 Lord Warden, when he saw her suddenly start as 
 though she were frightened. She covered her face 
 with her hands, and when she looked up again her 
 eyes were dim with tears. 
 
 It was all because the band was playing "Love's 
 Young Dream." 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 SUCH A STRANGE WEDDING TRIP 
 
 Night on the sea! Innumerable stars shone in the 
 sky, lambent, bright, and were reflected in the waves. 
 A western wind, sweet as the breath of spring, had 
 swept over the land and sea, stirring the blue waves 
 and cresting them with foam. But now the stillness 
 of the sea was something marvelous and beautiful; it 
 was as though the great dark shadow of night brooded 
 over the waters — a stillness broken only by the rush- 
 ing of the water through the paddle-wheels of the 
 steamer. Slowly the line of lights round the coast 
 disappeared, and at \last land was out of sight; there 
 was nothing visible but the heaving, silvery waters 
 and the sky above. 
 
 Lady Caraven sat on the deck; the stewardess had 
 advised her to go to the ladies* cabin, but she declined. 
 Why seek the close, warm cabin while the stars were 
 shining on the sea? The captain had brought a com- 
 fortable seat for her; she had a warm shawl. A faint 
 hope stirred the young wife's heart; perhaps, when 
 Lord Caraven saw her there alone, he might come 
 and talk to her. 
 
 She saw him once or twice. Once he asked her if 
 she enjoyed the beauty of the night, and her answer 
 was "Yes; M then, as though he had fulfilled a duty, 
 
 71 
 
72 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 with an air of relief he walked away. She was left 
 to her thoughts — and they were strange ones. 
 
 This was her wedding-day. Her husband was the 
 tall, proud, handsome man who avoided that part of 
 the boat where she sat. They were husband and wife, 
 yet they hardly exchanged three words; it was so 
 strange that there were . times when she fancied it 
 must be a dream. Was this anything like love? The 
 wind kissed the waves; the stars shone reflected in 
 the water; and with sharp, keen, sweet memory, there 
 came to her words she had read only a few short days 
 before: 
 
 "I have gone mad — I love you — let me die!" 
 
 the words Elaine spoke when her heart first opened 
 to the knowledge of her love. 
 
 Was the time for such love as this gone v by? Had 
 the current of men's lives been so completely changed 
 that love had become a contract — a business arrange- 
 ment? If so, she wished that she had lived in Elaine's 
 days. Would to heaven that some faint breath of 
 that old world love had been hers — some faint breath 
 of that mighty passion that had worked so much evil 
 and so much good! 
 
 She looked across the deck; her husband — how 
 strangely the word sounded! — was leaning over the 
 rails, talking to some stranger. The moon shone full 
 on his handsome face, on the fair, clustering hair. 
 Surely no knight of old was ever more comely. Did 
 he love her? He must have loved her, or he would 
 never have married her. 
 
 But what manner of love was this? If she could 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 73 
 
 but forget all she had read, and learn to look on love 
 as he evinced it; if she could but lay these ghosts 
 that seemed to haunt her — ghosts of the mightiest 
 passion that ever stirred men's hearts; if she could 
 but still the beating heart, the beating pulse! That 
 was her husband with the clear-cut face and noble 
 head — her husband, whom that very day she had 
 sworn to love until death. He was smiling at some- 
 thing that his companion had said, a cold, clear, bright 
 smile — cold and bright as the moonlight. She had 
 a right to cross the deck and speak to him if she liked; 
 she had a right to go to him, to lay her hand on his 
 arm, to call him by his name. 
 
 If she did, would a gleam of tenderness flash into 
 the handsome face, or would he turn half haughtily 
 away? Should she go to him and say: 
 
 "My husband, love me a little. I am young, I am 
 lonely and desolate — love me a little. Hold my hands 
 in yours; let me stand by your side. Do not stay so 
 far from me!" 
 
 What was it Elaine had cried? 
 
 "And I must die for want of one bold word." 
 
 Should she let the starlight pass, the witching, lonely 
 night pass, and say nothing to him? Was this curi- 
 ous silence between them never to be broken? What 
 caused it? What could it mean? Should she go to 
 him and ask him why, if he loved her, he was ashamed 
 to show it — why, if he did not love her, he had mar- 
 ried her? Should she go? 
 
 She half rose from her seat. Even if she were 
 imprudent, it would not matter; the silent stars could 
 
74 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 keep their own secret— they would never tell what 
 passed beneath them. 
 
 Then she hesitated, If he should turn contemptu- 
 ously away! No, she would not go to him; it was his 
 place to woo, not hers. If he wanted to speak to her, 
 he would know where to find her. She would be 
 wooed; she would not lose her dignity. She had 
 read somewhere or other that men never loved women 
 who sought them. 
 
 So I will not seek him," she said to herself; "though 
 I am not a woman yet — I am only a girl— only eight- 
 een." 
 
 It was a fair, troubled, wistful face that was bent 
 over the star-lighted water — a face sad with thoughts 
 that should have had no place on her wedding-day. 
 The earl had seen her rise, and came to her. 
 
 "Are you tired?" he asked. "We shall not be very 
 long now; I can see the lights on the French coast. 
 The night is very fine. Are you tired?" 
 
 "No, I never tire of the sea," she replied. "Indeed, 
 I should like to live near it." 
 
 "Ravensmere is near the sea," he told her. "You 
 can see it from the castle towers." 
 
 "I had forgotten that I was to live at Ravensmere, 
 or I should not have said that," she remarked, quickly. 
 "I did not know that it was near the sea." 
 
 "Your father has two maps of the estate. Have you 
 not seen them?" he asked. 
 
 She looked at him wonderingly, 
 
 "Why should I see them?" she asked. "Certainly 
 not." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "You do not inherit your father's business talents, 
 then?" he said. 
 
 But he repented of the words almost before they 
 were uttered. She did not understand them, or see 
 the meaning of them. She answered, quite simply: 
 
 "No, I know nothing of business. I care much for 
 study. I often think it strange that my father and I 
 have not one taste in common." 
 
 He thought to himself that it was a fortunate thing. 
 Then he asked her if she had ever been to Paris before 
 — if she should like the center of the city — if there 
 was any part that she preferred. 
 
 "I always stay at the Hotel Meurice, near the Tuil- 
 eries, " he said; "but if you prefer any other part—" 
 
 No. She had been to Paris only once— that was 
 for her holidays. She knew nothing of the city. And 
 then the young husband looked over the blue waters. 
 He had shown her due politeness and attention. He 
 was ill at ease and longing to be away again. He 
 did not notice how wistful was the fair, young face 
 turned to him. He bowed politely and went away. 
 
 She clinched her little hand; she tried to still the 
 beating of her heart. Her husband — married that day 
 — yet had he no more to say than this? The lights 
 on the French coast were' close at hand; she could 
 even in the silence hear the waves breaking on the 
 shore. Amiee stood near, with a large carriage-wrap 
 in her hand. Lady Caraven wondered if her husband 
 would come to her, or if he would alloiv her to land 
 with the help of servants. 
 
 He approached hurriedly. 
 
7 6 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "We have-- time for refreshments," he said; "the 
 train will not start for twenty minutes." 
 
 They went into the refreshment-room, where he 
 ordered soup and wine. He was solicitous for her 
 comfort, he was attentive to her wants, but she noticed 
 that he spoke to her only when civility dictated that 
 he should speak, and that when he did address her 
 he never looked at her. 
 
 He took his seat by her side in the railway-carriage. 
 They traveled through the fresh dewy night, the pleas- 
 ant air coming in at the open windows. He had care- 
 fully provided her with books and newspapers— with 
 railway literature. 
 
 "It is quite evident," she thought, "that he intends 
 me to read — he has no desire to talk to me." 
 
 They did not exchange many words. Sometimes, 
 when the wind blew, he asked her if she was chilly. 
 He offered to close the window, but she would not 
 allow him — it was some relief to her to watch the 
 fair sky and the fair earth. This was such a strange 
 wedding-trip. She wondered if the time would ever 
 come that he and she would laugh over it — would 
 wonder why they had both been so silent, so reserved. 
 She wondered a thousand -things Would her hus- 
 band ever laugh and talk gayly, brightly to her, as he 
 had done to the gentleman on deck. Would he in 
 time lay aside his reserve, his coldness? Would he 
 ever look pleased or bright? 
 
 How strange that he should be so grave, so still — 
 that ne had not even one kind word to say to her on 
 this, their wedding-day! How strange that he had 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 77 
 
 paid her no compliment, never asked her opinion on 
 any subject, never treated her otherwise than with the 
 courtesy due to a stranger! 
 
 She was obliged continually to remind herself that 
 he had asked her to be his wife. He must have cared 
 for her, or he would not have married her. He was 
 not a demonstrative man, perhaps. Then she turned 
 slowly from the sky to the handsome, high-bred face 
 near her. He was reading intently, never looking up 
 from his book. It was not the face of a cold-hearted 
 cynic — far from it. Then her eyes wandered slowly 
 away again. 
 
 The lovely dawn was flushing in the skies, the birds 
 were singing, the air seemed to stir with new life — it 
 was the dawn of another day. How often would the 
 sun rise and set before she would understand this 
 strange silence of the husband by her side—how many 
 weary dawns would there be? 
 
 Suddenly — she could not tell why — her eyes filled 
 with tears. The sky, the trees, the distant hills, were 
 all blurred and indistinct. She experienced a keen 
 sense of desolation that no words could express. She 
 would have given anything to be back with her father 
 again. 
 
 "Paris at last?" said Lord Caraven. "What a long 
 journey it has been. I am always longing for some 
 motive power greater than steam — I should like to 
 travel more quickly." 
 
 But she had no laughing answer. It had struck her 
 that no husband ought to find his first journey with 
 his wife long or tiresome. Again the sweet, wild 
 words of Elaine came to her: 
 
7 8 
 
 ttlOM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 W I have gone mad — I love you — let me di*.* 
 
 inhere was neither love nor madness here. 
 
 Paris at last — Paris in the gay morning sunlight. 
 They drove straight to the hotel; and then, for the 
 first time, it seemed to her, he spoke kindly. He said: 
 
 "You look very tired — I should advise you to get 
 some rest. I always find a cigar and the morning air 
 most refreshing after a journey." 
 
 Half an hour afterward she stood alone in her room. 
 She looked at herself in the tall mirror. It was a 
 pale face, with wistful, shadowed eyes, that she saw 
 therein. She was fatigued in body and in mind, 
 yet she could not sleep. If she only understood, if 
 she only knew the meaning of this silent love of her 
 husband's that had never yet been expressed in words! 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 "YOU KNOW WHY I MARRIED YOU* 
 
 A week had passed since Lady Caraven reached 
 Paris — a strange week. She had seen but little of her 
 husband. He never took breakfast with her; they 
 met at dinner, and twice he had taken her to the 
 opera. He never interfered in the least with any of 
 her affairs. He sent up her letters unopened, and 
 never even inquired from whom they came. He sent 
 every morning to ask if she had any particular wish 
 for that day — if there was any place she desired to 
 see. At first she said "Yes," and went to the differ- 
 ent places of note. He accompanied her, but she could 
 not avoid thinking that he was slightly bored by these 
 excursions. The next time he sent she declined, and 
 he did not remonstrate; he made no remark, and she 
 felt almost sure that he was relieved by her refusal. 
 When they went to the opera, they were never alone 
 — he always secured some companion. It seemed to 
 Hildred that he was quite as much a stranger as on 
 the first day he entered the Hollies. 
 
 "Shall I ever be part of his life?" she thought. 
 "Shall I grow to be heart of his heart, soul of his soul? 
 Shall I ever know what he thinks, what he likes, what 
 he loves?" 
 
 She had, indeed, no part in his existence — he lived 
 
 79 
 
 t 
 
8o 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 as though she were not. He had fulfilled his part of 
 the contract by giving her his name, his rank, his 
 position. That a living, beating human heart might 
 long for more did not occur to him. He never thought 
 of her as his wife; the chances were that, if anyone 
 had asked him suddenly if he was married, he would 
 have said "No." He had paid the forfeit of his folly 
 by being in some measure compelled to burden him- 
 self with this young girl. 
 
 And it was a burden. He did not care to look at the 
 wistful, girlish face, to meet the dark eyes eloquent 
 with a thousand thoughts, to see the scarlet lips 'mute 
 and tremulous. He was not of an unkindly nature. 
 He was indolent, careless, selfish in most respects, 
 but not unkindly; he would not, if he knew it, cause 
 deliberate pain — he could not have enjoyed the tort- 
 ure of anything created. It was said of him that he 
 had turned away sick and faint at witnessing the 
 death agony of a bird he had wounded, but not 
 killed. Such a man could not be deliberately, wan- 
 tonly cruel; and this wistful, girlish face with the 
 dark, sad eyes, troubled him. 
 
 At first he was considerably surprised in his wife. 
 He thought to himself that the daughter of a man like 
 lawyer Ransome, sharp, shrewd, cunning, must inherit 
 some of his propensities — that she would occupy her- 
 self with small intrigues and maneuvers of all kinds. 
 She did nothing of the sort; she was quiet, grave, 
 calm, self-possessed. He did not even dream of the 
 unstirred passion and tenderness in her girlish heart. 
 
 It was decidedly tiresome having a wife. True he 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 8i 
 
 saw little of her — for days together they sometimes 
 did mot exchange a word; but people had begun to 
 look upon him as a married man, and he did not like 
 it — when they met him they asked how Lady Caraven 
 was. 
 
 "Lady Caraven!" He smiled scornfully to himself, 
 remembering all the fair and stately dames who had 
 borne that name; remembering the dark-eyed girl who 
 now bore it, he smiled in bitterest scorn. 
 
 He had never been one of those men who look for- 
 ward to marriage as the one great end and aim of life. 
 It had never had any charm for him, even in the 
 days when he was free to dream as he would; but his 
 visions had been of a golden-haired love, radiant and 
 fair, never of a girl-wife, the daughter of a man who 
 had, as it were, outwitted him — the child of a man 
 who had dealt faithlessly with him. He shuddered at 
 the very-thought of it. 
 
 He was not given to thought — the rules of right 
 and wrong had not troubled him very much. He never 
 realized that it was wrong to have married a girl he 
 did not like— wrong to leave a young wife so entirely ( 
 alone. He never thought of those things; he only 
 remembered that marriage was a burden to him, that/ 
 his wife's presence was some kind of mute reproach,' 
 that he was a thousand times happier away from her 
 than with her. 
 
 Certainly he felt the burden less at Paris than he 
 would have felt it elsewhere, because there was always 
 something to occupy him and distract his thoughts, 
 there were always kind friends to relieve him of the 
 ennui and tediousness of existence. 
 
82 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 One evening he was rather startled by Hildred. 
 There was a favorite singer at the opera, and they 
 went to hear her. She was very fair, and the gentle- 
 men were busily engaged in discussing her. With 
 Lord and Lady Caraven was a Frenchman, the Comte 
 de Quesne, a great admirer of fair women. The con- 
 versation, kept up chiefly between the two gentlemen, 
 was about the charming actress. 
 
 "She is of the real English type," said the comte, 
 "and the English ladies are so fair — they are adora- 
 ble! " 
 
 "I think myself," remarked the earl, "that a fair- 
 haired English girl is certainly the loveliest object in 
 creation." 
 
 The comte laughed. 
 
 "You prefer the blondes to the brunettes, then?" he 
 said. 
 
 "Certainly," replied Lord Caraven. "I do not see 
 how a woman can be beautiful unless she be fair." 
 
 He had entirely forgotten his young girl-wife with 
 the dark eyes and the Spanish face. He would not 
 have wantonly pained her, but he had forgotten her 
 presence. She heard the words. At the time she made 
 no remark, although they burned into her heart like 
 fire. 
 
 The comte went home with them, and they were 
 joined by another friend; but she found an opportu- 
 nity of speaking to her husband when the other gentle- 
 men were busy with ecarte, and Lord Caraven had 
 withdrawn to look over some letters that had just 
 arrived. She summoned up courage and went up to 
 him. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 8 3 
 
 ^Lord Caraven," she said, "would you mind telling 
 me one thing?" 
 
 He looked up in wonder — it was so seldom thc.t she 
 voluntarily addressed him. As he looked he was 
 slightly impressed with her appearance — the tall, slen- 
 der figure was draped in soft, shining silk, the girlish 
 face was flushed with the effort of speaking to him, 
 the dark eyes were bright and starlike, filled with 
 unutterable thoughts. He could not help owning to 
 himself that there was some beauty in the thick coils 
 of dark hair, in the tall, slim, graceful figure, in the 
 perfect grace and harmony. She was simply yet beau- 
 tifully dressed; a pomegranate blossom lay in the coils 
 of her hair. 
 
 "I want you to tell me one thing," she repeated. 
 "If you admire fair girls with golden hair, why did 
 you marry me, with hair and eyes so dark?" 
 
 She asked the question in such perfect good faith, 
 in such earnest tones, with such sad, sweet eyes, that 
 he was touched, not deeply, but as he would have been 
 had some child come to him with trembling lips to 
 tell a pitiful tale. 
 
 "Why," she said, "if that was the case, did you 
 marry me?" 
 
 "You know why I married you," he replied, gravely 
 — "why ask me the question?" 
 
 He saw a vivid color spread over her face, a bright 
 light shine in her eyes. The simple girl thought 
 and believed he meant that she knew he had married 
 her because he loved her. Her heart gave a great, 
 glad bound. He loved her! She would understand 
 
84 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 better in time; she would know why he seemed re- 
 served, reticent, cold, and indifferent. 
 
 "You know why I married you," the handsome earl 
 had said; and the words filled her heart with a strange, 
 sweet pain. t 
 
 "I will try to remember," she said, gently. 
 
 Dull as was his ear, he heard new music in her 
 voice. 
 
 "You will remember what?" he asked. 
 
 "I will remember why you have married me," she 
 replied; and as she went away he wondered greatly. 
 
 "I should not think that she is likely to forget it," 
 he said to himself. "Certainly women are puzzles. 
 She will try to remember why I married her — and the 
 words seemed like melting music on her lips, a light 
 that was like sunshine on flowers spread over her face! 
 Why, I married her because her father sold her for a 
 title and she was willing to be sold!" 
 
 To those dying with thirst the fall of dew is a 
 boon. To Lady Caraven the earl's few words seemed 
 full of meaning; she said them over and over again 
 to herself, "You know why I married you." She said 
 them with many varieties of accent, with different 
 intonations, and each time that she repeated them 
 they seemed to mean more and more. For some hours 
 she felt much happier; it was like a break in the cold 
 tide of indifference. She kept expecting kinder words 
 to follow, but they did not. Lord Caraven did not 
 appear to remember what he had said. 
 
 He went out that evening after the "little supper" 
 was over. She heard a whisper of "billiards." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 85 
 
 Nothing came of the one solitary gleam of kindness, 
 f he next day Hildred did not see the earl at all; he 
 went over to St. Cloud with some of his friends. The 
 slight gleam of happiness died away, and the old feel- 
 ing of desolation came back to her. The Comtesse 
 de Quesne called and pressed her to go out but the 
 girl was sick at heart. It was such a strange life — 
 married without love, without even friendship or liking 
 — married, yet living with her husband as though sh^ 
 were the merest stranger — his wife, bearing his name, 
 sharing his fate, yet knowing no more of him than 
 did the lowest servant in the household; his thoughts, 
 his mind, his plans, his desifes, his interests, his 
 amusements, his pleasures were all strange to her. It 
 was an unheard-of position, an unheard-of fate. 
 
 "If I did not know that he had married me because 
 he loved me, I should say rather that he did not like 
 me," was a thought which often occurred to her, but 
 she drove it away as unworthy. "If I were beautiful," 
 thought the lonely girl, "I should think that he had 
 married me for my beauty* — if I had grand connections, 
 for them; but I have none — I have nothing — 'my love 
 has stooped to me from high estate.' I shall never 
 understand what he saw in me to make him love me." 
 
 She had paid so little attention to the words that 
 she did not even remember that she had been called 
 "Arley Ransome's heiress." Of all the ideas that 
 occurred to her, the one that she had been married 
 for her money was the furthest from her thoughts. 
 
 Three weeks had passed away, and Lord Caraven 
 
86 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 began to wonder how much longer he was to remain 
 in Paris. If he had been free to follow his own inclina- 
 tions, they would have led him to the gaming-tables at 
 Baden-Baden. But, as he said impatiently, he had no 
 idea of going there with a whole train of people to 
 look after. 
 
 How long would she expect to remain in Paris? 
 The honeymoon — that most absurd of 'all institutions 
 — was supposed to last a month. It would be better, 
 perhaps, to remain there until it was over, and then 
 go to Ravensmere. He would be more comfortable 
 there. The house was spacious, and it would be pos- 
 sible for him to move about without being haunted by 
 the girlish, wistful face. So in Paris, until the honey- 
 moon was over, he decided on remaining. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 M I HAVE GONE MAD — I LOVE YOU — LET ME DIE" 
 
 Lady Caraven was willing to go to Ravensmere— 
 willing to go anywhere that the earl suggested. She 
 had grown quiescent. A new, strange feeling was 
 stirring in her breast; it was love for her husband — 
 love for the handsome, debonair earl. 
 
 She did not know it; she was simple, inexperienced, 
 unused in all the ways of love. She knew nothing of 
 the signs that heralded its approach — she knew noth- 
 ing oi its pains, its torments, its pleasures — she knew 
 nothing of its thousand and one Protean shapes. 
 She remembered so distinctly when the first beating 
 of her heart made her almost afraid of him. They 
 had gone together to a fashionable ball. Lord Cara- 
 ven was always scrupulously polite to his wife in pub- 
 lic — never kind, never affectionate, but frigidly polite. 
 He always led her to a seat, remaining on duty for a 
 few minutes, holding her fan and her bouquet. She 
 was the only one who ever heard his faint sigh of relief 
 when the duty was ove*. 
 
 On this evening she had taken great pains with her 
 dress. It was of the palest, prettiest shade of pink 
 — "Tears of roses," larmes des roses, her milliner had 
 called it — and the delicate tint improved her as noth- 
 
 87 
 
88 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 ing else could have done. With it she wore a superb 
 parure of diamonds. 
 
 r 'Miladi is magnifique to-night," said Amiee, proudly. 
 
 And Lady Caraven looked wistfully into the mirror. 
 
 She must have been blind not to see the startling 
 loveliness therein. The low evening dress showed 
 exquisitely-molded shoulders and a fair neck white as 
 marble; a diamond cross shone on the white breast. 
 There was a dainty bloom on the southern face. The 
 noble, queenly head looked worthy of the diamond 
 tiara; but no smile of content or satisfaction parted 
 the crimson lips. 
 
 "I wish," she said with a deep sigh — "oh, how I 
 wish that I had golden hair ! I wish that I could 
 change it." 
 
 "Why, my lady, you have the most beautiful hair in 
 all the world," cried the maid, who honestly believed 
 it. "I have never seen hair so long, so shining, so 
 soft. " 
 
 "It is the wrong color," sighed Lady Caraven; "but 
 even if I could change my hair, my eyes will always 
 be dark;" and to herself she added: "He does not 
 like dark eyes — he said so." 
 
 Many admiring eyes followed the countess that 
 evening. 
 
 "That will be one of the handsomest women in 
 Europe," said a courtly embassador, who spent quite 
 as much time in making love as he did in arranging 
 matters political. "I should like to see her again in 
 two years' time — she will look like one of Titian's sub- 
 jects just come out of its frame." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 8 9 
 
 On this night, as on other occasions, the earl stood 
 patiently by his young wife until he was released. 
 Then their hostess came to speak to her, bringing with 
 her the prettiest woman in the room, Madame de Com- 
 balle, a lovely young blonde, who was charmed with 
 the English countess. She sat down by Hildred's 
 side, and began talking in her gay, lively fashion. 
 
 "I have not seen your husband yet," said madame. 
 "They tell me he is young and handsome. Is it so?" 
 
 Hildred's face flushed crimson; madame laughed 
 good-naturedly. 
 
 "You blush," she said. "How droll! I should not 
 blush if you praised my husband. It is all so differ- 
 ent with you English — you marry for love, and blush 
 all your lives." 
 
 "There is my husband," said Hildred, quietly — 
 "you can judge for yourself." 
 
 Madame looked in the direction indicated. She 
 was silent for a few minutes, and then she said, 
 slowly: 
 
 "Rumor was right this time — he is very handsome 
 and distinguished-looking. I admire him very much. 
 My husband is sixty years old, and has white hair — 
 see, he stands there, with a star on his breast." 
 
 On" looking, Hildred saw an elderly man, very plain, 
 very stout. 
 
 "H9W strange!" she said, impulsively. "He looks 
 much older than you do." 
 
 "I hope so," returned madame with a little laugh; 
 'but it was an excellent marriage, an excellent arrange- 
 ment — everyone said so." 
 
go 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "An arrangement," repeated Hildred — what a 
 
 strange word!" 
 
 "Why strange? asked madame frankly. "I had — 
 so everyone was pleased to say — a charming face and 
 a perfect temper. Monsieur had a large fortune and 
 an ancient name. Could anything be more equal?" 
 
 "But love," said the puzzled girl, "you say nothing 
 of love, madame." 
 
 The lady laughed. Was there the least touch of 
 bitterness, the slightest suspicion of pain, in that 
 laugh — or was Hildred mistaken? 
 
 "Love? That is — pardon me — an English mistake. 
 You marry for love in England and it comes to the 
 same thing; we marry in France because it is suitable. 
 The end is the same, so far as I can see. Your hus- 
 band is certainly the handsomest man in the room 
 to night; you ought to be proud of him." 
 
 Madame went away to join the dancers, and Hil- 
 dred looked long at her husband's face. It was unde- 
 niably handsome, but she fancied the expression was 
 not one of happiness. She was proud of him. He 
 was cold and indifferent, yet he was her husband; he 
 had chosen her from the whole world to be his wife. 
 There were lovely women in the room — women of the 
 type he admired, fair, with golden hair — women whom 
 he had met and known before; he might have married 
 one of these, but he had chosen her. 
 
 It was then that the first faint thrill of wifely love 
 passed over her like the breath of a summer wind, 
 leaving her faint and trembling — that love that was to 
 be strong as death" — that was to leave all, dare all, 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 9* 
 
 conquer all— that was to crown her glorious woman- 
 hood — that was to tune her whole being to perfect 
 harmony. 
 
 She had admired the earl, she had liked h.m, she had 
 been puzzled by him, she had wondered at him; but 
 this was the first time that she had cared for him. 
 There came to her a sweet, sudden, sharp pain, a sud- 
 den gleam of happiness, a sensation that made her 
 heart and her head whirl. Those words of Elaine's 
 that had haunted her did not seem so strange now 7 : 
 
 4 T have gone mad — I love you — i^t me die!" 
 
 She had thought them exaggerated before; she had 
 wondered at them. She did not do so now. She felt 
 that the same impulse was within her. She could have 
 stretched out her arms, and have gone to him, crying: 
 **I have gone mad — I love you!° She could under- 
 stand something of it now, thai sharp, sweet pain. 
 There came to her mind the words of an old song: 
 
 "Love is bitter-sweet, they say." 
 
 Could it be that this same pain grown all sweet, this 
 same strange glamour, was what the poet meant when 
 he said there was "nothing half so sweet in life as 
 love's young dream?" Did he, her husband, who- never 
 looked toward that part of the room where she was — 
 did he care for her after this fashion? No; if he did 
 he would talk to her. At that moment, if she had 
 been asked what was, her highest ideal of worldly 
 bliss, she w r ould have answered: "Talking to my hus- 
 band." 
 
92 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 She watched him. Where had she read these lines? 
 
 "His sunny hair 
 Clustered about his temples like a god's." 
 
 They described him well. She watched him. How 
 courteous, how graceful he was. He was talking now 
 to a duchess— how courtly and chivalrous was his 
 manner! 
 
 "If he would but smile so when he speaks to me," 
 she said to herself. "His eyes are always cold; no 
 warmth or brightness ever comes into them for me." 
 
 She could not help feeling proud of him. Do as 
 she would, a sense of proprietorship came over her. 
 He might talk gayly and brightly to these ladies, but 
 he was her husband. From all the world he had 
 chosen to marry her. He cared for no one else — that 
 was certain. 
 
 In some way that she could hardly understand that 
 night formed an epoch in her life. She found out 
 then how much she admired her husband, and she had 
 felt the first faint thrill of that love which was to be 
 as her life. Life was never quite the same to her 
 again. 
 
 Time passed on, and brought with it no change. The 
 earl lengthened his stay in Paris because some inti- 
 mate friends of his came hither, and he, in conse- 
 quence, was well amused, while Hildred shrank more 
 and more from the great, gay, heartless world. She 
 grew in beauty every day; the change of scene, the 
 clear, brilliant atmosphere, the magnificence that sur- 
 rounded her, all seemed to aid in developing her. She 
 was an unformed school-girl when Ulric Caraven first 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 93 
 
 took her hither; she was a graceful, self-possessed 
 woman of the world when she left. The regular feat- 
 ures developed into wonderful beauty. The expres- 
 sion of her face was, perhaps, its greatest charm — it 
 was one of expectation. The dark, lustrous eyes 
 seemed to be always asking a question. The sweet, 
 sad lips were parted, as though she were about to 
 speak. Lord Caraven was the only one near her who 
 did not see and marvel at the change. It was a face 
 now to arrest the attention of a poet or artist; passion 
 and tenderness, subdued hope, were all there. 
 
 There were times when Lord Caraven was startled 
 at hearing people compliment him on the great beauty 
 of his wife. He accepted all such compliments in a 
 spirit of good-humored toleration. He was very kind, 
 of course — he knew that she was merely an unformed 
 school-girl; still, if they liked to believe in her beauty, 
 he had really no objection. He never looked at the 
 girl's sweet face to see if it was true. 
 
 September had almost passed when the earl once 
 more mentioned home. He asked his wife if she 
 could tear herself from the dissipations of Paris. He 
 wondered that she looked so bright at going away. 
 He did not know what she was thinking. Here, in 
 this brilliant, sunny Paris, he had not shown any love 
 for her; he had, in fact, hardly seen her — he had treat- 
 ed her as a perfect stranger. But it might be differ- 
 ent in his own home — it might be different at Ravens- 
 mere, where he would be alone with her; he might 
 learn to care for her then. 
 
 "You look pleased at the idea of going," he said, 
 briefly. 
 
94 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "I am pleasecj," she replied. "Are you not?" 
 
 "No. I like Ravensmere; but it is very dull. It 
 is suitable for what people call lovers of nature — the 
 scenery around it is among the finest in England; but 
 *: am always dull there/' 
 
 "We must hope it will be different now," she said, 
 :imidly. 
 
 He thought she meant because of the increase in 
 \is prosperity. She meant because she would be there, 
 md would try to amuse him. 
 
 "I do not know," he said. "I fancy it will be pretty 
 much the same." 
 
 She turned away, wounded by his coldness. Long 
 after everyone else was asleep she remembered words 
 that seemed to illustrate her fate: 
 
 "I alone awake — 
 My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love; 
 My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim, 
 And I am all aweary of my life," 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 "the good angel of the house" 
 
 It was a chill evening at the end of October when 
 the Earl and Countess of Caraven reached Ravens 
 mere. No preparations had been made to receive and 
 welcome them. There was no gathering of tenantry 
 The earl's tenants simply detested the sound of his 
 name. They had been so heavily burdened, so taxed 
 and tormented by the earl's confidential agent, Mr. 
 Blantyre, that they had no welcome left for his mas- 
 ter. They considered him an unjust landlord, and they 
 did not scruple to say so. There were no glad shouts 
 of welcome for him; even the curly-headed children 
 had heard so often of the earl's folly and neglect that 
 they had no cheer for him when his carriage drove 
 through the streets of Court Raven. Nor was there 
 any warm welcome from the servants. They were 
 most of them new ones; all the old retainers had died 
 off or gone away, the earl had never replaced them. 
 The house had become dilapidated; the servants were 
 few, the stables empty. 
 
 It was all different now — John Blantyre had had 
 carte blanche. The interior of the castle had been 
 beautified, decorated, and refurnished • well-trained 
 servants had been brought from London; the stables 
 had been filled. There was a general air of prosperity 
 
 95 
 
96 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 about the place, so that the . earl hardly knew it 
 
 again. 
 
 Did Lord Caraven miss the welcome? Did he see 
 that he was disliked by his tenants — that his servants 
 seemed to have no interest in him? Did it strike him 
 that a life of self-indulgence always brings its own 
 reward? Lady Caraven gazed with wonder at the 
 magnificent home which was to be hers. The first 
 words she said to her husband were: 
 
 "I had no idea that Ravensmere was so large." 
 
 He looked half incredulously at her. 
 "Did you not really feel interested enough in the 
 place to ask about it?" he inquired. 
 
 "I was very much interested in i%" she replied, 
 quietly, "but I never thought of asking any questions." 
 
 "I should have fancied that you would know all 
 about it," he said — "the number of rooms and their 
 contents. I am surprised that you do not." 
 
 She did not in the least understand the drift of his 
 words. That he should ever fancy that she was mer- 
 cenary, that she wanted the full value for all the 
 money she had brought him, never occurred to her. 
 
 It was but a sorry welcome home. The earl felt 
 humiliated, disgraced. He remembered to have heard 
 his father speak of the rejoicings when he had brought 
 his young wife home — how that fair bride, his mother, 
 had listened with tears in her eyes to the cheers and 
 cries of welcome — how she had clasped her husband's 
 hand, saying, "We will deal with them as we wish 
 heaven to deal with us." Now he had brought his 
 wife home and not a cheer was raised for him; thers 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 97 
 
 was not a cry of welcome, not a smile. Strange voices 
 greeted him, strange faces surrounded him. His wife 
 iooKed sad and wistful. A brilliant fire was burning 
 in all the rooms, while a chill, gray fog hung like a 
 pall without, but the bright fires and the bright light 
 could not give warmth to their reception. 
 
 They dined together almost in silence. Lord Cara- 
 ven did not tell his wife what a comfort he felt it to 
 see the family plate once more in use. Hildred was 
 slightly overwhelmed by the magnificence of every- 
 thing around. How little she dreamed that her fort- 
 une had preserved the grand old place from utter 
 ruin — that but for her the massive plate, the beautiful 
 pictures, even the old walls themselves, would have 
 passed from the Caravens, and the family name would 
 have been written in the dust! 
 
 Perhaps some such thought occurred to him as he 
 looked at the sweet face before him; perhaps that 
 thought made him feel a little "more kindly toward 
 Hildred. 
 
 After all she had saved him from ruin. He might 
 think what he would of her — she was a money-lender's 
 daughter — she had been given to him with her money 
 in exchange for his title and position — her father was 
 cunning, shrewd, and mercenary, unscrupulous and 
 ambitious — yet she had certainly saved him from the 
 blackest ruin that could fall on mortal man. It made 
 him feel a little more kindly toward her, but he did 
 not love her — nothing was further from his thoughts; 
 still he remembered that but for her he would never 
 have seen Ravensmere again. 
 
98 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 That gave him the idea that she, too, was entitled 
 to some consideration. He had told her father frankly 
 enough that he should never like her, and he knew 
 that he never should. But the money she had brought 
 him had saved him from ruin. He ought to study 
 her comfort and be grateful to her. After dinner was 
 over, instead of lingering over his claret, he joined 
 her in the drawing-room. 
 
 "I have been thinking," he began, "that you would 
 like to see the house; some of the rooms are very 
 handsome, some of the pictures very fine." 
 
 "I should be very pleased," she said, gently. 
 
 "I have been thinking, too, that you ought to have 
 your choice of rooms. My mother used a very beau- 
 tiful suite in the western wing. You shall see them 
 all and judge for yourself." 
 
 "I should not like them to be very far away from 
 the rest of the household," she said. 
 
 1 Do you believe in the Ravensmere ghosts? " he 
 asked, laughingly. 
 
 "I have never heard of them. But in a large house 
 like this I should not care to feel that I was quite 
 alone." 
 
 "You shall choose for yourself," he said, briefly. 
 
 Perhaps the hour that followed was the happiest 
 Hildred had known since her marriage. At the Hotel 
 Meurice, although he had been cafeful to show her 
 every kindness, he had not thought of her or studied 
 her. At Ravensmere it was quite different. The 
 servants, he knew, would watch him closely, and 
 would make their own comments on his behavior; 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 99 
 
 and, if they saw that he slighted his wife, they would 
 imitate his example quickly enough. That he would 
 not allow. She was only a money-lender's daughter 
 — a woman he could never like — but she had saved 
 him from ruin; she should at least be respected. 
 
 So he talked to her, and showed her the various art 
 treasures, the costly pictures, the statues, the ancient 
 armor. She was pleased and bright and interested in 
 all he said. He showed her the library, where the 
 accumulated treasures of so many scholars lay. When 
 she had seen and admired all, he said to her: 
 
 "If ■ all this were on the verge of destruction, and 
 one woman came forward to save it, what would you 
 call her?" 
 
 "I should call her the good angel of the house," 
 she replied, not having the least idea that he was 
 referring to her. 
 
 He bowed to her. 
 
 "That shall be my name for you," he said. "You 
 ^hall be the good angel of the house." 
 
 She had chosen her rooms in the western wing — 
 rooms that opened on to a broad, beautiful terrace~ 
 from the windows of which one saw pleasant glimpses 
 of garden and distant landscape. The housekeeper, 
 Mrs. Hampton, showed her over the whole suite. Lady 
 Caraven preferred these. 
 
 "You will be lonely, my lady," she said; "most of 
 the Ladies Caraven have preferred the eastern wing." 
 
 Hildred thought to herself that there had never been 
 another Lady Caraven like her. She had been mar- 
 ried — so it seemed from the words her husband had 
 
lOO 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 just spoken — for her money; she was not there be- 
 cause she was beloved by the master of the house, but 
 simply as an appendage of her money. It mattered 
 but little what rooms she chose; she did not at pres- 
 ent even feel so much at home as did the servants in 
 the house. 
 
 "Your ladyship has decided then on this suite?" said 
 the housekeeper. 
 
 Lady Caraven did not even hear her; she was look- 
 ing sadly round the rooms. How many years would 
 this be her home? How many long, weary hours of 
 suspense and pain would she pass here? Would she 
 soon tire of this gilded splendor? She would be 
 always alone — her rooms always silent and desolate; 
 no loving face would brighten them, no glad voices 
 cheer them. Alone all her life! No wonder that she 
 turned with a sigh from the flower-wreathed window. 
 
 The housekeeper looked curiously at the young face 
 with the sad, sweet eyes. 
 
 "You have decided, my lady, upon these rooms?" 
 she repeated. 
 
 "Yes," said the young countess; "I prefer them to 
 any others. And I will remain here now while my 
 boxes are unpacked. I will not go down again." 
 
 Mrs. Hampton thought her decision strange, in- 
 deed; it was the young wife's first evening in her hus- 
 band's home, yet she preferred remaining alone in 
 her rooms while he was alone downstairs. 
 
 "Shall I take that message to the earl?" she asked. 
 
 Lady Caraven looked up in some surprise. 
 
 "Oh, no!" she replied. "Lord Caraven will not 
 expect me." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 IOI 
 
 And the housekeeper, who was a shrewd woman in 
 her way, thought that it seemed a strange kind of 
 marriage where husband and wife preferred solitude 
 to each other's society- 
 
CHAPTER ai 
 
 "marriage is a mistake at the best* 
 
 "We have some visitors coming to-day," said the 
 Earl of Caraven to his young wife. "The dinner will 
 be an hour later, and rooms must be prepared. .Sir 
 Charles and Lady Courtenay live at some little dis- 
 tance — they will not arrive until late." 
 
 "Do you mean," she said, "that I am to arrange for 
 your guests — for their wants and comfort?" 
 
 "What terribly straightforward questions you ask!" 
 he replied, laughingly. "You are sole mistress of the 
 house — you must give all orders in it." 
 
 "I have not learned to think of myself yet as mis- 
 tress of this house," she rejoined, with proud coni- 
 posure. 
 
 "Then I must ask you to began," he said. "You are, 
 indeed, sole mistress of this house; everyone in it is 
 bound to obey you — whatever you direct is to be 
 done." 
 
 "But," returned Hildred, 4, y ester clay when I went 
 into the housekeeper's room, she did not seem inclined 
 to submit to my authority at all. She said that her 
 keys were mislaid when I wanted to look over the 
 linen-press. I fancy that she thinks I am rather too 
 young to hold much authority." 
 
 "T will soon settle that matter," said the earl. 
 102 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 I03 
 
 He rang the bell, and in answer to his summons a 
 servant came. He sent for the housekeeper, who 
 looked slightly troubled at the unexpected call. 
 
 "Mrs. Hampton," said the earl, sternly, "I have 
 sent for you to say that every order given by Lady 
 Caraven is to be attended to instantly — that she is to 
 be obeyed implicitly, as I am obeyed myself — that 
 the least show of disrespect or disobedience will be 
 punished by immediate dismissal. You will see that 
 my commands are carried out." 
 
 "I will do so, my lord." 
 
 "You will go for the future to Lady Caraven for all 
 your orders — you will take them only from- her. " 
 
 "Thank you, my lord," said the housekeeper, retir- 
 ing with a sense of relief. 
 
 Hildred turned to her husband. 
 
 "And I thank you, too," she said calmly. "I should 
 not have spoken but that I saw there was a disposi- 
 tion in the house to ignore my authority — I knew that 
 you would not like that." 
 
 "Certainly not — you have done quite right," he told 
 her — and a sudden sense of her cruel position came 
 over him. Was it likely that the servants would show 
 much respect to one who, they could plainly see, was 
 an unloved wife? 
 
 He quitted the breakfast-room not quite satisfied 
 with himself and not satisfied with her. 
 
 "Marriage is a mistake at the best of times," he 
 said, "but marriage for money is the greatest mistake 
 of all." 
 
 Evening came and brought the expected guests — 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 Sir Charles Courtenay, a young baronet, who had but 
 one idea, and that was love for his wife, Lady Alice 
 Courtenay, who was pretty, lively, and accomplished. 
 Hildred liked her at once. Her face was sunny and 
 fair, but laughing eyes and sweet lips made a very 
 attractive picture. Hildred looked at her with some- 
 thing like envy. She was charmingly dressed, and 
 had a bright expression of countenance. 
 
 That evening, when Lady Caraven was dressing for 
 dinner, her faithful maid could hardly be satisfied; 
 she brought out jewels, flowers, ornaments of all kinds. 
 
 "Do wear them, my lady," she said; "if you would 
 but let me help you more in your toilets. Lady 
 Courtenay is so beautifully dressed — do not let her 
 have all the admiration." 
 
 The girl had grown so sorry for her young mistress 
 that she sometimes ventured to speak familiarly to her. 
 
 Hildred sat listlessly before the toilet-table; neither 
 jewels, flowers nor dresses had the least interest for 
 her. 
 
 "I think it is very probable that all the admiration 
 will fall to her lot whether I take pains with my dress 
 or not," she said, musingly. 
 
 "My lady," returned the girl, earnestly, "you do not 
 know how beautiful you are — you do not, indeed. If 
 you would but take some little interest-^-you have a 
 lovely figure and beautiful hair — if you would but care 
 a little more!" 
 
 Lady Caraven laughed good-temperedly ; the girl's 
 admiration was so sincere that she could not be angry. 
 
 "I will care more," she said, making a desparate 
 effort to rouse herself. "What am I to do?" 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 Amiee was all animation. She brought out a beau- 
 tiful dinner dress — a dress that looked like a soft 
 black cloud tinged with golden light. 
 
 "Amber and black!" said Lady Caraven. "Surely 
 I am dark enough, Amiee. Lord Caraven likes every- 
 thing about him bright and fair. I should wear some- 
 thing lighter if I mean to please him." 
 
 "You promised, my lady, that I should dress you 
 as I liked to-day. ,; 
 
 "It does not matter," she said, indifferently; and 
 so the amber and black was worn. 
 
 Nothing could have suited her better. The low 
 dinner dress showed die exquisitely-molded neck and 
 shoulders, the rounded arms; it displayed the beau- 
 tiful contour of a figure tall and graceful. The mass 
 of dark, waving hair was arranged in thick, shining 
 coils, fastened with a diamond arrow; one dark crimson 
 flower lay in their depths. A pearl necklace was 
 clasped round the graceful throat, a bracelet round one 
 of the dimpled arms. 
 
 Amiee's pride was great. There might be a thou- 
 sand ladies present — none would be so beautiful as 
 hers. 
 
 Lady Courtenay looked up in wonder as her lovely 
 young hostess entered the drawing-room. She turned 
 to the earl, with whom she was most intimate — -they 
 had played together when children. 
 
 "How falsely people speak! " she said. "I heard 
 that you had married a great heiress, but that she was 
 quite a plain little school-girl. I must congratulate 
 von on the rare beauty of your wife," 
 
io6 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Little she certainly is not," returned the earl, 
 laughingly; "my — my wife is tall, I consider." 
 
 "And she is beautiful!" said Lady Courtenay. "She 
 looks like a Spanish princess. You do not often see 
 faces like hers in England— we are all red and white." 
 
 "So you ought to be," he replied; "I can as soon 
 imagine a dark angel as admire a dark woman." 
 
 "You retain your old love for the blondes," said 
 Lady Courtenay. "I am a far better judge, and I 
 tell you that the fair pink-and-white faces of most 
 English women would pale into insignificance before 
 the rich bloom, the exquisite coloring, the dark, lus- 
 trous eyes of your wife." 
 
 "I really ought to thank you in her name," he 
 responded. 
 
 "You ought to love her very much, for she is worth 
 loving," said Lady Courtenay, frankly. 
 
 "Has anyone told you that I do not love her?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "No; certainly not; but, though she is so beautiful, 
 she does not look happy. Her eyes ought to be filled 
 with sunshine — they are sad and dreary. It is not a 
 happy face, Lord Caraven. " 
 
 But he had heard quite enough of the topic — his 
 wife's face did not interest him. He looked at her 
 with some curiosity after Lady Courtenay had spoken, 
 and for the first time he was impressed with her grow- 
 ing beauty. 
 
 "Lady Alice has rightly described her," he said to 
 himself. "She is like a Spanish princess. She would 
 be perfect if she had a mantilla and a fan." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 I07 
 
 Then he forgot all about it, and was soon busy talk- 
 ing over old Oxford days with Sir Charles. 
 
 It was not a happy face. Hildred took her place at 
 the brilliantly-appointed table. She was perfectly 
 calm and self-possessed. In her thoughtful consider- 
 ation for others she made an admirable hostess; her 
 tact and graciousness were beyond all praise. But 
 hers was not a happy face. She did not voluntarily 
 join in the conversation — with a quick, flashing smile 
 she answered when she was spoken to, but she seldom 
 volunteered a remark. When she was not speaking — 
 when her face was in repose — there came over it an 
 air of dreamy languor, of sadness, of thought, painful 
 to see in one so young. 
 
 "What can be wrong here?" thought Lady Courte- 
 nay. "There is plenty of money; they are both young, 
 both handsome — Saxon beauty and Spanish — why are 
 they not happy?" — for among all other gossip, she 
 had not heard the fact that Lord Caraven had married 
 for money, and not for love. 
 
 It was a pleasant evening. The earl found out 
 another accomplishment of his wife's — she was an 
 almost perfect musician; she sang like one inspired. 
 The love, the passion, the tenderness, that found no 
 vent in her ordinary life, found vent in song. The 
 rich, low, contralto voice was more beautiful than any- 
 thing he had ever heard. She sang like one whose 
 whole soul is tuned to song. She had set to sweet, 
 sad music, the poet's passionate words: 
 
 "'O cruel love!' — she changed her tone — 
 ( 0 cruel love, whose end is scorn! 
 
io8 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 Is this the end, to be left alone, 
 To live forgotten, and die forlorn?'" 
 
 She sang them with such sweet pathos. It was of 
 herself she was thinking. Who was more forlorn than 
 she — who more neglected? 
 
 "'O cruel love, whose end is scorn!'" 
 
 "What charming music!" said Lady Courtenay. 
 "Whose is it? I do not remember to have heard it 
 before, and I am familiar with most modern songs — 
 whose is it?" 
 
 "My own," replied Hildred. "Whenever words please 
 me very much, they always set themselves to music in 
 my own mind." 
 
 "The words are so sad — 'To live forgotten, and die 
 forlorn !' How can they please one so young as you?" 
 
 "It is the fate of many," said Hildred, slowly. 
 
 "It may be, but it will never be yours — you, Count- 
 ess of Caraven, young, gifted, beloved." 
 
 "There are many ways of dying," said Hildred. 
 "It is more bitter than death to some to live without 
 love; yet many live without it." 
 
 "You have strange thoughts for one of your age. 
 I should have imagined that dresses and jewels, balls 
 and dances, would have been in your thoughts rather 
 than sad ideas of life and love." 
 
 "Should you? I like balls and dances very much," 
 said Hildred, trying to speak lightly — she had no 
 great desire to reveal to a stranger the secrets of her 
 life and heart. 
 
 "You never told me, "said Lord Caraven to his wife, 
 "that you could sing so beautifully." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 tog 
 
 "Did I not? Perhaps you never asked me if I could 
 sing at all." 
 
 "I do not remember doing so," he said. "Have you 
 any more such surprises?" 
 
 She looked up at him brightly. 
 
 "You seemed half-horrified when I told that I could 
 speak German," she said. "I was afraid that you 
 considered accomplishments something to be con- 
 cealed. I shall never tell you any of mine." 
 
 With a glance half-laughing, half-haughty, she took 
 up the sheet of music and crossed the room. Lady 
 Courtenay looked curiously into the face of the earl. 
 
 "Had you never heard your wife sing, really?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "No, I had not, indeed," he replied. 
 
 "If I were a man and had wooed so sweet a song- 
 stress, I should have spent long hours over the piano," 
 she said. "I thought you always liked music so much?" 
 
 "So I do. But I did not even know my wife could 
 sing; she makes no parade of her talent." 
 
 "No," said Lady Courtenay to herself, "nor do I 
 think that you have made any great parade of your 
 love." 
 
 But she said no more — the subject was evidently 
 not pleasing to the earl. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 "FATE IS WHAT PEOPLE MAKE IT — I WILL MAKE MINE" 
 
 A beautiful evening in October; it was as though 
 some of the warmth and sweetness of summer had 
 returned for a while. The sky was blue, the colors 
 of the sunset were gorgeous, the foliage of the trees 
 was magnificent; autumn flowers were blooming, 
 autumn tints were over the land. The day had been 
 unusually warm and sunny. Lord Caraven had invited 
 some friends to dinner; as they lived at some little 
 distance, and they could not remain for the night, 
 dinner was ordered earlier than usual. It was only 
 twilight when the guests drove away, and Lord Cara- 
 ven, having no one to play at billiards with him, 
 sauntered restlessly through the rooms, thinking to 
 himself how foolish he had been not to provide him- 
 self with a companion for that most interesting of all 
 games. 
 
 'I must not let this happen again," he said. "To 
 live here alone requires more strength of mind than I 
 am possessed of." 
 
 It did not occur to him that he was not alone — that 
 he had a fair young wife near him. He never thought 
 of her at all. He would not have remembered her 
 existence but that, wandering aimlessly along the 
 terrace, he saw her in the drawing-room. 
 
 110 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 III 
 
 He almost owned to himself that there could not 
 have been a lovelier picture. Wishing to finish some- 
 thing she was reading, she had brought her book to 
 the window and crouched down where the light fell. 
 He saw a fair, flower-like face, a shining wealth of 
 dark hair in which lay gleaming pearls, a flowing 
 mass of purple velvet upon which the white arms 
 shone like snow on a purple crocus : the lovely figure, 
 the graceful attitude, the picturesque dress, cut square 
 in the front, leaving the white neck bare, the wide 
 hanging sleeves, the slender white hands — all made 
 a picture that he must have admired had the subject 
 been any other than the money-lender's daughter. 
 
 Seeing her, he thought it was possible she under- 
 stood something of billiards although "women never 
 knew anything useful." She saw him, and fancying 
 from his manner that he wished to speak to her, she 
 opened the window and went out to him. 
 
 "You will be cold," he said, with unusual thought- 
 fulness. 
 
 She went back to the drawing-room in search of a 
 silvery scarf that she used. She threw it carelessly 
 over her head and shoulders, where it looked so pict- 
 uresque, and became her so well that he could not 
 help noticing it. 
 
 "This is dull work, being here alone," he said. 
 
 "It is dull for bpth of us," she replied briefly. 
 
 "Ah, yes! Do you know I had quite forgotten you 
 were alone as well. You must find it dull too. We 
 will ask some nice people down at once; this kind of 
 thing will never do. I wanted to ask you, do you 
 know anything of billiards?" 
 
112 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Billiards? M she repeated, wonderingly. 
 
 "Yes — many ladies play remarkably well. Lady 
 Courtenay does* It is such a great resource." 
 
 "Do you want me to play with you?" she asked, 
 quickly. 
 
 "Yes; I am bored to death. I am tired of smok- 
 ing, I never read much, and there is nothing to do!" 
 
 "Extraordinary," she cried — "nothing to do!" 
 
 "What do you mean?" he asked. 
 
 "I mean nothing. I am very sorry. I have seen a 
 billiard-table; but I have never played. I will try to 
 learn, if you like." ' 
 
 "Beginners are generally very awkward," he said, 
 frankly. "I cannot think how it is that I have forgot- 
 ten to ask anyone over. I must not be so remiss 
 again." 
 
 "Do you never amuse yourself?" she asked. 
 
 "No. How can I? I am essentially a sociable 
 being. I feel little interest in myself.* 
 
 "You would rather be amused than interested?" 
 she asked. 
 
 He thought for half a minute before he answered. 
 
 "I see," he said. "Yes, I prefer amusement to 
 anything else." 
 
 "It is a great pity that you cannot imitate the kings 
 of old, and keep a court jester with cap and bells." 
 
 Lord Caraven looked at her. It could not surely 
 be possible that this wife of his, this money-lender's 
 daughter, was presuming to be satirical with him. 
 
 They walked down the terrace until they reached a 
 rustic garden seat, and, with an air of utter exhaustion, 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "3 
 
 the earl sat down. Hildred took her seat, unasked, 
 by his side. 
 
 The night wind was sweeping round them, bending 
 the tall chrysanthemums, stirring the dying leaves — a 
 sweet, fresh wind that was as odorous as balm. The 
 twilight was fast fading, the birds had long since 
 ceased to sing, there was a pleasant, brooding sense 
 of rest and of freshness. 
 
 "This is almost as good as a billiard table/' said 
 Hildred, laughingly; but the earl shook his head. 
 
 "It may be for you," he replied, "but it is not for 
 me." 
 
 "Lord Caraven," said Hildred, "a thought has just 
 struck me. We have been married — how long? since 
 the third of August, and it is now October; and do 
 you know that you have never once addressed me by 
 name? My schoolfellows used to call me f Dreda/ my 
 father calls me Mildred.' You have so contrived as 
 never to give me any name at all. You do not say 
 'Lady Caraven,' 'Hildred,' 'wife,' or anything of the 
 kind. How is it?" 
 
 "I cannot tell," he replied, blankly. The question 
 had evidently puzzled him. 
 
 "I do not expect you would ever care to use any 
 pretty, familiar, loving name; but do you not think you 
 might learn to use my own? Lady Courtenay used to 
 look at me, when you addressed me in that general 
 kind of way as 'you.' Could you not say 'Hildred?'" 
 
 "I — I really do not know," he replied, "it is an 
 uncomfortable kind of name — 'Hildred.'" 
 
 She raised her charming head with a haughty little 
 gesture. 
 
H4 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM * 
 
 "Do you fancy so? I think you do not know what 
 
 'uncomfortable' means. I am rather proud of my name; 
 it may be quaint, but it is not common. If you can- 
 not say 'Mildred,' can you not call me 'Lady Cara- 
 ven?' I am tired of being spoken to so vaguely." 
 
 "I will not do it again, Lady Caraven, if it annoys 
 you," he said; and then there was silence between 
 them, broken only by the sighing of the wind. 
 
 Would he let this hour pass without speaking freely 
 to her? They were alone now — there was no one to 
 listen. Surely he would break the ice of reserve that 
 was between them; surely he would say something to 
 her at last. This unnatural state of things could not 
 last much longer. Sitting there side by side, husband 
 and wife, they were as strangers, with a great cloud 
 between them. Would he speak to her now? Would 
 he tell her why he was cold and reserved — why he 
 never talked to her — why his wife was almost less 
 than nothing to him? She could see no fairer chance 
 than this. She raised her face, all bright with play of 
 feeling, to his. 
 
 "Lord Caraven," she said, "will you be very angry 
 with me if I ask you a question?" 
 
 "No; without knowing what the question may be, 
 I predict that — certainly not." 
 
 "This question has troubled me very much; it has 
 been the one thing which I have pondered night and 
 day — a question I cannot answer, one that I feel is the 
 key to a secret." 
 
 "You alarm me with that long prologue. Briefly, 
 what is your question, Lady Caraven?" 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "5 
 
 "Briefly, it is this: Why did you marry me, Lord 
 Caraven?" 
 
 "Why did I marry you?" he echoed, with astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 "I ask you the question," she went on, "because I 
 have watched you and studied you, and I am con- 
 vinced at last that you did not marry me for love." 
 
 "Love!" he cried. "Why, what has that to do with 
 it?" 
 
 'I thought," she continued, "that you had married 
 me because you loved me. I knew that you were cold, 
 undemonstrative, that you had no sympathy, little 
 kindness; but I believed implicitly that you married 
 me for love." 
 
 "I had never seen you — I saw you only once," he 
 said, in astonishment. 
 
 "I know, I remember. Still, I repeat what I have 
 said to you; I— I fancied — I am quite ashamed to tell 
 you the truth, but I will do so — I fancied you had 
 seen me somewhere and had liked me." 
 
 He laughed, but the laugh was not pleasant to hear. 
 
 "Did yc-u really think that?" he asked, musingly. 
 "Poor child!" Then he turned to her with sudden 
 briskness. "Do you really mean to tell me, on your 
 word of honor, that you do not know why I married 
 you? " 
 
 IShe raised her fair, proud face to his. 
 "I assure you most solemnly that I do not. It is 
 the greatest puzzle I have ever had." 
 
 "Did your father tell you that I — I loved you?'* 
 "No," she replied, thoughtfully, "he did not. Indeed 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 he assured me that love was not needful for happi- 
 ness. He never said you loved me — he said you wanted 
 to marry me." 
 
 "And what else? Go on. What else?" 
 
 "That it was a grand' position, in which I should be 
 supremely happy." 
 
 "What else?" asked the stern voice. 
 
 "I hardly remember. That if I consented his high- 
 est ambition would be gratified." 
 
 Lord Caraven murmured some terrible words be- 
 tween his closed lips. 
 
 "Then he never told you why this marriage was 
 forced upon me?" 
 
 "Forced?" she interrogated, gently. 
 
 Perhaps the sudden paling of her lovely face startled 
 him, or the sharp quiver of pain in her voice touched 
 him. 
 
 "He — your father — never told you that he insisted 
 on the marriage?" 
 
 "No, never," she replied, faintly. 
 
 "He never told you that he made it my only refuge 
 from him — my only hope — my only alternative?" 
 
 "No; he never told me that." 
 
 "Then I will tell you now. He compelled me to 
 marry you — and I begin to perceive that he has sacri- 
 ficed you as well as myself " • 
 
 "Sacrificed us?" she repeated. "You cannot mean 
 the word! " 
 
 "I do mean it, both for myself and you," he replied. 
 "I will tell you, Lady Caraven; it is right that you should 
 know the truth. I have been a spendthrift and a prodi- 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 117 
 
 gal. I have squandered a large fortune and was deeply 
 in debt. I owed your father the sum of sixty thou- 
 sand pounds — I had mortgaged Ravensmere to him. 
 I was also deeply in debt to others. I had literally 
 come to my last shilling; disgrace, ruin, poverty and 
 shame were all before me. Your father had the man- 
 agement of my affairs, and when I asked him what I 
 was. to do, he told me that he had two hundred thou- 
 sand pounds and a daughter." 
 
 A low cry came from her lips, and she covered her 
 face with her hands. 
 
 "I am sorry tc pain you," he said — "sorry to dis- 
 tress you— but it is better that you should know the 
 real truth. Your father is ambitious; his hopes were 
 fixed on your marriage. He offered me the alternative 
 — I could choose beggary, ruin, shame, disgrace, the, 
 total annihilation of my house and name, or I could 
 choose the money and marry you. I told him that I 
 did not feel inclined to marry, that I had no affection 
 for you, and I implored him to find some other way 
 out of the difficulty. He refused, and you know the 
 result. Bear in mind, though, that I am most deeply 
 grateful to you. Your fortune has saved me from 
 worse than death. I am sorry to tell you this story; 
 but it is best that you should know the truth. " 
 
 "Yes," she agreed, despairingly, "it is best." 
 
 She drew her hands from her face and looked at 
 him. What nature of man could he have been that 
 the anguish and despair on that girlish face did not 
 touch him? 
 
 "Then you have never loved me, never cared for 
 me?" she said, faintly. 
 
ii8 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "No. I am grateful to you; I can say no more." 
 
 The words that had haunted her came back to her — 
 "Let me die!" 
 
 He saw her draw the silvery shawl round her shoul- 
 ders and shudder as though she were seized with vio- 
 lent cold. 
 
 "I feel now," he said, "that it was a cruel thing to 
 do. You are young, and your whole life is blighted. 
 At first I thought and believed that you understood 
 everything — that you were as mercenary and ambitious 
 as your father — that you were as ready as he to give 
 yourself and your money in exchange for my title; I 
 thought that you, through him, knew the full value of 
 the estate and everything on it — that you knew all the 
 house contained — that you were as keen and shrewd 
 as he was. I misjudged you — I beg your pardon for 
 it." 
 
 She raised her pale face to his. 
 
 "I swear to you," she said, "that I would rather 
 have died than have married you had I known the 
 truth." 
 
 "I believe it, and respect you for it. For some 
 short time past I have fancied that in thinking as I 
 did I was mistaken. Now I know it, and am glad to 
 know it. I am sorry that you were sacrificed to me." 
 
 "Did you — do you — pray do not be angry with me," 
 she said- — "did you love anyone else?" 
 
 "I have been among fair women what a butterfly is 
 among flowers," he replied. "I have loved, not one, 
 but a hundred. I might say I have had as many loves 
 as there are days in the year. " 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "But the one great love of your life — the lo^r, that 
 is given only once — have you given that?" sh& as&ed. 
 
 "I understand. You ask me, in fact, if I hid ever 
 loved anyone sufficiently to ask her to be my wife. 
 No, I had not. My loves were for the day, not for 
 all time. I have never asked anyone t<* marry me, 
 for the simple, all-sufficient reason that i have never 
 seen anyone whom I should have cared to marry." 
 
 "And are you very unhappy with meW she asked, 
 gently. 
 
 "What a strange question! Unhappy? Well, no; 
 I cannot quite say that. I am, as I said before, grate- 
 ful to you; and now that 1 find you have been victim- 
 ized, I am sorry for you." 
 
 "Do not be shocked if I ask you another question," 
 she said, with down-dropped eyes and flushing cheeks. 
 "Now that our marriage is an accomplished fact, do 
 you not think that we might manage to make the best 
 of it — might, try to forget this wretched beginning? 
 Could you never care even ever so little for me?" 
 
 He looked at her thoughtfully. 
 
 "I might deceive you — I might say 4 Yes, ' and play 
 you false; but I will not. You are too good for that. 
 No, not in the sense you mean; not to love you as a 
 man should love his wife — never! You forgive me if 
 these seem hard words — you have asked me for them." 
 
 "It is better to speak frankly; then we shall both 
 know what we are doing." 
 
 She dropped the silvery veil that shrouded her head 
 *nd face. 
 
 "Will you tell me," she asked, meekly, "why you 
 
ISO 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 cannot care for me? Am I not fair enough to please 
 
 you? " 
 
 "Yes, you are fair enough; but love is not to be 
 taught or bought — it comes unperceived. I cannot 
 express myself well on the subject; but it seems to 
 me absurd for a man to say to himself, 'It is my duty 
 to fall in love with such and such a woman, so I must 
 do it.'" 
 
 "But if that woman were his wife?" she suggested, 
 gently. 
 
 "No man can love against his will, wife or no 
 wife," was the hasty reply. 
 
 "Then, Lord Caraven, am I to live in your house 
 always an unloved, uncared-for wife?" she asked. 
 
 "The fault is not mine," he replied. "I believed 
 that your father had explained to you that the whole 
 affair was — was distasteful to me. Believing that, I 
 married you; now that I have found out my mistake, 
 I pity myself and I pity you, Lady Caraven. I de^ 
 spise myself now for what I have done. If I had to 
 choose again, I should choose disgrace or death." 
 
 The night wind sighed around them, the sunlight 
 had died away, the moon was rising in the sky. 
 
 "I am grateful to you," he continued. "I will do 
 all I can to show my gratitude; you are and shall be 
 mistress of the whole place. It is yours in so far aa 
 your money has saved it; you shall have every desire 
 of your heart, every wish gratified. Your position 
 is one of the highest in the land; you shall have 
 everything to grace it; you shall have entire liberty; 
 you shall invite whom you like, visit whom you like, 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 121 
 
 you shall go abroad when you will and remain 
 at home when you will. You shall be your own 
 mistress in every respect. I will always see that every 
 honor is paid to you." 
 
 "In short," she said, "you will give me everything 
 but love." 
 
 "Well, if you choose to put it in that light, yes." 
 
 "I accept the terms," she said, gently. "There are 
 many women who have to find the happiness of their 
 lives in the fulfillment of duty; I must do the same." 
 
 "You are a very sensible girl," commented Lord 
 Caraven; "and I begin to think it is all for the best 
 that we have had this conversation." 
 
 "I am sure of it; it will prevent my idealizing you 
 in any kind of way, and I shall know better how to 
 understand matters." 
 
 She raised her head with wondrous grace. 
 
 "It would be very strange," she added, "if you fell 
 in love with me, after all. I am cold; I will say 
 good evening. Pleasant reflections, my lord." 
 
 He saw the purple velvet and silvery veil disappear 
 among the trees. 
 
 "It is a thousand pities that she is a money-lender's 
 daughter," he said, "and a thousand pities that I can- 
 not love her. She has plenty of character, and she is 
 really handsome, although she is not my style." 
 
 Lady Caraven had gone to her rooms. She had 
 felt keen, bitter shame while the revelation was made. 
 That had passed away. After all, she was blameless. 
 One man had been a spendthrift, the other was ambi 
 tious. Between them she was a helpless victim. She 
 
122 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 tried to consider quite calmly what she should do. 
 
 Some girls, proudly indignant, would have left the 
 house; others would have retaliated fiercely; others 
 have grown sullen and revengeful. She was calm 
 almost to heroism, although a more cruel position 
 could not have been imagined. Even his open con- 
 fession that he could never care for her had not quite 
 destroyed her love. He was very frank — among his 
 sins and imperfections deceit certainly could not be 
 set down. Yet how different it all was from what she 
 had thought it would be! 
 
 "I am quite sure of one thing," she said to herself. 
 "It is almost cruel to write such stories as the histo- 
 ries of Lancelot and Elaine. What a difference between 
 such men as the stainless knight and my husband ! 
 There are women living as fair, as tender, as lovely 
 as Elaine; is there a man like Lancelot — like Lance- 
 lot before he loved 'the Queen?' Ah, me! if I could 
 have had such love as his! But I must be content." 
 
 It seemed to her like an answer to an unspoken 
 prayer, when she opened a book and saw these words 
 of Carlyle — "Say unto all kinds of happiness, lean do 
 without thee. With self-renunciation life begins." 
 
 That was to her new life — self-renunciation without 
 happiness — life all duty, with no reward but the 
 knowledge of itself. 
 
 "I can do it," said Hildred. "It is an uncommon 
 fate — I can master it. It might break a weak heart, 
 anger a proud one — it shall strengthen mine. Fate is 
 what people make it— I will make mine." 
 
 Yet, brave as was the resolve, it was difficult to 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 123 
 
 carry out. Young, with life all before her, she longed 
 for its blessings. It was not pleasant to remember 
 that she had been bartered for a title — that she had 
 been married solely for her money — that she possessed 
 no charm for her husband — that he would always be 
 profoundly indifferent to her. She remembered stories 
 that she had read of the love that husband and wife 
 had for each other — that it was the strongest, the 
 truest, the dearest the world knew — and she told her- 
 self that such would never be hers. She remembered 
 once having read that love of her husband was part of 
 a wife's religion. Such love was never to be hers. 
 She did not regret it. She could be brave and noble 
 — she could do without it. But, nevertheless, she 
 longed for it. It would seem strange to live always 
 at Ravensmere, to have everything that her heart 
 desired, to be wealthy, honored and great, yet to have 
 no husband's love. 
 
 "One cannot have everything in this world," said 
 the young countess to herself; "but I really think 
 that, if I had been offered my choice, before all other 
 gifts I should have chosen love." 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 "LOVE — A LIGHT, LAUGHING, GRACEFUL, AIRY COMEDY" 
 
 Three weeks had passed since the night on which 
 Hildred had heard the true story of her marriage. She 
 had tried hard to conquer the love for her husband 
 which had begun to spring up in her heart She tried 
 hard to do her duty, to school herself in the knowl- 
 edge that for her life she was to be without love. But 
 it was hard. She was young and impressionable; the 
 earl was handsome and fascinating. There were times 
 when an irresistible impulse came over her — an im- 
 pulse to beg him to love her. She resisted it, and 
 every time she did so resist her heart grew colder and 
 harder. It is difficult for a flower to blossom in a 
 blighting cold; the buds droop, the perfume dies. 
 It requires the warmth and brightness, the kisses and 
 smiles of the sun to bring it to perfection. So it is 
 with a half-formed character like Hildred' s — the sun j 
 shine of love and happiness would have brought it to 
 a fair and blooming maturity. The chill of neglect 
 and indifference changed it. 
 
 One day Lord Caraven asked her if she would send 
 out some notes of invitation for him, and Hildred 
 asked him if he had a seal with his monogram on it. 
 
 "Yes," he replied. "It is somewhere in the drawers 
 }24 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 of the escretoire in my study. Will you look for it, 
 Hildred?" 
 
 Since her appeal to him he had always called her 
 Hildred. He pronounced the name in a quick, hasty 
 manner, as though anxious to get it over. She went 
 to his study, and half smiled as she saw the utter 
 confusion of his books and papers. He had followed 
 her, and looked at her as she smiled. 
 
 "Man's untidiness is proverbial," she said, "but 
 this surpasses all that I have seen. It must be quite 
 impossible for you to find anything in this confusion. " 
 
 "It is difficult," he owned; "but then you see I sel- 
 dom want to find anything. I have often thought 
 that that escretoire should be cleared out; the drawers 
 are filled with locks of hair and love letters." 
 
 "Locks of hair?" she repeated, looking at him 
 aghast. 
 
 "Yes, love trophies of all kinds. There must be a 
 latent fund of sentiment somewhere in my heart. I 
 never could destroy them. You will find every variety 
 of hair there — from sunniest auburn to darkest brown. 
 You will find flowers as faded as the love of the hour 
 which made them precious. I could not destroy my 
 love tokens, so I have kept them." 
 
 "They do not concern me,' 1 she said, with cold dig- 
 nity. Do as she would, love would always be a sacred 
 subject to her. She could never fall into a light fash- 
 ion of discussing it — never. Nor did she care to hear 
 others so discuss it, 
 
 "See," said the earl; "here are photographs enough 
 ior an album. Charming actresses, 'blue stockings, 1 
 
126 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 fair debutantes — I have begged a portrait from each." 
 
 "And have discarded it as soon as you have received 
 it. I would not give you my portrait or a lock of my 
 hair for the whole world!" she cried, angrily. 
 
 Lord Caraven laughed. 
 
 "Would you not? How proud you are, Hildred!" 
 
 "You are heartless," she replied. "Are all men 
 like you? Do they pretend to love women just to 
 amuse themselves, and then 'laugh and ride away?' 
 Do they all cease to value a heart as soon as it is 
 wen, and sneer at the love which they have sought? 
 Are they all faithless and insincere, cold and cruel?" 
 
 "I do not know, Hildred — I can only answer for 
 myself. I am all that you say, and a little more." 
 
 "Where did the poets ..get their ideas from?" she 
 asked. "Surely not from the men of the present day. 
 I used to believe in heroes." 
 
 "Used you? I believe in very little. Have you 
 found the seal?" 
 
 With a proud flush on her face she closed the 
 drawer. 
 
 "I refuse to look any further," she said. "I detest 
 your love trophies, as you call them — I will not soil 
 my fingers by touching them." 
 
 The earl laughed — her sweet, womanly indignation 
 amused him, she looked so charming in her anger. 
 
 "Did all those — those women from whom you won 
 love trophies — did they all believe you?" she asked. 
 
 "Believe me? In what way?" he asked. 
 
 'Believe that you loved them when you said so?" 
 she replied. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 127 
 
 "I do not know — I hope not. You must remember, 
 Hildred, that everyone is not so terribly in earnest as 
 you are. In the world love is a comedy — men and 
 women act their part in it, and retire with a laugh 
 and a bow; with you it would be a tragedy, all fire 
 and earnestness. The world would be unendurable 
 if everyone were as earnest as you are." 
 
 "It would be worse still if everyone were as light 
 and faithless as you are," she told him. 
 
 "Nay, Hildred," he laughed again, "I am not faith- 
 less. You do not understands you have old-fashioned 
 ideas about love. Suppose, now, that I go to a ball, 
 and that I meet there the loveliest girl that ever drove 
 a man to distraction with her smiles. I fall in love 
 with her — I ask for a flower that she has worn. I 
 elect her queen of my heart. I linger by her side, 
 loath to leave her. We dance, we talk; we agree that 
 we have never spent so pleasant an evening. I am 
 hopelessly in love, and she is affable. I win a love 
 token from her — a flower or a glove — perhaps kiss her 
 white hand. Three days afterward I have forgotten 
 her name and she perhaps barely remembers mine. 
 That is the world's love — a light, laughing, graceful, 
 airy comedy. You would have it a tragedy, filled 
 with sighs and tears. There is no place for such love 
 in this laughing world of ours. A butterfly kisses a 
 rose, caresses a lily, lingers on the sweet-scented car- 
 nation, hovers round the mignonette— there you have 
 a true picture of love as the world knows it." 
 
 She looked at him steadily, her dark eyes all elo- 
 quent with sweet, womanly thoughts. 
 
128 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "I am very glad, Lord Caraven," she said, with 
 quiet, contemptuous dignity, "that you do not love me." 
 
 He laughed again, a little uneasily this time. 
 
 "Have you found the seal?" he asked. "These 
 notes must go." 
 
 "No — and I do not intend to look for it. All the 
 perfumes of Arabia would not purify those drawers 
 for me." She turned to quit the room — he looked 
 after her. 
 
 "Hildred!" he cried. 
 
 But she did not turn back — she walked straight on. 
 He laughed again to himself, but again the laugh was 
 not a pleasant one. 
 
 "What a spirit!" he said. "She says that she would 
 not have my love, and I believe it. She is terribly 
 in earnest. Those dark-haired women generally are — 
 they never treat life as a bagatelle." 
 
 "Lord Caraven," said Hildred, one day soon after 
 this little scene, "who is the person — gentleman, I 
 should say, perhaps — who comes here so often?" 
 
 "Do you mean John Blantyre, my faithful friend 
 and steward?" he asked, laughingly. "He comes every 
 day." 
 
 "Is that his name? I do not like his face." 
 "Why not, Hildred?" he asked. 
 
 "It is not the face of an honest man, unless nature 
 has for once made a mistake in her own handwriting." 
 
 "It is not a handsome face certainly," said the earl 
 —"far from it." 
 
 "I am not speaking of mere beauty of feature — and 
 perhaps I judge him harshly," she replied. "But it 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 129 
 
 do.is not seem to me an honest face. I would not 
 trust the man for — Do you trust him, Lord Caraven?" 
 
 "I trust him implicitly — indeed I do not believe 1 
 have ever overlooked his accounts." 
 
 She looked at him in wonder. 
 
 "Never overlooked his accounts! How very care- 
 less of you!" she said. 
 
 "I am not careful by nature," he told her, laugh- 
 ingly. 
 
 "But," she observed, earnestly, "such carelessness 
 is wrong. You put a terrible temptation in his way 
 by not keeping a check upon him." 
 
 "I suppose," said Lord Caraven, indolently, "that 
 I find it easier to let myself be robbed a little than 
 to look after matters for myself." 
 
 The dark, eloquent eyes that were raised to his 
 expressed a great deal. 
 
 "What do you do with your life?" she asked. "It 
 seems to me that you have no idea of duty." 
 
 "Nor have I. I know well what to do with my life 
 — I enjoy it." 
 
 "There can be nothing more to add," said Hildred. 
 "But if I were you, Lord Caraven, I should look after 
 my accounts." 
 
 She thought a great deal after that conversation. It 
 had opened her eyes more fully to her husband's char- 
 acter than anything that had passed before. At first 
 she had been somewhat dazed by the novelty of her 
 position. She had been inclined to fall very deeply 
 in iove with her handsome young husband. She had 
 idealized him — she had tried to make a hero of him. 
 
I30 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 The very novelty of her position hid his faults from 
 her. She had even at times mistaken indolence for 
 ease. But her eyes were slowly opening now. She 
 began to perceive that although some good qualities 
 might be innate in him, they were overlaid with 
 selfishness and long habits of self-indulgence. Indeed, 
 it was difficult to tell what his original nature had 
 been. She began to perceive that his character resem- 
 bled a garden which had been sown with the fairest 
 of flowers, but which had afterward been choked by 
 the foulest of weeds. She decided to study him. 
 
 Was he generous? She thought at first that she 
 might say "Yes." They were riding out one day, and 
 they met a poor woman begging, with a little child 
 in her arms. She was poor, hungry, all in tatters, 
 with pinched face, and sad, weary eyes — a pitiful 
 spectacle of want and destitution. As they passed by, 
 the earl took out his purse and literally emptied it on 
 the ground at the woman's feet. She looked dazed 
 and bewildered at this sudden bountv qf fortune. He 
 did not wait for any thanks, but rode on. 
 
 "I wish," he sa ; d^ "that I could collect all the poor 
 people in the world together and make them rich." 
 
 "Was that generosity?" she said to herself. 
 
 Yes, it must be. She did not think of the lux- 
 urious, ease-loving nature that shrank selfishly from 
 seeing pain in others, that would fain have kept all 
 painful, sorrowful objects out of sight, that shrank 
 from the sight of suffering as it would have shrunk 
 from pain. She did not think of this disposition or 
 make any allowance for it when she pronounced her 
 husband generous. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 131 
 
 They rode on until they came to a small cottage- 
 one belonging to the Ravensmere estate — at the door 
 of which stood a man still young, but crippled and 
 bent double with rheumatism. A little cry of pain 
 came from Hildred's lips as she saw him, but the 
 young man's eyes were fixed with an evil light on the 
 earl's face. 
 
 Hildred stopped to say a kind word to him; the 
 cripple came out and stood in front of the earl's mag- 
 nificent horse. 
 
 "My lord," he said, in a hoarse voice, "I have you 
 to thank for these" — pointing to his shrunken limbs 
 — "and for these, also" — pointing to his useless hands. 
 
 "What do you mean?" Lord Caraven demanded, 
 his face flushing with anger. 
 
 "I mean this, my lord — that I was a strong young 
 man when I took this cottage and brought my wife 
 home here; now," he cried, in a sudden passion of 
 despair — "now look at me!" 
 
 "What have I to do with that?" asked the earl, 
 nngrily. 
 
 "This much, my lord — I spent all my bit of money 
 on this land; I had none left for repairing the house 
 — your house, my lord. The water came in at the 
 roof and at the windows — the wind blew through the 
 doors. I begged to have it repaired — I have sent more 
 letters than I could count to agent and landlord. 
 Neither has attended to me. If I had had the money, 
 I would have done it myself; but I had not. I have 
 had a sick wife and sick children, but never a shil 
 ling to spare for the broken roof, and your heartless, 
 ness has reduced me to this/' 
 
132 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Stand aside!" said the earl, angrily; "you men are 
 never contented — never satisfied — stand aside! " 
 
 "My lord," cried the man, "the horses in your sta- 
 bles, the dogs in your kennels, are better cared for 
 than I — they are better housed. If I die" — and his 
 voice changed to a cry of despair — "my death be upon 
 your head!" 
 
 "You are an impertinent fellow!" cried the earl. 
 "Out of my way, or I will ride over you!" 
 
 "Pray — pray listen to him, Lord Caraven," cried 
 Hildred. 
 
 But the earl turned angrily to her. 
 
 'You do not understand these matters; you must 
 not interfere," he said — "a set of idle rogues!" 
 
 "Stop, my lord," cried the man, his face paling 
 — "stop. Be satisfied with taking my health and my 
 strength — leave my character alone. I am no rogue; I 
 am an honest, hard-working man." 
 
 "Honest, indeed! " cried the earl. "There is not on© 
 honest man among you." 
 
 The evil look deepened on the man's pale face. 
 
 "I will not answer, my lord," he said, with quiet 
 dignity. "I am asking a favor; it is life to me. I have 
 no money to leave the house. If I remain in it as it 
 is, it will be certain death to me. My lord, it is but 
 a few pounds — very few — do not refuse them." 
 
 But Lord Caraven's face grew crimson with anger. 
 
 "I shall do nothing of the kind. And let me tell 
 you that I consider it a great piece of impertinence 
 for you to stop me in this fashion; I have an agent 
 to manage my affairs — go to him. Out of my 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 133 
 
 road, and take care, that ycu do not stop me again." 
 
 The man went away, and the earl rode on. Was he 
 generous? Only a few pounds, and for that a life 
 must be sacrificed! 
 
 "Mind, Hildred," he said, sharply, "y ou are not 
 from any mistaken notion of generosity to interfere; 
 if you do, I shall have to repair every house on the 
 estate. " 
 
 And she wondered to herself whose idea of generos- 
 ity was mistaken — his or hers. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 "i AM A FORTUNATE MAN** 
 
 Hildred's heart sank lower and lower — every day 
 brought her some fresh revelation of her husband's 
 character which was utterly unendurable to her. The 
 worst trait of all was that he seemed to her, as it were, 
 to lounge through life. He literally did nothing — no 
 useful occupation ever seemed to attract him. He 
 never read — he never wrote. If any letter of impor- 
 tance required an answer, he passed it to her, or 
 threw it aside. If the agent brought the accounts, 
 he said, in his indolent manner: "Lay the books down 
 — I will see to them soon;" but he never looked at 
 them. He had but one idea, and that was amuse- 
 ment. No idea of work ever seemed to occur to him 
 — self-indulgence and indolence were all that he cared 
 for. 
 
 Hildred's heart sank in dismay. She looked at him 
 sometimes as he lay listlessly stretched on a couch, 
 and wondered why nature had given so fair an exterior 
 to one with so little soul. The handsome face seemed 
 to have no purpose in it. If he spoke, it was always 
 about some plan or other for his own especial amuse- 
 ment — it was either of billiards or of one of the games 
 in which he took such infinite delight. He never 
 advanced any scheme for th^ benefit of others; in fact 
 
 134 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 *35 
 
 other people, except so far as they ministered to his 
 pleasures and his will, did not exist for him. He was 
 a hopeless character — far more hopeless than that of 
 a man of graver faults. His young wife looked at him 
 sometimes wondering if anything would ever interest 
 him, would ever rouse him, would ever stimulate him 
 to action. 
 
 "It is a terrible thing," she said, "to live so entirely 
 for one's self — a terrible thing." 
 
 She thought to herself once that she would sketch 
 his day. He never rose until after ten; he sat for some 
 time over his breakfast, reading his letters and news- 
 papers. The former were thrown aside, and seldom, 
 if ever,answered; even those of importance were ignored 
 like the rest. There was generally a muttered word 
 over the bills, if any came. Then he took a gallop 
 on his horse wherever his wild fancy led. That was 
 followed by luncheon, when his lordship did not spare 
 his wine; after that came billiards or cards, if anyone 
 worth playing with was in the house. Dinner was fol- 
 lowed by wine and billiards until the early hours of 
 the morning. It was not a noble life, it was not even 
 a dignified life — it had no end, no aim, no object ex- 
 cept self indulgence, and the young wife looked on 
 in sorrowful dismay. 
 
 Would he never change? Would he remain selfish, 
 self-indulgent, indolent, to his life's end? The con- 
 trast between what he did and what he should have 
 done appalled her — she hardly dared to think of it. 
 The estate was neglected and uncared for; the ten- 
 ants were oppressed; appeals for mercy and for justice 
 
136 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 were made to him in vain. The farmers were all 
 dissatisfied; the only person who really seemed to 
 approve of matters as they stood was John Blantyre, 
 the steward, the man whom Lady Caraven instinctively 
 disliked. He was alwa} r s smiling, bland, suave; he had 
 a habit, while talking to Lord Caraven, of rubbing his 
 hands — a habit that used to annoy and to irritate the 
 young countess exceedingly. He was quite pleased if 
 threats were made by the servants and laborers that 
 they would appeal to the earl. He had a fashion of 
 saying, "You can try it — you will see what the earl 
 says;" for the earl had but one answer to everything 
 — complaint, excuse, or prayer — and it was, "Go to 
 Blantyre;" indeed, the order had become quite a by- 
 word on the estate, "Go to Blantyre" being considered 
 as equivalent to something far more dreadful. 
 
 The young countess looked around her. On every 
 side she saw the same evil — nothing was attended to, 
 nothing done; the indolent ease of the earl seemed to 
 extend to everyone with whom he came in contact. 
 The servants were continually being changed; noth- 
 ing went right, as nothing does when the master of 
 the house takes no interest in anything that passes 
 in it. 
 
 Another thing distressed her. She saw that his old 
 love of gambling was returned in full force. There 
 were times when his face grew very dark over his bet- 
 ting-book; and he would leave home on all the great 
 race-days, remaining away for some time, and return- 
 ing home indolent, more selfish than ever. 
 
 Time had familiarized him with her presence in the 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 137 
 
 house; but it was seldom that he took any special 
 notice of her, seldom that he spoke to her. As for 
 any display of kindness or love, it was out of the 
 question. 
 
 It was a dreary fate. She tried to* bear it bravely, 
 to store up golden knowledge and wisdom; but at 
 eighteen, when the heart longs for love, and the fair 
 opening life craves for its full enjoyment, it is diffi- 
 cult to live on knowledge and wisdom. She strove 
 hard; she told herself that marriage was irrevocable 
 . — that hers could never be undone. The only thing 
 that remained was to make the best of it. How to 
 do that was now the great study of her life. She 
 found herself opposed on all sides. If she attempted 
 to ask the earl anything about the people on his 
 estate, the answer always was, "Go to Blantyre. " As 
 she neither liked nor trusted Blantyre, she never con- 
 descended to ask him a single question. 
 
 "My life is empty," she would say. "I might almost 
 as well be dead as living." 
 
 No more pa.inful life could have been imagined. 
 Ravensmere was gay enough; they saw plenty of visi- 
 tors, they had balls and dinner-parties; their visitors 
 were gay, worldly, brilliant people who came to enjoy 
 themselves for a few days, and did not care to enter 
 into the cares and trials of their hostess. With them 
 she was gay and brilliant — she would show nothing 
 of the anguish that never left her; they should not 
 go away and talk about "Lady Caraven, the wife 
 whom her husband did not love," whatever it cost 
 her and the effort was at times terrible. 
 
i 3 8 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 The earl saw her only at those times, and he smiled 
 significantly. 
 
 "Women have no heart," he said, scoffingly. "This 
 girl is just as happy as though she had the most lov- 
 ing husband in the world. She has what she wanted, 
 and she seems to enjoy it, too." 
 
 Of the noble womanly pride that disdained all com- 
 plaint, of the brave spirit that fought so resolutely 
 with her longing for happiness and her longing for 
 love, he never even dreamed. To him she was a girl 
 content with her fate — a girl who enjoyed her title, her 
 position, her gayeties, who did not look beyond them, 
 who cared nothing that she was a neglected, widowed 
 wife. Had anyone told him the contrary he would 
 not have believed it; he would have said it was a mis- 
 conception. She looked very nice at the head of his 
 table — very handsome, very graceful; she could sing 
 like a nightingale; she never interfered with him. 
 What more could he wish for? 
 
 "I begin to think," said the handsome earl to him- 
 self one day, "that I have not done so badly after all. 
 If I had married for love, or anything of that kind, 
 what trouble I should have had, what reproaches and 
 tears — and a woman's tears! I would sooner face 
 untold hardships. I should have had all the uncer- 
 tainties of love; now I am spared it all, and my house 
 is presided over by a queenly mistress. Taking every- 
 thing into account, I consider I am a fortunate man." 
 
 So he said in his blindness; but the time was to 
 come when he would awaken from *hat blindness with 
 sudden passionate pain. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 139 
 
 When the month of May came round he decided 
 upon going to London. Halby House was prepared 
 for them, and the handsome earP s friends made ready 
 to receive him with open arms. He had been wel- 
 come in his penniless state, and, having married a 
 wealthy heiress, he was now doubly welcome. Those 
 who had won money from him before looked forward 
 to winning more; those who had gambled and betted 
 with him before, looked forward to a renewal of those 
 delights. He would be welcome. 
 
 The elite of the fashionable world were not sorry to 
 receive their favorite again. The rumor that Halby 
 House was to be thrown open, that the young Count- 
 ess of Caraven was very beautiful, that the earl's 
 revived prosperity would enable him to vie with the 
 best party-givers in London, was good news. The 
 only one indifferent to it was the young countess her- 
 self — and she would fain have hidden her sorrows from 
 all eyes and remained at Ravensmere. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 "died of neglect* 
 
 Halby House was, as rumor said, one of the most 
 magnificent mansions in London. It had been closed 
 for some years, the earPs affairs not permitting his 
 residence there. Now circumstances were different. 
 Arley Ransome — to whom this spring was to bring 
 the keen enjoyment of his ambition — had undertaken 
 to have it redecorated and refurnished. He had grati- 
 fied the earl by begging that he would leave the mat- 
 ter entirely to him; it would delight him, he said, to 
 place so valuable a present in his daughter's hand as 
 a wedding gift. The earl laughed indolently. 
 
 "It is rather late in the day for a wedding gift," he 
 said, "but do just as you like." 
 
 Arley Ransome did just as he liked; he enjoyed it 
 very much. He had the pleasure of going to the best 
 shops in London and ordering all kinds of things for 
 "my daughter, Lady Caraven" — "my daughter, the 
 Countess of Caraven." 
 
 It was a poor ambition for a clever man; but it was 
 his, and he had gratified it at the cost of his daugh- 
 ter's happiness. That mattered little to him; he was 
 father-in-law to the Right Honorable, the Earl of Cara- 
 ven — he was the father of the beautiful Countess o 
 
 140 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 141 
 
 Caraven. What this did for him, how it advanced his 
 interests, he best knew. 
 
 Halby House was talked about for its splendor and 
 magnificence; even before the earl and countess came 
 to town crowds of people went to see it. It was con- 
 sidered a triumph of art. The earl had not asked his 
 young wife if she would go up to town; he had taken 
 her consent for granted. He knew that she must be 
 presented — that, if he failed in that duty, Arley Ran- 
 some would be indignant; and he was fairly caught 
 in the toils. He was not particularly ashamed of his 
 wife; he was not proud of her; but he had ceased to 
 feel annoyed by the reflection that he had married a 
 money-lender's daughter. The Duchess of Morley was 
 to present her; and, once under the shadow of her 
 grace's protection, a triumph was sure to follow. 
 
 A proud day for Arley Ransome was that of his 
 daughter's presentation at court. He drove to Halby 
 House to see her before she went, and to him his 
 daughter looked like a miracle of beauty. Full dress 
 enhanced her loveliness wonderfully; her neck, arms 
 and shoulders were beautifully molded, and they were 
 shown to the greatest advantage, as was the perfect, 
 rounded figure. The court-dress was one of unusual 
 magnificence — a silver brocade elaborately trimmed 
 with rich lace. She wore a parure of diamonds; the 
 waving plumes that lend so grotesque an aspect to 
 some faces gave her an air of majesty. The lovely 
 Spanish face and dark eyes were a study in themselves. 
 
 She was alone with her maids in her dressing-room 
 when Arley Ransome came. He sent up a little pen- 
 ciled note, saying: 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Hildred, can you come into the drawing-room for 
 a few minutes? I want to see you in your court-dress.'* 
 
 There was no elation in her heart as she raised her 
 magnificent train in her hand and threw it over her 
 arm. She went downstairs grave, collected, almost sad. 
 
 Arley Ransome started as she entered. Then he 
 made a low bow. 
 
 "My dear Hildred, " he said, "I congratulate you. 
 - How beautiful you look! You were born to be a count- 
 ess. " 
 
 "Then I was born to very little purpose," she re- 
 plied, hastily. 
 
 He would not notice the petulant reply. 
 
 "I must repeat that you look very beautiful, indeed, 
 my dear child," he said. "I am surprised — gratified " 
 
 "I am glad that you are pleased," she replied. He 
 was her father, and she was compelled to honor him; 
 but she felt that she could never forgive him for hav- 
 ing sold her — sold her for a title. 
 
 "I think, my dear," said Arley Ransome, nervously, 
 "that it would be quite as well if you could try to — to 
 look a little brighter. You do not look happy. How 
 is it?" 
 
 "Did you ever expect that I should be happy, papa?" 
 
 "Of course. Most certainly you have everything to 
 make you so." 
 
 She made no reply. The lawyer's eyes glistened 
 with keenest satisfaction as he looked at her. 
 
 "It is a proud day for me," he said — "the day on 
 which I see my daughter in her court-dress. Throw 
 down the train; let me see the full effect." 
 
FROk OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 • 143 
 
 Without a smile on her face she complied, standing 
 before him calm, beautiful, self-possessed. At that 
 moment the earl, not knowing she was there, entered 
 the room. He started at the lovely apparition. 
 
 "Hildred, I did not know that you were here. You 
 are ready, I see." 
 
 "Quite ready," she replied, briefly. 
 
 "Then we will start at once," he said. 
 
 Arley Ransome went up to him. 
 
 "You must feel pleased and proud," he said. "The 
 most beautiful woman presented to-day will be your 
 wife. I predict for her a signal triumpji. " 
 
 "Which will add considerably to my domestic hap- 
 piness," remarked the earl. 
 
 Yes, he was pleased. He saw people whose opinions 
 he valued turn to look at his wife; he heard her name 
 whispered; he saw admiring glances follow her; he felt 
 that among fair pink-and-white English girls she looked 
 like some southern queen. But the knowledge of all 
 this did not in the least warm his heart to her. And 
 she? She had ceased to feel any great interest in 
 his opinion. The time had been when she would per- 
 haps have stood before him, and have said, "I hope 
 you are pleased with me, Lord Caraven." She would 
 not now; she was proudly, superbly indifferent. Indeed 
 she would have given much for the impulse, the desire 
 to please him. It had faded away— died of neglect. 
 
 There was no prouder woman at the queen's draw- 
 ing-room than the money-lender's daughter, the un- 
 loved, neglected wife of the handsome earl. How lit* 
 tie she dreamed of the spleodid pageant when she 
 
144 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 was at St. Roche, thinking only of study! How little 
 she had thought that at some time or other she would 
 be a countess— Countess of Caraven — that she would 
 be taken to court by a grand and stately duchess. 
 
 'I wish," she said, with a sigh, "that I were at St. 
 Roche again. There life was bright, because it was full 
 of possibilities; the possibilities are all accomplished 
 now, and it is bright no longer." 
 
 For a few minutes she forgot her troubles, when 
 she stood before the queen. Then there was a crush, 
 a mingling of smiles and sighs, and the drawing-room 
 was over. 
 
 Arley Ransome was a proud man that day. He in- 
 tended his daughter to be his stepping-stone to honor. 
 The handsome earl was not at all elated — he heard all 
 that people had to say about the beauty of his wife^ 
 but he did not place much faith in it. To him she 
 would always be the unformed school-girl of the Hol- 
 lies. When anyone praised his wife, he thought it 
 was done to please him; and he laughed cynically to 
 himself, knowing how mistaken they were. 
 
 He wondered a little what his wife thought of her 
 great success. It struck him that he would ask her. 
 He reached home at the same time that she did, and 
 followed her to the drawing-room, thinking as he 
 looked at her how grave and earnest was her face. 
 
 "How did you feel through it all, Hildred?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Something like a daw in borrowed plumes," she 
 replied. "I do not think I shall care very much about 
 your great world, Lord Caraven. I do not think it is 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 145 
 
 such a great pleasure to be of it. I think it is quite 
 possible that many would be civil to the Countess of 
 Caraven who would have wasted little kindness on 
 Hildred Ransome. " 
 
 "There you are right," he said. 
 
 "I do not care for your great world, then. I know 
 worlds higher and greater — I would sooner belong to 
 them." 
 
 "Yet it is something to be Countess of Caraven," 
 said the earl. 
 
 And his wife's sigh was the only response to his 
 words. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 M A FALSE, UNNATURAL LIFE* 
 
 The people of the great world did not quite under- 
 stand Lady Caraven. She was among them, but not 
 of them. In crowded ball-rooms, in the opera-house, 
 at garden-parties and where the lovers of fashion con- 
 gregated, her noble, beautiful face, with its look of 
 proud reserve, appeared out of place. She was very 
 popular — very much liked — but not quite understood. 
 Fair ladies whose lives were one gay round of pleas- 
 ure wondered why smiles did not come as readily to 
 her lips as to theirs — why she was graver, more 
 thoughtful, more abstracted. 
 
 • It was so strange a life; the world around her was 
 so brilliant, so gay, there seemed no room in it for 
 anything but laughter and song. There were times 
 when she looked wonderingly at the bright faces of 
 others, crying from the depths of her soul: 
 "My heart is empty! " 
 
 The tender, loving human heart was empty. She 
 had loved her father very dearly, and he had sold her 
 to the handsome earl for a title — for the gratification 
 of a paltry ambition. She had tried to love her hus- 
 band and he had amused himself by telling her of his 
 conquests — he had frankly owned that he did not care 
 for her and that he never should. Her heart was 
 
 146 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 147 
 
 empty. It was too noble to be filled with frivolity. 
 She might have turned to that refuge for the destitute, 
 flirtation; she might have thrown herself into the 
 giddy vortex of the world — into the whirlpool of 
 gayety; she might have lived on excitement. But 
 she was too noble for any of these things — she could 
 not have consented to them. 
 
 "What shall I do with my life?" 
 
 The cry that arises from so many aching hearts 
 now arose from hers. She had no one to love, no one 
 to care for — the very duties that might have occupied 
 her were taken from her — and something of all this 
 was told in the beautiful young face. She had many 
 sad thoughts. No one was more popular in society 
 than the handsome earl; but people were quite alive 
 to his failings, which were never treated very seriously 
 — the rumor that he had lost a few thousands on the 
 turf, a few hundreds at the gaming-table, was gener- 
 ally received with a smile. He was "faithless and light 
 of heart," he never sighed over his misfortunes, and 
 the world loved the smiling fashion in which he bore 
 them. 
 
 People had not made up their minds as to whether 
 he loved his beautiful girl-wife, and Hildred often 
 heard remarks not intended for her ear. One evening 
 she was standing behind a group of ladies in a crowded 
 ball-room, and she heard her own name. 
 
 "Have you seen Lady Caraven?" one asked another, 
 and the answer was: "Yes, I have seen her. She is 
 very beautiful; but she is a thousand times too good 
 for the earl." 
 
148 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Yes, it was a sacrifice," said the first speaker. 
 "She does not look happy." 
 
 Again, she was in the crush-room one evening, when, 
 feeling cold, she drew her opera-hood over her face, 
 and she heard herself spoken of. 
 
 "The Countess of Caraven. Poor child, she is to 
 be pitied!" 
 
 Why was it that people seemed to pity her? Did 
 the whole world know that her husband had married 
 her for her money and did not love her? She fancied 
 it must be so — and that belief made her more retiring 
 than ever. 
 
 One morning she was restless and could not sleep. 
 She had been thinking about her strange lot in life 
 until her head ached. The pillow was hot; she longed 
 to be up and breathing the sweet, fresh morning air. 
 
 She touched the repeater; it was just four. She 
 thought a book might soothe her, and was much in- 
 terested in a new novel. She was always considerate 
 about her servants. Many ladies would have rung for 
 their maid, and have sent her for what they required; 
 but Lady Caraven rose and put on her dressing, 
 gown, intending to go to the drawing-room herself. 
 Then the clear cold water in her dressing-room looked 
 so tempting that she stopped and bathed her face and 
 hands in it. She drew her wealth of dark hair behind 
 her pretty shell-like ears. She had no thought of the 
 lovely picture she presented — her beautiful face glow- 
 ing with roses from the cold water, her hair falling 
 in most picturesque disorder, the graceful lines and 
 curves of her figure showing to greatest advantage. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 I 4 9 
 
 She went downstairs, and was surprised to see the 
 /arge lamp still burning in the hall. She thought it 
 had been forgotten, and went forward with the inten- 
 tion of putting it out. To her still greater surprise, 
 she saw Adolphe, her husbands valet, asleep in the 
 great arm-chair. She spoke to him. 
 
 "Adolphe," she said, "what are you doing here? 
 Why is this lamp still alight? It is morning." 
 
 The tired man-servant looked round him with an air 
 of stupefaction for half a minute, then rose, and, see- 
 ing the young countess, grew puzzled and half 
 alarmed. What was he to say if she repeated the 
 question? 
 
 "What are you doing here? " she asked again. 
 
 He dared not say that he was waiting for his master; 
 but, before he had time to reply, there came, fortu- 
 nately, a knock at the hall door, and the next moment 
 the earl stood before her. In amazement he looked 
 at the vision before him. 
 
 "Hildred," he cried, "what are you doing here?" 
 
 "I came down to find a book, because I could not 
 sleep, and, seeing the lamp burning, I intended to 
 extinguish it." 
 
 Lord Caraven took out his watch. 
 
 "Four o'clock," he said. "I am late— or rathe/ 
 early; I have been playing at billiards since eleven 1 
 
 "She looked contemptuously at him. 
 
 "I believe, " she said, "that your whole sou 1 is 
 engrossed in billiards." 
 
 "I have played the best game to-night that I A,aVe 
 ever played in my life," he told her, laughing. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 She made no reply. He continued: 
 
 "I will quote a popular line — 'If you're waking, 
 call me early' — that is, some time after noon. We 
 shall have a grand match at the club to-morrow even- 
 ing, and I have staked a small fortune on the cham- 
 pion billiard-player of England." 
 
 Hildred looked at him — the handsome face was 
 worn and haggard, the eyes were tired and dim. The 
 picture was a striking one — the girl-wife in all the 
 fresh beauty of her youth; the husband, still in his 
 evening dress, haggard, pale, yet handsome even in 
 his fatigue; the lovely light of the morning struggling 
 with the garish light of the lamp. 
 
 Hildred spoke at last — the valet had discreetly dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 " I had no idea that you stayed out so late," she 
 said, gravely. "I do not think it is right." 
 
 "If I were you," returned her husband, "I would 
 
 not waste any time in thinking about it. You know 
 
 the old song: 
 
 "'The best of all ways to lengthen our days 
 
 Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear. ,M 
 
 "It must be hard for your servants," she said, 
 "though perhaps very delightful to yourself." 
 
 "You forget our compact, Hildred," he said, his 
 face clouding. "You go your way, and I go mine; 
 but I will allow no interference; my outgoings and 
 incomings have nothing to do with you — do not for- 
 get." 
 
 "I do not forget," she told him, haughtily. 
 
 "I will never allow anyone to mak^ any comment 
 
FROM OUT THE GL06M 
 
 upon my actions," he said. "I please myself, and I 
 always shall." 
 
 "I make no comment," rejoined his wife. 
 
 He recovered his good humor — it was impossible to 
 look at her and do otherwise. "We both, it appears, 
 steal a few hours from the night, but mine are taken 
 from the beginning, yours from the end. Good morn- 
 ing, Hildred," and the next moment she was stand- 
 ing in the hall alone. 
 
 She went into the drawing-room and opened the 
 shutters, letting in all the glory of the sunshine, all 
 the fragrance of the morning air; she opened the win- 
 dows and looked out at the tall green trees. How 
 fair it was — this world on which she looked! The 
 sky was glowing with crimson and gold, the dew lay 
 shining on the grass, the western wind was fragrant 
 with sweet odors. 
 
 Looking at the morning sky, she remembered her 
 husband's handsome haggard face under the garish 
 light of the lamp, and she turned away with a shud- 
 der. What a false, unnatural life it was! How she 
 loathed it! She laid her head against the cool green 
 leaves of the plants that half-filled the window, and, 
 looking still at the morning skies, dreamed of the 
 world, of life as it might have been — so different — ah, 
 so different, if she had only married someone who 
 loved her! 
 
 The beauty of the morning sky, the fragrance of the 
 flowers, awoke in her heart a longing for love. If 
 she had only married a husband who loved her — who 
 would have talked to her, cared for her — who would 
 
PROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 not have placed her outside his life, and have treated 
 
 her as a stranger — she could have lived in the green 
 heart of the land, away from the brilliant city; the 
 sun would always have shone for her. 
 
 So thinking, so dreaming, she fell asleep with her 
 head among the leaves, and^the sun shining on her 
 face. 
 
 When she awoke it was with a shudder, her dreams 
 had all been of the earl's anger. She remembered 
 the scene of the early morning. 
 
 "And now," she thought, "he will, sleep until noon, 
 and then play again until sunrise to-morrow. What 
 a life! May heaven pardon us for the time we waste." 
 
 It was not until dinner-time the same day that she 
 saw her husband again, and then he did not look very 
 well pleased. 
 
 "Hildred, " he said, sharply, "1 hope j'ou do not 
 intend to repeat this morning's performance. If you 
 want books, take them upstairs with you. It is like a 
 scene from a French drama, to open the hall door, 
 and find one's wife waiting there." 
 
 "It was quite an accident," she replied. "How 
 can you imagine it to have been otherwise?" 
 
 He appeared rather ashamed of his harshness. 
 
 "I have heard so many stories," he said. "I thought, 
 perhaps, that someone had been telling you that I 
 spend whole nights at billiards, and that you wished 
 to find out for yourself whether it was true." 
 
 "You do not understand me," she returned, haugh- 
 tily, "if you think that I would allow anyone to speak 
 • evil of you to me." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 153 
 
 He looked pleased. 
 
 "That is right," he said. "I see it was accidental. 
 Do not let it occur again, Hildred. I should not like 
 it. After all, you know, liberty of action is the one 
 great thing. I will let no one interfere with mine." 
 
 "I can assure you, Lord Caraven," she answered, 
 "that I, for one, shall never try to do so." 
 
 "That is right," he said. "If you keep to that we 
 shall be good friends. " 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 "i AM AN UNLOVED WIFE*' 
 
 A week after this little incident Arley Ransome 
 called to see his daughter; he wished to congratulate 
 her on her success in society, to tell her all • that he 
 had heard in her praise, and how his most sanguine 
 dreams were being realized. As the father of Lady 
 Caraven, people thought it worth their while to con- 
 ciliate him. He was invited to houses where, before 
 this marriage, he had never hoped to enter; he had 
 been made welcome in the drawing-rooms of Belgra- 
 via and Mayfair. What was even better, his practice 
 was increasing. Arley Ransome was a happy man. 
 
 He was shown into the library, where the young 
 countess sat alone, royally beautiful, in a close-fitting 
 dress of black velvet — velvet that fell in rich folds 
 and swept the ground around her. The charming 
 head and face were set off by the dark drapery, she 
 held a book in her hands, but she had not read one 
 word it contained. She looked up when her father 
 entered, and he was struck by the despondency of 
 her young face, the weariness of her dark eyes, the 
 drooping attitude. He went up to her, and, as usual, 
 complimented her. She was looking so well, so beau: 
 tif'vl, he. must say, and what a success she hid 
 achieved. 
 
 154 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 155 
 
 No smile answered; the weariness and the despond- 
 ency deepened. He took a seat by her side, and told 
 her all that he thought would interest her most. Was 
 she listening? He did not know, lor she made no 
 reply Suddenly — and the shock of it quite startled 
 him - she raised her eyes to his face. 
 
 "Father," she said, "do you know what manner of 
 man this is to whom you have sold me?" 
 
 "My dear Hildred, hush! Pray be more guarded 
 in your speech." 
 
 "I repeat, do you know what manner of man my 
 husband is?" 
 
 "Oh! nt)w you put the question in better form, I 
 can answer it! You really should not use the word 
 'sold/ as though you were a slave; we do not sell 
 people in England." 
 
 She laughed — surely, the most dreary, the saddest 
 laugh that ever fell from such young lips. 
 
 "We will not dispute about a word, papa. Answer 
 my question — do you know what manner of man my 
 husband is?" 
 
 "I know that the earl is considered a very handsome, 
 fascinating man by all who are acquainted with him," 
 lie replied. 
 
 "Handsome!" she repeated, sorrowfully. "What 
 has that to do with it? Do you know that he is 
 utterly incorrigible — that he spends his days and 
 nights in playing and betting — that he comes home at 
 sunrise — that he neglects every duty?" 
 
 "Little foibles, my dear," he replied, quickly; "you 
 must not think too much of them." 
 
156 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 She folded her hands, and they lay listlessly on her 
 dress. 
 
 "Little foibles, papa? If men call those things lit- 
 tle foibles, I should like to know what they consider 
 great sins!'* 
 
 "We will waive that, my dear — it is not a matter 
 for discussion," said the lawyer, almost wishing that 
 he had not called on that particular morning. 
 
 But she was not to be silenced. 
 
 "Did you know what he was when you allowed me 
 to marry him?" she continued. 
 
 "I knew that he was Lord Caraven — and surely that 
 was enough — a peer of the realm, a man of ancient 
 descent. M 
 
 "Did you know that he liked gambling and betting 
 better than anything else in the world?" she asked. 
 
 "More foibles. All men have their weaknesses — 
 those are his. You must have patience, my dear." 
 
 "Did you know," she continued, "that he does not 
 even like me, and never did?" 
 
 "Nonsense, Hildred! You have all that you require," 
 he said, hastily. 
 
 "And a dead heart," she murmured — "a dead heart! 
 Papa, did you remember that I was young, and that 
 youth lives on love?" 
 
 "Nonsense!" he replied. "You have grown senti- 
 mental through having nothing to do, Hildred." 
 
 "It was a cruel thing, this marriage. I was so 
 young — I might have been spared. It was a cruel 
 deed." 
 
 "My dear Hildred," said Arley Ransome, growing 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 157 
 
 alarmed, "I did not deceive you. I never told you 
 that Lord Caraven loved you. He asked you to be 
 his wife; there was nothing said about love." 
 
 "You told me that I could live without it," she said, 
 in a low voice. 
 
 "I did," he assented. 
 
 She struck her hands together with passionate 
 fervor. 
 
 "I cannot!" she cried. "Heaven help me, I cannot! 
 My heart is empty, my heart is dead, my life is vain. 
 You deceived me when you told me that. You, my 
 father, who should have saved me — who should have 
 taught me better — you deceived me, and I wish that I 
 were dead!" 
 
 "You are very unreasonable, Hildred," he said, 
 slowly. 
 
 "What have I to live for?" she cried. "I have no 
 one to love me. My husband is a stranger to me; he 
 values me less than his horse or his dog; he would not 
 miss me if I died to-morrow, he has my money, he 
 does not want me. There is no one in all this wide 
 world so forlorn, so desolate as I am." 
 
 "You forget that I love you, Hildred." 
 
 "No, you never loved me, papa," she declared. "I 
 am quite — " 
 
 "I am sure." interrupted Arley Ransome, "that Lord 
 Caraven always seems kind to you." 
 
 "Kind!" she repeated. "He does not beat me; he 
 is just as kind to his favorite dog as he is to me! 
 Kind! That is not the relationship that should be 
 between husband and wife; he does not love me, and 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 he never will. Think of that — remember how young 
 I am, how lonely. How am I to live through the 
 stretch of years? My husband, papa, rarely speaks to 
 me; he never takes the least interest in me. I do not 
 believe that if I fell dead at his feet he would attempt 
 to raise me from the ground." 
 
 "You exaggerate, my dear; it will all come right in 
 time," he said, soothingly. 
 
 "It will never come right for me, papa — and you 
 know it." 
 
 With a passionate gesture she rose up from her 
 seat. She went over to him and laid her hands on his 
 shoulders. She raised her sad, beautiful face to his. 
 
 "Father," she said, "I am frightened at myself. I 
 cannot tell — I dare not think — -how it will end. I was 
 indifferent at first, but now," she continued in a low 
 tone, "I begin to dislike him." 
 
 "Oh, my dear, that is very wrong — very wrong, 
 indeed! A woman should never dislike her husband!" 
 
 ''Should a husband ever dislike his wife?" she 
 asked. "Because my husband does dislike me. I am 
 frightened at myself, for if I were to be here much 
 longer I should hate him — hate him for his indolence, 
 his self-indulgence, his weakness of character — hate 
 him, because through him my whole life is spoiled." 
 
 "Hush, Hildred! I will not listen to you. You are 
 unreasonable. You have everything that a woman's 
 heart can wish for; you have position; you are sur- 
 rounded with luxury; you have boundless wealth. 
 What more can you want?'* 
 
 "I have all that, and I am an unloved wife. I have 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 159 
 
 all that, yet I would change places with the poorest 
 peasant woman whose husband loves her." 
 
 "That sounds well, my dear, but were you to try 
 it, you would soon change your opinion. Now, be 
 reasonable, Hildred. Be content with what you have; 
 do not long for what you have not. I wonder at your 
 want of reason — your want of sense. You are like a 
 child crying for the moon. How many girls in 
 England would have been glad of the chance to be 
 Countess of Caraven." 
 
 "I hate the title!" she said, with a stamp of the 
 foot. 
 
 "You are in a passion, Hildred. You are not your- 
 self to-day. I am sorry that I called." 
 
 With an imploring gesture she held out her 'hands 
 to him. 
 
 "Can you do nothing to help me, papa — nothing?" 
 
 He looked embarrassed and perplexed. 
 
 "What can I do, my dear? I can speak to Lord 
 Cc raven, but I have grave doubts as to whether that 
 will improve matters. It is never a wise thing to 
 interfere between husband yand wife. I could ask 
 him to take just a little more interest in you, if 'you 
 like." 
 
 *'No!" she cried vehemently. "You do not under- 
 stand. I mean, help me that I may not hate him — help 
 me that I may be more patient. If I hated him, I 
 should be compelled to leave him — and I am draw- 
 ing near it fast." 
 
 ' You must not, Hildred. I am sure he is very 
 lovable." 
 
i6o 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "But then you see papa," she objected, "he does 
 
 not love me." 
 
 "He will do so in time. Everyone likes Lord Cara- 
 ven. He is called 'the handsome earl.* I assure you, 
 Hildred, that there is not a woman in London who 
 would have refused him, not one." 
 
 "I wish that I had refused him," she said, dream- 
 ily. "Papa, I am so frightened at myself. Do you 
 know that I do not want him to love me now? I am 
 beginning to dislike him — the sound of his voice is 
 positively unpleasant to me. I would far rather be 
 broken-hearted, longing for his love, than be what I 
 am now. I should be a better woman if I wept for his 
 love, instead of feeling as I do now that it is not 
 worth having. My better self is dead." 
 
 "My dear Hildred, all this is most absurd. You J« 
 not know what you want. You tell me that your hus* 
 band does not love you — you make that the ground 
 work of your complaint — and then you tell me you 
 cannot regret his want of love. The fact is, my dear, 
 you are not yourself — you are over-tired. After your 
 quiet life at St. Roche, all this excitement is too 
 much for you. I should advise you to keep quie* 
 for a few days, and then you will be all right." 
 
 The tragedy of sorrow seemed to pass from her 
 face. 
 
 "Thank you, papa," she replied. Her hands tell 
 listlessly. "You speak as you think. It is not your 
 fault that you do not understand me. We will say no 
 more about it." 
 
 "That is right," said Arley Ransome, looking great* 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 161 
 
 ly relieved. "Now you speak like a reasonable 
 woman. Philosophers say that women have impulse 
 but no reason — I shall begin to think that they are 
 wrong," 
 
 He talked with his usual brisk cheerfulness about 
 many indifferent subjects, and then took his leave. 
 But, although he had silenced his daughter he was 
 not disposed to allow this kind of thing to continue, 
 if he could help it. It would end badly — his own 
 knowledge of the world told him that. So he called 
 at the earl's club, and there he found him as usual. 
 
 "I have just been to Halby House," he said, "and 
 have been spending half an hour with Hildred." 
 
 The earl raised his eyebrows, which was the only 
 mark of interest he thought it worth his while to 
 bestow. 
 
 "I did not think that she looked very well, and, 
 what was worse, she did not appear happy." 
 
 "Women never do unless they have new diamonds 
 every day," declared the earl. 
 
 "I do not think that Hildred requires new diamonds; 
 but I think perhaps that if you — " 
 
 "I," interrupted the earl — "I have nothing to do 
 with it. I have a nervous dread of people who do not 
 look happy. Pray do not appeal to me. Hildred is 
 all right — I see nothing to complain of." 
 
 "I should not like to see anything that called for 
 complaint," said Arley Ransome, sternly. 
 
 "Speak frankly," cried Lord Caraven; "I under- 
 stand plain English Has your daughter been com« 
 plaining about me?" 
 
i6a 
 
 PROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "She has not," was the reply. 
 
 "So much the better for her," said the carl, "and 
 
 so much the better for me." 
 
 Arley Ransome owned to himself that the events of 
 that day had not been altogether pleasant. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 "HEAVEN HELP ME, FOR I AM BEGINNING TO HATE HIM" 
 
 "Hildred," said Lord Caraven, "Captain Fane will 
 dine with us this evening. Try to get someone else 
 to meet him." 
 
 She was in the library, busily engaged in writing 
 letters to St. Roche, and her husband's sudden 
 entrance startled her. It was a bright morning, and 
 the sun shone on her graceful head. She wore a 
 pretty morning costume, dainty white lace encircling 
 the white throat and arms. A man's heart might 
 have warmed to her with exceeding great love — Lord 
 Caraven's did not; he never even stopped to look at 
 her, to make any inquiries about her, or to speak a. 
 few words of kindly greeting. 
 
 "Captain Fane dines with us this evening," he 
 repeated, and then Hildred laid down her pen and 
 looked into his face. 
 
 "I do not like Captain Fane," she said, quickly. 
 
 "Possibly; but then, you see, that has nothing to 
 do with the matter." 
 
 He spoke quite good-humoredly, but his wife saw a 
 slight flush on his face. 
 
 "Captain Fane, you may be surprised to hear, was 
 rude to me when I saw him at Lady Redsley's ball." 
 
 "Indeed I I have never heard anything against him 
 
 163 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 of that kind. If he really was rude, you must have 
 
 annoyed him." 
 
 "I did nothing of the kind, Lord Caraven, " she 
 replied, quietly. 
 
 "What did he do or say?" he asked. 
 
 "I decline to tell you. You evidently disbelieve 
 what I say; but if Captain Fane dines here, I shall 
 not." 
 
 "That is as you wish," he replied. 
 
 "I mean it, Lord Caraven. If Captain Fane dines 
 here, I shall not enter the dining-room." 
 
 "Then I must make an apology for your absence, 
 and say that you have a headache," he replied. 
 
 "I will give no orders for dinner for Captain Fane," 
 said Hildred. 
 
 "I think you will, Lady Caraven; if not, they will 
 be given for you. Mind, there is a limit to my 
 patience — you must not often abuse it. It is plain 
 that you dislike Captain Fane because I like him." 
 
 "No, it is not so, I assure you, Lord Caraven. I was 
 told not many days since that Captain Fane was 
 strongly suspected of some unfair dealings at cards, 
 and would be requested to leave your club." 
 
 "I do not believe it," he said, abruptly. "It is mere 
 gossip — it is not true." 
 
 "It is true, for the Duchess of Morley told me. 
 She said she would tell me whom to know and whom 
 not to know; among the latter was Captain Fane." 
 
 "It 11 nonsense," he said, but he began to fear 
 there might be something in the story. 
 
 "You are at liberty to believe or to disbelieve," 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 165 
 
 returned his wife, haughtily. "I will say no more — 
 only that I refuse distinctly to meet Captain Fane." 
 
 The earl quitted the room really angry at last. He 
 was naturally of an even temper. He was, perhaps, 
 too indolent to be of any other, but he was really 
 angry this time. 
 
 ''A school-girl like that to defy me in my own house," 
 he said — "it is quite unendurable." 
 
 He rang for the housekeeper and gave orders for 
 a recherche dinner. , 
 
 "She shall see," he thought, "that those airs will 
 not do with me." 
 
 Hildred had gone to her room. She would not per- 
 mit the servants to know that there was anything 
 wrong. Her only resource was to shut herself up in 
 her room and leave them to imagine that she had a 
 bad headache. Shut up there, she heard all that 
 passed. She heard Captain Fane's arrival, and din- 
 ner being served. She heard the sound of laughter- 
 then came a silence and she knew, just as though she 
 had been present, that the earl and his guest were 
 playing at cards. 
 
 Captain Fane did not leave the house until after 
 two in the morning, and then Hildred heard her hus- 
 band go to his own room. 
 
 She was deeply mortified. Of how little use, of 
 how little value she was in that house after all! She 
 expressed decided disapprobation of a person, and he 
 was received with all honor. She had said she would 
 not enter the room if he were there; he came, and she 
 was compelled to remain away. She had no influence, 
 
166 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 no command—she was merely a cipher. She walked 
 quickly up and down the room, her beautiful face all 
 flushed, her eyes bright with anger, her fingers inter* 
 
 laced. 
 
 "I cannot bear it much longer," she said. "I ani 
 beginning to Kate him — heaven help me, to hate him I 
 What shall I do?" 
 
 That night no sleep, no rest came to her. She was 
 thinking hour after hour what she was to do. The 
 prospect before her frightened her. She saw no light 
 in the dark clouds, no hope, no help — the years 
 stretched out, so dark and dreary, and she wept the 
 silent hours away. She felt half nervous on meeting 
 her husband again; although there was no love, no 
 affection between them, still it was not often that they 
 had angry words. 
 
 It was the close of the afternoon when he came in, 
 and he went at once in search of her. 
 
 "Hildred," he said, "I have come to apologize, to 
 beg your pardon for my want of civility yesterday, I 
 am afraid that I lost my temper." 
 
 She bowed with cold politeness. 
 
 "Now, Hildred," he cried, "I will not be put off 
 with a ceremonious bow. Do you know that the fact 
 of quarreling and making friends with you again 
 makes me feel that we ought to be on the best of 
 terms? Do not bow to me, say that you accept my 
 apology. " 
 
 "I accept it," she replied; "and beg your pardon, if 
 I have displeased you." 
 
 "That is satisfactory. Now I have to tell you that 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 I67 
 
 you were right, and that I was wrong. Captain Fane 
 is a cheat and a rogue. I won a hundred pounds from 
 him last evening. I have returned it to-day — I would 
 not soil my fingers with his money. What the duchess 
 told you was quite true — he was detected cheating 
 at cards. A long farewell to Captain Fane! He was 
 not worth quarreling about — was he, Hildred?" 
 
 "No," she replied; and something of happiness, to 
 which she had long been a stranger, sprang up in her 
 heart, because he spoke so kindly to her. 
 
 For a day or two after that little incident matters 
 were more pleasant between them. Then the old 
 indifference came back, and the young wife's misery 
 with it. 
 
 May was drawing to a close, when Lord Caraven 
 one evening received a letter which appeared to give 
 him the keenest delight. He read it, and then went 
 with it to his wife. 
 
 "Hildred, here is good news; but I am too hasty — 
 perhaps you will not think it good news." 
 
 "If it pleases you so much I shall," she replied, 
 gently. 
 
 "You have heard me speak of njy cousin, Sir Raoul 
 Laureston, the 'hero of a hundred fights?'" 
 
 '"No," replied Hildred. "I have never even heard 
 his name.'' 
 
 "That seems strange," said the earl. 
 
 "Not at all," she replied, quietly. "You forget 
 that you have never spoken of your family, to me at 
 all. I do not know the name of a single relative that 
 you have." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 He looked incredulously at her. 
 
 "I am very careless," he said; "but I did not think 
 that I was so bad as that. I will make amends now 
 by telling you about Sir Raoul Laureston. " 
 
 "Raoul," repeated Hildred. "Is he — no, he cannot 
 be a Frenchman, Lord Caraven, if he is a relative of 
 yours. " 
 
 "No, but the name has puzzled many people. His 
 mother was a French lady of noble birth, and one of 
 her ancestors, named Raoul de Courcelles, distin- 
 guished himself greatly in the French wars; it washer 
 fancy to name her boy after him." 
 
 Hildred repeated the word "Raoul." 
 
 "I like the name, Lord Caraven," she said, slowly. 
 
 "And I like the name," he told her. "I do not 
 know anyone in the world whom I like better than 
 Raoul. Yet he gives himself great airs with me. He 
 is — you will laugh when you hear it — he is my mas- 
 ter — at least used to be in years gone by. But what 
 I wanted to tell you is this — he is coming back to 
 England, and he has always made his home at my 
 house; he has never lived anywhere but at Halby 
 House or Ravensmere — never — and I hope never will." 
 
 She looked up at him wonderingly. 
 
 "I understand. But what has that to do with me?" 
 
 He looked somewhat confused. 
 
 "After all, you are the mistress of the house, the 
 chatelaine, and I should not like to ask anyone to 
 make their home with us who would be at all — now let 
 me see how to express myself diplomatically — who 
 would be displeasing to you." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 169 
 
 "Thank you," she said, briefly. 
 
 "After all, home — whether it be happy or miserable 
 —is always home, and I should not like to make yours 
 really uncomfortable. If you say that Sir Raoul will 
 be in your way at all, I will not ask him — if you 
 think you will be as happy with him as without him, 
 then I shall be pleased to see him in his old place." 
 
 "I thank you for your consideration," she replied, 
 with dignity; "but, as nothing could possibly make 
 what you call 'home' more unhappy for me, and the 
 coming of a stranger, who may prove a friend, will be 
 some little comfort, I say unhesitatingly, <Yes. ,M 
 
 He looked at her half sadly. 
 
 "Are you really unhappy — really not happy?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "If living where no friendly face ever smiles on me, 
 where no friendly voice ever reaches my ear, where no 
 one cares for me or takes the least interest in me, be 
 happiness, then I must be very happy," she said, bit- 
 terly. 
 
 "Is it so bad as that?" he asked, and there was a 
 shadow of pain on his face. 
 "It is worse," she replied. 
 
 Only a few short weeks since her heart would have 
 beaten fast with happiness to hear words spoken so 
 kindly; now she turned away, and from her heart to 
 her lips rose the unspoken prayer: "Heaven help me, 
 for I am beginning to hate him!" 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 "the brave colonel raoul laureston 
 
 The name of Raoul Laureston was known through- 
 out the land; he had proved himself to be a hero. 
 It was not merely in government dispatches and news- 
 paper paragraphs that he was praised; his name was 
 on men's lips when they gathered together and talked 
 of Old England's glory and of her gallant sons; when 
 they told how English soldiers fought and died, with 
 the strength of lions, the bravery of heroes, they 
 always mentioned the brave Colonel Raoul Laureston, 
 
 He was not wealthy — he was the younger son of the 
 younger branch of the house of Caraven; he had no 
 great patrimony; his whole fortune amounted to about 
 five thousand pounds. But he was a soldier, born 
 and bred; he could never have been anything else. 
 He was as brave as a lion; he knew not fear. They 
 told wonderful stories of him in the army — how he 
 had saved lives while his own life was in peril; how 
 he was loved and worshiped by the men under his 
 command. It was a good thing to belong to Raoul 
 Laureston's regiment; he never forgot any man serv- 
 ing in it; he had the interest of each one at heart. Many 
 a young officer who, in other hands, would have gone 
 to the bad — would have ended a shameful life by a 
 shameful death — with him became a good and brave 
 
 170 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 171 
 
 soldie*. Jf3<4 fca<3 the gift of winning men's hearts; 
 his wor is were few but eloquent. Like all great men, 
 he was utterly devoid of vanity and egotism; in his 
 soul there was no room for small vices. 
 
 So, among a world of commonplace men, he had 
 made for himself a name and fame. When the red 
 flag of war was unfurled, and every home in the land 
 had sent its sons to maintain the honor of Old En- 
 gland, Raoul Laureston's name became a household 
 word. Mothers whose sons were at the war wept on 
 hearing it; men told what they had read of him, and 
 their hearts grew warm as they spoke. Then came the 
 battle when, at the head of his regiment, he rode 
 "into the jaws of death, 18 sword in hand, his brave 
 face shining with the light of courage. "Follow me!" 
 he cried; and sword in hand, he closed with the foe. 
 Men told how the red sunset found him still there. 
 How many lives he had saved by his valor none could 
 say. There were other brave men present who declared 
 that Raoul Laureston had made the day their own. 
 
 He was knighted for his bravery, and then, as 
 though fortune did not know how to lavish sufficient 
 favors upon him, he succeeded to a large fortune, left 
 to him by a comparative stranger, his godfather. But 
 the brave soldier never quite recovered from a terrible 
 wound he had received in battle. The slightest effort, 
 the least exertion, brought on an attack of illness 
 that was always dangerous. And across his brow, 
 just over the right temple, was a deep, red scar, left 
 there by the bayonet of a foe. He was sent to France 
 and to Italy. It seemed as though his military career 
 was ended. 
 
172 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 It had been a terrible grief to him to have to give 
 up his profession and live abroad. He said to his 
 doctors : 
 
 "While I have life I shall hope; the health and the 
 strength I have lost may return to me — I may hold a 
 sword again. Heaven is kind." 
 
 But for the last four years he had been at Nice, and 
 had grown weaker, and a great longing had come over 
 him to see England again. 
 
 "If I must die," he said, "let me die there." 
 
 And seeing that the home-sickness was a bar to his 
 recovery, the doctors allowed him to return. 
 
 It was strange — the journey did him good; he was 
 stronger when he reached London than he had been 
 for some time. Then he wrote to the only relative he 
 had — Lord Caraven — asking if he should, as usual, 
 make his home with him. He had not heard of the 
 earl's marriage — Lord Caraven never wrote a letter 
 unless he was compelled to do so — and Sir Raoul had 
 not read the notice of 'it in the English newspapers. 
 Had he known of the marriage, he would never have 
 dreamed of going to his kinsman's home. 
 
 Hfe heard it from one of his brother officers, who 
 hastened to welcome him to England, and was at 
 first incredulous. He had always loved the handsome, 
 willful boy who looked up to him with such affection, 
 and it had been a bitter source of trouble to him to 
 find him inclined to go the wrong way in life. Raoul 
 Laureston was many years older than the earl, but 
 they had always been good friends. In his light, 
 frank way he had scolded the handsome boy — now he 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 173 
 
 scolded the man. He had done his best to exercise 
 a wise control over the earl. There were times when 
 he fancied that he should succeed — there were others 
 w T hen he knew that he had failed. 
 
 It was with positive incredulity that he heard of the 
 marriage. When Major Vandaleur told him the news, 
 the brave soldier refused to believe it. 
 
 "Caraven would never have married without telling 
 me," he said. "He has not written to me for years, 
 but he would have written if that had been the case." 
 
 "I assure you," declared Major Vandaleur, "that I 
 was present at the ceremony. He was married at St. 
 George's, Hanover Square." 
 
 "I must not dispute what you saw with your own 
 eyes," said Sir Raoul. "That granted then, whom 
 has he married?" 
 
 "A Miss Ransome," was the brief reply. 
 
 "Ransome? I do riot remember the name." 
 
 Major Vandaleur laughed. 
 
 "No, you have probably never heard it — though 
 there are few young men in the army who could say 
 as much. Ransome is a lawyer and a money-lender." 
 
 The soldier's face fell. 
 
 "A money-lender! You cannot be serious! Cara- 
 ven marry a money-lender's daughter! I cannot believe 
 it." 
 
 M lt Is true. I remember the lady's name — Hildred 
 Kansome. I did not see her, although I was in the 
 church during the marriage; the crush was so great 
 I could not. The bridegroom's tall head towered 
 above the crowd; I saw a vision of white and silver 
 put not the bride's face or figure." 
 
574 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "A money-lender's daughter! Is she beautiful, Van- 
 
 daleur?- 
 
 "I cannot say; I have never seen her. Caraven did 
 say that she was an unformed school-girl. It was a 
 queer marriage for our handsome friend." 
 
 "Had she a fortune? Did she fall in love with him, 
 or what?" 
 
 "Of course she had a fortune — a very large one, I 
 believe — some say two hundred thousand pounds. I 
 know one thing — Caraven was utterly ruined; he had 
 not a shilling to fall back upon, and after his marriage 
 he appeared in full feather. Halby House has been 
 the house of the season; and I am told that Ravens- 
 mere in its magnificence is equal to a palace. He 
 must have had a large fortune with the lady. ,J 
 
 "I hope that he married her a little from love," 
 said Sir RaouL 
 
 Major Vandaleur looked at him. 
 
 "Lord Caraven had been going steadily to the bad 
 for many years past," he remarked. "I do not think 
 that you would recognize him — his character, I mean; 
 he has not carried out the promise of his boyhood." 
 
 "He has had great temptations," said the soldier, 
 "and no occupation; in those few words you have the 
 cause of many ruined lives. If what you say be the 
 case, major, I shall hesitate about going to Halby 
 House. I have always made my home with the boy 
 because I loved him; but a wife in the house alters 
 matters. What is she like, this Lady Caraven?" 
 
 "I cannot tell you; I have not met her. The only 
 time I heard her discussed was on her wedding-day; 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 she was only just eighteen, and people said she looked 
 very unhappy." 
 
 "Only eighteen! And when was he married, Van- 
 daleur? " 
 
 "Last year, Laureston." 
 
 "Then she is only nineteen now; that is very young, " 
 said Sir Raoul, musingly. "I am afraid I should be 
 an interloper. And I should not feel at home. Cara- 
 ven is very fond of her, I should say. I do not think 
 that I shall go to Halby House." 
 
 "You have plenty of money," returned the major, 
 brusquely; "why not buy a place of your o*vn?" 
 
 "I would do so— that is, I would have done so long 
 ago, but that I am uncertain about my own life; it has 
 hung upon a thread so long that I have never dreamed 
 of anything for myself. v 
 
 "I ought to be a judge," said the major; "and I 
 prophesy from your appearance that you will grow 
 better — not worse." 
 
 Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of 
 a note for Sir Raoul. 
 
 "It is from Caraven," he said, as he hastily broke 
 the seal. 
 
 As he read it, his whole face brightened, a light 
 came into his eyes. 
 
 "I knew the boy's heart was in the right place," he 
 remarked. "There could not be a kinder letter than 
 that. He will not hear of my remaining here or go- 
 ing elsewhere. I am to go to Halby House at once, 
 where everything is at my service, and his wife joins 
 in begging me to go. The boy is not changed, you 
 see. His heart is good." 
 
176 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 And the major, having some little respect for Sir 
 Raoul, forbore to tell him what rumor said about the 
 handsome earl and His heart. "I shall go," said 
 Sir Raoul — "this has quite decided me. You think 
 I am right, do you not?" he added, seeing a strange 
 smile on the major's face. 
 
 "Certainly. I was thinking of the earl, not of you;" 
 and long after the two friends had parted, Major Van- 
 daleur looked very grave. 
 
 "It is like going into a wasp's nest," he said. 
 "Raoul is a noble, simple-hearted soldier. He will 
 have little patience with the earl — perhaps even less 
 with his wife." 
 
 No such thought troubled Sir Raoul; to him it 
 seemed quite right and just that his kinsman should 
 extend the hand of welcome, that his wife and him- 
 self should beg him to visit them, that their home 
 should be his. 
 
 "I may be able to* do him some good," said Sir 
 Raoul. "Ulric always listened to me." 
 
 So he was full of hope afe he drove to Halby House. 
 
 "What will this young wife be like?" he wondered. 
 "A money-lender's daughter — nothing very noble or 
 brilliant; but Ulric loved her, I suppose. She will 
 be a city demoiselle. Let us hope, for Ulric' s sake, 
 that she is pretty and accomplished." 
 
 He caught himself wondering more than once what 
 she would be like, and then he laughed at himself for 
 his pains. 
 
 "I have so few relatives," he said, "that the fact of 
 finding a new one is something wonderful, " 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 177 
 
 His worn face flushed with emotion as the carriage 
 stopped at Halby House. 
 
 "When a man has but a few friends, he knows how 
 to value them," he said to himself. "I know Ulric 
 will be pleased to see me again. M 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 "i DO NOT LIKE HER* 
 
 The earl was at home expecting Sir Raoul. He 
 
 was shown into the library, and there in a few moment* 
 he was found by his kinsman. They met with out 
 stretched hands and warm words of greeting > but the 
 earl looked sorrowfully into his kinsman's face. 
 
 "You have suffered very much, Raoul," he said, 
 quietly. 
 
 "Yes, and never thought to see you again. You are 
 changed too, Ulric — I feel inclined to ask where is the 
 sunny-faced boy whom I loved so dearly?" 
 
 Lord Caraven laughed a little bitter laugh. 
 
 "The truth is, Raoul, I have not turned out very 
 well. I may have been a good boy but I have scarcely 
 made a good man." 
 
 "A fault acknowledged is often half amended," said 
 Sir Raoul. 
 
 "Yes," admitted the earl, carelessly; "but I feel no 
 great desire to amend — I half wish that I did." 
 
 "I hear wondrous news, Ulric — that you are married. 
 Is it true?" 
 
 The earl's face darkened, as it generally did when 
 any mention was made of his wife. 
 
 "Yes," he replied, gloomily. "I am married." 
 
 178 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 179 
 
 M And your wife, I have been told, had a large fort- 
 une." 
 
 "That is true," he said. "Have they told you any- 
 thing else?" 
 
 "No, except that she was Miss Hildred Ransome, 
 the great lawyer's daughter." 
 
 "The great money-lender and schemer's daughter," 
 corrected the earl. 
 
 "She will not be answerable for her father's faults. 
 What is she like, Ulric, this young wife of yours? I 
 never had a sister, and my mother died when I was a 
 boy. It will be quite a novelty to me to claim kins- 
 manship with a lady." 
 
 "All novelties are not agreeable ones," was the 
 moody reply. 
 
 "This one will be, I am sure. I shall be quite 
 proud to address, 'My cousin. Lady Caraven."' 
 
 "You are a preux chevalier, Raoul — you believe in 
 the sex," said the earl. 
 
 ' And do not you," Ulric?" 
 
 "No, not in one of them. The fact is, I feel quite 
 certain that you will not like my wife, and it annoys 
 me." 
 
 "Like her?" echoed Sir Raoul. "How strangely 
 you speak! Certainly I shall do more than like her, 
 your wife and my cousin. I tell you that the thought 
 of seeing her is a positive pleasure to me." 
 
 With hasty steps Lord Caraven walked up and 
 down the room. He seemed as though about to speak, 
 but then stopped abruptly. He stood at last in front 
 of his cousin. 
 
i8o 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Raoul," he said, "I am not good at keeping s 
 secret. The truth is, I do not like my wife. " 
 
 "Not like her, Ulric! You are jesting, surely?** 
 
 "I wish to heaven that I were! I know I am a 
 prodigal, a spendthrift; but I think sometimes, now 
 that I am a little older, that I might have been a bet- 
 ter man had I been happily married." 
 
 "But, if you did not like her," said Raoul, with an 
 air of utter astonishment, "why did you marry her?" 
 
 "That is the question. I think the answer is— 
 because her father wished her to be a countess." 
 
 "What had his wish to do with you, Ulric?" 
 
 "Some day I will tell you all," he replied. "It is 
 not a pleasant theme. But, with all my faults, I dis- 
 like deceit and I would not have you think that you 
 are about to enter upon a scene of domestic felicity." 
 
 "But the lady herself," said Sir Raoul — "since yon 
 confide in me I may speak — does she know that you 
 do not love her?" 
 
 "Yes, there has never been any pretense of affection 
 between us." 
 
 "Then," said Sir Raoul, slowly, "it seems to me that 
 the lady herself is the one to be pitied — between her 
 father and you." 
 
 "You can pity her if you like — she can hold her 
 own remarkably well," returned the earl. "I do not 
 want to talk about it, Raoul. Every man pays the 
 price of his folly, sooner or later — I am paying it now. 
 I do not care ever to mention the matter again, but I 
 thought, if you had some idea of entering an earthly 
 Eden, you had better be disabused." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 181 
 
 "I wish that it. were an earthly Eden," said Sir 
 Raoul, slowly. 
 
 "My wife brought me a large fortune — a fortune that 
 saved me from ruin — and I insist always upon all 
 respect being shown to her. She is, as she ought to 
 be, entirely mistress of the house. I am always par- 
 ticular about that. Now that we have finished with 
 the matter, there is, perhaps, one thing more that I 
 should say. My wife will be pleased to see you; she 
 will make you very welcome." 
 
 "And you do not like her?" interrogated Sir Raoul. 
 
 "Well," replied the earl, "you see, she is not my 
 style — not at all my style. I like fair women — she is 
 dark; beside, I never think that a man loves a woman 
 whom he is compelled to marry." 
 
 "You were compelled to marry her, then?" said Sir 
 Raoul. 
 
 "It was either that or ruin — such ruin as would have 
 left me penniless. I did hesitate for some time 
 whether I should purchase a revolver or marry Miss 
 Ransome. " 
 
 "My dear boy, why did you not send to me?" 
 
 "There are things that a gentleman cannot do," 
 said the earl, proudly. "I could not borrow from my 
 friends." 
 
 "People have different ideas of honor — some of 
 them are very strange ones. For my part, I should 
 think it a thousand times more honorable to borrow 
 from an old friend than to marry a girl for her mcney, 
 knowing that I disliked her." 
 
 'The alternative was forged upon m§, Beside, 
 
i8a 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 Raoul, all that you had in the world would not have 
 
 been sufficient." 
 
 "Was it so bad as that?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, it could not have been worse. Do not let me 
 be a hypocrite, Raoul. That lesson would have lasted 
 some men their lives — it has not been sufficient for 
 me. I do not think, honestly speaking, that I am one 
 whit a wiser man than I was. The only thing is that 
 fortune has been with instead of against me." 
 
 "Poor boy," said Sir Raoul, pityingly; "we must 
 hope for better things. Shall I see your wife to-night?" 
 
 "No, I think not. Lady Caraven has gone to Co- 
 vent Garden — a favorite opera of hers is being played. 
 She will not be home until late. You look very 
 tired, Raoul — I should advise you to go to bed. We 
 shall not remain many weeks in London. You will, 
 of course, go to Ravensmere with us?" 
 
 "If you desire it ; if you are kind enough to invite 
 me. I shall be very pleased. I might have twenty 
 places of my own, but none of them would seem so 
 much like home as Ravensmere." 
 
 And Sir Raoul laughed. Fatigued as he was, he 
 seemed in no hurry to leave his kinsman. 
 
 "I am rather disappointed," he said, at last. "1 
 had hoped that I should see my new kinswoman 
 to-night. " 
 
 Lord Caraven looked incredulously at him. 
 
 "I can hardly believe that you are serious," he ex- 
 claimed. "Do you really desire so much to see my 
 wife?" 
 
 "I do indeed/' replied Sir Raoul, earnestly. 
 
PROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 183 
 
 "I do not understand it," said the earl, with an 
 amused smile. "You are slightly curious about her 
 personal appearance? Well, I am not a judge, as I 
 like fair people, and she is tall and dark. These are 
 the only two points in her which have struck me- 
 Yes, there is one thing more — she sings with ravish- 
 ing sweetness, I have never heard a finer voice. I 
 think, too, that she has a will and spirit of her own; 
 but I repeat — though I did not intend to repeat it — 
 that I do not like her." 
 
 "Tall and dark." Sir Raoul immediately pictured 
 to himself a somewhat forbidding, masculine-looking 
 girl, with a hard face and a hard manner. He was half 
 disenchanted. None but himself knew how he had 
 longed all his life for sisters. The notion of a woman 
 — a delicate, refined lady — who would be kind to him, 
 was blissful to him; and though this wife of the earl's 
 was a money-lender's daughter, she might be feminine 
 and graceful. 
 
 He was disappointed. He fancied that Lord Cara 
 ven would never have spoken of her as he did if she 
 had been what he had hoped to find her. Farewell 
 to his idea of the sweet companionship of a delicate, 
 refined woman! Farewell to his idea of passing long, 
 pleasant hours with the earPs young wife! He remem- 
 bered that as a boy Ulric had been devoted to the fair 
 sex; he had often rallied him on it. He remembered 
 a thousand and one scrapes into which the boy had 
 fallen from his propensity to flirtation. He knew that 
 his cousin had been called "the handsome earl, "and 
 \he only satisfactory conclusion at which he could 
 
184 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 arrive was that the girl-wife must be displeasing in 
 appearance. 
 
 "Tall and dark" — certainly there was not much in 
 that. Sir Raoul retired to his room, slightly disap- 
 pointed and disenchanted. He could not sleep; by- 
 gone scenes in his own life rose before him. It was 
 long after midnight when he heard the roll of a car- 
 riage, and then the soft rustle of a silken dress, as 
 light footsteps passed his door. 
 
 "That is the young countess," he said to himself — 
 "my new cousin — tall and dark." 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 "IF SHE BE NOT FAIR TO ME WHAT CARE I HOW FAIR SHE BE" 
 
 The earl entered Sir Raoul's room early in the 
 morning. - 
 
 "Raoul," he said, "I have just come to say that 
 everything must go on as usual. Do as you like; get 
 up when you like; go out when you like; order din- 
 ner, luncheon, breakfast, at any time you will. You 
 must not make any difference between this visit and 
 those you used to pay. I am not much at home my- 
 self." 
 
 Sir Raoul laid his hand on the young man's arm. 
 
 "How is that?" he asked, earnestly. "Ulric, is not 
 home pleasant to you?" 
 
 "To tell you the truth, it is not — not very pleasant. 
 I may be fanciful, but to me there seems always a 
 look of reproach on my wife's face, That is not the 
 only reason; I scorn to make false excuses. I find 
 more attraction away from home than in it. Now you 
 will be happy, Raoul?" 
 
 "Yes," he replied, and long after his cousin left him 
 Sir Raoul lay thinking what he could do to make mat- 
 ters pleasanter between husband and wife. 
 
 He little knew with what pride, indifference, con- 
 tempt, and dislike he would have to do battle. He 
 knew, too, that as a rule, all interference between hus- 
 
 185 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 band and wife was worse than useless — that, if they 
 quarreled themselves, they would allow no one else to 
 interfere in the quarrel. But this was not a mere 
 quarrel — it was far worse. 
 
 "I would give something," he thought, "to restore 
 harmony; but of course all depends on what she is 
 like." 
 
 What was she like? After being at the opera she 
 would not rise until late, he felt sure. He himself 
 went downstairs early. Sir Raoul liked the fresh 
 morning air. 
 
 The first sound that fell upon his ears was the sing- 
 ing of a bird and the next the falling spray of a 
 fountain. He looked around. He saw then what 
 improvements had been made in Halby House. A 
 conservatory had been built out from the breakfast- 
 room, long and wide — a conservatory that was almost 
 an aviary, so full was it of bright-plumaged birds; a 
 fountain stood in the midst, masses of brilliant bloom 
 glowed upon the walls. 
 
 "This was a welcome for the bride," thought Sir 
 Raoul. "Perhaps, however, she has not much taste 
 for flowers. " 
 
 No one seemed to be about; the breakfast-table 
 was prepared, but there was no one to preside. Sir 
 Raoul looked round; he thought he would go through 
 the conservatory, and perhaps by that time there 
 would be some news of breakfast. He opened the 
 glass door, and walked through a fairyland of sweet 
 blossoms; the spray of the fountain fell with melo- 
 dious music into the clear basin below* 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 I8 7 
 
 "How beautiful!" thought the simple soldier. 
 
 He walked on until he saw a vision that suddenly 
 struck him dumb. At the end of the conservatory 
 was a large, vine-wreathed door; the green leaves 
 formed a perfect screen, and against them stood a 
 figure such as Sir Raoul had never seen before and 
 never afterward forgot — a tall, graceful, girlish figure 
 — a figure that was all symmetry, with a slender, 
 graceful neck, white as snow, lovely shoulders, round, 
 white arms, draped in an elegant morning dress. 
 
 The lady was standing with her face averted, so 
 that he could not at first see it. He beheld a queenly 
 head, covered with masses of black, shining hair. 
 He stood for some minutes lost in admiration; and 
 then with a deep sigh she turned slowly round. 
 
 If he had thought the figure beautiful, he was even 
 more enchanted with the face. He saw dark, star-like 
 eyes, fringed with long lashes and an imperial brow; 
 he saw a mouth that was like a pomegranate-bud, 
 fresh, red and indescribably lovely; he saw a splen- 
 did face oval in contour, and with the exquisite color- 
 ing that Titian gives in his pictures, dainty and brill- 
 iant. Yet over the beauty of the face sadness hung 
 like a veil. He saw the glow of a scarlet geranium in 
 the bodice of her dress, and one in the dusky depths 
 of her jet-black hair. 
 
 That it was the money-lender's daughter never for 
 a moment entered his mind — that he saw before him 
 his cousin's wife never occurred to him. This beauti- 
 ful girl was, of course, a visitor, like himself — one of 
 Lady Caraven's friends, he thought to himself, half 
 
1 88 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 sadly. It was not to be wondered at, with this glorious 
 young beauty near to distract him, that the earl did 
 not care for his wife. 
 
 He went forward to speak to her, and then for the 
 first time she was conscious of his presence. She 
 raised her dark eyes and looked at him. There are 
 moments in life not to be forgotten — this was one. 
 The dark eyes appeared to look right into his heart, 
 and he seemed to recognize the soul that shone 
 through them. She walked up to him, still looking 
 at him, as though drawn by magic to him, his eyes 
 half smiling into the depths of hers. He bowed at 
 her approach. 
 
 She looked for one half minute into the worn, 
 scarred, noble face. 
 
 "I cannot be mistaken," she said, holding out both 
 her hands in welcome. "You must be Sir Raoul 
 Laureston. " 
 
 "I am," he replied, taking the delicate hands in 
 his with chivalrous empressement. "And you?" 
 
 "And I?" she said, with a charming smile and a 
 look of pretty astonishment. "I am Lady Caraven." 
 
 In the shock of his surprise he dropped her hands. 
 This Lady Caraven, the unformed school-girl, the 
 unloved wife, "tall and dark," one whom he would 
 not like — this splendid woman! What had the earl 
 meant by it? Sir Raoul was so startled that the shock 
 kept him silent; and she, noticing this, thought that 
 'he was disappointed in her. 
 
 "Lady Caraven," he said, at last — "my kinswoman! 
 Do you kiK)w that I can hardly believe it?" 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Why not?" she asked simply. 
 
 "Because I expected to see someone quite different." 
 "And you are disappointed?" she said, slowly, half 
 sadly. 
 
 His face lighted up eagerly. 
 
 "Nay, how can you say so? I am charmed, de- 
 lighted. I cannot believe in my own good fortune in 
 having so fair a cousin." 
 
 "Are you quite sure?" she asked. "For I fear that I 
 have disappointed most people." 
 
 "I am indeed, sure," he replied, and looking into 
 his face she could not doubt it. 
 
 "You are Sir Raoul?" she continued. "I have been 
 longing to see you ever since I heard that you were 
 coming. Will you let me bid you a thousand welcomes 
 home? " 
 
 He repossessed himself of her hands and clasped 
 them warmly. 
 
 "You are a brave soldier," she said — "a hero. Again 
 let me bid you welcome home!" 
 
 "That is the sweetest welcome I have ever had," de- 
 clared Sir Raoul. "I shall not forget it." The fair face 
 was smiling at him, the lovely eyes were full of wel- 
 come, the ruby lips smiling kindly. It seemed to him 
 that her whole heart was in the greeting she gave him. 
 And Lord Caraven had said that he did not like this 
 most charming and lovely girl! 
 
 "You are looking very ill, Sir Raoul," she said; 
 'you will want nursing and taking care of. You must 
 be well tended, and then you will grow strong." 
 
 He touched his breast lightly with his hand — that 
 noble breast, the home of a noble soul. 
 
i go 
 
 PROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "I shall never be very strong, I fear. Lady Cara- 
 ven, I would give all my fortune for health — but 
 
 heaven knows best. " 
 
 The dark eyes were full of womanly sympathy and 
 compassion; they rested kindly on him. 
 
 "You are going to remain here," she said; "to make 
 your home with us?" 
 
 "I hope so," he responded, heartily. "I have no 
 other home. This would indeed be one." 
 
 She had drawn nearer to him — so near that the deli- 
 cate lace on her dress touched him. 
 
 "I am so glad," she said, in her soft, caressing 
 tones; "and will you really let me take care of you 
 just as though you were my own brother come home 
 from the wars?" • 
 
 "Have you a brother?" he asked. 
 
 "No," she replied; "I am an only child." 
 
 "And I have no sister. I have always wished for 
 one. When I was a strong man . who did not know 
 what aches and pains meant, I used to wish that I 
 had a woman's gentle mind and heart to guide me; 
 when health and strength left me, when I became 
 almost helpless, I longed for the gentle hands of a 
 woman near me; but my longing was never gratified. " 
 
 She looked at him with a smile. 
 
 "You should have looked for a wife, Sir Raoul." 
 
 She repented of her words when she saw the terri- 
 ble change that came over his face. 
 
 "A wife? No ; I shall never have a wife. I wanted 
 a sister." 
 
 "You must let me take a sister's place," she said 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 IQI 
 
 gently. "You do not know what your coming means 
 to me. It will give me what I need so sorely — an 
 occupation. You will let me nurse you when, you are 
 ill, wait upon you, read to you — tend you in all ways?" 
 
 "1 am afraid that you will spoil me, Lady Caraven." 
 
 "No; but I will try to make you well and strong 
 again. Do you really promise me that I may do this?" 
 
 His pale face flushed. 
 
 "Do you know," he said, "that you really embarrass 
 me? I feel as though some fair young princess were 
 offering to take charge of me. How can I thank you? 
 It seems to me that the desire of my heart is gratified. 
 I have a kinswoman to love at last." 
 
 She laid her hand on his arm, and walked with him 
 into the breakfast-room. 
 
 "You ought not to have risen so early,' 1 she said; 
 "and now you must atone for that by taking some of 
 my tea. I pride myself on being a good tea-maker." 
 
 Looking at her he thought that, if she prided her- 
 self on her exquisite grace and her girlish loveliness, 
 it would be only natural. He was perfectly charmed 
 with her; she was modest and unaffected; there was a 
 certain grace in her frank, kindly manner which made 
 it impossible not to feel at home with her. 
 
 He was entirely so; and he smiled to himself. 
 They were seated at the table as though they had 
 known each other for years. 
 
 "But surely," he said, "we are remiss. We are not 
 waiting for Ulric." 
 
 Her expression changed slightly, as it always did at 
 the mention of her husband's name. 
 
I Q2 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Lord Caraven never takes breakfast here," she 
 said, slowly. "Our hours are not the same." 
 
 "Then he is a bad judge, " remarked Sir Raoul. "I 
 would far rather take breakfast here than anywhere 
 else in the world." 
 
 To this Lady Caraven made no reply. 
 
 Before that day was half ended Sir Raoul was lost 
 in wonder. How was it that the earl did not love this 
 beautiful girl? He himself was charmed with her; he 
 thought her delightful. 
 
 "Talk of an unformed school-girl!" he cried, indig- 
 nantly. "If Ulric calls her a school-girl, I should like 
 to see whom he calls a beautiful woman! She is 
 enchanting! She is fire and snow; she is humble, yet 
 proud — haughty yet gracious. She has character 
 enough for a dozen school-girls, and they would all 
 be above the average. I did not think a man could 
 be so blind." 
 
 He had reason to know that she was as tender of 
 heart as she was fair of face, for that same morning 
 the old pain in his chest, the enemy that had laid 
 him low, returned with redoubled violence. He was 
 ghastly white and trembled with pain. Then he 
 learned what the gentle hands of a woman were like. 
 She showed no fear, no agitation. She was calm, ten- 
 der, self-possessed. In one moment she had gathered 
 soit, downy pillows together on a couch so as to 
 support him. 
 
 "You will breathe more easily, Sir Raoul, if you 
 lie there," she said. 
 
 It was a pitiful sight — the strong, handsome man ; 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 193 
 
 the gallant soldier, the brave officer, the hero of a 
 hundred fights, lying there gasping for breath, great 
 drops of anguish standing on his brow — a sight to 
 make a man shudder and a woman weep. 
 
 There was no haste in her manner — no agitation 
 such as renders the kindest of women useless when 
 they are most needed. She helped to place him on the 
 couch, she laid the poor, helpless head on soft pil- 
 lows, she fetched some fragrant essence, and, kneeling 
 by his side, bathed his face. She did not weary hirn^ 
 by speaking or by useless expressions of sympathy. 
 She watched the white, parted lips, and gave him 
 wine. When the terrible paroxysm had passed he 
 opened his eyes, all dimmed and dull with pain. 
 
 "See what war can do," he said, slowly. "You are 
 very good to me. It is coming again." 
 
 Again she helped him, never once losing her self- 
 control. 
 
 "Is it gone?" she asked, as the tension of pain 
 passed from his face and his hands were unclinched. 
 
 "Yes, thank you. I did wisely to wish for a woman's 
 gentle hands. I am grateful to you." 
 
 Then he told her how fiery the ordeal had been 
 through which he had passed. 
 
 "Can you imagine," he said, "what it is to me, a 
 once strong man, a soldier, with all a soldier's long- 
 ing for action — can you imagine what I feel at having 
 to spend the greater part of my time on a couch? 
 The very manhood within me recoils from it. I am 
 always dreaming of what I could do if I were strong 
 and well. I dream sometimes that I am on my favor- 
 
194 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 ite charger, sword in hand. I see the foe flying before 
 me, and I am in hot pursuit. I wake to find it a 
 dream, and to feel the red-hot rings of pain that seem 
 to bind me. I ask myself why is it? Then, soldier 
 and man as I am, bow my head and say, 'Heaven 
 knows best.'" 
 
 She was looking at him with dark, tender eyes. 
 
 "Have all lives such sorrow and care, Sir Raoul?" 
 she asked. "Is no one free?" 
 
 "I think not — the young and the beautiful, the 
 great and the wealthy, the highest in rank, all seem to 
 have their sorrows. I often think the greatest are 
 those that we see the leasf of." 
 
 "Why is it?" she asked, thoughtfully. 
 
 "How many times have I asked the same question of 
 myself! I should say that souls require suffering to 
 purify them as gold does the fire." 
 
 "I am quite sure," she said, raising her face to his, 
 "that I should be better always for being happier. " 
 
 "It is natural enough to think so — I am not sure 
 that it is true. There are noble qualities latent in 
 most people; suffering draws them out. But you, young 
 and — pardon me, my kinswoman — beautiful, should not 
 want to be happier than you are." 
 
 She made him no answer, but the dark eyes drooped 
 sadly. If he knew, if he only knew, the secret history 
 of her life ! 
 
 That day passed so quickly and so pleasantly to Sir 
 Raoul that he could not realize his new existence. 
 
 When the pain had left him, and he was able to sit 
 up, she brought him books and photographs; she 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 195 
 
 talked to him and amused him; she made the time 
 pass so quickly that he marveled at her quick intelli- 
 gence, her womanly wit. There was a touch even of 
 genius in her noble, keen appreciation of art, in her 
 passionate love of music. Then a dainty little lunch- 
 eon was brought to him, after which she insisted on 
 his driving out with her. 
 Sir Raoul laughed. 
 
 "I shall begin. to think that I am a carpet knight," 
 he said. 
 
 "The hard work went before it," rejoined Hildred. 
 " You will enjoy a drive, Sir Raoul — the sun is warm 
 and the air is mild." 
 
 He sat by the side of the beautiful, tender-hearted, 
 graceful girl, and they found a hundred subjects of 
 conversation. The fragrant air, the warm sunbeams, 
 the beautiful face, the sweet, caressing voice, all 
 greatly affected Sir Raoul. Then, when they returned, 
 she bade him adieu until dinner-time. He looked at 
 her half anxiously. 
 
 "How do you employ your time when you have no 
 visitors?" he said. "You have busied yourself with 
 me the whole day. " 
 
 "I do the best I can," she replied. "Sometimes I 
 have engagements — callers. I try to study/ but I am 
 afraid I spend a great deal of time in thinking. This 
 morning when you came to me in the conservatory, I 
 had been standing there more than an hour, thinking 
 idle thoughts." 
 
 "But," said Sir Raoul, "does not Caraven ever 
 spend a morning with you at home?" 
 
196 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 He noticed the same change come over her face as 
 came over it before when she heard her husband's 
 
 name. 
 
 "No," she replied, briefly, turning away; "we meet 
 at dinner-time, not before." 
 
 He thought long and anxiously after she had gone. 
 How strange it was that Caraven, always delighting 
 in beautiful women, could not care for her! What a 
 sad thing! - Both so young, with every fair gift of life 
 before them, every gift the world could bestow 
 lavished on them, yet miserable because they did not 
 love each other — husband and wife, sworn to love and 
 honor each other, yet further apart than strangers — 
 even disliking each other! It seemed to him pitiful. 
 
 "I wonder," he thought, "if I could do anything? 
 If I could only restore peace and harmony to them, I 
 should not have lived in vain." 
 
 Could he? It was early yet to judge. He must see 
 them together, then he could tell better. He must 
 study them both and see what it was possible to do. 
 
 The first dinner-bell had rung when the earl returned, 
 and Sir Raoul did not see him until dinner-time. 
 Lady Caraven was the first to enter the drawing-room, 
 where Sir Raoul awaited her. She looked very lovely 
 in her evening dress. It was of white — white that 
 shone and gleamed — with picturesque patches of scar- 
 let. She wore scarlet and white flowers, with a suite 
 of opals. He had thought her beautiful before, but 
 now, with her white neck and shoulders and rounded 
 arms all shown, she looked, he thought, magnificent. 
 
 Her face brightened when she saw him. How 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 197 
 
 strange it seemed that a kindly smile should greet her 
 in those cold rooms! 
 
 "It seems so novel and so strange, Sir Raoul," she 
 said, "to find a kind face here." 
 
 "It ought not to seem so," responded Sir Raoul, 
 warmly. 
 
 Then the earl came in. He passed his wife with a 
 silent bow, never once looking at her, and she drew 
 aside the skirts of her robe to let him go by. Sir 
 Raoul could not help noticing that she seemed to 
 dread lest they should even touch him. There was 
 not much hope of love or reconciliation there. Lord 
 Caraven went over to him at once, shook hands with 
 him warmly, and asked him how he had spent the day. 
 
 "Very happily, thanks to Lady Caraven," he replied 
 — "she has been all kindness to me." 
 
 The earl looked both pleased and impatient. 
 
 "You certainly seem better," he remarked. "We 
 shall have you well yet, Raoul. " 
 
 "Please heaven," said the soldier, reverently. 
 "And when I am well I shall rejoin my regiment." 
 
 Sir Raoul saw that, instead of joining in the con- 
 versation, Lady Caraven walked away to the other end 
 of the drawing-room, never paying the least attention 
 to her husband — her behavior was cold, indifferent, 
 neglectful, as his had been to her. 
 
 "I will tell you one thing, Ulric," he said; "if I do 
 recover I shall owe something to your wife — she is 
 the kindest nurse I have ever met with." 
 
 "Is she?" asked the earl languidly. 
 
 "If ever you fall ill yourself you will believe it, 
 Ulric" 
 
198 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "I hope I n6Ver shall," returned the earl; "if I do, 
 I shall not expect the Countess of Caraven to nurse 
 me." 
 
 "Ulric," said Sir Raoul, in a low voice, "what 
 induced you to tell me that your wife was tall and 
 dark — nothing more?" 
 
 "So she is," he replied. 
 
 "Soldiers are pretty good judges — they see the women 
 of many lands — believe me when I say that I have 
 never met or seen a more beautiful woman than your 
 wife. " 
 
 "'If she be not fair to me, what care I how fair she 
 be? ,M quoted the earl. "I am glad you think so. I' 
 do not admire her style of beauty. If anyone else 
 does, so much the better — I do not object. There is 
 the bell. Isn't it dreadful that the sound of the 
 dinner-bell has a greater charm for me than the dis- 
 cussion of a lady's beauty?" 
 
 Lady Caraven hastened forward. Her husband said 
 something to her; she answered him with a cold, 
 haughty look. Sir Raoul spoke; it was quite another 
 face that she turned to hiffi — brilliant, tender, beauti- 
 ful. She begged him to take her arm. He looked at 
 her laughingly. 
 
 "It would be cruel to take so fair an arm," he said, 
 "with a strong one like Ulricas near." 
 
 "Mine is strong with good will," she said, smiling. 
 
 And Sir Raoul could not refuse. He leaned as lightly 
 as possible on the lovely round arm, but his heart 
 was warmed by her kindness. 
 
 Then he set to wprk resolutely to watch her, to see 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 199 
 
 if in any respect she was deficient. He could not dis- 
 cover anything. She took her place with consummate 
 grace. She was well versed in all the etiquette of the 
 table; she was a charming hostess. He saw, too, 
 that, with all her wealth and all her beauty, she was 
 an excellent mistress of the household; her servants 
 were well trained and obedient. 
 
 "I do not see myself," thought Sir Raoul, "what 
 more Ulric can desire." 
 
 He could detect no fault in her; but he did stop to 
 wonder what their dinners must be like when they 
 were quite alone. 
 
 The earl might have guessed the nature of his 
 thoughts, for he said, suddenly: 
 
 "We had some friends coming to-night, but I post- 
 poned their visit, thinking that you would be tired, 
 Raoul. We never dine alone." 
 
 The„young countess made no remark. Sir Raoul 
 saw that she had plenty of self-control; no matter how 
 sarcastic or bitter her husband was, she was never 
 provoked to reply. 
 
 "She has that virtue," he said to himself, "self-con- 
 trol — and it is a sure foundation for many others." 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 "the whole world has gone mad together" 
 
 Sir Raoul Laureston had been for three weeks at 
 Halby House; during that time he had grown to love 
 the young countess as though she had been a sister 
 of his own. In proportion as his love for her increased, 
 his affection for the earl decreased. In one he saw 
 self-control, in the other unbridled self-indulgence. 
 He thought over and over again that so fair a girl 
 deserved a better fate. He had also become less san- 
 guine as to the reconciliation of husband and wife, 
 less hopeful about it, and he wondered less at their 
 estrangement. The handsome boy whom he had 
 loved so dearly was indeed changed. He seemed to 
 have completely lost sight of the higher ends of life. 
 Duty was a dead letter to him. Self-indulgence, 
 pleasure, gaming, betting, and horse-racing filled up 
 his time to the total and inexcusable neglect of the 
 beautiful young wife who bore his name. Indeed, 
 after Sir Raoul arrived he neglected her more than 
 ever. He had been accustomed to escort her to all 
 public places, but he now went his own road, saying 
 to himself that she was "all right" — Raoul was there, 
 Raoul would attend to her. 
 
 They agreed very well together; but then Raoul was 
 always different from other men — a preux chevalier. 
 
 200 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 20 1 
 
 For whole days together the earl did not see his wife, 
 and oftener now than ever he dined from home. 
 There were times when Hildred's youth and pride rose 
 in hot rebellion against her fate, when she could not 
 endure to remember that the gallant soldier and hero 
 was a witness of all the slights and humiliations to 
 which she had to submit, when she felt that she must 
 run away from it all, for it was utterly unbearable. 
 
 One evening the earl was more than usually disa- 
 greeable. Some friends were dining with them, and 
 during dinner Lord Caraven began to speak of one of 
 his acquaintances who had gone abroad for his honey- 
 moon. 
 
 "Another added to the long list of victims," he 
 said — "another name written on the scroll of folly. 
 He was a man who had everything he desired, yet he 
 got married — I want a word for such folly." 
 
 "Ulric," said Sir Raoul, sharply — "pardon me — that 
 is not the way a married man should speak." 
 
 "Pardon me," said the earl, laughingly — "it is only 
 a married man who can speak so. You outsiders 
 know nothing of the matter. 'Distance lends enchant- 
 ment/ you know." 
 
 Sir Raoul saw a crimson flush mount to Hildred's 
 white brow. Suddenly the young countess spoke. 
 Her voice sounded pitilessly sweet, and was as clear 
 as a bell. 
 
 "I quite agree with Lord Caraven," she said. "If 
 there be one folly greater than all others, it is that 
 which we call by the name of marriage." 
 
 There was a dead silence for a minute; even Lord 
 
202 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 Caraven felt that he had gone too far — that he had 
 spoken in an undignified, ungentlemanly fashion; 
 then came Sir Raoul to the rescue. 
 
 "It is an old institution," he said; "we will not 
 abuse it. Talking of abuse, has anyone read the 
 Saturday's stinging review of Captain Hartlake's great 
 military work?" 
 
 This changed the conversation; but that night, 
 when the young countess was about to retire, she 
 went across the room to Sir Raoul, and her soft 
 fingers closed over his. 
 
 "I want to say good-night, and to thank you," she 
 said. "I want to say also that you have been very 
 kind, and that I feel sure you believe in what is good; 
 so pray for me — pray for me — for I am frightened at 
 myself. " 
 
 He repeated the words after her, wondering at 
 them: 
 
 "Frightened at herself, poor child!" 
 
 There had been a terrible wrong done here. Who * 
 had done it? Was it the money-lending father who 
 had sold his child for a coronet? Was it the spend- 
 thrift lord who had been willing to build up his credit 
 again with the money-lender's money? On which of 
 them lay the guilt of that loveless, luckless marriage? 
 Then a new thought struck Sir Raoul. How had Hil- 
 dred been induced to give her consent? She, so 
 refined, so true, and so tender, so proud and so ear- 
 nest, how had she beep induced to consent? She must 
 have believed in Ulric's love at some time or other, 
 he told himself; otherwise she would never have mar- 
 ried. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLNOM 
 
 Pray for her, poor child! What deadly temptation 
 lay in her path! He could guess. He could read of 
 dislike of her husband in her averted, drooping eyes. 
 
 "I will help her," he thought. "In days gone by I 
 have used my influence over my men to good purpose. 
 I will use it now with her." 
 
 He set himself the task; but he had not much hope. 
 The days of his sanguine faith had passed. Indiffer- 
 ence and dislike between husband and wife were 
 deadly foes to contend with. 
 
 Among the friends who came to see Sir Raoul was 
 Lumley Atherstone, the famous artist — a genius who 
 lived for art, who never saw the color of a flower, the 
 shape of a leaf, the rosy clouds of sunset, the pearly 
 tints of dawn, the beauty of -a woman's face, or the 
 grace of a human figure, without a thrill of joy, and a 
 thanksgiving for the gift of discernment — an artist to 
 whom everything was subservient to art, who esti- 
 mated people only according to their powers of ideal- 
 ity, who was steeped in dreams of beauty — an artist 
 who was also in some measure a man of fashion, 
 whose least word in matters of taste was as law. No 
 matter how the world praised a woman, if his decision 
 was unfavorable no one ventured to call her a beauty; 
 if he praised her, her reputation was made. * 
 
 He was fastidious, too, in his art; no matter how 
 wealthy the person who wished for a portrait — no 
 matter whether she were princess or duchess — unless 
 she would make a picture that would do credit to him 
 he would sternly refuse to paint it. He would have 
 nothing to do with commonplace people or common- 
 
204 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 place faces. What would have been impertinence in 
 another was fastidiousness in him; and he was re- 
 spected all the more for his plain speaking. 
 
 When the wife of a wealthy merchant went to him 
 and exhibited a face that indicated good temper and 
 luxurious living she was politely assured by the artist 
 that he had more engagements for the next three years 
 than he could possibly fulfill. If a countess with 
 shrewd, crabbed features requested a sitting, he made 
 the same excuse. It was useless— Lumley Atherstone 
 worshiped beauty. Moreover, he loved beauty of mind 
 as well as beauty of face. A noble soul had great 
 attractions for him; that was why he liked Sir Raoul 
 — the picturesque side of the soldier's character had 
 struck him, and they were the greatest of friends. 
 
 He was sitting one morning talking to Sir Raoul 
 when Lady Caraven entered. He had not seen her 
 before, and he at once admired her. Hildred had 
 heard strange stories of the artist — of his fancies, his 
 caprices, his genius — and she was delighted to meet 
 him. She looked very lovely and spirituelle. She 
 wore a dress of pale pink muslin trimmed with white 
 lace — the pale, pretty pink set off the exquisite color- 
 ing of her face to the greatest advantage. The slender, 
 supple figure, rounded as Hebe's, with its perfect 
 grace of movement, the lovely southern face, the 
 proud, noble head with its crown of dark hair, filled 
 him with wonder and delight. He did not say much 
 to ner oecause he was so deeply engaged in admiring 
 her. When Hildred had spoken to Sir Raoui, aim 
 talked for a few minutes with the artist, she went 
 
FROM „ OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 205 
 
 away. With dreamy eyes Lumley Atherstone looked 
 after her. 
 
 "She is very beautiful, Sir Raoul," he said. "I 
 have not seen such a face or figure since I left Italy." 
 
 "Lady Caraven is certainly a lovely woman," was 
 the quiet reply. 
 
 The artist sat quite still, wrapped in a dream. Sud- 
 denly he turned to the soldier. 
 
 "Do you think," he said, "if I asked it, as a great 
 favor, that Lady Caraven would let me paint her 
 portrait? " 
 
 "1 cannot tell," answered Sir Raoul. 
 
 "I have just seen her — seen her in a low Venetian 
 dress, with one white shoulder bare and a mantle of 
 purple-and-gold round the other, a crown of red roses 
 on her hair, and rubies round her throat." 
 
 "Seen her? Where?" asked the simple soldier, 
 greatly perplexed. 
 
 "Here, Sir Raoul," replied the artist, touching his 
 temple — "here, where I see pictures so tantalizing 
 and so beautiful that I cannot reproduce them. If 
 she will but consent I can make her and myself im- 
 mortal. When may I ask her?" 
 
 "I do not understand much about the etiquette of 
 such matters, but I should have thought it would be 
 etiquette to speak first to Lord Caraven." 
 
 "To be sure — you are quite right; he might not like 
 his wife's lovely face to be shown to the world. But 
 in that case I should blame him; a man cannot but 
 be better after having see*: such a face as that." 
 
 "I do not think he will refuse, but I should most 
 certainly speak to him first." 
 
20b 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 The fact was that Sir Raoul felt proud of the art- 
 ist's great admiration, and he wished the earl to hear 
 how the most eminent painter of the day estimated 
 the beauty that he ignored. Such praise would not 
 have the same value coming from anyone else; if 
 he himself, for instance, uttered it, the earl would 
 laugh — coming from Lumley Atherstone, he would not 
 dare to do so. 
 
 He told the artist that he believed Lord Caraven 
 was even then in the house, and that if he pleased 
 he would send for him. 
 
 The earl came in, wondering what could have 
 induced Lumley Atherstone to ask for him. The artist 
 soon explained. Lord Caraven looked at him in 
 wonder. 
 
 "You wish to paint Lady Caraven* s portrait?" he 
 said, blankly. "But I thought you were rather par- 
 ticular, you know." 
 
 "I hope I am, my lord, was the cold reply. "No 
 artist could have a fairer subject for his pencil than 
 Lady Caraven." 
 
 "Well," said the earl, in a tone of resignation, "I 
 shall begin to think that I am blind. All I can say 
 is that if Lady Caraven be willing, I shall have no 
 objection.' 
 
 "Thank you, responded the artist. "I shall hope 
 to find time to call on the countess to-morrow." 
 
 "I am very pleased you have given your consent, 
 Ulric," said Sir Raoul. "I was wishing only yester- 
 day that Lady Caraven had had her portrait painted. 
 Mr. Atherstone's picture will be one of the finest in 
 Ravensmere. " 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 207 
 
 "If it reaches there," thought the earl. "My opin- 
 ion is that the whole world has gone mad together." 
 
 He was rather struck after all; it startled him to 
 find the best judge of beauty in England speak in 
 such rapturous terms about the countess. It was a 
 mistake, of course, but the strange thing was to find 
 an artist of such note mistaken — it did not often hap 
 pen. He left Sir Raoul to tell the news to his w ; fe^ 
 he would not have complimented her so highly. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 "l SEE A SHADOW ON THIS FACE" 
 
 A smiling June morning. Lord Caraven had, for a 
 wonder, breakfasted with the countess and Sir Raoul. 
 They had been talking about their plans for the sum- 
 mer, when the earl looked up with # good-tempered 
 laugh. 
 
 "Do you know," he said, "that I am literally tired 
 of hearing the constant repetition of titles? Raoul, 
 you claim relationship with Lady Caraven— why not 
 call her 'Hildred?' Hildred, why not give over your 
 formal and ceremonious 'Sir/ and simply say 'Raoul? "' 
 
 "I shall be only too happy," said Sir Raoul, "if my 
 dear and beautiful kinswoman will permit it" 
 
 Before the young countess had time to answer, 
 Lord Caraven laughed again. 
 
 "What old world notions you have, Raoul! Fancy 
 talking about 'a dear and beautiful kinswoman!' " 
 
 "And why not, Ulric? It seems to me that the 
 people in your set sneer at everything simple and 
 noble. I repeat the expression — my dear and beauti- 
 ful kinswoman, have I your permission to lay aside 
 your title and call you 'Hildred?' " 
 
 "Yes," she replied, "if you wish it, Sir Raoul. ,? 
 
 "It must be on equal terms, then." 
 
 "If you wish it, Raoul," she said. 
 
 208 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 209 
 
 Her face flushed, her dark eyes drooped, and her 
 fingers played nervously with the diamond cross on 
 her breast. 
 
 "That is better," said the earl. "I always felt 
 compelled to be formal myself when I heard you. 
 Hildred, have you written those notes of invitation?" 
 
 "Yes," she replied, giving him a number of enve- 
 lopes. "What shall you do, Lord Caraven, if they 
 all say <Yes?'" 
 
 "It will be so much the better," he replied. "But 
 that is not probable; some always refuse. If they do 
 accept, Ravensmere is large enough." 
 
 "I have some letters of my own to send to post with 
 these," she said; and Sir Raoul saw, as she placed 
 her letters in her husband's hands, how carefully she 
 avoided touching him — so carefully, indeed, that two 
 of the letters fell to the ground. 
 
 "My hand is not made of hot coals, Hildred!" he 
 cried, impatiently; "you need not be afraid of touching 
 it." 
 
 She made no reply, but, drawing back with a 
 haughty gesture, quitted the room. 
 
 "That girl is as proud as Juno," said the earl, for 
 want of a better comparison. 
 
 "She has every right to be proud, Ulric," remarked 
 Sir Raoul. "She is without her equal for goodness 
 and beauty." 
 
 "She seems to think I shall kill her if I touch 
 her," said the earl bitterly. "She would rather lose 
 the costliest jewel we have than touch my hand to lay 
 it in it safely." 
 
2IO 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 Sir Raoul made no reply. 
 
 "See," said the earl, recovering his good humor 
 when he found that he was not contradicted, "all 
 these are invitations for Ravensmere. M 
 
 Sir Raoul looked up in wonder. 
 
 "You are not like me, Ulric," he returned, quietly. 
 "I should have preferred Ravensmere and peace to 
 the gayety you will have with all these people." 
 
 "Would you?" laughed the earl. "I tried Ravens- 
 mere and domestic felicity once, but shall never do so 
 again — never again; it was too much for me." 
 
 "Ulric," said Sir Raoul, hastily, "I think you are 
 much to blame." 
 
 "We will not discuss the matter," returned the 
 earl; "that is one of the things in which I allow no 
 interference and take no advice." 
 
 "I have none to offer," said Sir Raoul, coldly; and 
 *hey said no more upon the subject. 
 
 Meanwhile the artist had made great progress with 
 his picture. It was a work of love with him. He 
 came to Halby House at times, and sometimes, when 
 Sir Raoul felt well enough to escort the countess, they 
 went to the studio. How it seemed to grow under 
 his brush, that fair face — fair, pure, original, sc 
 exquisite in color, so dainty in bloom! When the 
 painting was finished there was but one opinion — the 
 portrait was simply a master-piece of art, with its 
 delicate beauty and rich coloring. 
 
 But everyone made the same remark — the face was 
 so sad, the dark, shadowed eyes did not look as though 
 they had ever smiled, they were full of strange, sad 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 211 
 
 jreams; the beautiful lips were sad, and looked as 
 chough they had never laughed in girlish fashion. 
 
 Sir Raoul pointed this out to the artist. 
 
 "I see it myself," he said, "and like it. It was the 
 expression that I noticed on the face. In speaking it 
 was bright and animated; in repose it was, for a young 
 face, the saddest I had ever seen. I cannot understand 
 it. Look, Sir Raoul, at the lovely curve of the lips; 
 yet you would think that it was the mouth of a griev- 
 ing child. Look at the sad eyes. Do you know what 
 I should like, Sir Raoul? I should like a companion 
 picture to this, a picture painted in a few years* time, 
 when the sun of happiness has arisen for this dear 
 lady — it has not risen yet. I should like those two 
 pictures to he side by side. I would call one 'Spring,' 
 the other 'Summer.' And, Sir Raoul, do you know 
 that I see a shadow on this face that I do not at all 
 like — a shadow that I have seen on the face of those 
 who die young? I have painted the portraits of some 
 of the fairest girls and most "beautiful women in Europe 
 — I have never seen eyes so dark as these, with that 
 peculiar expression in them, without feeling sure either 
 of death in youth or that a story belonged to them." 
 
 Sir Raoul looked up in alarm. 
 
 "Do you think Lady Caraven delicate?" he asked. 
 
 "No, not exactly, though her face has brilliant, 
 almost hectic coloring; but it is so sad. Youth 
 should be bright, smiling, gay. When this shadow 
 lies on a face, it is either because the sword of the 
 angel of death is raised, or because there is a story 
 in the face." 
 
21* 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 The artist mused for a little while, and then he said 
 to Sir Raoul: 
 
 "I have seen beautiful faces that I felt sure could 
 never be happy ones. I have one in my mind as I 
 speak, as lovely as a woman's face can be — but there 
 is a tragedy in it. She to whom it belongs is a young 
 girl now: but I prophesy that her life will end 
 strangely. She has striking eyes and beautiful lips, 
 but I can never picture them smiling happily. So," 
 he continued, rousing himself from his musings, "there 
 is something in this face of Lady Caraven's that inter- 
 ests me greatly— -a strange story, yet untold." 
 
 That conversation made Sir Raoul unhappy. It 
 might be all the artist's fancy or nonsense, or it might 
 be a serious warning. He could not rest until he had 
 repeated it to the earl; it might be a warning to him, 
 and make him more thoughtful about her. He did 
 repeat it, and Lord Caraven looked up with an incred- 
 ulous smile. 
 
 "The shadow of early death in her eyes?" he said. 
 "Raoul, you are growing sentimental — I do not under- 
 stand it." 
 
 In his simple, soldierly fashion, Sir Raoul repeated 
 what the artist had said. The earl laughed. 
 
 ' It is wonderful," he said, "how foolish men of 
 genius are. To me Lady Caraven looks as, strong and 
 as well as anyone I know." 
 
 'But not happy, Ulric — not happy," repeated his 
 kinsman; "and a young face should never be sad." 
 
 "I do not know that she has any particular cause for 
 sadness. * was the careless reply — "she has all that her 
 heart desires." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Except your love," said Sir Raoul, speaking more 
 boldly than was his wont. 
 
 "And that/' laughed the earl, "she does not want. 
 You must allow something for hereditary tendencies, 
 Raoul. To Arley Ransome, I should imagine, the word 
 'love' is unknown, except perhaps in a brief for breach 
 of promise." 
 
 "You pain me, Ulric,* said Sir Raoul, gravely — "no 
 man should speak so of his wife." 
 
 "I am saying nothing against her," was the impa- 
 tient reply; "I merely remark that I should not expect 
 from the daughter of a man like Arley Ransome what 
 I should expect, we will say, from the child of an 
 artist or a poet." 
 
 Sir Raoul would not continue the conversation; but 
 long afterward, when the portrait, which was a gem 
 of art, came home, he asked Lord Caraven to look 
 at it. 
 
 "See for yourself," he said, "the perfect contour of 
 head and face, the beauty of eyes and lips; then see 
 how utterly sad they are. One longs to see the lips 
 smile and the eyes grow bright. I am not a man of 
 many words, Ulric, but I should not like a wife of 
 mine to have a face like that." 
 
 The earl laughed lightly, but he did not quite like 
 Sir RaouPs remarks. The portrait was hung up in 
 the drawing-room. It did not remain there long; the 
 earl did not like to hear the comments upon it. One 
 morning he said to Sir Raoul: 
 
 "This portrait of Hildred's is considered a very fine 
 picture; I think I should like it to hang in the picture 
 galley at the castle." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Side by side with all the dead and gone Ladies 
 Caraven?" replied Sir Raoul. "I do not blame you. 
 To me there appears to be a quiet reproach in the 
 face which it is not pleasant to see." 
 
 "There is no cause for reproach," said the earl. 
 "You seem to think that I deceived Hildred, Raoul. 
 From first to last there has been no mention of love 
 between us. It was a case of money versus title. 
 We both have what we wanted; therefore no more 
 need be said." 
 
 Sir Raoul, being a wise man, said no more just 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 "the loveliest lady in the land 
 
 Never did the fine old mansion of Ravensmere 
 look fairer than in the leafy month of June. It made 
 a picture that gladdened one's heart — the quaint gray 
 towers covered with clinging ivy, the oriel windows 
 with ivy growing so thickly round them, the square 
 turrets, the quaint, picturesque building that seemed 
 to defy and yet to accord with all the rules of art. It 
 rose, noble and lofty, a perfect picture of harmonious 
 coloring. The castle was situated in the loveliest part 
 of Devonshire. The foliage that surrounded it was 
 magnificent. The Ravenemere woods stretched out 
 far and wide; antlered deer reclined in the shade of 
 them. They were woods always full of music, wher* 
 bluebells grew with the red fox-glove and wild hya« 
 cinths, where starry primroses grew at the roots of th« 
 trees, and cowslips hid their sweet yellow heads — a 
 home for the ferns — one of the loveliest of all the lovel] 
 nooks in England. On the other side of the castle lay 
 rich, fertile lands, pleasure-gardens, a fine old orchard, 
 a long line of glass houses, undulating corn fields 
 where the wheat was fast ripening, clover fields where 
 the cattle browsed in the sunshine, green lanes and 
 meadows that led to the sea. During this June 
 Ravensmere was looking its fairest; the trees were all 
 
 315 
 
2l6 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 in full leaf, the hedges were pink and white — for the 
 hawthorn was at its best — the rich scent of the clover 
 came over the land. The interior of the castle was 
 just as attractive. Covers and wrappers had been 
 removed, and everything restored to its proper order, 
 for the earl and countess were expected home with a 
 large party of guests. 
 
 This home-coming had not been a sourec of great 
 pleasure to Lady Caraven. All places were alike to 
 her; the shadow of her unhappiness darkened them 
 all. In London, notwithstanding the crowds, the balls, 
 the dances, the operas, the fetes, the admiration she had 
 met with, she had been miserable. A noble and lov- 
 ing heart like hers could not be satisfied with such 
 frivolities; she wanted the realities of life — a husband 
 to love her — a husband to love. She* had taken her 
 part in the gay pageant, she had gone with the cfowd, 
 she had shone fairest at balls and parties, but all the 
 time, all the dreary time, she moaned to herself that 
 her heart was empty, her life was vain. She was 
 frightened, too, at finding that her dislike to her hus- 
 band was increasing day by day; while she had been 
 indifferent it had been easier to bear it — it was even 
 easier with the mocking shadow of a never-to-be-gained 
 love. Now that she disliked him, it was terribly 
 hard. And she did dislike him She shrank from the 
 least touch of his hand. If, in passing near her, he 
 touched even the hem of her dress, she drew it aside. 
 She shrank from the sound of his voice. She never 
 voluntarily entered a room if he was in it; she avoided 
 meeting him when she could. She disliked him, and 
 she trembled with fear at the thought. 
 
fr£>m out the gloom 
 
 217 
 
 Going back to Ravensmere gave her no particular 
 pleasure. She knew that the earl would take a whole 
 troop of friends with him, besides which, she was 
 rapidly losing all hope. In Paris she had hoped that 
 their going to Ravensmere might bring them nearer 
 together; at Ravensmere she had hoped that in Lon- 
 don they might, perhaps, do better. Now no such 
 delusion came to her. She knew that there was no 
 hope — that she might as well be at any other place as 
 home at Ravensmere. 
 
 They had a pleasant journey from London — pleasant 
 as far as sunshine was concerned — but Sir Raoul, who 
 traveled with the earl and his wife, was pained at 
 seeing the coolness between them. There was dislike 
 on the part of the countess — avoidance on the part of 
 the earl. He himself was the only one who talked 
 or seemed at his ease. During the journey he tried 
 once or twice to bring them to converse, but on Lady 
 Hildred's face there was the cold, proud expression 
 that he was beginning to know so well, and on the 
 earl's face he read the very intensity of impatience. 
 It was of no use — so he allowed matters to take their 
 course; the consequence was that husband and wife 
 barely exchanged one word on the journey. 
 
 It was a lovely evening when they reached the cas- 
 tle. The sun was shining full on the towers and tur- 
 rets. Sir Raoul cried out in delight when he saw the 
 place. 
 
 "This is just how I have seen it a hundred times in 
 dreams." he said. "There's no other spot in En- 
 gland one half so tair.' 
 
2l8 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLflOM 
 
 "Upon my word," said the earl, turning to him sud- 
 denly, "I wish that you had it instead of me; you 
 would make a thousand times better master." 
 
 And Sir Raoul could not help seeing that, the young 
 countess turned to him with the same wish most 
 plainly written on her face. 
 
 "You will be a better master yet than you have ever 
 been," said Sir Raoul, touched at the unexpected 
 humility of the words. 
 
 "No; I shall never improve," replied the earl, with 
 a short laugh. "We shall soon sefe the quiet of Ravens- 
 mere disturbed. Do you know that only three out of 
 twenty declined my invitation? We shall have the 
 prettiest woman in England here." 
 
 "Who may that be?" asked Sir Raoul. 
 
 "Do you not know Lady Belle Winstone — the 
 lovely, golden-haired young widow?" 
 
 Sir Raoul looked at the noble, beautiful face oppo- 
 site to him; it could not have been prouder or colder. 
 
 "Lady Belle Winstone?" he repeated. "I have never 
 even heard the name before. I incline to the belief" 
 he continued, with a bow to the countess, "that we 
 have the loveliest lady in the land at Ravensmere 
 now." 
 
 "You are a courtier, Raoul," laughed the earl. 
 "Everyone to his taste. Do not commit yourself to 
 any decided opinion until you have seen Lady Belle." 
 
 "My opinion has long been formed," replied Sir 
 Raoul, pleasantly. 
 
 Whenever he advanced the cause of the neglected, 
 unloved wife, he did it with so much good humor that 
 the earl could not possibly take offense. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 219 
 
 "Lady Belle," continued his lordship, "has had 
 more admirers than any woman in England." 
 
 "Then I should say," replied Sir Raoul, "that she 
 was a great coquette." 
 
 Lord Caraven laughed. 
 
 "She is indeed; but then her coquetry is so delight- 
 ful that a man does not mind being made a victim 
 just for once." 
 
 "Tastes differ," said Raoul, calmly. "A coquette 
 would never please me." 
 
 Then the carriage stopped at the great entrance, 
 and they were at home. 
 
 Remembering that after all he owed this house to 
 the wife he did not love, Lord Caraven deigned to 
 say a few kind words to her; he said that he had 
 never seen so many roses at Ravensmere, and never 
 such beautiful blooms. She did not even turn to look 
 at the flowers he indicated, but passed on, the words 
 he had spoken about Lady Belle rankling in her heart. 
 
 What mattered the bloom of the roses to her? He 
 did not love her — she did not even like him; but she 
 could not forget that he was her husband, and it was 
 intolerable that any other woman should have all his 
 admiration. With a gesture of haughty pride she 
 swept into the house. Sir Raoul understood the ac- 
 tion well. 
 
 It was not a very bright home-coming. Lady Cara- 
 ven went to her room, and sent an excuse for not 
 appearing at the dinner-table — she was tired from the 
 journey; but Sir Raoul, who had grown to understand 
 every thought, every look of hers, knew quite well that 
 
220 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 she had found the earl's ardenf praise of Lady Belle 
 
 unendurable. 
 
 It was true. Hildred was asking herself how she 
 could bear it. She did not love her husband, yet in 
 some vague way she was jealous of him. She did not 
 like him, but she was not prepared to see him offering 
 even the light flattery of the hour to another woman. 
 
 Sir Raoul was more troubled that night than he had 
 ever been before. He sat down to review the situa- 
 tion. If he was to do anything for this unhappy hus- 
 band and wife, it must be done at once! It was a 
 strange position, and to him there came no gleam of 
 light — no inkling as to how he should avoid his diffi- 
 culties — no knowledge of what would be best to be 
 done. 
 
 He saw one thing very plainly. The present state 
 of things could not last long. It was impossible to 
 think calmly of such a life as Hildred's — always un- 
 happy, always lonely. He remembered how with the 
 saddest voice he had ever heard she said to him one 
 day: 
 
 "I never feel so entirely alone as when I am in a 
 crowded Mayfair ball-room." 
 
 He understood why — this brave, noble soldier, to 
 whom had been given the delicate instinct that reads 
 a woman's heart. She missed the love that should 
 have been hers. As time went on she would miss it 
 still more and then — what then? 
 
 Her noble, womanly nature revolted against her 
 fate. She disliked the husband who lost no opportu- 
 nity of showing how little he loved her. This dislike, 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 221 
 
 with one of her earnest nature, must deepen into 
 hatred. What then? Sir Raoul saw that things must 
 grow worse. 
 
 "If this coquette, this lovely Lady Belle, comes to 
 Ravensmere, and the earl flirts with her, evil will 
 ensue," he thought. 
 
 What could he do? 
 
 If one had loved the other, matters would have 
 been easier. But it was not so; there was nothing to 
 which he could appeal — no love, no tenderness, on 
 which he could build even the slightest foundation. 
 It was the husband's fault that his beautiful young 
 wife disliked him; he had been unkind, neglectful — 
 he had hardened her heart against himself. The earl 
 visited on this girl the wrong that he considered Arley 
 Ransome had done him. The dislike and contempt 
 he had for the father were vented on the daughter; 
 although she was quite innocent they fell on her. To 
 him she was never his wife — Countess of Caraven, a 
 lovely, dark-haired girl. She was simply the money- 
 lender's daughter. 
 
 Pride, coldness, indifference, neglect, dislike, con- 
 tempt, all lay between them. How were these to be 
 bridged over or vanquished? Added to all the rest 
 was the dissipation, the want of purpose, the indo- 
 lence, the self-indulgence, that characterized Lord 
 Caraven. 
 
 "I would rather be at the head of my regiment, fac- 
 ing some wild, savage horde, than here with this strug- 
 gle before me," thought Sir Raoul, almost despairingly. 
 
 For her sake he must do it. He loved her very 
 
222 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 dearly — not with a love in which was one. iota of 
 wrong; if she had been a fair young sister of his own 
 he could not have loved her better. He rendered her 
 true and knightly service — he admired her beauty, her 
 grace. He saw what her husband could not see — that 
 a whole world of passion and tenderness lay hidden 
 beneath the cold, calm pride. He cared more for her 
 than for anyone else living, but it was with a true and 
 knightly love — a love that would fain have placed her 
 where she ought to have been — in her husband's heart. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 "losing my life for a few birds of my lord's" 
 
 Perhaps the distress that Sir Raoul Laureston could 
 not help feeling for the sorrows of his fair young kins- 
 woman was too much for the weak, shattered frame, 
 or it may have been that the air of Ravensmere did 
 aot suit him. He was not well for many weeks after 
 his arrival. He did not actually keep his room; the 
 earl, who was tender enough and anxious enough where 
 his cousin was concerned, had ordered two of the larg- 
 est, lightest, and most cheerful apartments in the cas- 
 tle to be prepared for him, and Lady Caraven was 
 only too anxious to arrange everything most luxuri- 
 ously for him. No sitting-room in the house was so 
 comfortable as his; the fairest and most fragrant of 
 flowers were there, the richest and ripest of fruits. 
 Thither all the magazines and periodicals of the day 
 were taken, and there the beautiful young mistress of 
 the castle speht many hours that would otherwise have 
 been most wearisome. She would take her drawing 
 materials thither; and many charming pictures were 
 sketched and painted in the Red Room, as Sir Raoul's 
 sitting-room was called. She read all the new books 
 to him; no poem or story seemed quite satisfactory to 
 her until she had read it to him. She loved him very 
 dearly; a loyal friendship existed between Lady Cara- 
 
 223 
 
224 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 ven and the noble soldier whose very bravery had 
 spoiled his life. She never wearied of asking him to 
 tell the story of hfs battles over again; she never 
 tired of listening to this great and noble man who had 
 never been heard to^boast of a brave deed — who esti- 
 mated himself in so lowly a fashion. 
 
 But it was a good, pure love, born of the tender- 
 ness and purity of her own heart — a love that made 
 her a better woman. She had not reached that "intel- 
 lectual point" when a woman, because she does not 
 like her own husband, sees no harm in liking another 
 man; she was as true and loyal a wife as though her 
 husband loved her most dearly. True, he did not like 
 her; she knew that. But the idea that that could be 
 any plea for a dishonorable love never entered her 
 mind. She was his wife; that fact was unalterable. 
 There might be coldness, dislike, neglect, and con- 
 tempt, but she remained his wife, and, as such, even 
 the thought of another love never came to her — sh^ 
 would have shrunk from it in horror. It was this 
 noble earnestness, this loyal integrity, that made her 
 life seem so hard to her. The love between the brave 
 soldier and his young kinswoman was as pure and 
 noble as they weie themselves. 
 
 More than once, when she came to read to him, 
 always bringing with her sweetest flowers and choicest 
 fruits, he had noticed that her face was pale and her 
 eyes were heavy with weeping. Once, as she bent over 
 him to show him the lovely bloom on a per.cn, he 
 said to her: 
 
 "Hildred, do you spend the whole night jn tears?" 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 225 
 
 'Sometimes," she replied; "but, Raoul, do not talk 
 to me about it — I would - rather speak on any other 
 subject than myself." 
 
 He respected her wish. 
 
 The quiet of Ravensmere was, indeed, broken up — 
 the house was filled with guests. Many of them were 
 people whom Hildred did not like; but she was com- 
 pelled to be agreeable to all. There were men of the 
 same stamp as her husband, whose whole lives seemed 
 to be passed at the billiard-table, who had no thought 
 except for gambling and betting, whose lives were a 
 round of self-indulgence, who had not a noble thought 
 or idea. 
 
 Hildred knew that there were strange revels within 
 the honored old walls. The party generally broke up 
 about midnight — they were sometimes rather later 
 when they had charades or dancing; but midnight was 
 the usual hour. Then the ladies and the wiser and 
 steadier of the gentlemen retired to their rooms. The 
 others, with the earl at the head of them, adjourned 
 to the billiard-room. Long after morning dawned 
 Hildred heard the click of the billiard balls, and she 
 knew that all was not right. Still, she was powerless 
 to interfere; if she had said but one word, her hus- 
 band would have been passionately angry. She 
 remembered the night in London when he had half 
 suspected her of watching him. She would not inter- 
 fere, and it was of no use telling Sir Raoul — he had 
 enough to bear of physical pain. There was nothing 
 for it but grim endurance. 
 
 She did not like some of the people whom the earl 
 
226 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 had invited. If not rude, they were neglectful of her 
 — seemed to know her position by instinct — seemed 
 to guess that she was an unloved wife, that she had 
 been married for her money, and had a title instead 
 of love. She must endure it, but there were thing? 
 she could not tolerate. This was one. 
 
 One morning she was quite alone in the castle. The 
 whole party had gone out riding and driving, some of 
 them greatly disappointed at not having their beauti- 
 ful young hostess with them; but she thought Sir 
 Raoul looked worse that morning, so would not leave 
 him. She was busily engaged in reading to him when 
 a servant came to say that a poor woman was waiting 
 to see her. 
 
 "I tried to send her away, your ladyship," said the 
 man, "but she begged so hard that I had not the 
 heart. M 
 
 "Tried to send her away! Why did you do that?" 
 asked Lady Caraven. 
 
 "I think she is one of the tenants, your ladyship, 
 and his lordship gave orders that they should nevef 
 be attended to here — they were to be sent to Mr. 
 Blantyre. If I have done wrong I am sorry for it." 
 
 "You have done right," she said; "no blessing ever 
 comes to a house where the poor and the sorrowful 
 are sent from the door." 
 
 Not even to a servant would she utter one word in 
 disparagement of her husband, although she thought 
 ;he order a cruel one. 
 
 The woman was waiting to see her in one of the 
 ante-rooms. Lady Caraven's generous heart was 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 227 
 
 touched as she looked at her, she was so thin, so worn, 
 with a face so white and so sad, and great, despairing 
 eyes; her clothes were a thin, shabby dress and a still 
 thinner and shabbier shawl. 
 
 As the young countess stood before her in all the 
 pride of her youth and beauty, amid all the luxury of 
 her surroundings, she felt, in some vague way, 
 ashamed of the contrast. 
 
 "Did you want me?" she said, in a low, gentle voice. 
 "I am Lady Caraven. Do you wish to see me?" 
 
 The thin, worn hands were clasped tightly. The 
 woman hardly seemed to have the power of speech. 
 
 "Do not be afraid," said the young countess; "tell 
 me what you want." 
 
 "Oh! my lady, my lady!" was the cry that seemed 
 to come from a breaking heart, "will you take pity on 
 me?" 
 
 "I will, indeed, if I can. If I can help you, I prom- 
 ise that I will. What is the matter? You must not 
 fear to tell me. I can understand tke sorrows of 
 others, and feel for them." 
 
 The woman looked up into the kindly, beautiful 
 face. 
 
 "I hardly know how to tell you, my lady. It is not 
 the earl's fault. None of us blame him; he does not 
 know it. It is all Mr. Blantyre's doing." 
 
 "But what is it?" she asked gently. "You forget 
 that I do not know." 
 
 "My lady, it is this. My husband — a fine, strong, 
 handsome young man — was killed here in the woods 
 two years ago; he was a keeper, and there was a fight 
 
£28 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 with the poachers — my husband, John Woodruff, was 
 killed. He was a fine, handsome young man, my 
 lady, and we had three little children. I was fetched 
 to him after he was hurt. He had been struck with 
 the butt-end of a gun, and the doctor said that the 
 moment he was moved he would die. So his com- 
 panions fetched me to him, my lady — me with my three 
 little children; and we saw him, in the early dawn 
 of the morning, lying in the clover dying — dying, my 
 lady — the dear lad who had never given me an angry 
 word. We knelt down beside him, and he tried to 
 raise his head to look at the children, for the last 
 time; but he could not see them — his eyes were dim, 
 he groped with his hand, as though he was in dark- 
 ness. He neither saw them nor me, but he knew that 
 I was there. 
 
 "'Ellen,' he said — and even in dying the words 
 sounded quite clear — 'Ellen, you have been a good 
 wife to me. I am losing my life for a few birds of my 
 lord's; but he will see to you. The earl will see to 
 you — he will never let you want.' And all the men 
 standing round him said: 
 
 "'That is right enough; the earl will never let you 
 want.' 
 
 "But, my lady, it was the keepers who buried my 
 husband — I think the earl forgot him. We lived then 
 in a little cottage — one belonging to the earl — and, 
 my lady, since my husband's death I have lived there 
 — I do not know why — rent free. Living there has 
 been my livelihood. I have had no rent to pay, and 
 every week I have earned a few shillings by taking in 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 229 
 
 washing for the people at Court Raven. Some weeks 
 I have made five shillings — sometimes more. People 
 like to send their things to me — I dry them on a 
 hedge, my lady, near the trees, and they say the 
 sweet smell of the firs hangs about them." 
 
 "Go on," said the young countess, gently — "I am 
 deeply interested." 
 
 "So, my lady, the little cottage has, after a fashion, 
 kept me and my children. But now a paper has come 
 to say that henceforth we must pay rent — four-and-six- 
 pence each week — for the place ; and, my lady, if I pay 
 it I shall not be able to buy bread for my children to 
 eat." 
 
 "But you shall not pay it," said the young count- 
 ess. 
 
 "Oh, my lady, heaven bless you! If you would 
 but speak to the earl for me! He is young, and he 
 does not think — he does not know. If you would but 
 speak to him for me!" 
 
 Speak to her husband! Hildred had not thought of 
 that — had not meant that. The woman went on: 
 
 "I have been to Mr. Blantyre, my lady, but he 
 refused to hear me. He said I must pay the rent or 
 go. Where can I go? My husband took me home 
 to the cottage, and my little children were born there. 
 Where can I go? What can I do? It seems hard, 
 my lady. My poor husband died to keep a few birds 
 alive— birds that my lord and his friends shot after- 
 ward — and now I must leave the home I love for my 
 dear lad's sake. It is a hard world for the poor, my 
 lady— hard and cold and cruel." 
 
230 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "There is another, better and brighter," sj£\ u tu* 
 young countess. 
 
 "Yes, my lady — I know it; but it seems h* d to 
 wait for that, hard to wait while the children ar ; cry- 
 ing for bread, and there is no coal for the fire." 
 
 "I promise to help you," said Lady Carav^ . "I 
 will speak to the earl, my husband; he will 1 t you 
 stay without paying rent." 
 
 "I know hs will — if he understands; but, m : lady, 
 Mr. Blantyre does as he likes with the poor, ,nd the 
 earl knows nothing about it. What could io.x shil- 
 lings and sixpence a week matter to the eai t ? And 
 my husband died to save his birds." 
 
 "I will do all I can," said the countess; ^ me and 
 see me again in three days' time from now.'* 
 
 And Lady Caraven placed in the thin hand that 
 which made the widow's heart beat fast for joy. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI * 
 
 "it would be a fatal precedent" 
 
 On the day after the poor widow's visit Lady Cara 
 ven had no opportunity of speaking to her husband, 
 He cared little enough, as a rule, for county business, 
 but he was compelled to attend a political meeting at 
 Court Raven, the town which belonged almost entirely 
 to the Ravensmere estates. He did not return until 
 late in the evening, and she did not see him. On the 
 day following she determined to make an opportunity. 
 As it happened, the earl was at the breakfast-table. 
 
 "It will be easy enough," she thought now. "When 
 breakfast is over I will ask him to spare a few min- 
 utes for me." 
 
 But, when breakfast was over, the earl went off 
 with some gentlemen to the stables. There was a fear 
 that his favorite horse was ill, so it was no time then 
 to plead the widow's cause. She tried again at lunch- 
 eon — it was equally in vain; and the young countess 
 smiled to think that there should be so much difficulty 
 in the way of speaking a word to her own husband. 
 As a last resource she went to the Red Room. 
 
 "Raoul," she said, "Lord Caraven always comes 
 when you want him. Will you make some excuse for 
 sending for him? I want to speak to him very partic* 
 ularly, and I cannot find an opportunity." 
 
 231 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 Sir Raoul was only too pleased; he thought that 
 the fact of her wishing to speak to him at all was a 
 good sign. He sent for him, and in a few minutes 
 the earl arrived, pleased, as he always was, to be of 
 use to Sir Raoul. 
 
 The soldier talked to him for a few minutes about 
 an imaginary want, and Lord Caraven was deeply 
 interested. He had bowed to his wife on entering the 
 room, but had not spoken to her; now she came up 
 to him. 
 
 'Lord Caraven," she said, "you can spare me ten 
 minutes? I will not detain you longer." 
 
 An expression of impatience came over his face: 
 she saw it, and her own blanched with anger. 
 
 "Have no fear," she said, sarcastically; "it is not 
 of myself that I wish to speak." 
 
 "I was just going out," he told her, hastily. 
 
 Her first impulse was to sweep disdainfully from the 
 room, and never to speak to him again. For one 
 half minute she felt that she hated him; and then 
 she remembered that she had promised to plead the 
 widow's cause — the widow who loved her home for 
 "her dear lad's" sake. 
 
 "Lord Caraven," she said, gently, "I promise that 1 
 will not detain you long. Will you come with me to 
 my room?" 
 
 The earl threw up his eyes with an expression of 
 resignation. Only Sir Raoul saw it, and he felt 
 annoyed. 
 
 "I will follow you," he said to his wife, and she 
 led the way to her boudoir. It was a pretty octagon- 
 
FROM OCT THE GLOOM 
 
 233 
 
 shaped room; the ceiling was painted, the walls were 
 beautifully decorated, the hangings were of rich rose 
 silk and lace, a profusion of flowers perfumed the 
 room. 
 
 "What a lady's bower," said the earl; "flowers and 
 lace and perfume! What a dainty little nest!" 
 
 Then it struck him that this was the first time since 
 their marriage that he had entered any room belong- 
 ing to his wife. 
 
 "I have not seen this little room before," he said; 
 "how pretty it is." 
 
 With proud humility, with touching grace, she 
 bowed to him. 
 
 "I am happy to make you welcome to my pretty 
 room," she said. 
 
 The earl laughed — he always did when he wanted to 
 avoid any exhibition of feeling. 
 
 "Hildred," he said, "you have caught just a touch 
 of Sir RaouPs manner." 
 
 "My manner is entirely my own," she replied, 
 proudly. "Lord Caraven, I have a favor to ask of 
 you." 
 
 "I do not seem to know myself," declared the earl, 
 "seated in a lady's boudoir, tete-a-tete with a charm- 
 ing woman." 
 
 "You are mocking me, my lord," she said. "If you 
 will please to listen, I will soon release you from the 
 tete-a-tete. " 
 
 He laid his handsome head back on the luxurious 
 chair, and she, looking at him, felt for half a moment 
 a longing in her heart that all were different — that he 
 
234 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 was at home there — that she could kneel by his side 
 and draw the handsome face down to hers and whis- 
 per her requests. Then she felt angry with herself. 
 What a day-dream — what a foolish day-dream about 
 the husband who did not like her! 
 
 "Lord Caraven," she said, "I have a favor to ask 
 from you — a great favor. Will you grant it?" 
 
 "I will hear first what it is," he replied. 
 
 Then she told him. Her heart sank as she saw his 
 face grow dark and angry. 
 
 "Which of the servants told you that woman was 
 here?" 
 
 "Will you tell me why you wish to know, Lord 
 
 Caraven? " 
 
 "Yes; the moment I know I shall dismiss him, with- 
 out a character, for disobedience." 
 
 "If he disobeyed you," she said, "I am sorry for it. 
 But pray do not allow that to influence you against 
 my petition." 
 
 He turned round angrily. 
 
 "Plainly speaking, Hildred," he said, "I have quite 
 enough annoyance with my tenants without interfer- 
 ence from you, and I cannot allow — " 
 
 "Lord Caraven," she interposed eagerly, "do believe 
 me. I have not the least wish to interfere; but this 
 poor woman — if you had seen her pale, hungry face 
 and sad eyes." 
 
 "It is easy enough to look hungry," he said, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 "You do not mean that. I know you have pity and 
 compassion for the unfortunate — I have seen you kind 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 235 
 
 and generous to them; and this poor woman's hus- 
 band — and she loves him — mind, her husband, Lord 
 Caraven, died to save your birds. Think — a man 
 killed that a few birds may live! " 
 
 "That is your way of looking at the matter. Do 
 you know that you are attacking the very base of 
 society?" 
 
 "What am I attacking in this case?" she asked. 
 
 "The Game Laws — the most glorious part of the 
 British Constitution. John Woodruff died in defense 
 of the Game Laws, not for my birds. " 
 
 "As you will," she said, gently. "You understand 
 things of that kind better than I do. I only know 
 how sorry I felt for the poor woman who loved her 
 husband — loved him and lost him." 
 
 The unconscious pathos, the sweet sadness in her 
 voice, as she uttered these words, both touched and 
 angered him. He meant to speak gently. 
 
 "Hildred, you must not ask me to interfere. It 
 does not do to give way to one's feelings always. I 
 cannot interfere with my tenants. They must pay 
 their rents." 
 
 "But," she said, pleadingly, "this is a matter of 
 only four-and-sixpence a week — it cannot possibly hurt 
 you. " 
 
 "It is not a question of money, but of principle. 
 As Blantyre says, if I let this woman live rent free, 
 every widow on my estate will want to do the same. 
 If I excuse her, I may excuse all the rest. As Blantyre 
 says, it is a bad precedent. I might go on until every 
 tenant on the estate found some touching and pathet* 
 
236 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 ic reason why he should not pay any rent — then 
 
 what would become of me?" 
 
 "But that is not probable; and I ask this as afi 
 especial favor. You will not refuse, I am sure." 
 
 "Blantyre especially warned me about this very 
 matter. He said she would be coming again and 
 again. Do you know that we could get more for the 
 cottage if we tried?" 
 
 It was with great difficulty that she controlled her- 
 self. To grow impatient would be to lose her cause. 
 
 "Will you let me pay the rent for her, then?" she 
 asked. 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 "If you do, we shall raise it to three hundred a 
 year. Seriously speaking, Hildred, you must not inter- 
 fere — it will not do. It would be a fatal precedent. I 
 must absolutely forbid you to say any more." 
 
 She turned from him, her face growing pale, her 
 lips quivering with anger. He saw it, and felt almost 
 sorry. 
 
 "I regret to refuse you, Hildred," he said, rising to 
 quit the room. "It is the first favor you have asked 
 of me, and I should have liked to grant it. But I 
 promised Blantyre faithfully that I would not inter- 
 fere. We must make what we can of the estate, and 
 we shall never do it if we interfere with Blantyre." 
 
 She raised her head with a charming air of pique 
 and disdain. 
 
 "Pray, my lord," she said, "may I ask you if you 
 have left your conscience in Mr. Blantyre's hands?" 
 "He would not have much to hold," laughed the 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 n 
 
 earl. "My conscience would go into a small space. 1 
 Her face flushed, her eyes shone brightly. 
 "Let me ask you, my lord," she said, "have yoi 
 
 ever remembered that all this wealth was given to 
 
 you, not for your own especial self-indulgence, but in 
 
 trust for the poor and the needy? " 
 
 "I should like you to tell Blantyre that," sneered 
 
 the earl. "I have never remembered anything of the 
 
 kind." 
 
 "Then let me tell you it is true. I would sooner 
 be the poorest beggar turned from your door than I 
 would be you, with your titles, your estates, yom 
 wealth, your dead conscience, and your dead heart. 
 Good morning, my lord." 
 
 And with an air of dignity the young countess 
 swept from the room, leaving him dumb with rage. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 "you are responsible to heaven for your depend- 
 ents" 
 
 Lady Caraven was not naturally prone to anger, but 
 now she trembled with rage that she should be so 
 cruelly insulted, denied the first favor she had ever 
 asked — denied because she took a generous interest in 
 surely the lowliest creature on her husband's estate. 
 It was unheard of. She did not give vent to her anger 
 by any loud outburst of emotion. She did not pace up 
 and down the room, clinching her hands; but she stood 
 silent, her face pale as death, her eyes filled with 
 angry fire. That he should dare to be unkind to her! 
 That he should have listened with that satirical smile 
 on his face, perhaps laughing at her in his heart! 
 She shrank from herself. 
 
 "Heaven help me," she said, "but I am afraid that 
 I hate him! " 
 
 Her hands trembled slightly 
 
 "I am in a passion," she said to herself, "and no 
 wonder. Was ever wife refused such a trifle?" 
 
 While she stood trying to stem the wild current of 
 anger and to cool the fire that seemed to burn her 
 heart and brain, a servant, her own maid, entered. 
 
 "My lady," she said, "the earl is seeking you. Shall 
 I tell him that you are here?" 
 
 238 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 239 
 
 "If you please," she replied. 
 
 She neither moved nor stirred when the earl came 
 in She neither turned her beautiful head nor raised her 
 proud eyes. He looked at the tall, slender figure, so 
 unbending, so defiant. 
 
 "Hildred," he said, sharply, "I wish to speak to 
 you." 
 
 She did not even raise her white eyelids or give the 
 faintest sign that she had heard him. 
 
 "I wish to speak to you," he repeated, more sharply. 
 
 "I can hear," said Lady Caraven. "Speak on." 
 
 "But 1 do not choose to speak, madam, unless you 
 give me your attention." 
 
 Never did empress of old turn a haughtier face to 
 her foe than she turned now to him — proud, defiant, 
 unbending. 
 
 "I would not submit to him now," she thought, "if 
 I must die for it." 
 
 She might have stood as a statue of pride. 
 
 "Listen to me," said the earl. "I have been think- 
 ing over what you said, and I do not like it. Do you 
 hear? I do not like it." 
 
 She answered never a word. 
 
 "Do not irritate me," he said. "I am not always 
 master of myself. I — I have a good temper generally, 
 but when I am angry I forget myself. Do not irritate 
 me. 
 
 "I have no wish to irritate you," she replied, with 
 quiet dignity. "Say what you have to say that I*may 
 go quickly." 
 
 "I have to say this, Lady Caraven, that you must 
 
240 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 not speak to me again as you have done to-day — never; 
 I cannot permit it. The wealth of Ravensmere is 
 yours, not mine; but the right to manage my tenants 
 is mine, and I will allow no one to dictate to me." 
 
 "The right to manage them is most certainly yours, 
 but I contend that they are cruelly mismanaged, and 
 that the wrongs done to the poor on your estate will 
 recoil on your own head, as will the waste, the extrav- 
 agance, and the folly." 
 
 "I am willing that they should. Still I will take 
 .anything but advice, and that least of all from you, 
 i,ady Caraven, although you may think that you have 
 |the best right to give it. I have no wish to repeat 
 any angry words, but you must understand once and 
 [for all that I brook no dictation." 
 
 She bowed to him. . 
 
 "Is that all you wished to say, my lord?" 
 
 He looked at the beautiful white proud face, so still, 
 'SO full of repressed feeling. 
 
 "I should like to ask you," he said, "why you dis- 
 like Mr. Blantyre so much? You have seen little of 
 3bim, yet you distrust him." 
 
 "I do," she replied, quietly. "I did the first time I 
 §aw him. He commits positive cruelties in your name 
 and then lays all at your door. 'It is the earFs orders/ 
 he says; and under the sanction of your name — a name 
 that ought to be honored and revered — I say that 
 great cruelties, acts of great injustice are committed." 
 
 "How am I to know that it is true?" he asked. 
 
 "Go yourself among the people and ask. You will 
 tee men with large families and eighteen shillings a 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 week to support them with, whose rents have been 
 raised one pound a year — their rents, not their wages; 
 those are the laborers employed on your estate — the 
 hewers of wood and drawers of water — the poorest, 
 the most wretched class of men in England." 
 
 "That is not Blantyre's fault. You would revolution- 
 ize society," he said, interested in spite of himself by 
 the passion of her words. 
 
 "I know it is not Blantyre's fault. If one of the 
 children of a household goes wrong, it is not the 
 hired servant who is to blame, but the father and 
 mother. I know it is not Blantyre's fault; but at the 
 great day, when the wasted lives and the broken 
 hearts of these people cry out for vengeance, we shall 
 know whose fault it was." 
 
 He shrank from the clear gaze of the glowing, elo- 
 quent eyes. 
 
 "While we are speaking about it," she continued 
 in the same tone of repressed passion, "I will tell you 
 what I think. Heaven placed you in a high position 
 and intrusted you with vast wealth; the lives, the 
 interests, and the well-being of innumerable depend- 
 ents lie in your hands. What have you done?" 
 
 He shrank as though the hand raised in warning 
 had struck him. 
 
 "What have you done?" continued the voice, so 
 pitilessly sweet. "You have had but one object and 
 that has been to make the most you could out of 
 them, to swell your own income, no matter at what 
 cost to them. You have never studied their interests. 
 Neither their bodies nor their souls have had any care 
 from you. Is that right?" 
 
242 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "That is all nonsense," he replied, more startled 
 than he would have cared to own. "You are looking 
 at the matter from a preacher's point of view." 
 
 "No; I look at it as any sensible person would look 
 at it. A great land-owner is a great power. He holds 
 a great trust in his hands — life and death are almost 
 in his gift. You have been extravagant, without a 
 thought save of self-indulgence, knowing naught but 
 your own pleasure. Shall I tell you what you ought 
 to be? " 
 
 He was silenced by her passion and eloquence — - 
 he had no anger, no impatience left. 
 
 "You can tell me what you like," he replied. 
 
 "I will tell you. Even as a great king is the father 
 of his people, so should a great landlord be. You 
 ought to make the interests of the people your own. 
 When the two clash, you should give way. Their 
 cares and sorrow should in some measure be yours. 
 You should have wise compassion, prudent forbear- 
 ance, unlimited self-control. You should know how 
 to reward the good, to punish the bad. Every child 
 born on your estate has an immortal soul — you should 
 provide churches, schools, and libraries. You should 
 know where to give in charity, where to withhold your 
 hand. You should know that the health and in some 
 measure the morals of the people you govern are in 
 your hands, flourishing or otherwise, according to the 
 houses you give them to live in. I do not say alto- 
 gether, but in great measure you are responsible to 
 heaven for your dependents, your laborers, your serv- 
 ants, the poor at your gates. " 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 243 
 
 He stood perfectly still, listening intently. 
 
 "Have you finished, Hildred?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes," she replied. "All that I say is in vain; 
 therefore I will say no more." 
 
 She did not wait to hear what reply he would make 
 — it would have been better had she done so — but she 
 swept from the room. 
 
 It was a humiliation for her when Ellen Woodruff 
 came again, to tell her that she had failed in the mis- 
 sion — that, even at her solicitation, the earl had 
 refused the little boon she asked. She would have 
 given much if she could have shown even to this poor 
 widow some proof of his desire to please her — but 
 she could not. 
 
 She was one of those people who never defer a dis- 
 agreeable duty. She sent that same day for the poor 
 creature, who came trembling for the fate of herself 
 and her children. Lady Caraven received her very 
 kindly, but entered at once into the matter. 
 
 "I am sorry to tell you," she said, "that I have 
 failed. Lord Caraven does not feel inclined to forego 
 the rent." 
 
 "It is not my lord," cried the woman. "I know it 
 is not. It is Mr. Blantyre's fault; he said I should 
 and must pay. But I cannot, my lady; I have not the 
 means." 
 
 "I have thought it all over," said Lady Caraven. 
 "I cannot get the cottage rent free for you, but I can 
 pay the rent. I will give it to you every month, but 
 it must be on the condition that you tell no one. 
 Lord Caraven might be displeased if he heard it." 
 
244 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 It was humiliating at first to give charities unknown 
 to her husband, and then beg that they might be kept 
 secret. The gratitude of the poor woman in some 
 measure compensated her, and made her feel less 
 miserable. 
 
 But, though Lord Caraven had laughed and sneered 
 and spoken angrily, he had not forgotten his wife's 
 words. Not for the world would he have owned it, 
 or that they had made the least impression on him — 
 on the contrary, he was, if possible, more brusque and 
 abrupt, quoted Blantyre more frequently, and talked 
 more than ever of what he would do with the poor ten- 
 ants — yet her words haunted him. They seemed to be 
 written in letters of fire, let him turn his eyes whither 
 he would. 
 
 As to Hildred, her humiliation had been great. 
 She was fast losing heart and patience; her hope had 
 died a lingering death — there was no gleam of com- 
 fort left her, turn which way she might. Sir Raoul 
 was ill, and seldom able to leave his room. Owing 
 to the number of guests in the house, she could not 
 spend so much time with him as formerly. She was 
 dispirited and depressed. Above all, she disliked 
 some of the visitors whom Lord Caraven had invited. 
 There was one who was young, effeminate, weak in 
 character, not much stronger in mind — a Lieutena t 
 Hilstone, who had just succeeded to a large fortune, 
 and who seemed at a loss how to get rid of it most 
 quickly. Lady Caraven had a shrewd suspicion that 
 some of the visitors did not scruple as to how much 
 they won from him. More than once she had over- 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 245 
 
 heard heavy wagers made with him which she knew 
 he must lose. She was scornfully impatient. Was 
 not this conduct of her husband's disgraceful — to 
 allow gambling and betting under his roof — to allow 
 a weak young soldier like the lieutenant to be what 
 she considered robbed? 
 
 One of the earl's most intimate friends — one, indeed, 
 who knew all his affairs — was Sir Arthur Oldys; and 
 Hildred overheard him, quite by chance, one day, lay- 
 ing a heavy wager with the young lieutenant. She 
 looked at him calmly. 
 
 "Sir Arthur," she said, "I do not consider that it is 
 quite fair; Lieutenant Hilstone has no chance. You 
 know more than he does when you lay such a wager — 
 you know that you will win it. " 
 
 She never forgot the sneer with which he turned to 
 her. 
 
 "Lady Caraven," he said, "permit me to offer my 
 congratulations. You understand money matters almost 
 as well as your talented father." 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 "our lives are very much what we ourselves make 
 
 them" 
 
 Without replying to Sir Arthur Oldys' insult, with- 
 out word or comment, Lady Caraven instantly quitted 
 the room, her heart burning with hot indignation. 
 How well her husband's friends must ktiow that he 
 did not love her! They would never dare to speak to 
 her as they did but for that knowledge. How well 
 they must know it, when they dared to try to insult 
 her through her father! 
 
 Yet she was powerless to resent it. If she com- 
 plained to the earl, he would at once take part against 
 her — beside her own pride would not permit her to do 
 so. They might insult her as they would; it was not 
 from him that she would seek protection. They must 
 have seen that, after all, she was but the nominal mis- 
 tress of the house — that she was but a kind of head 
 housekeeper — Countess of Caraven in name, but in 
 reality a neglected, unloved, despised wife. She under- 
 stood how and why these gentlemen failed in respect; 
 her husband had set them the example. 
 
 Lady Caraven felt something like despair. Was 
 such a life, after all, worth having? Was her title 
 worth undergoing so much for? She was living with- 
 out hope, without love, without happiness, subject to 
 
 346 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 much impertinence. Surely life was not iu<*«*i^ like 
 this, or why did people talk of its bijghtnesr, its 
 beauty? There was nothing to which she clung in 
 the life she was leading. She would iwve separated 
 herself from Ravensmere, and all that it contained— 
 except Sir Raoul— without a sigh; it rias even worse 
 than that — she disliked all belonging to it. 
 
 Why should she submit any longer? She would 
 rather be a governess, rudely treated by an upstart 
 woman, than a countess neglecteu and despised by 
 her own husband, and insulted by his friends. She 
 would rather forego every luxury and work for her daily 
 bread, than bear this life any longer. Why should 
 she? The earl had married her for her money; now 
 he had it — nothing could take it from him. Her father 
 had sold her for a title; he could call himself the 
 father of Lady Caraven — nothing could undo that. But 
 she was indisposed any longer to be the victim of 
 both. She would seek her freedom and would find it. 
 
 She walked with head erect, with flushed face and 
 angry eyes, through the splendid rooms. They were 
 all more or less occupied. In the library some gentle- 
 men were writing letters — the billiard-room was 
 always engaged — the ladies of the party occupied 
 different apartments. It seemed to her that nowhere 
 could she find peace. Her whole soul was in a fever 
 of unrest, a tumult of sadness and weariness. Her 
 heart ached, her head throbbed. 
 
 She longed, with desperate longing, for a few 
 minutes' repose; it seemed to her that her life was 
 hurrying on like a swift river into an unknown 
 
2 4 8 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 sea. She wanted to stop and see whither it was 
 going. Everywhere there was the same noise — the 
 deep voices and deep laughter of men, the light tones 
 and gay laughter of women. There was not a spot 
 in the whole place for rest. She pressed her hands 
 against the temples that throbbed so violently. She 
 looked around her half irresolutely. Whither should 
 she go? Then she bethought herself of the pleasaunce 
 — the only spot where she could even imagine herself 
 alone. 
 
 The pleasaunce must Lave been constructed by 
 someone who knew how human nature longed for rest. 
 Few of the Ravensmere people knew of its existence 
 — the visitors did not. Some of the servants were in 
 perfect ignorance as to its whereabouts. It was con- 
 structed for the sole and exclusive use of the Ladies 
 Caraven. Rumor told strange stories of one of the 
 daughters of the house who had been born with a 
 deformity in the face, so terrible that she was unfit 
 for human eyes to gaze on. The earl, her father, 
 never permitted her to leave the house, and this little 
 garden had been constructed entirely for her use. It 
 was inclosed between four high walls, and those walls 
 were covered with a luxuriant growth of ivy. No win- 
 dows, no towers, overlooked the garden. The paths 
 were broad and straight, the whole place was a wil- 
 derness of flowers. 
 
 The young countess bethought herself of this 
 retreat. She had one key of the dark green door that 
 led to it; Sir Raoul had another. She would go 
 thither, she said to herself, and look her life in the 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 249 
 
 face, and then decide what to do with it. It was 
 slowly dawning across her that she would not be able 
 to bear her trials much longer; that she could not 
 and would not endure them; that there was a brighter 
 life somewhere, which she was determined to find 
 out; that she could not sacrifice her whole life to a 
 shadow of duty; that, in fact, she would go forth free. 
 
 Free! The very word made her heart beat quickly. 
 Free! She would no longer be tied to the man whose 
 indolence, whose self-indulgence, whose cold indiffer- 
 ence and neglect, whose utter want of interest in his 
 duties, irritated and annoyed her every hour of the 
 day; to the handsome, indolent man who allowed fever 
 and disease to run riot in the cottages belonging to 
 him, while he wrung from the tenants all that he 
 could get; who abandoned every duty and was satis- 
 fied to leave the most solemn of his engagements to a 
 man like John Blantyre. 
 
 She was tired of it. She would be free — free to go 
 whither she would. Why should she remain? Her 
 father had deceived her — he had told her that she could 
 live without love, that nothing was of any worth ex- 
 cept rank, wealth, and position. She had found it to 
 be untrue. Looking back now, she regretted bitterly 
 that she had not decided otherwise, and had not re- 
 fused to live without love. 
 
 She went to the pleasaunce. If she were interrupted 
 there, it could be only by her husband or Sir Raoul; 
 there was no fear of other intruders. A sense of relief 
 came to her when she found herself between the four 
 high walls. The blue sky smiled down upon her. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 the languid air stirred faintly, the scent of roses came 
 to her on the wind; it was like a reprieve to enter 
 that quiet retreat, and feel alone. 
 
 She walked down one of the broad, straight paths 
 to where crimson carnations grew side by side witl> 
 white lilies, and there she seated herself to rest — alone. 
 And it was so sweet to be alone. There was no sound 
 of men's voices or of light laughter; no sneer could 
 reach her where she was; there was nothing but the 
 blue sky above, and the breath of the sweet western 
 wind. She was shut out from all sounds — alone, with 
 the thread of her life in her hands. 
 
 It was a dreary tangle, a miserable disappointment. 
 She was tired and weary. Looking back, she thought 
 she must have been mad to sacrifice herself as she 
 had done; married for her money, sold for a title, her 
 own will, her own womanhood, had never asserted 
 itself. Her handsome, indolent husband did nothing 
 but treat her with indifference aird contempt. She 
 could do nothing for him. He was on the way to 
 ruin. How could she arrest him? His whole life 
 was a round of senseless pleasure from which she 
 could never divert him. He had all that he wanted 
 — her money. Now surely she could go free — free, to 
 lead a more congenial life, where she would not live 
 in the midst of annoyances and vexations. 
 
 She would go and live in France or Italy — anywhert 
 away from England! Her father might be angry. She 
 would not heed it. He had shown but little love for 
 her; she would not consider him. The only regret 
 she felt — and it was a deep one — was for Sir Raoul. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 -Sir Raoul, the only human being who cared for her — 
 what would he say when he knew that she was going? 
 He would miss her so terribly; but, even for his sake, 
 dear as he was to her, she could not stay. He would 
 miss her, he who loved her with a true, loyal love; 
 but she would tell him how wretched she was, how 
 utterly miserable, and then he would see that she must 
 go. 
 
 Suddenly — she could not tell why — the self-command 
 of long years broke down. Her pride, her courage, 
 her high spirit, the proud sense of resentment that 
 had sustained her, broke down, and she wept as she 
 had seldom wept in her life before. The passionate 
 tears seemed to relieve her. It was a luxury to weep 
 there alone — for once to give herself up to a full 
 sense of her misery, of her disappointment, of her 
 blighted life — for once to dare to look the truth full 
 in the face and own to herself that she was one of the 
 most miserable, most wretched girls in the whole 
 wide world. 
 
 She sobbed out the words. It was a relief to say 
 them — a relief to say even to herself that she was 
 miserable; she had been so proudly reticent, so self- 
 restrained. 
 
 Suddenly a hand was laid upon her shoulder, and, 
 looking up, she saw Sir Raoul standing by her side. 
 In his pale face, worn with pain and suffering, she 
 saw infinite pity, infinite love; compassion and ten- 
 derness shone in his eyes. He had never looked so 
 true and so noble as he did just then. He bent over 
 her. 
 
252 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Hildred, poor child, is it so bad as this?" he asked. 
 
 "It is so bad," she said, "that it could not be worse, 
 Raoul — nothing could be worse. I am tired of it. 
 I am going away." 
 
 "Going away!" he repeated, slowly. "That is what 
 I feared, tlas your patience, your forbearance, come 
 to an end at last, Hildred?" 
 
 "Yes," she replied, truthfully, "it has at last." 
 
 He was silent for a few minutes, and then, as she 
 looked up at him, a great awe stole over her. His 
 eyes were raised to the clear skies, his lips moved. 
 
 Surely in a picture she had seen a figure something 
 like his, with a serene light on the brow. Her anger, 
 her impatience, her bitter contempt and dislike 
 seemed to fall away from her, even from that one 
 look at his face. She rose suddenly into something 
 nobler than a weeping, vengeful, unhappy woman. 
 
 "You are going away, Hildred — you can bear it no 
 longer? Poor child! This reminds me of an hour I 
 spent once with a soldier who was determined to 
 desert his post and fly." 
 
 "I am not a soldier," she said, with a more pitiful 
 smile. 
 
 "We will talk it over," he replied; and he seated 
 himself by the crimson carnations at her side. "I will 
 tell you all I think," he said, "and we will talk it 
 over; then you shall decide." 
 
 She was trying to harden her heart against him, 
 to say to herself that, no matter what he thought, 
 urged, or said, it should make no difference — she 
 would go away. He was sensitive and proud, he was 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 253 
 
 tender of heart, but how could he understand her case? 
 That which tortured her was nothing to him. 
 
 He looked at her with the same sweet, noble com- 
 passion that seemed to her almost more than human. 
 
 "Hildred," he said, in a low voice, "will you trust 
 me wholly? Will you tell me the true story of your 
 marriage?" 
 
 "Do you not know it, Raoul? It seems to me so 
 shameful I have no wish to repeat it. " 
 
 "I know something of it," he replied; "but not the 
 whole truth. I know that you will tell it. to me. I 
 ask you as a physician asks. I must know the whole 
 truth before I can advise. Tell me one thing — did you 
 love your husband at all before your marriage?" 
 
 "No," she replied; "not in the least." 
 
 "Will you tell me again why you, a woman natu- 
 rally noble, naturally tender and true of heart, mar- 
 ried without love?" 
 
 She glanced at him, her beautiful face full of per- 
 plexity; she had gathered a crimson carnation, and was 
 holding it between her slender fingers. 
 
 "I will tell you, Raoul. I asked jny father if love 
 were necessary for happiness, and he said 'No.' I 
 believed him; hence my mistake." 
 
 "Your father deceived you." 
 
 "He did deceive me," she replied. 
 
 He looked at the downcast face. 
 
 "Hildred," he said, gently, "I do not remember that 
 I have ever met with a more thorough woman than 
 )'ou. You have all a woman's tenderness of heart, 
 quickness of instinct, fertility of imagination, grace 
 
*54 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 of mind — your ideas and thoughts are all womanly 
 and true. How could you be so false to your whole 
 nature as to believe that even when your father told 
 
 it to you?" 
 
 "I cannot tell. As you say, my own innate per- 
 ceptions ought to have told me it was false, but they 
 did not. One reason is that I had thought so little 
 of the matter. I loved study and books; romance 
 seldom, if ever, came into my thoughts. I had no girl 
 friends to converse with. If ever I thought of love at 
 all, it was as of some bright fairyland that all the world 
 sought, but few ever reached. I asked my father if 
 one could live happily without love. He told me 'Yes* 
 — even more happily — that love was a fever which 
 burned and fretted; He said that the calmest, the 
 most peaceful of lives were those in which love had 
 no share.'* 
 
 "And you believed him?" 
 
 "Yes; I told him what poets and novelists said— • 
 how a great poet had said it was better 'to have loved 
 and lost than never to have loved at all.' He declared 
 it was all nonsense, 'the poet's trade, the writer's art/ 
 until — believe me, Raoul — I half thought it a noble 
 thing to live without love. Then — let me be quite 
 frank — the notion of being a countess pleased me. 
 Let me even be more frank. I saw Lord Caraven, 
 and liked him. He looked handsome and fascinating 
 — he seemed to differ from the German professors or 
 the city men with whom I was familiar. I liked him, 
 and I made a great mistake." 
 
 "Will you tell me what the mistake was, Hildred?" 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 255 
 
 Yes. 1 knew nothing of money matters — I did 
 not even know that I was a great heiress — and I was 
 foolish enough to think that he must have seen me 
 somewhere and have liked me — that he must have 
 admired me or he would not have wished to marry 
 me." 
 
 "Poor child!" he said, with a grave, pitying face. 
 
 "I could not understand it," she continued; "no one 
 was ever so puzzled. I could not help noticing his 
 indifference and his reserve, but I thought that would 
 all die away. Every day I was expecting to hear that 
 he had had some reason for his coldness — some reason 
 that had passed away. Every day I expected to hear 
 the secret of his indifference. I hoped against hope — 
 you see how frankly I am speaking, Sir Raoul— and 
 then I awoke to the sure and certain conviction that 
 he not only did not love me but that he absolutely 
 isliked me." 
 
 "Poor child!" said the grave voice again. 
 
 "Yes, I was deeply to be pitied. I was sorry even 
 for myself. What made it worse was that at that time 
 I was beginning to care very much for my husband. 
 If he had been kind to me I should have loved him. 
 Now" — and, stopping suddenly, she wrung her hands 
 in terrible despair. "Now," she continued, "I dislike 
 him— I almost hate him." 
 
 The beautiful face flushed hotly — the dark eyes were 
 full of a strange light. 
 
 "I am alarmed at myself," she went on. "I did not 
 know that it was within me — this power of hatred. 1 
 am so frightened that I am going away, Raoul. My 
 patience has failed roe." 
 
256 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "It is a sad story. Tell me, Hildred — why does 
 your patience fail? I love Ulric — I love you; I can 
 judge between you. Why does your patience fail?" 
 
 "I do not want to speak evil of my husband," she 
 replied, slowly; "the very fact that he has injured me 
 should make me generous to him — the very fact that 
 I dislike him should compel me to speak well of him. 
 I love a noble foe." 
 
 "If you were a foe at all, you would be a noble 
 one," he said; "but you are not. You may speak 
 frankly, because you are speaking to one who loves 
 Ulric Caraven in spite of his faults. Tell me honestly 
 all about your dislike." 
 
 She was silent for some minutes, and the crimson 
 leaves of the clove-carnation fell one by one to the 
 ground. 
 
 "I do not like speaking of it," she began. "You 
 must see, Raoul, as well as I do — you must under- 
 stand. How could anyone help despising and dis- 
 liking a man who lives for himself, who cares for 
 nothing but his own pleasure, and leaves every duty 
 neglected? How can I love a man who married me 
 only for my money, despising me the while? — who 
 has not since marriage shown me the ordinary civil- 
 ity that a gentleman never fails to show to a lady? 
 He is selfish, indolent — oh, Raoul! I do not like say- 
 ing this, but if you saw his cruel neglect, his cruel 
 oppression — if you knew how carelessly he leaves every- 
 thing to John Blantyre, how heedless he is as to the 
 claims of justice, you would be sorry for me!" 
 
 "I see," he replied, quietly. "Now tell me, Hildred 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 257 
 
 —I know you will speak quite frankly — do you see 
 one redeeming quality amid all your husband's 
 faults?" 
 
 She thought long before she answered him, and 
 then she looked info his face. 
 
 "I am afraid not — I do not remember one. Yes, 
 there is one; I have never heard him speak falsely." 
 
 Sir RaouPs face cleared. 
 
 "Ulric was a truthful boy," he said. "Do you know 
 of anything else in his favor?" 
 She thought again. 
 
 "I think," she replied, even more slowly, "that, he 
 is tender-hearted. He is not cruel; he does not like 
 to see people suffer; he is cruel only to me." 
 
 "True in word and tender of heart — those are two 
 good qualities; we know that he has a handsome face, 
 an easy grace of manner, a musical voice. You see I 
 am trying to discover his good qualities. I will tell 
 you something else. He is a spendthrift — I do not 
 deny it. He may oppress the poor on his estate — that 
 I am sure is done unwittingly; but he has never yet 
 refused to help a comrade in distress. Years ago, 
 when I was a hard-working soldier with nothing to 
 rely on but my pay, if I would have borrowed, he 
 would have lent me half his fortune. He is open- 
 handed." 
 
 "Yes," she replied. Sir Raoul smiled. 
 
 "Listen again, Hildred. He has done all kinds of 
 foolish, mad, senseless actions; but no one ever told 
 of him that he had done a mean one." 
 
 "It was mean to demand rent from the poor widow 
 whose husband was killed in his service." 
 
258 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "I am perfectly certain that John Blantyre has mis- 
 led him," was the reply. 
 
 "It was mean to marry me for my money," she said, 
 with flushing face. 
 
 "Ah! there I must yield. It wa§ mean — it was, in 
 one sense, the worst action of his life," said Sir 
 Raoul. "Let us make a resume, Hildred. He is true 
 in word, tender of heart; he was never cruel; he is 
 open-handed; he has committed but one mean action; 
 he is handsome and accomplished, well-fitted to win 
 the heart of any woman. Tell me — do you think it 
 quite impossible to love such a character?" 
 
 "I can hardly tell," she replied, slowly. 
 
 "I think that Ulric Caraven has in him the elements 
 of a noble character, Hildred. Give to a sculptor a 
 block of shapeless marble, and what does he fashion 
 from it?" 
 
 "A beautiful statue," she replied. 
 
 "True. Given a shapeless mass of qualities, good 
 and bad intermixed, I say that a good woman from 
 them can mold a beautiful character. Listen — I will 
 tell you how." 
 
 He had drawn nearer to her and the leaves of the 
 crimson carnation fell at his feet; the western wind 
 seemed to pause and listen — it fell with a faint, sub- 
 dued sigh. 
 
 "Listen," he repeated; and there was a grave, sweet 
 music in his voice that overawed her. "Our lives, 
 Hildred, are very much what we ourselves make them; 
 your case is, I grant, an exceptional one — your fate 
 has, in some measure, been decided for you; but your 
 ultimate destiny lies in your own hands." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 259 
 
 She murmured faintly that she knew it, and that 
 she was unhappy in the knowledge. He went on. 
 
 "Your life lies before you now, divided into two 
 paths. Granted that you have been victimized, that 
 you have been married for your money, that you have 
 been sold, as it were, for a title, that your girlish 
 romance and your womanly tenderness have been 
 alike outraged, that you have been deceived, per- 
 suaded that you could live happily without love, and 
 that you find it all a mistake." 
 
 "Yes," she repeated, "all a mistake." 
 
 "Some girls in your place," he continued, "would 
 revenge themselves. Having no home happiness to 
 fall back on, having no home love, they would rush into 
 excess of gayety and flirtation. There are some who 
 would do even worse than that — who would seek 
 abroad the love they did not find at home — I speak 
 quite frankly to you — but you are too good, too pure, 
 too true to think or dream of such a thing." 
 
 She made him no answer; but Sir Roaul did' not 
 seem to heed that. He went on: 
 
 "You have borne your fate bravely as yet, but now 
 you have tired of it; your courage and patience have 
 failed — you have told me so, and I can plainly see 
 that in your own mind you are seeking some means of 
 escape. Is it not so?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered, "I must go away." 
 
 "That would be a commonplace ending, after all — 
 running away from your trouble. Hildred, I can see 
 how you may make yourself a heroine — how you may 
 rise from this/ your girlish, dissatisfied life, to the 
 
TOO 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 grandest heights of heroism. I see it, and, unless 1 
 am greatly mistaken in my estimate of your character, 
 you will do it; it is better to die on the heights of 
 heroism, than in the depths of despair/* 
 
 She looked up at him with a gleam of interest in 
 her face. She had been so long without hope that to 
 be told she could be heroic awoke within her a feeling 
 of wonder. 
 
 "There are two ways before you— that of fighting 
 against your fate, rebelling with all your heart against 
 it, and that of submitting to it and making the best of 
 it. You may, for instance, leave Lord Caraven. You 
 have money in abundance, you could live either in 
 England or abroad, you could have plenty of society 
 — but you would never be happy. You might try to 
 throw your whole heart and soul into the gayeties and 
 frivolities of the world — they would tire you; you are 
 too noble for that. Then the chances are that when 
 you found all these things pall upon you, you would 
 want to lead the woman's true life, which is that of 
 love. Ol all fates that would be the most dreadful 
 which could overtake you." 
 
 "I am not afraid of it," she replied, slowly. 
 
 "So you think now; but I am one of those who 
 believe that no woman can live without love. If you 
 should ever, when the world had tired you and your 
 heart ached with the weight of your loneliness, seek 
 comfort or consolation in the love of any creature^ 
 your fate would be terrible. Picture yourself so situ- 
 ated — a woman beautiful, gifted, and brilliant, mar- 
 ried, yet with no husband by her side; all duties of 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 rank and position ignored; mistress of a home that 
 she never saw; beautiful, yet miserable with the never- 
 failing consciousness that she had run away from a life 
 that might have been improved. It is a sorry picture 
 for a noble woman, a sorry ending for a life that 
 might have been heroic." 
 
 "Yes," she agreed, "a sorry ending." 
 
 "Now look on the other side — submission to your 
 fate. Believe this — whether he knows it or not, every 
 man is more or less influenced by a woman; every 
 sensible man will own it — will own frankly that he 
 owes the better part of his character to the influence 
 of a noble woman." 
 
 She raised her eyes with wonder in their glance to 
 his face. 
 
 "I thought," she said, "that men affected to despise 
 the influence of women." 
 
 "Not true men. You may take it as a safe rule for r 
 guidance that when a man rails against women he is 
 no gentleman. He may be a parvenu, a snob, an igno- 
 ramus; be sure of one thing — he is no gentleman. 
 The first instinct of a gentleman is chivalry. The man 
 who has none should lay no claim to that title. Be- 
 lieve me, Hildred, most great and wise men owe the 
 greater part of their wisdom to the influence of good 
 and noble women. It is the grandest influence in the 
 world" — and the soldier raised his noble head proudly. 
 "1 need not quote history to you — you are better versed 
 in it than I am. I need not quote biography or poetry, 
 nor point to the man who said that he owed all his 
 success in life to his mother, nor to the man who 
 
262 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 owned that he owed all his goodness to his wife. It 
 is the same story. I feel inclined sometimes to think 
 that the grandest of God's gifts to this fair earth is 
 the influence of good and noble women." 
 
 His eyes brightened, his face flushed, he spoke like 
 a knight of old. She looked up at him with wonder- 
 ing awe. 
 
 "You may run away and leave your home, Hildred; 
 but that will be a commonplace ending. Do that 
 which is nobler, higher, better — resign yourself, sub- 
 mit to your fate and make the best of it. As a hand- 
 some and noble woman, use your influence with your 
 husband to rouse him from his slough of despond into 
 a higher life." 
 
 "How can I influence Lord Caraven?" she asked. 
 
 "You can do it by patience and perseverance. Say 
 to yourself that the task of your life shall be to make 
 him a good man. Instead of running away from it, 
 devote yourself to it. There is much said of woman's 
 mission — let that be yours; and surely there can be 
 no higher or holier mission than to rouse an indolent 
 man to a sense of his duty, a selfish man from his 
 self-indulgence." 
 
 "But how could I do it, Raoul?" she asked. 
 
 "You could do it in some fashion. The well-being 
 — nay, the very souls of men lie in women's hands. 
 Here is a life-long task for you — a glorious mission, 
 a noble work. Give your life to your husband — to the 
 task of awakening him to a sense of his duties — to 
 the task of making him a good man and a useful 
 member of society, a conscientious steward of great 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 263 
 
 wealth, a just land-owner; teach him how to be kind 
 and just and merciful, help him to lead a fair and 
 noble life. Could any woman wish for a more glorious 
 task than this?" 
 
 Some of the light that shone on his face was re- 
 flected on hers. 
 
 "It would be a noble task," she said, thoughtfully. 
 "Could I accomplish it, Raoul?" 
 
 "With perseverance and self-control that would 
 amount to heroism you might," he replied. "You 
 must be the sculptor who from a mass of qualities, 
 good and bad intermixed, must try to produce a per- 
 fect character." 
 
 "But," she said, half doubtfully, "he does not love 
 me." 
 
 "That does not matter. I prophesy that he will 
 love you in the end — that when you have roused his 
 soul from its sleep it will turn to you naturally as 
 the sunflower turns to the sun. Do you not foresee 
 it, Hildred?" And an almost saintly enthusiasm 
 shone on his face. 
 
 "It is possible, Raoul, but — M 
 
 "Nay, be brave. You must not even think of the 
 word 'but.' You must be enthusiastic over it — nothing 
 can be done without enthusiasm. You must give your- 
 self up to it as a missionary does to the conversion 
 of the heathen, as a martyr does to his death. You 
 must work for it, live for it, die for it. Have you the 
 courage and the constancy for this, Hildred?" 
 
 The light was deepening on her face, the fire in her 
 eyes. The passion of his words was beginning to 
 tell upon her. 
 
264 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "I have both the courage and the constancy," she 
 replied. 
 
 "Think of the difference in the ending," he said. 
 "Imagine the earl on his death-bed, tortured by the 
 ghosts of those whom he has neglected, by the ghosts 
 of duties left undone, ready to curse the young wife 
 who, by flying from him and leaving him to his own 
 devices, had hastened his ruin, body and soul- -pict- 
 ure that. Then fancy to yourself the earl on his 
 death-bed, blessing the dear wife, the noble woman 
 who saved him from ruin, who woke his soul from its 
 long sleep, who taught him how to live and how to 
 die. Could you hesitate for one moment between 
 these two pictures?" 
 
 "No, not for one moment, Raoul. I do not hesitate 
 — I will not hesitate. I will do my life's work." 
 
 "That is well said. You must resolve to overcome 
 all difficulties — you must say to yourself from the 
 beginning that nothing shall daunt you. You will 
 think that I am preaching to you; but, although I 
 have been only a rough soldier, I have seen a great 
 deal of life, and I have come to the conclusion that if 
 women, instead of studying medicine, quarreling over 
 votes, and attending public meetings, would devote 
 themselves to cultivating the best qualities of their 
 husbands, the world would be better than it is." 
 
 "Reforming their husbands instead of the British 
 Constitution," put in Hildred, smiling. But he had 
 spoken in solemn earnestness and could not under- 
 stand her smile. 
 
 "I cannot tell you," he said, gravely, "how highly 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 265 
 
 I think of you for having made me this promise. 
 When in the years to come I see the man whom I 
 loved as a boy esteemed, honored, and respected, 1 
 shall bless your name even as he will." 
 A faint smile parted her lips. 
 
 "Raoul," she said, "you seem very certain as to my 
 success. You have no fear that I shall fail?" 
 
 "No. Those who set to work with thorough good 
 will seldom fail," he replied; and there was some- 
 thing in his quaint, earnest simplicity which carried 
 her with him. 
 
 "I do not say for one moment that you will have all 
 plain sailing," he continued. "Indeed, frankly speak- 
 ing, 1 know no man is easily turned from such fatal 
 habits of self-indulgence as Lord Caraven has con- 
 tracted — it is a work of time and of patience, of 
 almost infinite love. 'And you know my opinion of 
 it," he went on; "it is the grandest of all missions 
 that a woman can undertake. The apostle of the 
 household has a task as exalted as that of the apostle 
 of the heathen." 
 
 She pondered his words in silence, broken only by 
 the western wind, as it bent the heads of the roses, 
 and shook the white acacia-blossoms on to the grass. 
 
 It was Hildred who with a little cry broke the 
 silence as she looked into Sir Raours face. 
 
 "We have forgotten one thing," she said; "we have 
 decided that Ulric's reformation must be attempted, 
 that it is a good thing to undertake; but you have not 
 told me how it is to be set about." 
 
 "Your own instincts will tell you that. Will you 
 
266 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 let me speak quite freely to you, Hildred, and promise 
 me that you will not be offended with one single word 
 
 that I shall say?" 
 
 She raised her dark eyes to his. 
 
 "You are so good, Raoul," she cried, "that I am 
 quite sure you could never displease me, say what you 
 might; indeed, I look upon it rather as a luxury than 
 otherwise to be scolded by you." 
 
 "This is not scolding. You ask me how you are to 
 win your husband. I will tell you. We start from 
 this point — that a great wrong has been done you, but 
 that you are too noble to seek revenge." 
 
 Her face cleared. 
 
 "I want no revenge," she replied. 
 
 "Good," said Sir Raoul; "a wrong has been done 
 you, but you will not retaliate — you are even willing 
 to return good for evil. The first thing you have to 
 do, Hildred, is to lay aside that proud, injured, defiant 
 expression that you always assume when your hus- 
 band is near." 
 
 'Do I?" she asked in wonder. 
 
 "Yes; you are perhaps bright, animated, charming, 
 when he enters the room, but the next moment you 
 are like a woman turned to stone; a proud chill seems 
 to come over you, to freeze you, your eyes grow cold, 
 all the smiles die from your lips — you are as different 
 in his presence as sunlight is from darkness." 
 
 "How can I help it when I know that he does not 
 like me?" she asked, piteously. 
 
 "It is difficult, I admit, but heroism will do much. 
 Now, I know such a manner upsets him; he^does not 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 267 
 
 like it. You may say that as he does not care for you, 
 your manner can make no difference." 
 
 "I should most certainly have thought so," was her 
 reply. 
 
 "But you are wrong, Hildred. I have watched him 
 very keenly, and I say that you are quite wrong. 
 When you draw that cold mask over your face you 
 harden his heart against you." 
 
 "It is always hard for me," she said. 
 
 "Then you make it worse — I have seen it. When 
 pu are proud and defiant, he tries to show you that 
 he does not care, that it is of no moment to him; he 
 says things to you that he would never say if you 
 were gentler. Shall I give you an example of what ] 
 mean? The other morning you were in my room; 
 you had brought me some beautiful flowers — you were 
 like an angel of goodness to me — your face was bright, 
 your lips were smiling, your eyes glad. I was think- 
 ing to myself how fair and graceful you were, how 
 above all other women you were calculated to brighten 
 jl man's heart and his home. You were holding a 
 spray of mignonette in your hand, telling me how 
 fragrant it was, and inventing all kinds of pretty 
 fancies in connection with it. Ulric came in — do you 
 remember?" 
 
 She bent her head, and her face flushed. 
 
 "I do remember," she assented, shyly. 
 
 "He saw the mignonette in your hands, and bent 
 forward to look at it. 'It is the sweetest flower that 
 blows,' he said. The cold mask in a moment fell 
 over your face, and I saw you —mind, I saw you — 
 
268 
 
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 throw the pretty spray away as though it had stung 
 you." 
 
 She clasped her white hands with a pretty air of 
 penitence. 
 
 "It was very wrong, Raoul, I know; I have no 
 excuse. " 
 
 "Then Ulric, in his turn, said something about la- 
 dies' airs which you did not like. You swept out of 
 the room, and the next time you met neither of you 
 spoke. " 
 
 "How closely you have observed me!" she said, 
 with a hot flush on her face. 
 
 "Because I love both you and Ulric so dearly," he 
 replied. "Now for my illustration, Hildred. Suppose 
 that, instead of throwing away the flower that he 
 liked, you had looked up into his face and had said 
 something gay, or graceful, or pretty; he would have 
 returned a smiling answer, and all would have been 
 well; and the next time you met he would have been 
 even more smiling and you more kind." 
 
 "But, Raoul," she asked, "would that have been 
 sincere? I do not feel kind or pleased — is it sincere 
 to affect to be so?" 
 
 "You ought to feel kind — he is your own husband. 
 All that I can say is that you should try to feel so, 
 whether you do or not. Now begin this very day; 
 throw off that stony mask forever. How is he to 
 know what a tender soul is hidden by that freezing 
 face unless you give him some chance of finding it 
 out? Do not say to yourself that you will begin 
 to-morrow or the day after — begin at once. Say to 
 yourself that you will win him." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 269' 
 
 "Is it not unwomanly to seek for love which is not 
 offered to you, Raoul?" 
 
 "It might be in a girl, it is not in a wife. I think 
 a wife should aspire to win her husband, to mrke him 
 love her with all his heart." 
 
 "Lord Caraven will never love me," she said. "I 
 do not think that he has any heart to give; it is all 
 wasted — he has had a hundred loves." 
 
 "But not one real one, Hildred. If you win his 
 heart, take my word for it, you will be his first love. 
 vVe will take our stand on something higher. To win 
 love is pleasant, but you shall not devote your life to 
 that. You shall devote yourself to the rousing of a 
 soul, naturally noble, but long buried in self-indul- 
 gence and folly; you shall spend your life in making 
 the Earl of Caraven worthy of the name he bears. 
 You have promised." 
 
 "I promise again," she replied. 
 
 "Ah, child, you know but little, after all, of what 
 you will have to encounter! But a true soldier never 
 deserts his post, he dies doing his duty. You will 
 have many sore humiliations, many bitter hours of 
 annoyance, many a contest with your own pride, but 
 you will win in the end — of that I am sure — and we 
 shall begin our new life, Hildred, to-day." 
 
 She had clasped her hands together, and she looked 
 it him with piteous entreaty. 
 
 '1 wish," she said, "that you would tell me what 
 to do first. I could go on if I only knew how to 
 begin. " 
 
 He smiled gravely. 
 
270 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Perhaps you would think my first lesson a vety 
 hard one," he said. 
 
 "I will do what you tell me, Raoul, let it be what 
 it may." 
 
 "Then I shall suggest this. You wish to make a 
 little advance — nothing very marked, but some trifling 
 act of civility that will make amends, and show your 
 desire to be what children call 'friends.'" 
 
 He did not know what an effort it cost her to say 
 "Yes," but she did say it, and she meant it. 
 
 "Then this is what I suggest. It was about a spray 
 of mignonette that you displeased Ulric last. Gather 
 some beautiful sprays of it, the finest you can obtain, 
 and take them to him. Say quite carelessly, 'You 
 admire mignonette, so I have brought you this. '" 
 
 "And suppose," said Hildred, "that he repays me 
 in kind by throwing it away?" 
 
 "Never mind — courage and patience must be your 
 watchwords. Ah, Hildred, after all, our likes and 
 dislikes should have little to do with our duties! You 
 will not be alone in your struggles; I shall watch over 
 you, I shall help you, and sympathy is sweet." 
 
 She caught his hand and kissed it. He saw her 
 face clear and a bright, earnest light shine in her eyes. 
 
 "Do you know, Raoul," she said, "that I feel hap- 
 pier even now before I have begun? I did not like 
 the thought of running away; there was something 
 very cowardly about it. Now I shall never think of 
 it again. I shall endure to the very end. I am hap- 
 pier even for the resolve. I have something to live 
 for— 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 271 
 
 "'Something to live for, life to begin; 
 Something to fight for, something to win.' 
 
 I must be more patient than patience itself. I must 
 be humble; all vanity and self-esteem must leave me 
 before I begin the task that you have set me. I must 
 rise from the commonplace to the heroic, and say to 
 myself, it is for the good of a human soul." 
 
 "Hildred, you do not know how often I have longed 
 to speak to you about this," he remarked — "to help 
 you, to advise you; and now that you have given me 
 the privilege I shall not be slow to avail myself of 
 it. M 
 
 It is wonderful how the expression of the beautiful 
 face had changed during that quiet interview. She 
 arose with the gayest, sweetest laugh he had ever 
 heard from her lips. 
 
 "I am a Woman with a Mission," she said, "and I 
 shall always think of myself with capital letters. 
 Raoul, I cannot be grateful enough to you. When 
 you first entered the house I felt as though heaven 
 had sent me a friend. If happiness comes to me 
 through following your counsel, how shall I thank 
 you?" 
 
 "I shall need no thanks, Hildred," he replied. "You 
 are and have been, ever since I first saw you, the dear- 
 est object on earth to me. You are my dear sister, 
 Ulric's wife. I have loved Ulric all my life — I could 
 not help loving you." 
 
 "Now I am going to practice my first lesson in 
 humility," she said, "Raoul, I wish that you could 
 be in the room when I give my husband the mignon- 
 ette.^ 
 
272 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "That would spoil it all," he replied, laughingly; 
 'and he is so quick, so keen, he would find out at 
 once that the little scene had been arranged between 
 us." 
 
 "Then I must venture all by myself, I suppose/' 
 said Lady Caraven. M I feel as shy as — I cannot tell 
 you what. Raoul, if he is cross or contemptuous I 
 shall lose heart." 
 
 "No, you will not. Having once put your hand to 
 the plow, you will not turn back. When your hope 
 or your courage fails you, say to yourself, <I have to 
 win my husband's heart' — that will give you all your 
 courage again." 
 
 She walked slowly down the path, Sir Raoul by her 
 side. She looked round on the four high ivied walls. 
 
 "I have always loved this little pleasaunce," she 
 said. "I shall love it better than ever now. It will 
 seem almost like a church to me." 
 
 Why like a church?" he asked, with some amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 "Because one of the best sermons I have ever heard 
 preached has been preached to me here," she replied. 
 "I have learned a lesson here. I shall never see these 
 high ivied walls or touch a crimson carnation without 
 thinking of you, Raoul, and all that you have said." 
 
 Then he watched her as she went from one bed of 
 mignonette to another, looking eagerly for the choicest 
 sprays, holding them up to him with wistful, eager 
 face and sweet, pathetic eyes. 
 
 "Will this do, and this?" she asked, as simply as 
 a child. "Oh, Raoul, I hope he will not be angry — 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 273 
 
 [ hope he will be pleased! I shall tell you how I get 
 on. I am nervous about it." 
 
 In another minute the beautiful face had disap- 
 peared, and Sir Raoul was left in the pleasaunce alone. 
 
 "A man might lay down his life for such a woman 
 as that," he said, with what was almost a sigh. 
 
 ***** * * 
 
 Lord Caraven stood in the billiard-room at Ravens- 
 mere; he had been playing with one of his friends, 
 who, having received a telegram, had gone to answer 
 it. He stood alone, leaning carelessly against the 
 open veranda, something more than his usual indiffer- 
 ence darkening his face; he never liked interruption 
 during a game. 
 
 "A most unpropitious moment," thought the young 
 countess as she caught sight of him; but having given 
 her word tg Sir Raoul, she would have marched up to 
 the mouth of a loaded cannon rather than have broken 
 it. 
 
 Looking up, the earl could not but confess that he 
 had seldom seen a lovelier picture than his young wife 
 at that moment presented, with a flush on her face, 
 and her hands filled with sprays of fragrant mignonette. 
 
 She would not reveal her hesitation but went 
 straight to him, smiling so that he little guessed how 
 her heart beat. He raised his eyebrows as she drew 
 nearer to him. What was going to happen? Before 
 he had time to speak his face was buried in a soft, 
 dewy mass of fragrant mignonette. 
 
 "There!" said a laughing voice." "You said this 
 
274 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 morning that this was your favorite flower. I have 
 been looking for the most fragrant sprays of it that I 
 
 could find." 
 
 He could not believe the evidence of his senses; it 
 was incredible that the laughing voice belonged to his 
 cold, proud wife — the girl who had swept imperiously 
 from the room when he saw her last. He looked at hei 
 in amazement. She would not see the surprise on his 
 face or make the least difference because of it. 
 
 "You have the very pick of the garden here," she 
 said; "every spray has its own special beauty." 
 
 He roused himself and tried to recover from the 
 wondering stupor that had overcome him. 
 
 "You really remembered, Hildred, what I said?" he 
 began, with a pleased look. 
 
 "Yes, and I think you showed good taste," slie 
 replied. "I know no flower lovelier than fragrant 
 mignonette." 
 
 "And you reallv think that I have good taste?" he 
 said. 
 
 "Yes. Why should that surprise you?" she asked, 
 with a smile. 
 
 His face flushed and his eyes drooped. 
 
 "I fancied," he said, hurriedly, "that you considered 
 me altogether graceless and without one redeeming 
 quality. " 
 
 "Indeed I do not,' she replied, earnestly, thinking 
 of all that Sir Raoul had said in his favor. "That is 
 a great mistake of yours." 
 
 "There is one thing," he confessed, in a low voice, 
 *l have shown the worst side of my character to you/ 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 275 
 
 She felt frightened and inclined to run away. 
 
 "You will not lose my flowers or throw them away?" 
 she said. And then she was startled, for his hand- 
 some, indolent eyes were looking into hers with a 
 new expression in their blue depths. 
 
 "Am I so wanting in chivalry and gallantry, Hildred?" 
 he asked her. "I believe this is the first thing that 
 you have ever given me of your own free will, is it 
 not?" 
 
 "No," she replied, quietly; "it is not." 
 
 "Ah, pardon me," he said, with a quick change of 
 face and voice; "you gave me your fortune!" 
 
 There was hot rebellion for one moment — hot, bitter 
 rebellion. Then she remembered Sir Raoul's words. 
 It was for her husband's good. She trampled down 
 the hot impulse of angry pride — she stilled the bitter 
 anger and contempt. Her victory over herself was so 
 great that she was even surprised at it. She laid her 
 hand on his arm. 
 
 "Nay, Lord Caraven," she said gently, "you are quite 
 wrong. I was not thinking of money. Gold is dross 
 — I despise it — I could almost hate it for the mischief 
 it makes. I was thinking of something very different 
 from money — something that money could not buy." 
 
 He was looking at her with keen curiosity. 
 
 "Something that money could not buy," he repeated. 
 "I declare that you puzzle me. I thought gold was 
 omnipotent. " 
 
 "I do not think so. I do not like it. Omnipo- 
 tent? Why, Lord Caraven, all the wealth of the 
 world could not buy happiness or love." 
 
276 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "No," he said, quietly, "it could not; yet, Hildred, 
 money has done something for me. " 
 
 "I do not intend to depreciate it," she remarked; 
 "but it is not omnipotent; and there are many things 
 in this world of far higher value than money." 
 
 "It is true," he said, thoughtfully. 
 
 She laughed again, and, if he had known her better, 
 he would have detected tears in the sound of that 
 laugh. 
 
 ''We are positively agreeing, Lord Caraven," she 
 said. 
 
 He was looking at her with intense curiosity in his 
 face. 
 
 "Hildred, what have you given me that money 
 could not buy?" 
 
 The dark eyes gleamed softly. 
 
 "I will not tell you, Lord Caraven," she answered. 
 
 "But I must know. You have excited my curiosity 
 — you must gratify it. You have enumerated three 
 things that money cannot buy — happiness, virtue, love. 
 It was none of these. Then what could it be?" 
 
 "I must go, Lord Caraven," she said, her face grow- 
 ing hot and her heart beating quickly. "If you weigh 
 every word that I say, I shall have to be very care- 
 ful." 
 
 "Hildred, tell me what you mean?" he requested. 
 "What have you given me?" 
 
 "I will tell you," she replied, laughingly, "when you 
 have counted all those tiny leaves on the mignonette." 
 
 She turned to go, but he put out his hand to detain 
 her. She eluded him, and, with a light laugh, disap- 
 peared, leaving him by the veranda alone. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 *IT IS A LONG STRUGGLE, THIS BATTLE FOR A MAN*S 
 HEART" 
 
 "¥ou look astonished at something," said Caraven's 
 friend to him when he returned to resume their game 
 at billiards. 
 
 "Yes," replied the earl — "I have been enjoying a 
 novel sensation." 
 
 "What is that?" asked his friend. 
 
 "I am not quite sure," was the laughing reply. "I 
 should not like to be too certain of it — but I believe 
 that I have been flirting with my own wife." 
 
 The young countess had hastened smilingly away 
 after presenting him with the sprays of mignonette. 
 If that was the result of a few kind words, she said to 
 herself that she would often say them. Sir Raoul saw 
 her smiling and blushing, with a glad light in her 
 eyes. 
 
 "Well," he said, "what success, Hildred?" 
 
 "The best in the world," she replied; and the 
 pleasure was increased at dinner time when she saw 
 that Lord Caraven wore some of the mignonette in 
 his button-hole. 
 
 She tried to keep strict watch and guard over her- 
 self. When she found herself relapsing into her old 
 
 m 
 
278 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 hauteur and proud silence, she roused herself. She 
 who had always passed by her husband with lofty 
 unconcern, who had never deigned to make the least 
 reply to any remark of his, now studied little speeches 
 that she could make to him; she asked his opinion; 
 she smiled at his jests. People looked at each other 
 in quiet wonder. Had they, after all, made any mis- 
 take about their host and hostess? 
 
 Lord Caraven was fond of music; he had a rich, 
 ringing tenor voice, which, as a rule, he was* too 
 indolent to use. He would troll out a verse of a love 
 ditty, or the chorus of a drinking song, in a fashion 
 that made one long to hear the rest. In the evening 
 Sir Raoul asked him to sing. 
 
 "It is too much trouble," said the handsome earl. 
 "Why should I exert myself to sing when other people 
 can do it so much better for me?" 
 
 "That is an idle excuse," returned Sir Raoul. "Lady 
 Caraven, persuade your husband to sing — he has a 
 voice almost as rich and clear as Mario's, but he will 
 never use it. " 
 
 She came over to him. He looked at his beautiful 
 young wife in all the shimmer of satin and gleam of 
 pearls; he gazed earnestly into the beautiful face. 
 
 "Do sing, Lord Caraven," she said. "You owe me 
 something for my flowers this morning." 
 
 "Do you really wish me to sing, Hildred?" he asked. 
 
 "I do, indeed," she answered. 
 
 "Then you shall be obeyed. Will you have an old- 
 fashioned English ballad, or a Scotch one? No French 
 or Italian for me. I like good, hearty words." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 279 
 
 He sang one of the prettiest of English songs — 
 'Good-bye, sweetheart, good-bye" — sang it with such 
 sweetness, such pathos, that his listeners were almost 
 moved to tears. 
 
 "I could not leave thee, though I said, 
 'Good-bye, sweetheart, good-bye/" 
 
 As the last words passed' his lips, he caught a 
 glimpse of his wife's face. What did it express? He 
 stopped suddenly. Sir Raoul rallied him, begging 
 him to finish. 
 
 "Let us have the last verse," said he; but the earl 
 turned quickly to him. 
 
 "Not another word, Raoul," he answered; "I can 
 sing no more. I have seen a ghost." 
 
 "A ghost?" cried Sir Raoul. "The ghost of what?" 
 
 "1 am not quite sure," replied the earl; "but I 
 think it was the ghost of what might have been." 
 
 And Sir Raoul said no r.iore. 
 
 Guests and friends began to ask themselves could 
 they be mistaken — could they have misunderstood? 
 The cold, sullen gloom was leaving the young wife's 
 face; the husband ceased his covert sneers and hard 
 words; they, too, exchanged laughing jests and smiles. 
 Yet Hildred saw, and saw plainly, that it was all her 
 own doing. If ever by chance she for one moment 
 forgot her role, he forgot his; if by any chance she 
 relapsed into her cold, frozen manner, he changed as 
 though by magic. She saw plainly enough now that 
 all depended on herself. 
 
 She studied how to please him. For instance, there 
 was nothing that pleased Lord Caraven more than 
 
280 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 finding his newspaper cut and aired for him to read 
 in the morning; he disliked having to cut it himself 
 or to air it. She had always been loftily indifferent, 
 thinking to herself that his indolence must not even 
 be encouraged. Now she thought differently; the 
 newspaper was cut and aired and laid ready for him, 
 
 Happening to come downstairs rather earlier than 
 usual one morning, he found her engaged upon her 
 self-imposed task. He looked at her with a bright, 
 pleased smile. 
 
 "Hildred," he said, "is it to you that I am. indebted 
 every morning for my cut newspaper?" 
 
 "It is a great pleasure to get it ready for you," she 
 replied, with a charming smile. 
 
 He was deeply touched by this simple act of atten- 
 tion. After all, there was something very amiable 
 about the money-lender's daughter. 
 
 From that day Lord Caraven never opened his 
 newspaper without a kindly thought of his wife. 
 
 It was perhaps but a small beginning, this chang- 
 ing of sneers into smiles, but it was something gained. 
 Both husband and wife were alike in one respect — 
 they had a keen sense of humor. The earl had more 
 of this sense than his young wife, and it was a wonder- 
 ful bond of union between them. There were times 
 when there was no need of words, when a glance was 
 sufficient, and Lord Caraven began to look into the 
 beautiful dark eyes for the secret sympathy that no 
 one else gave him. He began to do what he had 
 never even thought of before — converse with her. If 
 time hung heavily upon his hands, Ji he tired of bill- 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 28l 
 
 iards, or there was no one at hand to play with him, 
 it came to him with a sense of relief that he could go 
 and chat with Hildred. 
 
 She grew accustomed t*o see him looking at her 
 from the door of her room, with an air of apology on 
 his handsome face. "May I come in for half an hour, 
 Hildred?" he would ask; and then she would put 
 away her books, or her easel, or whatever she was 
 engaged upon, and devote herself to him. If he were 
 told some merry story, her quick, laughing sympathy 
 was the first thing he sought. If he heard any clever 
 repartee or play upon words the first thing he thought 
 of was to repeat it to Hildred. 
 
 All this was so much gained — yet it seemed to her 
 very little. Sir Raoul asked her one morning how she 
 was progressing. She turned her beautiful face to 
 him, and it seemed to him there was a tired look 
 upon it. 
 
 "I can hardly tell you, Raoul," she replied. "I 
 have done my best, I have thought of him and studied 
 him, and the utmost that I can say is that he has 
 learned to associate me with all his amusements. That 
 is not a very high or elevated state of things, is it?" 
 
 "I term it beginning at the very foundation, Hil- 
 dred," he answered, looking at the wistful face. "If 
 he commences by associating you with his amuse- 
 ments, he will end by making you share in all that 
 interests him." 
 
 The dark eyes brightened. 
 
 "Do you think so? Then all my trouble has not 
 been in vain?" 
 
282 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "I think," said Sir Raoul, "that you have made 
 wonderful progress. All the coldness and constraint, 
 the terrible distance between you that made everyone 
 uncomfortable, has disappeared. Your husband's face 
 brightens now when you enter a room; when you leave 
 it, he watches you regretfully. You have gained 
 much, Hildred. It is a long struggle, this battle 
 for a man's heart, but you will win in the end." 
 
 "Still," she remarked, half wearily, "I am a long 
 way from the grand purpose I had in view. There is 
 nothing heroic in being able to make your husband 
 laugh, in sympathizing with a comical story, in help- 
 ing to amuse him so that the time may pass more 
 quickly." 
 
 "Yes," opposed Sir Raoul, "there is something 
 heroic in it. It is the first step. When you have 
 thoroughly identified yourself with his amusements 
 you can begin to influence Ulric for better things. 
 Try to rouse him from his indolence, try to make 
 him care less for amusements and take greater inter- 
 est in his duties. Rouse his soul from its long sleep, 
 and the awakening will soon follow. I am quite cer- 
 tain that his faults are rather those of training and 
 education than nature." 
 
 It was easy to counsel all this, but how was it to 
 be done? Perhaps if she began what he would call 
 "preaching" to him, Ulric would grow angry, and 
 then hot, angry, or bitter words might follow. Her 
 undertaking would require infinite grace, infinite tact 
 — and that, she said to herself, it should have. 
 
 The evening of that same day was a lovely one, 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 283 
 
 fine, warm, and brilliant; the sun seemed unwilling to 
 set, the flowers unwilling to sleep. It was so warm 
 and beautiful that the whole party of guests declared 
 it was almost treason to remain indoors. 
 
 Hildred looked up with laughing eyes at her hus- 
 band. 
 
 "You are going to sentimentalize among the flowers, 
 Lord Caraven, I suppose. I hope you will choose a 
 pleasant companion." 
 
 It was not in human nature — at least in man's 
 nature — to resist the fire of those dark eyes. 
 
 "Will you accompany me?" he replied. "I shall be 
 sure then of a nice companion." 
 
 "Is there anyone whom you would like better?" she 
 asked, coquettishly. 
 
 "No — on my honor there is not," said the earl, has- 
 tily; "you are the most amusing companion I can find 
 here. " 
 
 "I am grateful for small favors," returned Hildred. 
 
 So they walked together through the long winding 
 paths. He did not offer her his arm, nor did she seem 
 to notice it. They laughed, talked, jested, but between 
 them there was none of the familiarity which should 
 be between husband and wife. Once her dress caught 
 among the tangled branches of a rose-tree that had 
 overgrown its limits, and the earl stooped down to 
 remove it. His wife drew herself quickly away — so 
 quickly that the jewels she wore seemed to quiver in 
 the light. Her face flushed hotly. 
 
 "Thank you," she said, briefly. 
 
 The earl looked at her in comic surprise. 
 
284 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLpOM 
 
 "What are you blushing for, Hildred? What is the 
 matter? What have I done?" 
 
 "Nothing," she replied briefly; "these narrow paths 
 are so very awkward." 
 
 "Then we will go into the broader ones. But, Hil- 
 dred, pray do not waste all that lovely color in a blush 
 for nothing; I know people who would give a small 
 fortune for such a bloom." 
 
 "They are welcome to it," said the young countess. 
 
 "I do not say so. Upon my word it is a revelation. 
 I did not think that in these degenerate days anyone 
 could blush after that fashion." 
 
 She was half inclined to be angry; the remembrance 
 of Sir RaouPs words alone checked her. She must be 
 more patient, she told herself; yet more rigidly she 
 must control her own nature, with its hot rebellions, 
 its sudden risings of anger. The flush faded from her 
 face — she turned to him with a smile. 
 
 "I ought to be gratified that you value my blushes 
 so highly," she said; and she saw that he was pleased. 
 
 More than one strange thought came to her as she 
 walked by his side. How strange it was, this law of 
 Providence and of nature, that men should be superior, 
 that women must watch their faces, humor their tem- 
 pers, pave the way, as it were, for them through life, 
 yet always be accounted as inferior. Why was it. 
 she wondered, that the faults of men — even of boys — 
 were generally excused on account of their sex? "Men 
 will be men, boys will be boys," seemed to be a uni- 
 versal argument. Why should she walk by this man's 
 side, studying his humors and fancies, watching his 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 285 
 
 face to see that it did not cloud over, using her bright 
 wit and brilliant fancy to amuse him? Only because 
 she was a woman. She was his wife; therefore she 
 had to win him. 
 
 "What are you thinking about so intently, Hildred? :: 
 asked Lord Caraven. 
 
 She looked up at him brightly. 
 
 "I will tell you. I was thinking about you. You 
 have a keen eye for all natural beauties, Lord Cara- 
 ven — a mind that, if it were not obscured by indo- 
 lence, would be artistic." 
 
 He glanced at her again, something of amusement 
 struggling with his impatience. 
 
 "Obscured by indolence, Hildred? That is a strong 
 expression. " 
 
 "It is strong, but it is true. See how you admire 
 this sunset scene; there is not one of its beautiful 
 details which escapes you — the color of the skies, the 
 hue of the flowers, the glimmering sunlight as it falls 
 over the trees. I will tell you of a sight more beau- 
 tiful still — that is sunrise. Why do you never see 
 that?" 
 
 'See the sun rise," he cried. "I have not even 
 thought of such a thing for years." 
 
 "Suppose you do so now?" she suggested. "I 
 always think the fairest, freshest, sweetest hours of 
 the day are the early morning hours; you who seldom 
 rise until noon can hardly imagine what they are like." 
 
 He looked half doubtfully at her, as though wonder- 
 ing whether she was attempting to lecture him; but 
 she met his look with clear, laughing eyes. 
 
286 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "I challenge you," she said, "to rise every morning 
 this week — not to see the day dawn, but to enjoy the 
 firsrtreshness of the lovely morning air." 
 
 "I accept the challenge," he replied; "you shall 
 see that I am capable of making an effort when I 
 choose. " 
 
 She thought that was enough for once, and she 
 waited with some curiosity to see the results of her 
 endeavor. He was down the next morning when she 
 took her seat at the breakfast-table, looking better 
 than she had seen him look for some time. 
 
 "I have made an effort," he said. 
 
 "Did it cost you much?" asked the young countess. 
 
 "I felt as though night were turned into day, or 
 something of that kind. Seriously, Hildred, I thank 
 you for calling my attention to the fact that I waste 
 hours every morning in perfect idleness. I nuan to 
 cure myself of the habit; such waste shall not occur 
 again." 
 
 It was another victory, but a small one. Yet, as 
 she said to herself, all these, small as they were, 
 would gradually amount to one worth winning in 
 time. 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 "lord caraven was roused at last" 
 
 An old man with hair as white as snow, a worn, 
 troubled face, and hands that trembled as they rested 
 on his stick, was standing before Lady Caraven, bow- 
 ing as though she were the arbitress of his destiny. 
 , "I am Farmer Moore, my lady — Farmer Moore — and 
 I want to speak to you." 
 
 Lady Caraven stood quite still. He was a man so 
 old and venerable that his appearance alone com- 
 manded respect. 
 
 "Farmer Moore," she repeated, "and you want me? 
 I am very pleased to see you. Will you come into 
 the house?" 
 
 "No, my lady; I cannot enter your doors with my 
 present trouble on me. Your husband is a young 
 man, but he is driving my white head to the grave." 
 
 "My husband!" exclaimed Lady Caraven. "You 
 must not speak ill of him." 
 
 "He must not act ill to me," he said; "an old man, 
 my lady — so old that my grandsons say a good wish 
 from me is a blessing, an evil wish a curse — an old, 
 old man, my lady." 
 
 She saw how he trembled, and sweetest compassion 
 filled her heart, What could he want from her, this 
 old man? 
 
 887 
 
288 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "I have stood here, my lady," he said, "every day 
 for ten long days, waiting to see you. They told me 
 that you were young and bonny — that you had kind 
 eyes and a kind heart. Your husband wants to drive 
 me to death, my lady — will you save me?" 
 
 She thought he must be raving, but his manner was 
 calm and collected. They were standing together just 
 at the end of the coppice, and Lady Caraven pointed 
 to one of the fallen trees. 
 
 "Sit down there, Farmer Moore," she said, "if you 
 will not come into the house — and tell me what is 
 wrong. " 
 
 "I am an old man, my lady; I have lived many 
 years, and I have never seen an injustice prosper yet. 
 The earl is going to do an injustice to me and mine. 
 You will keep him from it?" 
 
 "I will, if I can," she replied. "What is it?" 
 
 "The Moores have lived at Bromhill Farm, my 
 lady, more years than I could count. I have heard it 
 read how, centuries ago, when the Lords of Caraven 
 went to war, the Moores followed them. They have 
 always been tenants on the Ravensmere estates. The 
 farm, my lady — Bromhill Farm — is to let on lease; 
 when one lease expires, another is signed. My lady, 
 when I was but a boy my father signed a lease for 
 seventy years and the seventy years will be at an end 
 next month. I have sons and grandsons waiting to 
 succeed me, and the house is my home — I love it. 
 My father lived and died there; my sons were born 
 there. The old homestead is part of my life — of my 
 soul, my lady; standing outside of it, I seerr to have 
 no life/ 1 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 289 
 
 M I understand," she said, gently. 
 
 "There has never been any difficulty about the 
 renewal of the leases, my lady. The Lords of Cara- 
 ven knew how to value good tenants, and when a fresh 
 lease was signed, the earl would say: 'Moore, youwili 
 take a glass of wine with me/ and the best wine in 
 his lorbship's cellar would be put before him. There 
 might have been tenants who would have offered more 
 money, but the Lords of Ravensmere would have 
 laughed at that. We were their humble friends and 
 true servitors, my lady. You do not meet with such 
 every day." 
 
 -"I understand," she repeated, not knowing what 
 to say, 
 
 "Now, my lady, the seventy-years lease, signed 
 when I was a curly-headed boy playing at my 
 father's knee, has expired. We thought, my son John 
 and I, that we had nothing to do except call on the 
 earl and renew it. We never dreamed of anything 
 else, my son John and I. So we called, my lady, and 
 a footman brought us word that his lordship left all 
 the business connected with the estate to Mr. Blan- 
 tyre. As we were leaving home, I said to my son 
 John, 'John, we shall taste the earFs famous wine to- 
 day/ and he, in his cheery way, said, 'It. will do you 
 good, father.' But there was no wine, my lady — no 
 kindly greeting from the lord of the castle, no mes- 
 sage to the old retainers of the house, except that we 
 were to go to Blantyre. My lady," said the old man, 
 solemnly, as he struck his stick upon the ground, "I 
 hate Blantyre! " 
 
290 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 She could have added, "So do I," but it was wiser 
 to be silent. 
 
 "We went to Blantyre, my son John and I. He 
 told us that he would not renew the lease. At first we 
 thought that he was mad; it seemed to us that the 
 very stones by the wayside must rise up and cry ou* 
 against it. He said that we must leave Bromhill. 
 My son John looked at him, and answered: 
 
 "'The Moores have always lived at Bromhill, ana 
 always will.' 
 
 "'We shall see about that/ said Blantyre. 'I have 
 a more eligible tenant in view, and you will be com- 
 pelled to leave, whether you like it or not.' 
 
 "This to a Moore of Bromhill, my lady! I think we 
 were too stunned to speak. We went out of his office, 
 and it seemed to me that the earth and sky were 
 meeting. Then we heard afterward that Peter Harro- 
 gate had bribed the agent with a fifty-pound note to 
 persuade Lord Caraven to refuse us the lease. My 
 lady, it is a crying injustice. We are sons of the 
 soil; we have made the farm what it is. If the earl 
 sends us from it he will send me to my grave. I 
 should die on the threshold; I could not live one day 
 away from my house. He must not do it, Lady Cara^ 
 ven. The bonds of long generations must not be so 
 easily broken. He cannot send his old retainers 
 away in that fashion — men whose fathers died in the 
 service of his ancestors — men whose bodies have been 
 interposed to meet the blows intended for the Lords 
 of Caraven. What is fifty pounds compared to that?* 
 
 "No," replied Lady Caraven, gravely; "it must not 
 be. M 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 291 
 
 "They told me," the old man continued, "that the 
 young eari is careless, and that he leaves everything 
 to Blantyre. You will plead for me, my lady; you 
 will remember that an old, white-haired man has left 
 his life in your hands— for I should die if I heft my 
 home for one day. Ask for justice for me, and if the 
 agent must be bribed, I will give him twice fifty 
 pounds; ask for justice for me as you hope for mercy." 
 
 All pale and trembling, she rose from her seat, 
 frightened at the responsibility that he had placed 
 upon her, remembering how her last petition for 
 merciful consideration had been received. 
 
 "You may leave your cause in my hands," she said. 
 "I think I may promise that you shall have justice." 
 
 He raised his trembling hands and blessed her, and 
 Lady Caraven went indoors with a weight at her 
 heart. Not least did she feel her great anger against 
 Blantyre, this man who influenced her husband for 
 evil, who advised him and counseled him in wrong- 
 doing, this man who committed all unkind and unjust 
 acts in the name of the earl. Then, with her vivid 
 imagination, she was not slow to picture the painful 
 scenes in the farm at Bromhill. It seemed to her 
 almost cruel that one man should have so much power 
 over another. She remembered her last defeat, and 
 shuddered when she thought what another would cost 
 her. 
 
 She must set about her present undertaking differ- 
 ently; she must be more gracious, more winning; she 
 must condescend to plead. She had the life of a 
 white-haired old man, the happiness of a whole fam- 
 
292 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 ily in her hands — there would be no room for self — 
 she must be more patient. She remembered Longfel- 
 low's beautiful words: 
 
 "Bear a lily in thy hand — 
 
 Gates of brass cannot withstand • 
 
 One touch of that magic wand." 
 
 She would lose no time in puzzling reflections, but 
 do that which had been asked of her. She would go, 
 "lily in hand," and refuse to leave her husband until 
 her prayer was granted. She smiled to herself as she 
 thought how diplomatic she was growing. On the 
 last occasion that she had a favor to beg from him 
 she had not thought of a fitting time. She was grow- 
 ing wiser. 
 
 "After luncheon to-day," she decided. 
 
 And that resolve to control her own impatience and 
 study her husband's humors was one of the wisest 
 resolves she had ever made in her life. 
 
 After luncheon there was generally an interval of 
 quiet in the castle. Most of the ladies went to theii 
 own rooms; some of the gentlemen went to the bill- 
 iard-room, some sought the library. As good fortune 
 would have it, Lord Caraven went to the library 
 alone. Hildred followed him. 
 
 "Are you going to write a letter?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes; unless you will be kind enough to write it 
 for me," he replied. "It seems to me a sin to exert 
 one's self on such a day as this;" and the handsome 
 earl proceeded leisurely to seat himself in an easy 
 chair, and watch his wife while she wrote for him. 
 
 Her promptitude pleased him; her desire to meet 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 293 
 
 his wishes gratified frim. The letter she had written 
 was just what he wanted. The young wife smiled to 
 herself at the thought of how well she was progress- 
 ing. She looked up at him with a smile, saying to 
 herself that she must bring the whole artillery of her 
 smiles and graces to bear upon him. 
 
 "Should you like a companion for a short time?" 
 she said. "I like this old library in the afternoon; 
 the sunshine slants on the wall. I often come here, 
 and, looking around me, I meditate on the glories of 
 the dead and gone Caravens. They were a noble 
 race; no wonder that you are proud of them." 
 
 "I am proud of them," confessed the earl. "I am 
 graceless enough, but I love the honor of my house." 
 
 . "And no wonder. I was looking, the other day, at 
 some portraits in the Eastern Gallery. They were 
 noble men, those ancestors of yours; some of them 
 have kingly faces. Ah, they may talk of worth and 
 money, but I would rather have the proud distinction 
 of a noble birth like yours than all the money in the 
 world! 'V 
 
 "Would you?" he asked, dreamily. "That seems 
 strange." 
 
 "I do not think so. We all value most highly that 
 which we have not," she replied, simply. "It must 
 be an incentive to a noble and glorious life to have 
 such ancestors as yours." 
 
 An expression of deeper earnestness than she had 
 yet seen came over his face. 
 
 "I am an unworthy successor to the honor of the 
 Caravens," he said. "I thought it would all be 
 different when I began life." 
 
294 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 'And why was it not different?" asked the young 
 wife. 
 
 "I cannot-telV he replied. "I think indolence has 
 been my ruin. I have never yet taken a real interest 
 in anything. " 
 
 "That is strange," said Hildred, "but it does not 
 follow that you never will." 
 
 The window at which they were sitting was open, 
 and long tendrils of white * jasmine blew in. Some- 
 times they touched the earl's face, and it was under 
 the pretext of removing them, lest they should tease 
 him, that his young wife drew nearer to him. It might 
 have touched any man's heart to see how she watched 
 his face, how she kept her eyes fixed upon it, lest, 
 by word or deed, she should irritate him. She drew 
 back the long sprays of jasmine. 
 
 The view from the window was a beautiful one, 
 extending over the pleasure grounds and the green, 
 undulating woods. The wind that came in so gently 
 was laden with the breath of flowers. Hildred looked at 
 her husband, and then, half kneeling, she took up her 
 station by the side of his chair. What it cost her to 
 make that advance no one but herself knew. Her face 
 flushed, her heart beat. It seemed to her a bold 
 step. If Lord Caraven felt any surprise he was care- 
 ful not to show it. 
 
 "Your ancestors were such noble men," she said. 
 "I had no ancestors, yet I would never do a mean 
 action. Where do my instincts of nobility come 
 from? And you, Lord Caraven — you call yourself an 
 unworthy descendant of these great men. Why?" 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 295 
 
 "That is a troublesome question," he replied, with 
 a smile; "and the answer would have but little inter- 
 est for you." 
 
 "Everything that concerns you interests me," she 
 rejoined, quickly. "Why should it not?" 
 
 "I have not been so kind to you, Hildred," he said, 
 "that you should feel interested in me." 
 
 "Perhaps we have both made mistakes," she re- 
 turned. "I think I can guess what you would say. You 
 mean that you have done nothing great and glorious." 
 
 "It may be so," said the earl. 
 
 She looked up at him, with all her heart in her eyes. 
 
 "There is one thing to be said," she remarked. 
 "You may not have done any great or brilliant deeds 
 but you have never done a mean one." 
 "I hope not," he replied. 
 
 "Nor," she continued, quickly, "would you allow a 
 mean or unjust deed to be done in your name — would 
 you?" * 
 
 "No," he answered, so decidedly that she was filled 
 with great content. 
 
 She ventured on a further liberty, one that touched 
 him. She laid her hand on his arm. 
 
 "I knew it," she said; "I was sure of it. I knew 
 that you might seem indolent, that you might be 
 unfairly influenced, that you might, perhaps, at times, 
 be misled, but I felt quite sure that it was against 
 your code of honor, against your wish and will, 
 against your ideas of right." 
 
 "What is against them, Hildred?" he asked. 
 
 She was silent for a few minutes, and then she laid 
 act Hand more tenderly upon his. 
 
296 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Thank you," she said, "for letting me speak to you. 
 I was half afraid at first, but now you give me cour- 
 age." 
 
 Her sweet humility disarmed him. If she had been 
 proud, haughty, or petulant, there would have been 
 little chance to plead her case. Her gentleness 
 touched him. For the first time in his life he took her 
 hands and clasped them in his own. 
 
 "Do not be afraid of speaking to me, Hildred," he 
 said. 
 
 She had so much at stake that she trembled. He 
 saw her beautiful face grow pale and her lips quiver. 
 
 "Hildred," he said, gently, "you pain me. What 
 is it you would say? Speak to me without fear." 
 
 Then she took courage. She raised her eyes to his. 
 
 "I know of a great act of injustice that is being 
 done in your name, Lord Caraven; " and, in her own 
 forcible, eloquent language, she told him the whole 
 story. He listened in silence. 
 
 "Do you assure me, Hildred," he said at last, "that 
 this is true?" 
 
 "It is perfectly true," she replied. 
 
 "That Blantyre has taken that bribe, and has re- 
 fused in my name to renew Moore's lease?" 
 
 "Yes, he has done that." 
 
 "Then," said the earl, with unusual decision, "his 
 reign will be a short one. He told me that Moore 
 was letting the land go to ruin — that the farm was not 
 bringing in half what it could be made to bring — 
 that — Well, I have not patience to repeat all he 
 saii If this be true, he has deceived me — and,, by 
 
PROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 297 
 
 my earldom, I vow he shall not deceive me twice!" 
 
 She had hardly dared to hope for such ready answer 
 — such hopeful response. 
 
 "Will you listen to me," she said, "while I tell you 
 more?*' 
 
 "Yes, I will listen/' replied the earl, with a gloomy 
 face. 
 
 She did not spare him. She told him how his estate 
 was worse cared for and more mismanaged than any 
 other in England — how the poor cried out for help 
 and did not receive it, the sick and the sorrowful for 
 relief and did not get it— how the wretched homes 
 caused fever and rheumatism and a host of miseries 
 — how the laborers on his estate were worse paid, 
 worse lodged, and worse fed than on any other — how 
 the tenants were more heavily burdened — how his 
 name was spoken with curses, not blessings. 
 
 He- listened without reply, but she saw that his 
 face had grown very pale and that his lips trembled. 
 She spoke with passionate earnestness; there should 
 be no mistake about the matter — he must thoroughly 
 understand. 
 
 "All this," he said; "while I have been sleeping 
 here! Hildred, I will see for myself what is the truth. 
 I will trust to no one's opinion — I will go over to 
 Bromhill. Will you ride over with me?" 
 
 She looked at the broad, golden beams of the sun. 
 
 "It is so warm," she said, "you will not care to go 
 out." 
 
 "Warm!" he repeated, almost wrathfully. "What 
 matters a little heat when so much is at stake?" 
 Then he looked quickly at her. 
 
298 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "If it is too warm for you," he said, "I will 
 
 alone." 
 
 She sprang to her feet with a glad light in her eyes. 
 
 "No, she replied, "it is never too warm for me. I 
 love the sun. Let me go with you, Lord Caraven." 
 
 "Will you ride or drive?" he asked. 
 
 "I will ride," she replied, having heard him say that 
 morning that he would rather ride ten miles than 
 drive one. 
 
 He looked pleased. 
 
 "I will see for myself," he repeated. "Do they think 
 that I am so blind as to be hoodwinked with false 
 stories? " 
 
 "No, but they have believed you too indolent even 
 to care whether the stories were true or not," said 
 Hildred. 
 
 There was some little surprise even among the serv- 
 ants at seeing the young earl and countess ride ofi 
 alone. What did it mean? Were better times really 
 
 :oming? 
 
 Sir Raoul watched them start; and he said to him* 
 
 ielf, as he looked after them: 
 
 "The greatest gift of heaven to men is surely the 
 noble influence of a noble woman." 
 
 The earl would see for himself — and he did see. It 
 ,eemed to him that he must have been asleep for 
 /ears. Where were the smiles of welcome that years 
 ago used to greet him? Now laborers passed him 
 with sullen faces, with a touch of the cap and a mut- 
 tered curse. He saw the wretched tenements where 
 disease reigned triumphant — he saw mothers whose 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 299 
 
 children had died for want of nourishing food — he 
 saw strong men whose just condemnation of him was 
 written in their averted eyes and closed lips. He 
 saw that for him there was no affection, little respect ; 
 yet he was lord of the soil — in some fashion master of 
 the destinies of these people. 
 
 He rode in silence — silence that his young wife did 
 not care to break, for she saw that he was aroused 
 at last. They went to Bromhill, and there the earl 
 saw matters for himself. There was little need for 
 words to tell him how the prestige of the old name 
 had sunk. Those honest yeomen, the % Moores, whose 
 forefathers had served his ancestors so gallantly and 
 well, had no smiles, no welcome for him; they were 
 sturdily respectful; they said little — the old man who 
 had pleaded so passionately to Hildred, least of all. 
 But the young, indolent, pleasure-loving earl shrunk 
 before the calm, stern faces; he knew that he was in 
 the wrong. 
 
 Nevertheless, if they were stern and cold in their 
 reception of the earl, they had a warm welcome for 
 his beautiful young wife. She had not ignored cent- 
 uries of service; she had not broken the bonds be- 
 tween master and servant; she had not left the best 
 interests of their lives to Blantyre. They crowded 
 round her — even the little children came to give her 
 the flowers they had gathered, and to look at the 
 pleasant, shining face. There was a court of inquiry 
 held within th eold farm walls; the earl listened attent- 
 ively to the old man and his sons, then he looked 
 gravely at them. 
 
3oo 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "You have done well to speak out boldly," he said. 
 "I could as soon imagine Ravensmere without a Cara- 
 ven' as Bromhill without a Moore. You need not go 
 to Blantyre again. I will sign the lease— and it shall 
 be done at once. ,, 
 
 He spoke only once on his way home, and then it 
 was to say to his wife: 
 
 M I have done justice there, and if I can I will do 
 justice whenever it is needed." 
 
 And as they rode on through the sunlight, she told 
 him heaven would bless him for it. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 "in the money-lender's daughter he had found a 
 noble, high-souled, glorious woman" 
 
 Lady Caraven was pleased as she dressed for dinner. 
 She recalled the happy faces, the grateful words that 
 she had seen* and heard but a few hours before at 
 Bromhill; it was worth living for, this power of doing 
 good. She had seen something in her husband's face 
 that day which had surprised her — something that 
 drove away the indolent, easy expression. Was the 
 sleeping lion roused at last? Had her passionate 
 words, her keen indignation moved him? Had he 
 grown ashamed of his indolence? Had he tired of his 
 pleasures? 
 
 Sitting opposite to him at the 11 dinner-table she 
 looked at him attentively. Certainly there was a 
 change in his face. It was brighter, keener, more on 
 the alert; the eyes were full of light. He seemed 
 interested in what was going on. Once during dinner 
 she met Sir Raoul's glance, and it was full of pleased 
 surprise. 
 
 "Now is my time," thought Hildred; "now I may 
 secure what I want." 
 
 When the gentlemen came into the drawing-room 
 she made herself most fascinating and. charming. She 
 sang, she talked; the whole party thought her exceed" 
 
 301 
 
302 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 ingly entertaining. It was when her husband was 
 looking most pleased, and listening to her with real 
 interest, that she went up to him. 
 
 "I have a little favor to ask of you," she said. 
 "Will you give me five minutes of your time this 
 evening? " 
 
 His look was one of pleased, bright expectation. 
 
 "Assuredly, Hildred — as long as you like. I am 
 beginning to think that my interviews with you are 
 welcome ones." 
 
 So when most of the visitors had gone to their 
 respective rooms, the earl lingered. It was some- 
 thing novel to him, this appointment with his own 
 wife — something piquant. He waited for her in the 
 drawing-room, where the blinds were still undrawn, 
 and through the windows of which a lovely moon was 
 shedding floods of silvery light. 
 
 He sat down thoughtfully, looking at the sky; he 
 could hear the faint click of the billiard-balls; he 
 knew that many a merry jest was passing in the 
 smoking-room. ' But in some vague fashion — he could 
 hardly understand why — he felt tired of all such pas- 
 time. His wife's earnest face rose up before him; 
 again he seemed to hear her pleading, passionate words. 
 Her own expression haunted him — "a wasted life." 
 
 Was his life indeed wasted? Young, handsome, 
 talented, did he live in vain? 
 
 One little circumstance had touched him to the 
 very core of his heart. He had said that he would see 
 for himself the state of Bromhill , Farm — whether it 
 was reaily in the desolate condition Blantyre had 
 
FROM OUST THE GLOOM 
 
 represented. He walked over the ground alone. Near 
 a gate that led into a wheat field he saw two little 
 girls, evidently grandchildren of the old farmer, sit- 
 ting under a hedge. 
 
 "Who is that man?" asked the younger one. 
 
 The elder girl looked at him half shyly, but he 
 affected not tc see or hear them. 
 
 "Hush, Bessie," she said — "do not speak so loudly. 
 That is the earl from the castle, who says that grandpa 
 must leave the farm." 
 
 The younger one, with dire hatred in her face, 
 stooped down and picked up a pebble. 
 
 "Shall I throw a stone at him?" she asked, and the 
 elder sister, with a horrified expression, answered: 
 
 "No!" 
 
 It was but a slight circumstance, yet the earl had 
 been deeply pained by it. He could just remember 
 that when the late earl — his father — went among his 
 tenants it was with the air of one making a royal 
 progress; that he was followed by blessings; that the 
 little ones laughed aloud as he threw handfuls of 
 small silver among them. How different was his own 
 case! A child had taken up a stone to fling it at him! 
 The contrast was great, almost pitiful. Did he deserve 
 such a reception? He could see the childish face dark 
 with anger, the pink, dimpled hand grasping the stone, 
 Something must be vitally wrong when even the chil- 
 dren were ready to stone him. 
 
 He sighed uneasily. He had led a very pleasant 
 life. Getting through a large fortune had been a 
 pleasant occupation. He had enjoyed his gaming, hi$ 
 
3°4 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 betting, his racing, his indolence. But now something 
 else was stirring within him. Could it be regret or 
 remorse, or was it simply that he was tired and out of 
 spirits? 
 
 Presently the door opened and his wife came in. 
 She had removed the jewels from her hair and her 
 breast. Her lovely face shone with a new light; her 
 rich dress, her dark hair, made her a most attractive 
 picture. 
 
 She went up to him. 
 
 "You are very kind to wait, Lord Caraven," she 
 said. "I could not get away before. Lady Darners 
 insisted on my going to her room to see a new-fash- 
 ioned head-dress Worth has sent her. I could not get 
 away. I am afraid you are tired." 
 
 "No," he replied; "I have been watching the moon, 
 and thinking" — he did not tell her that his thoughts 
 had been of the little child who wanted to stone him. 
 
 "I have come to ask a favor of you," said the young 
 countess — "a favor on which the whole of my life 
 depends. In granting it you will make me happy; if 
 you refuse it I shall be miserable." 
 
 "That shall not happen if I can prevent it," he 
 answered. 
 
 His wife continued: "I have never complained, 
 because I saw no use in it; but I assure you that I 
 have not been happy — far from it. Perhaps I am 
 graver by nature than some women. I cannot fill my 
 life with gayety, visiting, luxury, and pleasure. 1 
 want something more. Other women have love to 
 live for — I have none." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 She stopped suddenly, looking terribly confused. 
 
 "I understand," he said, quietly. "Go on, Hildred." 
 
 "My time hangs heavily on my hands. I have noth- 
 ing to do — no occupation. Oh, Lord Caraven! be 
 patient with me! I want to ask you for something 
 that will give me interest — that will occupy me — that 
 will stand to me in the place of happiness and love." 
 
 "I will help you to it, if I can," he replied. 
 
 She looked so fair, standing before him pleading her 
 own cause. She drew a little nearer to him, as 
 though her confidence in him were increasing. 
 
 "This is what I want you to do for me, Lord Cara- 
 ven," she said. "I am not ignorant of such matters; 
 you might sneer at me, and say my talent is heredi- 
 tary, but you will not do that. I have some little 
 experience, and I should improve day by day." 
 
 He looked at her half wondering, half amused. 
 
 "What is it, Hildred?" he asked. "I do not in the 
 least understand." 
 
 "It is this. I want you to let me be your steward — 
 I mean, let me have charge of your estate. I could 
 do the duties far better than Mr. Blantyre." 
 
 "I give him a large salary," said Lord Caraven, 
 half laughing; "he ought to do them well." 
 
 "But you have seen for yourself that he does not," 
 she returned; "he is not a just steward." 
 
 "No," was the grave admission, "he is not just. 
 It is that which grieves me. He has abused my trust. 
 I shall never believe in him again." 
 
 "Then let me take his place, "she cried, eagerly. "I 
 do not mean in the mere keeping of accounts — you 
 
306 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 will always want someone for that — nor even in the 
 looking after little details; but let me be your head 
 steward, Lord Caraven, and the welfare of your ten- 
 ants and dependents, the well-being of your estate, the 
 care of your property, shall be my one interest in life. 
 I will be content to work early and late, to live with- 
 out pleasure, if you will only grant my prayer. " 
 
 "But you are a lady, Hildred. How could you find 
 time for it?" 
 
 In her eagerness she forgot her reserve — she laid 
 her hand upon his arm, and looked into his face. 
 
 "I am not a fine lady; I am a lawyer's daughter. 
 It may even be that I inherit my father's liking for 
 business. I shall find time, believe me, if you will 
 give your consent." 
 
 ' "What would you do, Hildred, supposing I give my 
 consent?" he asked. 
 
 "Say rather what I would not do. I would reform 
 all abuses, I would make Ravensmere a model estate 
 — people should point to it as a pattern. I would 
 make your laborers men; they are now only soulless 
 drudges. I would pull down those wretched cottages 
 where squalor and disease run riot, and build in their 
 places houses such as even the poor could love. I 
 would educate the children. What a question it is you 
 ask me! What would I not do?" 
 
 The earl rose from his chair; he bent his head with 
 chivalrous grace before her. 
 
 "My wife," he said, "you shame me." 
 
 "No," she cried; "you must not say that to me." 
 
 "I repeat it — you shame me," he went on, "Yes, 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 307 
 
 I give my consent — my free, full, hearty consent. 
 You will make a better mistress of Ravensmere than 
 I do a master. You shall be the queen-regent; I will 
 be your prime-minister. I place and leave all author- 
 ity in your hands, and I promise you most faithfully 
 that I will never interfere; you shall pull down and 
 build up — you shall do just as you will — I will never 
 interfere." 
 
 She was so overjoyed with his promises, with the 
 change in his manner, with the earnestness on his 
 face, that she forgot all about her restraint and indiffer- 
 ence, and she kissed the hand that held her own. She 
 saw her husband's face flush crimson, and she drew 
 back suddenly. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," she said; "I am very sorry. 
 I did not think of what I was doing, I was so over- 
 joyed." 
 
 He took no notice of the involuntary caress, nor of 
 the apology, though both had struck him. 
 
 "I am glad that you are pleased, Hildred," he said. 
 "In placing my interests in your hands I feel I have 
 done to-day the wisest action of my life. To-morrow 
 we will send for Blantyre, and you shall confront 
 him." 
 
 She left him then, pleased, happy, confused, with an 
 overwhelming sense of the responsibilities that she had 
 assumed, and with something, she could hardly tell 
 what, stirring in her heart; while Lord Caraven looked 
 in amazement at the hand she had kissed. He won- 
 dered if he should ever understand her, and he began 
 dimly to perceive that in the money-lender's daughter 
 
308 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 he had found a noble, high-souled, glorious woman. 
 
 Then he smiled to himself, thinking that in these 
 strange days it was impossible to understand any- 
 thing, and that it was within the bounds of possibil- 
 ity that Hildred inherited her father's talents for busi- 
 ness. 
 
 " And an excellent thing it will be for me," he said, 
 "if she has." 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 M A ROGUE FROM LIKING" 
 
 The visitors at Ravensmerc became dimly aware that 
 some more important business than usual was on hand. 
 The earl was seen with a preoccupied face. He had 
 been heard to refuse Lord Darner's challenge to a bill- 
 iard-match. He had distinctly stated that he should 
 not join in the hunt that Colonel Hungerford had 
 arranged. What was the matter? Lady Caraven 
 was, as usual, bright, beautiful, and graceful; but those 
 who knew her best saw that she was engrossed by 
 some thought. 
 
 The earl rung for his footman. 
 
 "When Mr. Blantyre comes, show him into my 
 study," he said; and then he went over to his wife. 
 "You do not feel nervous at the task you have under- 
 taken?" he questioned. 
 
 "No," she replied, calfrily, "but I fancy that Mr. 
 Blantyre will feel nervous before we have done with 
 him. " 
 
 The earl smiled. 'If this trusted servant of his had 
 deceived him, the sooner he was unmasked and pun- 
 ished the better. 
 
 "I think," said Lady Caraven, "it would be quite 
 as well if we looked over that balance-sheet before 
 Mr. Blantyre comes— it will shorten the interview." 
 
 809 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 He acquiesced at once, and followed his wife to the 
 study. The aspect of that room was somewhat 
 changed. The photographs, the love-tokens that had 
 displeased Lady Caraven, the portraits of popular act- 
 resses and of well-known danseuses, had all disap- 
 peared; the room looked more like a study, for the 
 tables were covered with books and papers. 
 
 If the young countess felt any surprise at its changed 
 aspect, she did not evince it, though she felt the com- 
 pliment. She proved herself a wise woman by saying 
 little; if she had uttered but one word too much, she 
 might have imperiled all her hardly-won influence. 
 
 Gravely, proudly, without a word, she went to the 
 table, and took her seat. Her husband stood at some 
 little distance from her. Silently she bent her head 
 over the papers. 
 
 "You have seldom, I suppose, looked over one of 
 these balance-sheets?" she said to the earl. 
 
 "No," he replied, "I do not remember that I have 
 ever examined one." 
 
 "Then I will look over them," she said, quietly. 
 Before long she added, "Will you look at this, Lord 
 Caraven? All this is quite wrong — several entries are 
 incorrect, and the reckoning is falsified." 
 
 The earl was slightly embarrassed. 
 
 "I do not think, to tell you the truth, Hildred, that 
 * am very clever at accounts," he stammered. 
 
 "But surely you can see whether this is correct? 
 Relieve me, a child could see it." 
 
 "Then I am not so wise even as a child," he said, 
 ruefully; but, leaning over her shoulder, he tried tQ 
 understand what she said. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 311 
 
 It was, indeed, easy enough — the whole sheet, as 
 she pointed out, had been gotten up to meet the eye. 
 
 "And you have never noticed this?" said the young 
 countess. 
 
 "No, indeed," he replied; "I have never even 
 thought of it" 
 
 "Then you have been a very easy master to please," 
 she remarked. "I need hardly say, Lord Caraven, 
 that the man who falsifies his accounts is a rogue. 
 You know it." 
 
 "I know that much. I am afraid to think whether 
 all the balance-sheets he has prepared since he has 
 been my agent have been like this." 
 
 "You have never looked into one, I imagine." 
 
 "No — never. " 
 
 They were interrupted by the entrance of the agent 
 himself — the man whom, from his face, Lady Caraven 
 suspected from the first of being dishonest. 
 
 John Blantyre was a tall, gentlemanly-looking man 
 of specious manner and good address. A rogue from 
 liking, as much as anything else, he would not have 
 cared to be honest if he could. He had contrived to 
 ingratiate himself into the favor of Lord Caraven, 
 from the conviction that he could do as he liked with 
 the easy, indolent, pleasure-loving nobleman. He had 
 done so. He had pandered to all the young earl's 
 weaknesses; to the cry of "Money, money," he had re- 
 sponded by wringing more and more from the tenants, 
 by raising rents, refusing repairs, by all the mean and 
 inderhand tricks that he could play. He answered 
 the earl's purpose well, because he could, from some 
 
312 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 source or other, always find him money. The young 
 nobleman was too careless, too indolent to stop to 
 think that while he was thus impoverishing the estate 
 the unjust steward was enriching himself. Balance- 
 sheets were brought to him that he never even glanced 
 at; banker's books, bills, receipts, were passed over 
 in similar fashion. He never troubled to look at any 
 of them. The result was irretrievable confusion. 
 John Blantyre had laid aside a fair fortune for him- 
 self. 
 
 "Let the worst come," he said to himself, "if I am 
 caught there will be only a few years' imprisonment; 
 then I can go abroad and enjoy my savings." 
 
 Yet he relied implicitly upon his good fortune that 
 he should not be caught. 
 
 He entered the room smiling, with his usual bland, 
 obsequious manner. His face changed when he saw 
 Ihe Countess of Caraven looking over his balance- 
 sheets. The earl pointed to a chair; the detected 
 thief sat down. 
 
 The young countess' eyes were raised to the bland 
 face of the agent; they seemed to burn him. The earl 
 left the discussion to her, as he had said he would. 
 Words could not have expressed the proud, cold con- 
 tempt of her face as she spoke to him: 
 
 "You are well aware, Mr. Blantyre, that this balance- 
 sheet is worth nothing? The accounts are all falsi- 
 fied." 
 
 "I am not aware of anything of the kind, your lady- 
 ship. There may be a few mistakes — it was hurriedly 
 made out. May I ask permission to — " 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 313 
 
 "You may ask nothing, sir," she replied, curtly. 
 "Tell Lord Caraven if it be correct that you have taken 
 a bribe from someone who wants Bromhill Farm — a 
 bribe to turn out the old tenants and bring in a new 
 one." 
 
 "Lord Caraven knows that he—" 
 
 But the countess interrupted him: 
 
 "Did you take the bribe? <Yes,' or 'No?'" 
 
 "Yes," he replied, sullenly. 
 
 "Mr. Blantyre," said the young countess, "you are 
 a detected thief. You have robbed your employer, you 
 have falsified your accounts, you have ground down 
 the poor, you have oppressed the helpless, you have 
 made my husband's name hated and loathed, you have 
 betrayed your trust, you have drawn down upon your 
 own head the curses of those people whom ill-luck 
 has brought you into contact with." 
 
 "Stay, my lady. You accuse me, and give me no 
 chance to defend myself." 
 
 The earl was watching his wife intently. He saw 
 the color rising in her face, he saw the light in her 
 eyes, he heard the passion, the scorn of wrong-doing 
 that trembled in her voice. 
 
 "She is equal to it," he thought; "there is no need 
 for me to interfere." 
 
 "You cannot defend yourself," she replied. "I hold 
 innumerable proofs of what I assert." 
 
 John Blantyre cowered before the bright indignation 
 of the fearless eyes, and turning to the earl, said: 
 
 "My lord, I have been a faithful servant of yours; 
 have you nothing to say for me?" 
 
3*4 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Upon my word, Blantyre, I believe you have been 
 a most consummate rogue," answered the earl. "I 
 have placed all my authority in the hands of Lady 
 Caraven. She is to do as she will. " 
 
 The bland smile on the agent's face changed to an 
 ugly sneer. The young countess rose from her seat, 
 and, extending her arm, pointed with her finger to 
 the door. 
 
 "I shall waste no words with you, sir," she said. 
 "Go. We might prosecute you, we might force you 
 to give up your ill-gotten gains, we might expose you 
 to the contempt of the world — but you are not worth 
 it. I bid you go, and the punishment of your con- 
 duct will be that everyone will know that you have 
 been dismissed characterless. Not one word." 
 
 He made as though he would speak. She still 
 /ept her hand outstretched to the door; her eye? 
 overmastered him. He turned to quit the room. 
 
 When he reached the door, rage overcame pru- 
 dence. He looked back at the noble figure of the 
 young wife. 
 
 "I thank you, Lady Caraven," he said. "I owe this 
 to you." 
 
 She made no sign that she heard him. 
 
 "To you," he continued, with a sneer; "and we all 
 know that you are here only on sufferance. Take care 
 that your own turn does not come." 
 
 There was no answer. Not even a quiver of the 
 white eyelids showed that she heard. His rage 
 increased. 
 
 Good day, Countess of Caraven," he said. "You 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 315 
 
 have called me a thief, you have, after a fashion, 
 ruined me. I will be revenged — I swear it. Even 
 should years pass before I can carry out my purpose, 
 I will be revenged." 
 
 And with those words he quitted the study. 
 
 Lord Caraven made a hasty step across the room to 
 punish John Blantyre's insolence, but his wife touched 
 him gently. 
 
 "You would not surely," she said, "soil your hands 
 with him?" 
 
 "I'll kill him if he insults you!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "He will not have the chance of insulting me again, 
 Lord Caraven; now we will forget him. The unjust 
 man shall pass away, and his place shall know him 
 no more; we have finished with John Blantyre — now 
 for happier times. If the poor people on the Ravens- 
 mere estates knew what has happened they would set 
 the bells ringing for joy." 
 
 He watched her as she went with her free, grace- 
 ful, proud step and flung the window wide open. 
 
 "We will have some fresh air," she said. "I can 
 never bear the atmosphere in which a bad man has 
 breathed. " 
 
 "You would not be a good prison matron," he 
 remarked, laughingly. 
 
 "No, I hate wickedness. I have a constitutional dis- 
 like to it; and I love goodness with all my heart." 
 
 "Then to win the love of your heart one must be 
 good?" questioned the earl. 
 
 "Not only good but noble," she replied; and then 
 their tete-a-tete was interrupted. Lord Darners wanted 
 the earl* 
 
316 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 Long after he had left the room she stood wonder- 
 ing if John Blantyre would keep his oath, and if he 
 did, what manner of vengeance he would take. Not 
 even a gleam of the terrible reality came to her. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 "we shall have no more pale, stunted, deformed 
 children" 
 
 Before many days had elapsed it became apparent 
 that a new reign had begun at Ravensmere. Sir 
 Raoul was charmed and delighted; he never wearied 
 of praising Lady Caraven and telling her what a 
 noble work she was doing; he did his best to help 
 her. A wonderful change was coming over the earl. 
 Not that he was beginning even in the least to love 
 his wife — that idea had not yet occurred to him; but 
 he was beginning to treat her with great respect, to 
 recognize the fact that she was a high-souled woman. 
 It was of her mind he thought; her personal charms, 
 great as they were, had not as yet impressed him. 
 He had started with the conviction that his wife was 
 a dark-eyed, unformed school-girl, and he had not as 
 yet made the discovery that she was a beautiful woman; 
 but her mind impressed him — her calm patience, her 
 lofty standard of thought and action, her purity, her 
 intense desire to do her duty, had all surprised and 
 then pleased him. He wondered that he had been 
 blind to these qualities for so long, but he consoled 
 himself by thinking that they were only just developed 
 and perhaps never — such was the observant power of 
 the man — would have been developed but for the cir- 
 
 317 
 
3 z8 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 cumstances in which she was placed. He never dreamed 
 of loving her — he had started with the idea that he 
 did not love her and never should. He was a man 
 slow to change his ideas. 
 
 But, although the idea of love had not occurred to 
 him, their relations toward each other were fast chang- 
 ing. The beautiful, gifted wife was fast taking her 
 place in every respect and in every way, except in her 
 husband's heart. Her patience and good sense never 
 failed her, little failures did not daunt her. Her cour- 
 age seemed invincible; if she 'ever felt discouraged, 
 she never showed it. Her influence over the earl 
 increased every day; yet there were relapses into the 
 old faults. There were mornings when, after having 
 played cards half the night, he would sleep away the 
 lovely, fresh, sunlighted hours, and come down at noon 
 with just sufficient grace to feel ashamed of himself. 
 Then it was that her calm, noble patience was shown 
 to perfection. She did • not reproach him as other 
 women would have done, she did not utter little sar- 
 casms and talk "at" him, as is the fashion with some 
 of the best of wives; there was a high-mindedness 
 about her that was irresistible. It was the same with 
 his other evil habits. If the old fascination came over 
 him, and he spent a day and a night at the billiard- 
 table, to the utter neglect of all other duties, she was 
 patience itself. She avoided that worst of all faults 
 that even good wives have — lecturing. The earl knew 
 that although he might fail, might break down in his 
 resolutions, there was a kind, firm hand to help him 
 to rise again. In some kind of fashion they were 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 319 
 
 like two friends; like husband and wife they certainly 
 were not. 
 
 Lady Caraven lost no time when her husband had 
 once given her permission to act. He affected to 
 laugh and feel amused at her zeal and enthusiasm — 
 in reality they shamed him. He asked her what her 
 Erst reform was to be; and she told him all the labor 
 ars' cottages were to be pulled down, and fresh houses 
 built for them — houses where the first laws of health 
 could be regarded. She wanted good fresh air, 
 dry walls, pure water, plenty of room. She did not 
 rest until the workmen were busy in removing what 
 she called the "fever acres." 
 
 She was to have it all her own way, yet she showed 
 the sweetest submission to her husband. When the 
 architect and builder waited upon her with plans for 
 the model cottages, she took them at once to him. 
 He looked up laughingly. 
 
 "You pay me a compliment, Hildred," he said; "but 
 it is your affair entirely, not mine." 
 
 "I shall find no pleasure in it unless I have your 
 approval," she replied. "I am your head steward, not 
 your guide. Look over these with me," 
 
 They sat down side by side, and Lord Caraven posi- 
 tively forgot all about the plans in his wonder at his 
 wife. How bright her face grew as she dwelt upon 
 the advantages of the pretty houses! 
 
 "We shall have no more pale, stunted, deformed 
 children," she said. "Ah, Lord Caraven, you do not 
 know how the sight of those children has touched my 
 heart! Do you remember Mrs. Browning's pathetic 
 lines — 
 
32o 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "'The children— oh, my brothers!'" 
 
 "No, I have never heard them," he replied. 
 
 "If you saw the dull, pale faces, the dim eyes, th* 
 deformed limbs! I always feel ready to cry out: 
 'Give the children air, for heaven's sake!' Now in 
 these our new houses they will have air; we shall see 
 rosy faces, we shall hear the music of glad young 
 voices, and as you pass by they will bless you, Lord 
 Caraven— they will stand up together, the young and 
 the old, to bless you. Oh, let us make haste!" 
 
 Looking at her, listening to her, he thought of the 
 child with the darkening face. "Shall I throw a stone 
 at him?" What a contrast between the picture she 
 painted and the sad reality! Something like a sob 
 rose to the lips of the earl. Stoned by a child! How 
 the disgrace of it clung to him! 
 
 "You are thinking of something else," she said, 
 suddenly coming to a close in the midst of her 
 description of cottage gardens. 
 
 "I plead guilty," answered Lord Caraven. "I was 
 thinking of you. " 
 
 "Of me?" she exclaimed, with such sincerity of sur- 
 prise that he was startled. "I did not know that you 
 ever thought of me. You must not think of me now; I 
 want all your attention for these plans. You must 
 decide as to them." 
 
 "I cannot help thinking of you, Hildred. Tell me 
 — from where do you get your wonderful energy, your 
 fresh, bright interest in everything?" 
 
 "I cannot tell you," she replied, "I suppose all 
 things are part of myself." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Then you have a very wonderful self, Hildred,and I 
 may be pardoned for thinking of it. Now about these 
 plans — I think this is the simplest, the prettiest, and 
 the best." 
 
 They discussed them in full detail and that conver- 
 sation had something so interesting, so piquant in it, 
 that the earl was deeply interested. 
 
 "Thank you," said Hildred, looking up with a charfcv. 
 ing smile — "I am grateful to you for relieving me in 
 my perplexity." 
 
 "The pleasure has been all on my side," he 
 answered, and that was the most gallant speech that 
 the earl had yet made to his wife. 
 
 The difference in him was plainly to be seen. Men 
 who had gamed and betted with him, who had won 
 his money and paid him in flattery, shrank from him, 
 seeing that their hour was over. They sneered about 
 Jim, and said something to each other about petti- 
 coat government. But one day, when Lord Caraven 
 had refused a heavy wager at billiards, someone 
 remarked that Lady Caraven had taught him better 
 ways. He looked up with a frank laugh. 
 
 "My wife?" he said. "Oh, no! She has had noth- 
 ing to do with it," and he honestly believed what he 
 said. 
 
 Her influence had been so wisely directed, so spar- 
 ingly used that he could not trace it; and he thought 
 ihat he alone had roused himself from his long trance 
 &i indolence. No woman on earth could have won a 
 greater victory. 
 
 **\ ~'* so glad I have been patient," she said to her 
 
$22 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 self. "I am lad I chose the higher and nobler part 
 instead of the weaker one of running away/* 
 
 So time passed on, and the beautiful summer days 
 were filled with schemes and plans for the benefit of 
 others. 
 
 It seemed to the earl that he was really waking up 
 Jtom a long sleep. The world was wearing a differ- 
 ent aspect for him. He had never given even a thought 
 lo politics. With the arbitrary insolence of youth he 
 had pronounced them nonsense — and that was one of 
 the things that Sir Raoul most deplored. Hildred, 
 too, was sorry for it. She had been so successful in 
 other matters that she ventured at last upon this. It 
 was by a series of well-directed questions that she 
 first aroused his attention. In trying to answer them 
 he grew interested himself. 
 
 "If I could vote," Hildred had a fashion of saying, 
 "I should try to urge that measure." 
 
 At last Lord Caraven awoke to the consciousness 
 that in the government of Britain's mighty empire 
 jte, too, ought to have a voice. 
 
 They had seen nothing of John Blantyre since his 
 abrupt dismissal. The earl had been told that he had 
 left Mere Cottage, but that he was living at Court 
 Raven. That piece of intelligence did not trouble 
 him; the unjust steward was part and parcel of the 
 past — a past he was beginning to think of with regret 
 Nevertheless, John Blantyre lived only for his revenge. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 "only a few months and such a difference ik lord 
 caraven" 
 
 Autumn came with its golden wheat, its ripe fruit, 
 its gorgeous beauty of coloring. The spirit of improve- 
 ment was at work at Ravensmere; already the obnox- 
 ious cottages had disappeared, and in their places 
 clean, healthy, well-drained dwelling-houses were 
 springing up. Lady Caraven worked hard, allowing 
 herself little rest, and the earl was filled with wonder 
 at her systematic method. 
 
 "You ought to have been a man and a lawyer, Hil- 
 dred," he said to her one day. 
 
 "I would rather be a woman and a countess," she 
 replied, with a happy laugh. 
 
 The first thing that she had done was to make a 
 list of every laborer and dependent on the estate, his 
 name, condition, income, the number of his children, 
 how they lived, and where they were educated, so that 
 there was not one a stranger to her. The earl looked 
 admiringly at it. 
 
 "Do you really mean to say, Hildred, that all these 
 people are dependent on me — that more or less I have 
 an interest in all of them?" 
 
 "I do mean it," replied his wife, earnestly, "and 
 there seems to be something noble to me in the idea 
 
 323 
 
324 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 that one man has it in his power to benefit so many 
 others. " 
 
 "That is from your side of the question," said the 
 earl; but he thought more seriously than he spoke. 
 
 Already a perceptible change had come over Ravens- 
 mere. Fast-looking men who had rejoiced in the title 
 of his lordship's friends had all left — men of note 
 were beginning to seek his society. He had written 
 several articles on social science and home politics 
 that had been highly thought of — he who believed 
 himself too indolent even to write a letter — but those 
 articles and essays were rather the result of his wife's 
 observation than his own. Women were, of course, 
 very much inferior; but it was a great thing to have a » 
 clever wife. She would talk to him, suggest ideas, 
 give her opinion; and then, when they had discussed 
 the matter well, she would say to him: 
 
 "Those are excellent ideas of yours — why not put 
 them into form?" 
 
 It was she who revised and corrected his papers — 
 she, to whom, in fact, they really owed their existence, 
 although the world praised him. His reputation was 
 growing rapidly. Only a few months, and such a 
 difference! 
 
 "Thank heaven that I have been patient!" the 
 young countess often said to herself. 
 
 They worked together. She made their duties so 
 pleasant to him that he would not for the world have 
 renounced them. Husband and wife became, as the 
 earl said, good companions, good friends. They had 
 many interests now in common — the improvement of 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 325 
 
 the estate, the building of model cottages, the edu- 
 cation of the young, the relief of the aged and dis- 
 tressed. With a thoughtful look in his blue eyes the 
 earl would sometimes say to his wife: 
 
 "I cannot imagine why I thought all this so tire- 
 some before, or what gives me so much pleasure to do 
 it now." 
 
 No one was more gratified than Sir Raoul. He 
 exulted in the fact that his predictions were fulfilled. 
 
 "I always thought a good woman's influence bound- 
 less," he said; "now I am sure of it." 
 
 But he was not misled; he saw exactly how things 
 were — that the earl had started with the conviction 
 that his wife was an unformed girl, and that, though 
 believing her now to be a very clever woman, he still 
 retained much of his early impression. Lord Cara- 
 ven had accepted the fact that he did not love her 
 with a lover's love, and that their marriage was a fatal 
 mistake into which his own folly had led him — and 
 he had not changed his opinion; he absolutely never 
 thought of love with reference to her. They were 
 good friends, with one common interest — that was all. 
 
 But with Hildred it was not quite the same thing. 
 She had once loved him; and now, as his better 
 nature appeared, she began to care for him again. 
 Not that she ever betrayed such a feeling to him. 
 She was kind, affectionate, patient; she devoted her- 
 self to his service; but no word indicating a warmer 
 feeling than friendship ever escaped her lips. She 
 did dot even own to herself or know that she was 
 beginning to love him. It was almost impossible to 
 
326 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 help it. There was something very lovable about the 
 careless, debonair man; his very faults had a kind of 
 charm because he owned them so frankly; his hand- 
 some face would have been a passport to any woman's 
 heart; moreover, he was so earnest in his endeavor to 
 do better, so truly sorr^ for the ill-spent, miserable 
 past, so anxious not to relapse into bad habits. She 
 could not help loving him. 
 
 "I can imagine," she thought to herself, "how a 
 mother feels who has taught her little child to walk.' 
 
 She had a half-protecting fondness for him; she 
 would fain have stood between him and every tempta- 
 tion of his life — have been his good angel; he was in 
 some vague way to her a child whom she had taught 
 and trained. Whether this affection would develop 
 into the jealous love of a woman remained to be seen. 
 She found herself always thinking of him, always try- 
 ing to find out what would please him, always study- 
 ing him; there was hardly a moment in the day in 
 which her thoughts did not dwell on him. When he 
 called her by name, her heart thrilled with pleasure; 
 when he praised her, even ever so faintly, it seemed 
 to her that earth held no higher joy; if he asked her 
 to do anything, she knew no rest nor peace until it 
 was done. There was no man in England whose com* 
 forts were better attended to; yet husband and wife 
 were simply good friends — nothing more. 
 
 One day, after luncheon, when some visitors were 
 staying' with them, the conversation turned on a cer- 
 tain Lady Hamilton, who had just returned, a widow, 
 from India. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 3*7 
 
 "Lady Hamilton was one of your early loves, Ulric, 
 was she not?" said Sir Raoul, laughingly. 
 
 "I suppose so," replied the earl, carelessly. "I had 
 a great many early loves, if one may believe all the 
 stories told. Do you know what my own opinion is?" 
 
 "No," answered Sir Raoul, "I do not." 
 
 "I do not believe that I have ever loved at all — that 
 is, using the word 'love' in its best and highest 
 sense. " 
 
 "Then it is for want of appreciation," said Sir 
 Raoul curtly. 
 
 Neither of them knew that Hildred had overheard 
 the few chance words, but they pierced her heart as 
 with a two-edged sword. 
 
 He had never loved anyone! She was his wife; 
 he had never loved her, and she had been fancying 
 that his manner had changed — that he was in some 
 fashion growing fond of her. How wofully mistaken 
 she was! Her face burned as she thought of those 
 early loves of his. Who were they? How much had 
 he cared for them? Had he whispered sweet words 
 into willing ears? Had he, who had never once kissed 
 her, kissed the fair faces of those early loves? Her 
 heart beat fast as she thought of it. Then she called 
 herself to account. Was she — an unloved, neglected 
 wife — jealous of the flitting loves of an hour? She was 
 startled when she found that the pretty ivory paper 
 knife she had been holding in her hands was broken. 
 
 "What has come over me?" she asked herself. 
 
 He had never loved anyone. Would he live his life 
 without love? And, if he loved anyone, would it be her? 
 
328 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "It is a terrible thing that we have done," she said 
 to herself— "married without love. Ah, me! if ever a 
 girl as young and ignorant as I was comes to me and 
 asks the same question that I asked my father, I shall 
 say to her, 'Marry without money, without position, 
 without worldly prospects, if you will; but rather die 
 than marry without love!" 
 
 A kind of jealousy that she could not understand 
 took possession of her. If, on looking at pictures or 
 photographs, Lord Caraven praised one or thought it 
 pretty, she would examine it in detail to find out, if 
 possible, what he admired in it. If, in speaking of 
 any lady friend or visitor, the earl expressed his 
 admiration of her, a vague unrest would come over his 
 wife; she would try to understand what attracted him. 
 He had a frank, careless, easy way of expressing him- 
 self. Often, when she heard him, her face would sud* 
 deny grow pale even to her lips. If he loved at all, 
 he must love her. 
 
 Lord Caraven discerned nothing of this, but* Sir 
 Raoul was more deeply versed in human nature, and 
 he saw that the young countess was beginning to love 
 her husband with passionate love. He did not know 
 whether to be pleased or sorry — whether her love 
 would ever be returned. Yet he could not feel sur- 
 prised. 
 
 "He owes everything to her," thought Sir Raoul; 
 "yet the last thought that would enter his mind would 
 be to love her. " 
 
 Sir Raoul also saw another thing, and that was 
 that, despite her noble character, her great virtues, 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 329 
 
 her heroism, her patience, her devotion to one idea, 
 she had one fault, and that was jealousy. Sir Raoul 
 had noticed it in little things, and once he laugh- 
 ingly told her of it. 
 
 "You are jealous, Hild/ed," he said; "there is one 
 weed among many beautiful flowers — you are jealous." 
 
 She stood quite still for a few minutes after he had 
 spoken, and then she looked up at him thoughtfully. 
 
 "You are right," she said, frankly — "I believe I am 
 jealous." 
 
 Sir Raoul was amused at her candor. 
 
 "It is true," he went on; "I have noticed it often. 
 You will not allow anyone to feed your pet canary; 
 and if those tame white doves of yours flutter round 
 anyone else you do not like it." 
 
 There was no smile in the dark eyes raised to his — 
 only an expression of perplexity and bewilderment. 
 
 "You are quite right," she said; "but I had not 
 thought of it before — I have not been tried. I have 
 had no especial temptation. No one has ever made me 
 jealous, because, I suppose, no one has ever loved 
 me very much; but I have capability in me." 
 
 "To be sure you have — all dark-eyed women with 
 southern faces like yours have a touch of jealousy," 
 remarked Sir Raoul. "How grave you look concerning 
 it, Hildred." 
 
 "I am thinking gravely," she replied/ "I am saying 
 to myself that I hope and trust and pray I shall never 
 have anything to be really jealous about. I feel — well 
 I do not know how to express myself clearly, but I 
 believe that I could be madly jealous, and then, if I 
 were, I could do great wrong." 
 
330 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "I do not fear for you," said Sir Raoul. "You 
 will never go very far wrong, Hildred. " 
 
 There was a half-scared expression on her beautiful 
 face. 
 
 "I do hope," she rejoined, "that I shall never be 
 tried. Jealousy has done some strange things. It is 
 as bitter as death, and as cruel as the grave. I may 
 comfort myself, though," she added, with a bitter 
 laugh; "there cannot be jealousy without love, and I 
 have none to give and none i» receive." 
 
CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 "the very queen qf coquettes 
 
 It was almost autumn, and people were saying to 
 each other smilingly that summer seemed unwilling to 
 go. The wheat was standing now in great golden 
 sheaves, the fruit hung ripe upon the trees. 
 
 One morning a letter came to Ravensmere. It was 
 from Lady Hamilton, to say that she was returning 
 from Cowes, where she had been staying for some 
 time, and would be glad to pay her promised visit. 
 
 Lord Caraven's first sensation on reading the 
 coquettish little note was not one of unmitigated 
 pleasure. They had been spending a very happy week 
 alone, the earl, the countess, and Sir Raoul. They 
 had been watching the builders' progress, watching 
 the improvements; and the earl was more pleased 
 than he would have cared to say at seeing once more 
 a smile on the faces around him. He did not feel 
 quite sure at first that he cared for the coming inter- 
 ruption. He gave the letter to Lady Caraven. 
 
 "If she comes," he said, "it is pretty certain wc 
 must invite a party to meet her." 
 
 The young countess looked up. 
 
 "We are a party," she told him; "we are three." 
 
 Lord Caraven laughed. 
 
 331 
 
332 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Three is a very small number, Hildred. What 
 would Lady Hamilton say if she came here and found 
 that we had not invited one to meet her? Raoul and 
 I would be exhausted by the amount of homage we 
 should have to pay. Lady Hamilton is the very 
 queen of coquettes." 
 
 "I do not like coquettes," said Lady Caraven, curtly. 
 
 "It would be wonderful if you did," laughed her 
 husband. "Dark-haired and dark-eyed women, like 
 you, Hildred, are generally severe; golden hair and blue 
 eyes take naturally to flirtation. But that is no settle- 
 ment of our difficulty. There is but one course open 
 to us — to write and say that we shall be delighted. 
 You will write, of course?" 
 
 "If 5'ou wish it," said Hildred, quietly. 
 
 "Then we will draw up a list of people to invite 
 while she is here. We must have some eligible 
 men." 
 
 "What does she want eligible men for?" asked 
 Hildred, and the two gentlemen laughed at the ques- 
 tion. 
 
 "Is she a widow?" continued the young countess. 
 
 "One of the youngest, prettiest, wealthiest widows 
 in England," said the earl. 
 
 Lady Caraven felt a vague dawning of jealous dis- 
 like. 
 
 "I am almost sorry that she is coming now," put 
 in Sir Raoul; "we are so very happy — all our quiet- 
 ness will be broken up and destroyed." 
 
 In his heart Lord Caraven almost re-echoed the 
 wish. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 333 
 
 'You forget the honor, Raoul," he said, gayly. 
 'Lady Hamilton does not visit everywhere; nor does 
 she accept all invitations. I know a German grand 
 duchess and. a Russian princess whom she refused.' 1 
 
 "What is her rule in accepting invitations then?" 
 asked Hildred. 
 
 "1 think, as pleasure guides her in everything, she 
 goes only where she thinks she shall enjoy herself," 
 replied the earl. 
 
 "And what does she think she shall enjoy here?" 
 a^ked the young wife, anxiously. 
 
 A gleam of mischievous humor came into the earPs 
 face. 
 
 "Perhaps a rumor of Raoul's gallantry has reached 
 her," he said, but Sir Raoul indignantly rejected the 
 supposition. 
 
 Perhaps the Countess of Caraven had never under- 
 taken a task more unpleasant to her than the writing 
 of this letter, yet it had to be done with all the grace- 
 ful courtesy imaginable. Then the earl made out a 
 list of people whom he thought the brilliant young 
 widow would like to meet. 
 
 "There," he said, "we have an eligible marquis, a 
 court favorite, a millionaire, a philosopher, and a sol- 
 dier. Surely between them her ladyship will receive 
 homage enough." 
 
 His wife noted with infinite satisfaction that he had 
 not mentioned himself. Evidently he had no idea of 
 paying homage to her; but the words, "one of the 
 youngest, prettiest widows in England," had made a 
 disagreeable impression on her. She could not tell 
 
334 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 why, but she had an unpleasant foreboding that evil 
 would come from the widow's visit, evil both bitter 
 and sore. 
 
 "There is another thing, Hildred, " said Lord Cara- 
 ven — ".Lady Hamilton must have amusement. You 
 will have to lay aside your work for a time and attend 
 to it. We must have a ball — a grand ball, not a mere 
 dancing party — we must have dinner parties and pic- 
 nics, a regular round of entertainments." 
 
 'And my work must stand still," she interrogated 
 regretfully. ✓ 
 
 "I am sorry for it, because I know that your heart is 
 in it, but rank and position have duties that we can- 
 not ignore. When a lady like Lady Hamilton volun- 
 teers a visit, it is necessary to receive her with all 
 courtesy. You will be able to do something, but not 
 much. " 
 
 She sighed deeply, and her beautiful face became 
 sad. 
 
 "I am sorry, dear," he said, kindly; "but it cannot 
 be helped. " 
 
 He wondered why her face brightened so suddenly, 
 why she looked up with a sudden, glad light in her 
 eyes. He had called her "dear" for the first time in 
 his life, and he had done it quite unconsciously. The 
 word that meant so much to her was less than noth- 
 ing to him. 
 
 He wondered why she spoke in a tone through 
 which sweetest music seemed to vibrate. 
 
 "I shall not mind it at all now," she said, with a 
 warm flush on her face, and, having no key to her 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 335 
 
 meaning, the earl said to himself that women were 
 indeed wonderful creatures. 
 
 He would have thought so had he known how happy 
 that one word had made his young wife, how she 
 gathered it into her heart and pondered it, how she 
 brooded over it with silent happiness that could not 
 be put into words; and he did not even know that he 
 had used it. He would have said the same to a friend 
 or a child; he would not have used it to his wife if 
 he had thought of it or noticed what he was saying, 
 for the simple reason that he considered any tender 
 words between people who never could love each other 
 nonsense. 
 
 With a light heart she sent out her invitations. Sir 
 Raoul wondered when he heard her singing sweet 
 snatches of song — wondered with a sense of gratifica- 
 tion. She must be happier than she had been, or she 
 would not be so light of heart. 
 
 The invitations were all accepted, and due prepara- 
 tions were made for receiving the beautiful Lady 
 Hamilton. The handsomest suite of rooms in the cas- 
 tle was set aside for her; there was an air of expecta- 
 tion, of subdued excitement, that did not quite please 
 the young mistress of Kavensmere. When the earl 
 had, as he expressed it, time to think the matter over, 
 he was pleased — his wife perceived it in many ways. 
 He lingered with Sir Raoul, telling anecdotes of Lady 
 Hamilton and of her powers of fascination; and then 
 Hildred learned that they had been lovers when 
 young. Why they never married, why their love 
 r.ame to nothing, she did not know. If anyone had 
 
336 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 tried to explain the mystery of flirtation to her, she 
 would not have understood it. That people could 
 play at love for the mere pleasure of playing at it, 
 that it was possible to simulate emotion for the 
 mere sake of enjoying it, she did not understand. 
 Life was full of reality to the earnest, high-souled 
 woman who had accepted her fate with heroism worthy 
 of herself. 
 
 "I must not be jealous of this beautiful Lady Hamil- 
 ton," she thought— "but it is almost enough to make 
 me." 
 
 The lovely widow was to arrive in time for dinner* 
 That was one of Lady Hamilton's practices. She 
 liked to be seen first in the full glory of her dinner- 
 dress, in the full blaze of her beauty. She lived 
 solely and entirely for her beauty, and for the homage 
 it brought her. If she had been suddenly deprived of 
 it, if any accident had robbed her of it, she would 
 have been without a single occupation in life; she 
 lived for it, she studied it. What would suit her, 
 what became her, what attitude showed her figure to 
 the greatest advantage, what pose was most favorable 
 to the display of her graceful neck, what jewels looked 
 best on the golden hair, what flowers harmonized 
 best with the face that was like a flower — this was 
 her only occupation. She worshiped herself, the per- 
 fection of her own face. It was no idly-assumed posi- 
 tion; it was the profound study of her life. Never 
 did naturalist spend more time over a flower than she 
 did in the selection of a dress or a bonnet; she 
 brought all the powers of her mind to bear upon it 
 
 m 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 337 
 
 She liked to hear praise of her beauty. She was not 
 in the least flattered when anyone called her clever or 
 intelligent — no praise of her wit or power of repartee 
 ever delighted her. She liked to read that the "beauti- 
 ful Lady Hamilton" had been at such a ball — she liked 
 to be told that she was the prettiest woman in Lon- 
 don. Moreover, she was an insatiable coquette. As 
 for really loving anyone, she had never done such ? 
 thing. Perhaps the nearest approach to love she had 
 ever felt was the kindly feeling she had had for the 
 handsome earl. She did not marry him because he did 
 not have money enough. 
 
 She was a dear lover of luxury, this lovely Lady 
 Hamilton. In all her gay life of twenty-three sum- 
 mers she had known nothing else. She wanted jewels 
 to deck her loveliness, she wanted magnificent rooms, 
 plenty of servants. She loved light and perfume, and 
 flowers — she had all the tastes of a refined woman of 
 the world. She liked good pictures, rich, picturesque 
 dresses, and she chose from her lovers the one who 
 could give the most of these things. That was Sir 
 Gerald Hamilton. Certainly, the handsome earl was 
 better looking; but, then, she had been told that he 
 was in embarrassed circumstances. She married Sir 
 Gerald, who was about thirty years older than her- 
 self. A magnificent appointment had been offered to 
 him in India; he had accepted it, and Lady Hamil- 
 ton, because she knew that she should reign supreme 
 there, went with him. The climate did not suit Sir 
 Gerald; he died, leaving her the whole of his fortune, 
 and Lady Hamilton returned to England, more beau- 
 
33 8 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 tiful, more charming, more coquettish than ever. It 
 was said of her that no man could resist her, and that 
 she never scrupled as to winning a heart or breaking 
 it, if only to pass away the time. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 "jealousy is as bitter as death" 
 
 It was the evening of the day on which Lady Hamil- 
 ton was expected. Several of the guests invited hac^ 
 already arrived, and the Countess of Caraven anxiously 
 expected her visitor. She had a strange kind of fore- 
 boding about her. 
 
 "I wonder," she said to Sir Raoul, "if some people 
 do bring misfortune with them. I have an idea that 
 Lady Hamilton will bring evil to me." 
 
 Sir Raoul laughed, and told her in his simple, 
 chivalrous fashion that a beautiful woman could only 
 bring sunshine and happiness; but the young countess 
 sighed. 
 
 "Helen of Troy did not bring much sunshine," she 
 said, "and she was beautiful enough." 
 
 "But," objected Sir Raoul, "there is a difference; 
 Lady Hamilton has not her fatal loveliness. Times 
 have altered; no woman's face, I think, will ever 
 cause another thirty years' war." 
 
 The young countess resolved upon being armed at 
 all points. Her maid felt that at length her mistress 
 was doing justice to herself. She was that evening 
 very difficult to please — no dress was pretty enough; 
 she chose one at length of purple velvet, long, grace- 
 ful, and made after a picturesque fashion that Hildred 
 
 339 
 
34° 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 particularly affected — cut square so as to show the beau- 
 tiful neck and shoulders, with wide, hanging sleeves, 
 fastened with a diamond knot on the shoulder — a 
 dress that was the triumph of good taste; no ribbon, 
 no flowers, no ornaments nor trimmings marred its 
 grand simplicity. She wore nothing but diamonds 
 with it — a small tiara that crowned the queenly head, 
 a necklace round the white throat, a small cross on the 
 white breast, and a bracelet on one of her beautifully- 
 molded arms. Nothing could have been more magnifi- 
 cent, in better or simpler taste. 
 
 Sir Raoul looked delighted when he saw her. 
 
 "Lady Hamilton may be very fair," he thought, 
 "but she will not look like Hildred. " 
 
 The earl did not notice either her face or her dress; 
 he admired her skill, her genius, but he was certainly 
 not in love with his young wife. 
 
 It was with some little curiosity that the young 
 countess went to meet her guest. Lady Hamilton had 
 been shown into a pretty little boudoir, where ihe 
 awaited her hostess, and these two women, who were 
 so strangely to cross each other's lives, looked almost 
 eagerly at each other. 
 
 Lady Caraven saw before her a tall, graceful, lovely 
 blonde, whose sunny eyes and golden hair were bright 
 and beautiful, whose red lips smiling showed teeth 
 like pearls. After returning in the most musical voice 
 the greeting of her hostess, she requested that she 
 might be shown to her room. 
 
 She was in some measure just what Lady Caraven 
 had expected to see. She appeared in the drawing- 
 
FROM OUT THE- GLOOM 
 
 341 
 
 room two minutes before the announcement of dinner 
 was made, and then Hildred examined her more criti- 
 cally. Her entrance made a sensation among the gen- 
 tlemen. Hildred stood watching the scene, watching 
 the pretty maneuvers of the royally beautiful coquette, 
 and how soon they took effect. 
 
 Examined critically there was no defect in the beauty 
 of Lady Hamilton; she was a queen of blondes. Her 
 hair had a golden sheen; it was soft, fine, and hung 
 in waving abundance. It was such hair as rumor 
 gives to Berengaria, of whose golden tresses a chain 
 was made for a sanctuary lamp. Her complexion was 
 as fair as the leaf of a lily, with the daintiest of 
 bloom. It was as though one had taken a rose-leaf 
 and laid it upon her cheeks. It was all nature, not 
 art; art could not have produced the lovely clear pink 
 that deepened into rose. Her eyes were large, blue, 
 laughing eyes with sunshine in their depths, with long, 
 black lashes that gave them a most peculiar effect, 
 beautiful and fascinating. The loveliest feature in 
 her face was her mouth; it was the mouth of a god- 
 dess, sweet and proud, sensitive, haughty, perfect iri 
 color and shape. Her dress was as beautiful as her- 
 self — satin of such pale blue that it was almost white, 
 trimmed with a profusion of white lace. She had a 
 few sprigs of heliotrope in her dress, of which flower 
 she was fonder than any other. She was a beautiful, 
 smiling, graceful woman, perfectly well-bred, perfectly- 
 elegant, perfectly lovely. When she smiled it was as 
 though the very spirit pf love had found a home in 
 her pretty dimples. 
 
34« 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 Hildred sighed as she turned away. This was the 
 kind of beauty that her husband loved — blonde, tall, 
 and graceful. She was fascinated after a fashion. 
 She herself was no coquette. If people found her 
 charming and admired her that was theft own affair. 
 She cared to be charming only to her husband. She 
 could not help watching Lady Hamilton, and wonder- 
 ing what was the spell that she cast over everyone. 
 Every gentleman seemed desirous of talking to her; 
 there was quite a rivalry between them as to which 
 should win the brightest smiles; and she had a way — 
 Hildred could not quite understand it — of making each 
 person think that he in particular was the object of 
 her special attention. How did she manage it? She 
 had a look for one, a smile for another, a sigh for the 
 third; one held her fan, another her flowers, and each 
 flattered himself with the thought that he alone was 
 the happy recipient of her special favor. 
 
 Hildred turned to look at the face of Sir Raoul. 
 How did he, whose ideas of women were so lofty, 
 like such conduct? She saw an amused smile on his 
 lips. She looked at her husband; he had not joined 
 Lady Hamilton's circle of admirers, and she felt all 
 the happier on seeing that. 
 
 Later on in the evening Sir Raoul came to her. 
 
 "Hildred," he said, in a low voice, "how do you 
 like our new acquisition?" 
 
 "She is just what I thought she would be," replied 
 the young countess. "Raoul, hers is the kind of 
 beauty that the earl loves." 
 
 He looked at the noble face. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 343 
 
 "How do you know that?" he asked. 
 
 "I have heard him say so very often. Do you 
 think he will admire her?" 
 
 "Yes," said Sir Raoul, frankly. "Everyone must 
 admire her. She is like a picture by Greuze. But if 
 you ask me is she worth any expenditure of jealousy, 
 I answer just as frankly, No. " 
 
 "I am not jealous," returned Hildred, quickly. 
 "Why should you imagine such a thing?" 
 
 "I do not say that I imagine it, Hildred; I merely 
 warn you against it," answered Sir Raoul. 
 
 ""Of all people," cried Hildred, "those that are logi- 
 cal are the most difficult to talk with." 
 
 "Let us be thankful, then," said Sir Raoul, "that 
 they are rare." 
 
 She looked up at him with a quiet smile. 
 
 "Raoul," she said, "there is one thing that I have 
 remarked about Lady Hamilton." 
 
 "What is it?" he asked. 
 
 "She has been here nearly six hours; but I have not 
 seen her talk to any of the ladies. When we went 
 into the drawing-room she sought the most comfort- 
 able chair, and she leaned back in it with a smile at 
 me. 'Traveling always fatigues me/ she said, as she 
 closed those lovely blue eyes of hers; and do you 
 know that she never opened them again until the 
 gentlemen came in!" 
 
 "She did not want to waste her words and smiles on 
 ladies," said Sir Raoul. 
 
 "I know I am very ignorant; but do you call that 
 £ood breeding, Sir Raoul?" 
 
344 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "My dear Hildred, a woman may be very elegant, 
 coquettish, and fascinating, without being quite what 
 you call well bred." 
 
 "If I had my choice," said Hildred, "I would rather 
 be well bred than beautiful." 
 
 The soldier looked at the noble, unconscious face. 
 
 "What would you say if I told you that you were 
 both?" he asked. 
 
 She laughed a rich, musical, joyous laugh that 
 caused Lady Hamilton to raise her blue eyes to see 
 what was going on. She smiled sweetly, as though 
 sympathizing with the happy laughter. Then she 
 thought to herself that Sir Raoul was a very distin- 
 guished-looking man. Could it be possible that he 
 was flirting with Lady Caraven? 
 
 There must be no encroaching on her privileges. 
 No one must monopolize distinguished men like Sir 
 Raoul when she was present. She must give the 
 dark-eyed young countess a lesson, and the best wa\ 
 in which to achieve her end would be to monopolize 
 the attention of the handsome earl. 
 
 * * •* * * * 
 
 "Jealousy is as bitter as death!" The words haunt- 
 ed Lady Caraven. Was she jealous? She could hardly 
 tell. Her life seemed to pass in a fever of watching 
 — to be filled with a brooding sense of something 
 wrong, of something hanging over her, of foreboding, 
 she knew not why. She only knew that the presence of 
 the beautiful blonde Lady Hamilton was a source of 
 vague torment to her. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 345 
 
 She was always apprehensive — she could hardly tell 
 of what. She was of too noble a disposition willfully 
 to encourage suspicion of anyone, but she was ever 
 thinking and surmising as to whether her husband 
 admired Lady Hamilton or not. There were times 
 when she roused herself, and said to herself that it 
 was unworthy of her — that all jealousy and suspicion 
 was miserable — that she would rise above it, and 
 trample it under foot. Then she would find herself 
 watching her husband's face to see how it lightened 
 and brightened as he talked to Lady Hamilton. 
 
 She read a very sensible story one day — a story of 
 married life — written to show how foolishly wrong and 
 wicked it was of wives ever to be jealous — showing 
 how, if a woman once gave her mind to it, she could 
 turn almost every incident in her husband's life to 
 her own torment— how she could be miserable over 
 every word he spoke, every look, every glance; and 
 Lady Caraven took the lesson to heart. She said to 
 herself that suspicion and jealousy were miserable 
 failings — that it was far nobler to give entire and per- 
 fect trust, to rise above ignoble suspicions, to despise 
 wretched, paltry jealousies. She said to herself that 
 she would take warning by the story she had read. 
 
 But her case was different from that of other wives. 
 There was, perhaps, in all the wide world no parallel 
 to it. Lord Caraven she had married without the 
 least pretense of love, he detesting the marriage, yet 
 forced into it, she honestly believing it was quite pos- 
 sible to live without love; then after marriage she had 
 been as he was now — profoundly, coldly indifferent. 
 
346 
 
 FROM OUT CHE GLOOM 
 
 She at first had been inclined to love him — his hand- 
 some face and the prestige of his name had won her 
 girlish fancy; then slowly, as her woman's soul and 
 better nature awoke, she discovered his faults — faults 
 that filled her with something like despair. Then 
 came the turning-point of her life — the time when 
 she felt sorely inclined to leave Ravensmere — the time 
 when the noble advice of a noble man had saved her, 
 had roused her to action, had influenced her so as to 
 completely change her life, had elevated her, had given 
 her an almost sublime idea of her duties and respon- 
 sibilities. She had risen to the call; she had devoted 
 herself to the welfare of her husband; she had used 
 all her truest womanly tact, all her rare grace, all her 
 intellect and talent, to -rouse him from his evil habits, 
 from his self-indulgence, from his neglect of every duty. 
 She had succeeded even beyond her hopes; he was 
 above the average now, whereas before he had been 
 below it. 
 
 The consequence was that she loved him. After 
 passing through every phase of feeling, after being 
 filled with admiration that grew into dislike, indiffer- 
 ence, contempt, she had found herself at last in love 
 with him. 
 
 It was the consciousness of that which made her 
 more sensitively jealous. He was her husband. She 
 loved him, but he did not love her. She asked her- 
 self: "Will he ever love me?" And the answer that 
 her own heart gave her was a very despairing one, 
 - She was not the style of woman that he admired. He 
 liked blonde beauty; and here, under their very roof> 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 341 
 
 was a queen of blondes — a queen of coquettes. She 
 would look sometimes at Lady Hamilton and think: 
 "How he must wish that our marriage had been de- 
 layed! If Lady Hamilton had returned a little 
 earlier, her money would have done just as well as 
 mine, and he would have loved her." 
 
 It was a very natural thought, but one that made her 
 exceedingly unhappy. To Lord Caraven himself the 
 idea never occurred, He had his faults — they were 
 not on the score of immorality or impropriety. He 
 did not love the wife fate had given to him, but he 
 respected her; and, in some fashion of his own, he 
 respected the vague kind of tie that there was between 
 them. At all events, he then had no idea of outraging 
 her feelings or insulting her by falling in love with 
 anyone else. 
 
 While the earl enjoyed the presence of his beauti- 
 ful guest — enjoyed her coquetries, laughed and was 
 amused at her flirtations, all in sheer idleness and good 
 humor, his dark-eyed, beautiful wife was building up 
 a theory of her own, and it was that her husband loved 
 Lady Hamilton. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 "the two ladies were rivals" 
 
 The grand ball in honor of Lady Hamilton was to 
 be given at Ravensmere on the last day of September. 
 The summer weather still lingered; flowers that should 
 have died before were still living, birds that should 
 long since have sought a sunnier clime were still 
 singing. On the evening of the ball a bright moon 
 was shining in a clear sky, and the wind was sweet as 
 in summer. There had been royal entertainments at 
 Ravensmere, but none had ever been on a grander or 
 more magnificent scale than this ball. All that flowers, 
 lights and superb decorations could effect was effected. 
 There was tier after tier of brilliant bloom; the light 
 of a thousand tapers made a brightness greater than 
 that of day; tiny scented fountains rippled among the 
 flowers. It was a magnificent Spectacle; and of that 
 magnificent fete there were two queens. 
 
 At the opening of the ball they stood for a few 
 moments side by side; and then opinion varied as to 
 which was the more beautiful. The Countess of Cara- 
 ven was a woman of stately loveliness, Lady Hamilton 
 of fairy-like beauty. 
 
 ' The countess, who had some vague idea that this 
 night would be the turning-point in her destiny, had 
 devoted much time and thought to her toilet. Her 
 
 348 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 349 
 
 dress was of some shining material that resembled 
 cloth of gold; the rounded arms were bare to the 
 shoulder, the white neck and throat rising like a 
 stately flower from its calyx. The golden hue of the 
 dress enhanced the beauty of the dark eyes and hair; 
 there was a slight flush on the splendid face, a deeper 
 light in the dark eyes. She wore a suite of superb 
 rubies; they lay in the coils of dark hair, and sparkled 
 like points of flame on the white breast ; as she moved, 
 the light scintillated and gleamed in the rich dress 
 and jewels. 
 
 By her side stood her rival and perfect contrast — 
 fair, blonde Lady Hamilton — in a dress of pure white 
 — white, with green leaves and flowers — and with 
 flowers in her golden hair — the perfect ideal of a 
 fair, graceful, lovely woman. 
 
 As they stood for a few minutes side by side, all 
 eyes were upon them. 
 
 The ball was a marvelous success. Lord Darners, 
 who had come to Ravensmere purposely for it, said 
 that he had never seen anything like it. He went up 
 to the earl, who, looking very handsome in his even- 
 ing dress, was watching the dancers. 
 
 "Do you know, Caraven," he asked, "who is the 
 handsomest woman here?" 
 
 The earl looked round with a smile. 
 
 "Amid so many how can I decide?" 
 
 "The decision does not require a minute's hesita- 
 tion," said Lord Darners. "Look round and you will 
 see that there is no one to compare with your own 
 wife. She is by far the most beautiful woman I have 
 ever seen in my life." 
 
35o 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 The earl looked up wonderingly. 
 
 "Is she? Do you know that I have never thought 
 much of her appearance?" 
 
 "Then you have been blind.' Look at her now.' 
 
 Lord Caraven looked up. He saw a tall, beautiful 
 figure and a magnificent face with dark, proud, brill- 
 iant eyes and a lovely mouth, round which played a 
 half grave, sweet, timorous smile. He seemed to be 
 impressed. 
 
 "You are right," he said; "she is very beautiful." 
 
 "I should imagine so," returned Lord Darners, 
 emphatically. "Why, by her side even the brilliant 
 Lady Hamilton looks faded. Everyone is talking 
 .about your wife; you do not know how many men 
 envy you." 
 
 Lord Caraven laughed aloud. Perhaps if the world 
 knew all, he told himself, there would be little cause 
 
 for envy. 
 
 "She is beautiful," he repeated to himself. He had 
 suddenly awoke to the knowledge of the fact. He 
 said to himself that he must have been blind. Had 
 this woman been any other than his wife he would 
 have thought her perfection. As he looked at her he 
 wondered that he had ever boasted of his preference 
 for blondes. What could compare with the splendor 
 of those dark eyes, the exquisite coloring of that 
 noble southern face? He must have been blind. He 
 crossed the room to where the young countess stood 
 talking to Lady Hamilton. 
 
 "Hildred," he said, simply, "will you save one 
 dance for me?" 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 351 
 
 She looked at the pretty tablets, then smiled at 
 him. 
 
 "I am not engaged for the next waltz," she said. 
 
 "Then give it to me," requested the earl; and the 
 dark eyes were raised to his. "If I had been engaged 
 I should have felt inclined to break my engagement," 
 she said. 
 
 Lady Hamilton was not quite pleased. Two suns 
 could not shine in one hemisphere, and if Lady Cara- 
 ven had any idea of outshining her, the sooner that 
 idea was abandoned the better. 
 
 "It is rather odd," she said, with one of her bright- 
 est smiles, "to see husband and wife waltz together — 
 one wouli imagine you were still lovers." 
 
 Hildred was on the point of retorting that they had 
 never yet been that but prudence restrained her. 
 
 "You will not forget your promise?" said the earl. 
 
 "For the waltz — no," she replied. 
 
 "Let me see you write my name," said the earl. 
 
 And Lady Caraven took up the pretty tablets again. 
 
 They held many names. Against the waltz she 
 wrote: "My husband." 
 
 He was watching her intently, and when she had 
 finished writing he took the tablets from her hand. 
 How strange the words looked! There were noble 
 names above them, noble names below them. 
 
 "My husband." He wondered why she had not writ- 
 ten "Lord Caraven," or hiq initials. As he returned 
 the tablets to her their eyes me' in a long, lingering 
 glance. Suddenly she turned from him with her face 
 on fire, and Lord Caraven, with a strange sensation at 
 his heart, began talking to Lady Hamilton. 
 
352 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "This is my waltz," said Lord Caraven, shortly af- 
 terward, as he came up to his wife. 
 
 She did not raise her eyes to his — she was afraid to 
 do so. What if they should tell him her secret? What 
 if he should read love for himself shining in their 
 depths? 
 
 The earl half smiled, half sighed, at the piquant 
 strangeness of the situation. This noble woman, to the 
 knowledge of whose beauty he had suddenly awoke, 
 was his own wife. They had spent much time to- 
 gether, both sung and worked together, yet he never 
 remembered to have embraced her; now his arm was 
 round the supple, graceful figure — the lovely face was 
 close to his own. He saw before him the whole time, 
 standing out clear and distinct from the others, the 
 two words, "my husband. " 
 
 Lord Darners had told him that he was a subject of 
 envy. The past had all been a sorry mistake. How 
 beautifully this neglected, unloved wife of his danced! 
 It was the very poetry of motion. But — how strange 
 it was - she never looked at him; she did not talk or 
 laugh; she seemed rather to avoid him, as it were. 
 
 "She does not like me," thought the earl; "and she 
 has no little reason." He was frank enough to own 
 that. The dance ended, he led his wife to a seat, an/ 
 then left her with a bow. 
 
 She was never quite the same again. As it needs but 
 a small match to fire a train of gunpowder, so it need- 
 ed but a little to awaken her love into keen, quick, 
 passionate life. That one dance with him had done it 
 She loved him with her whole heart, and the sudden 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 353 
 
 ness with which that conviction flashed over her be- 
 wildered her. She sat quite still, the soft, sweet mu- 
 sic, the ripple of the little fountain, the subdued mur- 
 mur, all mingling in her ears — flowers, lights, jewels, 
 fair faces, all dazzling her eyes — and she said to her- 
 self:— 
 
 "I love my husband." 
 
 The whole world seemed changed to her. Shyly, 
 timidly, she looked at him. He was talking to a group 
 of ladies, his handsome face all animation, his tall, 
 well-built figure all grace. He was a man to be proud 
 of — a man to love. But he must never know about this 
 love of hers — this newly-found, precious treasure. He 
 despised her for her want of noble birth; she must 
 keep her love as secret as the grave. 
 
 That increased the distance between them. She 
 was so fearful that he should discover her secret, so 
 fearful that he should think her unwomanly, so afraid 
 that he should imagine she wanted his love, that she 
 took refuge in cold, shy, proud avoidance. There were 
 no more rides or drives to see the buildings and the 
 improvements; there was no more quiet letter- writing 
 in the library, When Lord Caraven wanted Hildred 
 she had some gentle, ready excuse, and with a house 
 full of visitors it was difficult to determine whether 
 those excuses were genuine or not. But from the 
 night of the ball everything was altered between them; 
 Hildred was no longer the devoted, unselfish wife 
 who studied him and his interests above everything 
 else; she was the proud, passionate, tender woman, who 
 would rather have died than let him know that she 
 ioved him in spite of his neglect. 
 
354 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 In consequence of this, the earl was thrown more 
 and more into the society of Lady Hamilton. His 
 wife declined to ride with him; Lady Hamilton assured 
 him that she could live in the open air. His wife had 
 no time to discuss his letters; Lady Hamilton assured 
 him that there was nothing she liked better than over- 
 looking another person's correspondence. His wife 
 never asked him to sing; Lady Hamilton did so, and 
 sat listening, and looking unutterable things. Lady 
 Caraven's shyness was her opportunity. Not that she 
 for a moment intended to make any mischief between 
 husband and wife, or that she was in love with Lord 
 Caraven; but she acted as she did simply because it 
 was her practice to absorb the attention and engross 
 the interest of every man who came within the sphere 
 of her attractions. The deeper nature of the nobler 
 woman did not recognize this. The young countess 
 hid her love -as she had hidden her jealousy; but it 
 was hard to bear. 
 
 One trait more than any other convinced her that 
 she was jealous of Lady Hamilton. She had until 
 now been quite indifferent; all the world might know 
 the terms on which she and her husband lived; she 
 had not cared in the least But now she grew morbidly 
 anxious that this golden-haired beauty should never 
 know them. She could not tell why, but she would 
 fain have made Lady Hamilton believe that she was 
 happy, that her husband loved her, that they were 
 united and agreed as other husbands and wives. She 
 tormented herself by wondering what Lady Hamilton 
 would say if she knew the true state of the case; how 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 355 
 
 the sunny blue eyes would gleam with laughter, how 
 the fair face would flash with scorn! Lady Caraven 
 said to herself that she would suffer death rather than 
 permit the story of her unhappy married life to be 
 known to her rival. Whenever she saw her husband 
 talking to Lady Hamilton she wondered if she herself 
 were the topic of conversation. Instinctively the two 
 ladies were rivals, they hardly knew why; instinctively 
 one developed a dislike of the other. 
 
 There was no one to warn the beautiful young count- 
 ess that she was yielding to a terrible fault that would 
 bring with it a terrible punishment. Sir Raoul was 
 not well; the old wound pained him terribly, and there 
 were days together when he could not leave his room; 
 so that Hildred was left to the pain of her love and 
 sorrow. 
 
 Anything rather than that her husband should find 
 out her secret. How he would laugh at her! The 
 money-lender's daughter to love the earl — the neglect- 
 ed wife to give her heart, all unasked, all unsought for, 
 to her husband! She felt that she could not survive 
 the sneer. He should not know it. He might think 
 her capricious; he should think her anything but infat- 
 uated with himself. He said to her one morning, 
 laughingly: 
 
 "Hildred, the days of our pleasant meetings seem 
 to be passed." 
 
 She made him some evasive answer and quitted the 
 room. He looked thoughtfully after her. What had 
 come over his wife? Had she grown tired of her devo- 
 t'osi to him, or was it that her time was fully occupied 
 
356 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 with visitors? It was not a matter of much moment 
 to him; he did not spend much time in thinking about 
 her; but her manner slightly puzzled him. 
 
 No one else saw anything strange in her. Sir Raoul, 
 who would have read her thoughts like an open book, 
 was not present. To the others Lady Caraven was 
 simply a calm, well-bred, graceful hostess. No one 
 guessed what a storm of anger and love, of jealousy 
 and pain, warred under the calm exterior. The love 
 would have been easy to bear if the jealousy had not 
 been there to poison it. 
 
 There was no real cause for it. Lady Hamilton in- 
 tended some day or other to make a grand coup — to 
 marry one of the wealthiest and noblest of her admirers. 
 She was not one of those who would consider the world 
 well lost for love. As for falling in love with a mar- 
 ried man, she would never have dreamed of such a 
 thing — not merely because it was wrong, but from the 
 simple fact that it was a waste of time. But the young 
 countess did not think of these things. The fever in- 
 creased in her veins — the fire in her heart. Her whole 
 life became a dream of watching and pain. 
 
 He did not love her — he never would, she repeated 
 over and over again. Could it be that he would love 
 her fair-haired rival — the blonde beauty? If he did, 
 what then? She was powerless to help herself. She 
 said to herself: 
 
 "There is no hope now." 
 
 In her dreams it had occurred to her that she might 
 win him in time. Now she felt that hope was ended. 
 And the young Countess of Caraven— talented, clever, 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 357 
 
 gifted with some of life's greatest gifts — cried out 
 that her pain and her sorrow were more than she 
 could bear. 
 
 Why had she learned to love him? All had been 
 well until then — his neglect had not pained her, his 
 want of love had not tortured her. She had not cared 
 in the least who knew her story or who did not. 
 Now all that had gone. With the sweet, subtle love 
 that had entered her soul — she hardly knew how — had 
 come a whole host of evils and sorrows. 
 
 It was hard to go about her daily tasks — to smile, 
 to talk, to look as though no sorrow engrossed her — 
 but Hildred did it. Her husband found out, too, quite 
 by accident, that she rose early every morning in or- 
 der that she might go on with the work she had begun. 
 Her letters, the plans, the wants of the tenants, were 
 all attended to before the real household day began. 
 He was pleased when he found it out; it was part of 
 her noble character to be true to her purposes; but he 
 never dreamed that love for him drove sleep from her 
 eyes, as it had already driven peace from her heart — 
 v he would never have believed it. 
 
 So they went on through the bright autumn days, 
 playing at cross-purposes, each believing simply and 
 implicitly in the dislike of the other. With the days 
 her love grew greater. There was indeed something 
 most loving in the earl now. While she shunned and 
 avoided him, she would have given the whole world 
 for one kindly word, for one loving glance from him. 
 She watched him with dim, passionate eyes. 
 
 At the sound of his footsteps her heart throbbed, 
 
358 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 and her pulse quickened at the sound of his voice. 
 Her whole heart went out to him. He was. her hus- 
 band, and she loved him with a wonderful love al- 
 though she showed none of it. 
 
 With her keen, passionate love grew her jealousy. 
 It was not in Lady Hamilton's nature to pass by the 
 admiration of a man like the handsome earl. He must 
 admire her. Had he not done so spontaneously, she 
 would have won it from him. All homage was accept-' 
 able to her— his particularly so, because he was a 
 handsome man, and because he had a beautiful, dark- 
 eyed wife, who never looked quite comfortable when 
 they were talking together — two little incentives which 
 Lady Hamilton profited by, and which afforded amuse- 
 ment to her. What to her was nothing but sheer mis- 
 chief, sheer love of admiration, was death almost to 
 the proud young wife, who counted every smile that 
 her husband gave to her. 
 
 She smiled sadly to herself one day, saying: 
 "Now I know the meaning of the words, 'I have 
 gone mad — I love him — let me die. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 "HILDRED, WERE YOU JEALOUS OF LADY HAMILTON?" 
 
 With an intolerable sense of shame and disgrace, it 
 ©uddenly occurred to Lady Caraven that her lot in life 
 was quite different from other people's. It seemed to 
 pass over her with a sudden, terrible commotion. She 
 had been so occupied before with her efforts as regard- 
 ed her husband, her plans of reform, her schemes for 
 the benefit of others, that she had not given much 
 thought to her own position as a wife whose husband 
 made no pretense of loving her. The knowledge of 
 her real status came to her now with a keen sense of 
 intolerable pain, yet she would have borne its bitterness 
 but for the fear lest the brilliant, beautiful blonde 
 should become as wise as herself. That would have 
 been intolerable. 
 
 What she suffered from the fear of her rival dis- 
 covering her secret none but a sensitive, tender-heart- 
 ed, neglected woman could understand; all the world 
 might know rather than the blue-eyed coquette, who 
 would smile and say to herself: "His wife is not beau- 
 tiful enough to charm him." That would be intol- 
 erable to her. Whenever she saw her husband talking 
 seriously to Lady Hamilton, she imagined that he was 
 telling the story of his unhappy marriage. She watched 
 him incessantly; if he went anywhere with Lady Ham- 
 
 359 
 
360 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOto 
 
 ilton, she not only contrived to be of the party, but 
 also to be near them. She watched their faces anx- 
 iously, to find out from the expression if it were of her 
 they were speaking. Under the pain of this silent, 
 brooding jealousy, the beautiful face grew pale, the 
 dark eyes seemed to lose their light and brightness. 
 
 A trifling circumstance brought Hildred's jealousy 
 to a climax. The earl was going out in a great hurry 
 one morning, when he found that the button of his 
 glove was hanging by a thread. Lady Hamilton, who 
 was engaged on some kind of fancy work, with needle 
 and silk in her hands, sat by. He went to her at once. 
 
 "Lady Hamilton, be kind to me — give this one 
 stitch." 
 
 She laughingly complied; she would not let him re- 
 move the glove. 
 
 "You need not take that trouble," she said; "I can 
 do it as it is." 
 
 With a pale face and darkening eyes the young 
 countess watched the little scene. Why had he gone 
 to her for this small service? Why should she hold 
 her husband's hand, and look with laughing eyes into 
 his face? She could not endure it. She went up to 
 them. 
 
 "I thank you, Lady Hamilton," she said; "I will 
 do that for Lord Caraven." 
 
 Lady Hamilton looked up in amazement, but there 
 was something in the young countess* face which made 
 her yield at once. She drew back coldly. 
 
 "Lord Caraven asked me to do it," she said. 
 
 "In all probability he had forgotten that I was 
 here," she returned, in a high, clear voice. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 The earl, like a prudent man, remained quite silent. 
 He looked at his wife's face as she bent over the glove 
 and he saw something there, that shrewd as he was, 
 puzzled him. Why was she so pale? What was it 
 that shone and gleamed in the dark eyes? Why did 
 the proud lips tremble? What was in her face? He 
 gazed in silent wonder. She had finished. 
 
 "That button will not come off again," she declared. 
 
 "I hopd not," said Lady Hamilton, in a peculiar 
 tone of voice; "and, if it does, do not ask me to help 
 you again, Lord Caraven. " He turned away with a 
 laugh, but the mischief was done; the sight of her 
 guest's golden head bending over her husband's hand 
 had fanned the jealousy of the young wife into a 
 flame — nor did what followed extinguish it. 
 
 The earl had laughed to himself, thinking the oc- 
 currence a pretty bit of by-play. He was smiling still 
 when, an hour afterward, his wife met him. 
 
 "Hildred," he said, in a tone of gay banter, "were 
 you jealous of Lady Hamilton?" 
 
 Then the idea seemed so absurd to him that he 
 laughed aloud. 
 
 To his surprise she grew deadly pale; her lips quiv- 
 ered with emotion. 
 
 "Yes," she replied, bitterly, "I scorn to speak falsely 
 — I was jealous of her. You may think what you like 
 of me." 
 
 Still he would not be serious about it. He said, 
 jestingly: 
 
 "I always thought until now that jealousy pre-sup- 
 posed love 
 
362 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Did you?" questioned his wife, with proud indiffer- 
 ence. "I always thought love pre-supposed perfect 
 trust." 
 
 "You are a good fencer, Hildred, " laughed her hus- 
 band; and he thought no more of' the matter. But 
 she did. It had wanted but that trifling incident to fan 
 her jealousy into a flame. 
 
 How the hours of that day passed she never knew. 
 One picture filled her mind — that of Lady Hamilton's 
 golden head bending over her husband's hand. She 
 could not bear the thought of it. He might not love 
 her, but he should not love anyone else. He should 
 not laugh because she was jealous, he should not ad- 
 mire this fair woman while he so cruelly neglected 
 her. She worked herself into a frenzy of jealous de- 
 spair, yet was outwardly calm and proud as usual. 
 
 The dinner-party at the castle on that day was not 
 a large one; many of the guests had left; Lord and 
 Lady Darners had returned home. Sir Raoul was in 
 his room. Lady Caraven had dressed herself with un- 
 usual care and attention. She wore a beautiful dress 
 of amber satin and black lace which suited her dark 
 brunette loveliness. She wore her favorite suite of ru- 
 bies — rubies that had in them a light like deepest 
 flame. A grandly beautiful woman she looked as she 
 took her seat at the dinner-table. 
 
 During dinner she watched her husband and Lady 
 Hamilton. More than once she saw them laughing 
 and heard them talking merrily. Was it of her? Was 
 the earl telling her that his wife was jealous? And 
 was she laughing because the very cream of the jest 
 was that her husband did not care for her? 
 
l*OM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 363 
 
 Then she grew ashamed of herself. Such suspi- 
 cions were unworthy of her. She tried to banish them, 
 but they were too strong for her. Whenever the gold- 
 en head stirred, whenever the sweet sound of musical 
 laughter came to her, she fancied that she was the 
 subject of the jest, until her jealous pain grew intol- 
 erable and she could bear it no longer. It was a re- 
 lief to her when she could give the signal and the la- 
 dies could withdraw. She wanted to be alone to think. 
 
 For the convenience of one of the guests who 
 was leaving they had dined a little earlier than usual. 
 When the- ladies reached the drawing-room, the room 
 was filled with ruddy light from the sun setting in the 
 western sky. It would be cruel, they said, to spend 
 such a warm, lovely evening indoors. The gentlemen, 
 thinking the same thing, had hurried from their wine, 
 saying that it would be a pity to lose the last gleam 
 of sunlight. 
 
 "Let us gather the roses while we may," sang Lord 
 Caraven, in his rich, ringing tenor. 
 
 But before they went out someone prayed the earl 
 to sing one song. 
 
 "I will sing a duet," he said, "if J Lady Hamilton 
 will help me." 
 
 It was useless, he thought, appealing to his wife. 
 The last time he had asked her to sing with him she 
 had refused. 
 
 Lady Hamilton was only too pleased. She went to 
 the piano, and very soon the two beautiful voices 
 seemed to fill the room — Lady Hamilton's clear and 
 sweet, the earl's rich and musical — while the young 
 
364 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 countess watched them with longing, pitiful eyes. 
 They were singing about love, love that would never 
 die, love that was immortal. 
 
 More than once the unhappy young wife saw the 
 widow look at her husband; more than once there 
 came to her a wild impulse, a longing to strike the 
 fair face. When the song was over it was time to go 
 and watch the sunset. Hildred saw that her husband 
 did not leave Lady Hamilton's side. He remained 
 near her, saying: 
 
 "We will watch the sun set over the lake. It is one 
 of the prettiest sights of Ravensmere. " 
 
 She did not hear Lady Hamilton's answer; it was 
 given with smiling lips and laughing eyes. Was it her 
 morbid fancy, or did she really hear her husband say, 
 "Yes, and I will tell you the story of my marriage?" 
 
 She did not wait to ask herself if it were mere fan- 
 cy. She believed that she had heard it, and the idea 
 of it drove her almost mad. They were going to watch 
 the sun fade among the flowers, and the earl would 
 meanwhile entertain his companion with the story of 
 his marriage — how he had to wed the money-lender's 
 daughter, or else lose Ravensmere, but how he had 
 avenged himself by neglecting her. Hildred's heart 
 and brain were on fire. The husband she loved despite 
 his neglect and the rival whom she had disliked were 
 going to laugh over her together. An idea suddenly 
 occurred to the unhappy wife — they should not do this, 
 they should not laugh at her; her love and her jeal- 
 ousy should not be sport for them. She would follow 
 them unpercei^ed, and then, when they began to laugh 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 365 
 
 over her story, she would confront them, and dare 
 them to amuse themselves with her anguish. All the 
 pride of her nature was aroused. She would suffer 
 death rather than be laughed at by her husband and 
 her rival. 
 
 She was bewildered — not herself. 
 
 She had never been herself from the moment in 
 which she recognized the fact that she loved her hus- 
 band with all the strength and passion of her nature. 
 She was bewildered by the pain of her love and the 
 smart of her jealousy. The only idea quite clear to 
 her mind was that her husband and his guest should 
 not laugh at her. 
 
 When the idea of going out had first been men- 
 tioned, she had sent for a scarf, and it lay upon a 
 couch now, a glittering mass of silvery gauze. She 
 saw her husband take it up. 
 
 "Whose is this?" he asked; and no one answered. 
 "It is very pretty," he added; "and, if it has no owner, 
 you shall have it, Lady Hamilton." 
 
 The young countess did not step forward to claim 
 it: she saw her husband throw it over the pearly 
 shoulders and the white neck, and Lady Hamilton 
 look up at him with a coquettish laugh. 
 
 "Evidently," she said, "you are quite ignorant of the 
 tashion in which ladies now wear scarfs. Our great- 
 grandmothers drew them tightly stretched across the 
 shoulders — we like them in this fashion." 
 
 Raising her arm, she wound the silvery gauze round 
 her head and neck and arms, shading the bright face, 
 ana making her look so piquantly beautiful that Lord 
 Caraven cried out in admiration. 
 
366 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "That is capital/' he said — "ladies always know 
 what is picturesque." 
 
 The young countess saw them " quit the room to- 
 gether. She resolved upon following them. She heard 
 her husband say, laughingly, to his companion: 
 
 "We will go straight to the lake — I want you to 
 watch the sunset there." 
 
 Lady Caraven delayed only a few moments — it was 
 to go to he'r room for a large dark shawl that should 
 hide her — hide the amber satin and rich black lace — 
 hide her face and head, so that anyone meeting her 
 should quite fail to recognize her. "Creeping along 
 in the dark, who will know me? Or, if they know me, 
 who will care for me?" she said to herself. 
 
 When she reached her room she found a message 
 there from Sir Raoul, asking if she would go to his 
 apartments for a short time. She said to herself "No;" 
 with her heart and soul in a ferment, she could not 
 talk to Sir Raoul. She had a dim idea that what she 
 was about to do was wrong, undignified, ungenerous. 
 She could not have persevered in her purpose had she 
 looked but once in the calm, noble face of the man who 
 wanted her to be a heroine. 
 
 "Tell Sir Raoul that I am engaged just at present, 
 but that I will see him later on in the evening," she 
 said. 
 
 She sent him some books and flowers — she did not 
 go to him. 
 
 "Later on in the evening. " 
 
 She had said the words quite thoughtlessly; they 
 returned to her afterward with keen pain. She was 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 367 
 
 reckless as to what followed; as to whether her hus- 
 band would be angry or not she was indifferent. The 
 only thing was that she had resolved upon preventing 
 her husband and her rival from jesting about her; 
 that should never be. 
 
 She went round by the postern door, and in the dis- 
 tance she caught a glimpse of the white dress and the 
 silver veil. It was a most peculiar night. At any 
 other time she would have been lost in wonder and 
 delight — now she took no heed. The earth seemed to 
 be growing dark while the light lingered in the sky; 
 masses of crimson clouds, edged with purple and gold, 
 appeared to be making a bed for the sun to lie on; the 
 roseate light seemed to linger; among the trees and 
 flowers silence reigned unbroken; in the far distance 
 the waters of the lake shone like crimson and gold. It 
 was one of those nights when the darkness seems to 
 come on in a few minutes — when it descends swiftly 
 and suddenly, as though the sky were falling and cov- 
 ering the earth. There was such deep silence among 
 the trees as she went gently along that it seemed to' 
 Hildred's excited fancy as though this were a mystical 
 night holding strange secrets and strange meaning. 
 
 To think that her husband did not recognize that 
 silver veil as hers! She had worn it ever since she 
 had been at Ravensmere; there was not a servant about 
 the place who would not have recognized it in a min- 
 ute; whereas her husband did not even know to whom 
 it belonged. 
 
 "That proves what little notice be has bestowed on 
 me/' she thought bitterly. 
 
368 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 The grounds of Ravensmere were so well wooded 
 that behind the safe shelter of the tall trees she could 
 walk quite unseen by the earl and his companion. The 
 sweet southern wind that scarcely stirred the leaves 
 brought to her from time to time chance words, but 
 none qf them were of her. She did not want to listen 
 to their conversation; she only wished to prevent the 
 story of her marriage from being told. Sometimes the 
 low, muscial laughter of Lady Hamilton reached her, 
 and then the rich ring of her husband's voice would 
 sound cheerily in the gathering gloom; and all 
 the time she, his wife, was slowly threading her way 
 after him, like the shadow of fate. 
 
 There had not been one word of her yet — the conver* 
 sation had all been about people they had known 
 years before; and now they stood on the borders of the 
 lake, where the crimson waters, to the dazed mind of 
 the young countess, looked like blood. She shud- 
 dered as the idea occurred to her. Some of the crim- 
 son glow fell on the white dress and on the silken veil. . 
 She saw Lady Hamilton hold out her little white 
 hand, and cry, gleefully: 
 
 "Look, Lord Caraven — my hand is dyed red!" 
 
 They had not spoken of her. The red sun was 
 fast descending. 
 
 "This is what I wish you to see," said the earl. 
 "The moment in which the sun seems to touch the 
 water, a red gleam passes through it, then the next 
 moment it is quite dark." 
 
 They watched in silence, while the dark figure stood 
 motionless and still behind them, The sun, as it set, 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 369 
 
 seemed to touch the outer edge of the lake; a red 
 gleam came over it, beautiful _and curious, and then, 
 almost at once, it was dark. 
 
 "We will go home by the coppice, ' said Lord Cara- 
 ven; and his wife remembered that the long avenue 
 of trees extended to the very gate. She could there- 
 fore walk almost side by side with them, yet quite un- 
 seen. 
 
 They had not mentioned her name. Could she have 
 been wrong in her suspicion? Had she mistaken her 
 husband's words? 
 
 They were standing at the edge of the lake — a cold 
 dark sheet of water now — and she established herself 
 behind a group of alder-trees. It seemed to her that 
 the silver veil on the fair woman's head and shoulders 
 absorbed all the light there was. Presently she drew 
 near. Another group of trees separated her from the two 
 who were so unconscious. of her presence — large trees 
 with swaying branches; through them the night-wind 
 brought every word to her. They talked only of the 
 light on the water, and the sudden darkness there — of 
 someone who had known and loved Lady Hamilton 
 before her marriage. She laughed coquettishly over 
 it. 
 
 How long was that nonsense to last, the unhappy 
 young wife asked herself. How long was she to stand 
 under the darkening evening skies, with the great al- 
 der-branches swaying to and fro, the soughing of the 
 wind in her ears, the fire of love, the madness of jeal- 
 ousy raging in her heart — how long? It was almost 
 unbearable. She felt "inclined to cry out that it must 
 
370 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 end. She clinched her fingers, she bit her lip; then 
 suddenly she heard the sound of her name, her maiden 
 name, "Hildred Ransome!" What were chey saying? 
 Was the earl telling how he had been compelled to 
 encumber himself with a wife he did not love? Was 
 he saying that, although he did not love her and they 
 were strangers to each other, she car^d tor him? Was 
 he laughing because she had owned ihat she was jeal- 
 ous of him? 
 
 "I cannot bear it!" she thought. 
 
 The next moment there was a sound of a shot- 
 something seemed to rattle through the alder-branches 
 — there was a low cry, a startled exclamation. 
 
 "There are poachers in the wood, "she thought; "he 
 will go in search of them, and then he will find me!" 
 
 She turned to fly; now that there was the danger of 
 being caught she seemed to wake to a full conscious- 
 ness of what she was doing; the bare fact that she 
 was listening seemed to come to her ar it had never 
 done before. She turned to fly; not for anything that 
 could be given would she be caught there. She wanted 
 to hasten, but she could not; it was as though great 
 weights of lead were fastened to her feet. Her brain 
 was dizzy; the unusual excitement, the frenzy of love 
 and jealousy, had been too much for her; her tall, 
 graceful figure swayed for a minute like a leaf in the 
 wind, a low moan came from her lips, and then, as in 
 a dream, the white, angry face of her husband was 
 looking into hers, and he had grasped her ana in a 
 hard, cruel grasp. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 "speaking to vou across a grave where my love lies 
 
 — SLAIN I w 
 
 Near the lake, across which the last red glimmer of 
 the sunset had faded, husband and wife stood for one 
 moment beneath the darkening sky, looking at each 
 other. Lord Caravels face was ghastly white, and 
 unknown, untold horror lay in his eyes, his lips trem-. 
 bled with uncontrollable emotion; Hildred — pale, ter- 
 rified, wondering — gazed at him like one fascinated. 
 
 "What is it?" she gasped. 
 
 "You guilty woman," cried the earl — M you cruel, 
 guilty, jealous woman!" 
 
 She shrank back as though he had struck her — her 
 lips parted as though she would speak, but all sound 
 died away on them. 
 
 "You guilty woman," repeated the earl, "own the 
 truth! You followed Lady Hamilton and me here to 
 watch, to listen. Speak!" 
 
 "May heaven pardon me, I did!" she moaned. 
 
 "Here you must remain. I shall know where to 
 find you, crouching at the end of the alder-trees, where 
 you hid yourself to listen to your husband and his 
 guest. Great heaven! that a spy should bear my 
 name! Stay here until I return. If you attempt to 
 escape I will send the whole county after you. And 
 
 371 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 I was beginning to care for you — to think you a no- 
 ble woman!" 
 
 She shrank cowering from him. His angry face, the 
 anger that shone in his eyes, the stern voice, frightened 
 her. She shrank lower and lower, until she fell on 
 her knees, sobbing as though her heart would break. 
 
 ''Stir at your peril!" he said, and then he left her. 
 
 For some minutes afterward she heard sounds on 
 the borders of the lake — murmured sounds, as of in- 
 tense pity and compassion, followed* by the tramp of 
 many footsteps, and then all was still. 
 
 The ground was covered with dead and dying leaves. 
 Lady Caraven flung herself down upon them, and as 
 she lay there the old words came to her: "Let me 
 die!" Death would have been mercy. 
 
 What did it all mean? She had forgotten all about 
 the shot she believed the poachers to have fired in 
 the woods — it had not dwelt for one moment in her 
 mind. She was in a maze of doubt, difficulty and de- 
 spair, 
 
 What did he mean? If she attempted to escape he 
 would send the whole county after her. Surely she 
 had not merited such threats. Surely she had not de- 
 served language that he might have used toward a mur- 
 derer, but which came strangely enough to his wife. 
 He had discovered that she loved him, that she was 
 jealous, that she had followed him for the sake of 
 watching and listening to him ; but surely that was 
 not enough to call out the whole county to pursue her. 
 
 He had called her guilty. She had owned that she 
 was. Ah! dear heaven, if she had but died when a 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 373 
 
 child in her mother's arms! He had called her cruel; 
 that she was not, for she would never have voluntarily 
 hurt even a worm. Why was she to remain there — 
 to move at her peril? What did it mean? 
 
 The golden stars came out in the sky. Was it really 
 herself, or was she dreaming? Was she Hildred, the 
 beautiful, popular Countess of Caraven, lying there 
 in all the abandonment of her misery, her husband's 
 angry voice in her ears, the marks of his angry grasp 
 on her arm? Offcast, wretched, despairing, there 
 was only one friend for her in the world, and that was 
 Sir Raoul; if she could but see him, if she could but 
 tell him! The pitiless night hid her from all eyes. 
 Surely there had never been a night so full of pain. 
 
 How long she had been lying there she never knew. 
 Time was all ended for her. She was conscious only 
 of infinite misery. She did not even feel the chill 
 breath of the wind as it passed o^er her. 
 
 Then, after what seemed to her an age of suspense 
 and agony, she heard footsteps amid the brushwood, 
 and Lord Caraven calling hsr by name. 
 
 "I am here," she said. 
 
 In the thick growing darkness it was with difficulty 
 that he discovered her. He saw her at length with 
 her face hidden among the dead leaves. 
 
 "You may rise and thank heaven," he said, in a 
 stern voice, "that you have not succeeded; the evil is 
 not so great as it might have been." 
 
 She rose and stood before him, the same dazed look 
 on her face. 
 
 "I do not understand — you say such hard, such crurl 
 things," she moaned. 
 
374 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Hard and cruel," repeated her husband, with bitter 
 contempt; "did ever a woman live so cruel as you?" 
 
 "I am not cruel," she replied. "I have been driven 
 mad." 
 
 There was such infinite sadness in the young voice, 
 such dreary despair in the young face, that he was 
 touched in spite of his anger and contempt. 
 
 "Tell me," he said, "what made you do this thing 
 — this cruel, ungenerous, unwomanly deed?" 
 
 She thought he referred to her conduct in following 
 him, and they seemed to her hard words. 
 
 "What made me do it? You will only despise and 
 hate me the more if I tell you," she replied. 
 
 "Frankly speaking, Hildred, nothing that you can 
 say to me will make the matter worse, but it may cer- 
 tainly be made better. Tell me the plain truth." 
 
 "Yes, I will tell you," she replied. "I see that all 
 good understanding i$ at an end between us. " 
 
 "That is quite certain," he said, with emphasis; 
 "with my consent you shall never enter my doors 
 again. " 
 
 "Have I acted so very wrong?" she asked sadly. 
 
 "Wrong!" he exclaimed, contemptuously. "We will 
 waive that, Hildred. You have done that which I can 
 never pardon. Now tell me why you did it. You may 
 speak the truth to me; you bear my name, I will 
 shield you from all harm. No one knows but myself." 
 
 "Then she did not see me?" said Hildred, drearily. 
 
 "No — and you may be thankful for it," answered 
 the earl, severely. "She did not see you. You may 
 speak quite frankly — no one knows anything about i{ 
 except myself. Now tell me«" 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 375 
 
 "What have I to tell you?" she said. "I did it; I 
 followed you here because — oh, how hard it is to tell! 
 — because I was jealous of her. I thought that you 
 both were ridiculing me, that you would tell her that 
 you had been obliged to marry me to save yourself 
 from ruin, but that you did not love me, you did not 
 care for me, you disliked me, you hated me, you 
 longed to be free from me — my accursed money was all 
 you wanted — that you would never like me. And I 
 fancied she would pity you, in that soft, caressing voice 
 of hers — pity you for being burdened with a wife you 
 did not love. I believed that you would tell her that 
 I was jealous of her, that then both of you would 
 laugh at me. " 
 
 The passion of her words had deadened all sense of 
 shame. She had forgotten that which her jealousy had 
 prompted her to do, and remembered her great, bitter 
 wrongs. She was no longer a heroine — only a passion- 
 ate, injured, deeply-loving woman. She rose to the 
 occasion. 
 
 The earl was impressed more than he would have 
 cared to own. 
 
 *I could not bear it," she continued, passionately. 
 "I should have done worse than this, I am sure, 
 if it could have been done. I was mad. I will tell 
 you all. I was mad, because I had learned to love 
 you with all the strength of my heart and soul. I could 
 not bear that you should jest about me with careless 
 words; it was as though you had stabbed me for pleas- 
 ure. M 
 
 "You love me?" he interrogated, incredulously. 
 
376 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 The dark shawl fell from her, and she stooi erect 
 before him in all the dignity of her pale, passionate 
 beauty. Her amber dress and her rubies gleamed in 
 the starlight; the queenly head was held aloft; she no 
 longer pleaded and wept; the memory of her passion- 
 ate love and her bitter wrongs filled her with angry 
 pride. 
 
 "Yes, I love you," she continued, proudly. "Whose 
 is the sin? Is it mine because I, your wife, have to 
 tell you this, and you feel surprised? I love you; ana 
 now that I have to leave you, I tell you that woman 
 never loved man, wife never loved husband more 
 dearly, more deeply, more devotedly, than I love you. 
 I would have devoted my life to you; I would have 
 died for you; every beat of my heart, every thought 
 of my mind, every action was for you. I love you as 
 Elaine loved the knight of old when she said: 
 
 "'I have gone mad — I love you — let me dieI ,M 
 
 She drew nearer to him. 
 
 "I love you as no one else ever will — as no woman 
 has ever loved you; partly because I could not help 
 loving you and partly because I have helped to awaken 
 the better nature within you. You may live many 
 years, happy, flattered, but no love like mine will ever 
 reach you; the wife you are sending from you is the 
 dearest and truest friend you have." 
 
 He looked terribly distressed. 
 
 "Why did you not tell me this before, Hildred?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "I tell you? How little you know me! Was it my 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 377 
 
 place to go to the husband who neglected me and 
 plead for his caresses — for his love? I would have died 
 a thousand deaths first. How little you know me! I 
 should not tell you all this now, but that I know in 
 this world we shall never perhaps meet again. I am 
 speaking to you across a grave. I stretch out my hands 
 to you over a grave — the grave where my love lies — 
 slain!" 
 
 And as she said the words she fell upon her knees, 
 weeping, sobbing with bitter cries, as though a grave 
 lay there, and she had fallen upon it. 
 
 He was touched. He could not tolerate what he 
 believed to be her crime, but she was young, beauti- 
 ful, and loving. Her crime had been committed 
 through love for him. He raised her from the ground. 
 
 "I am very sorry, HiJdred, " he said; "it is very sad 
 for both of us. Now we must talk of something else. 
 You must go at once." 
 
 She raised her weeping eyes td him. 
 
 "Must you send me away?" she asked, gently. "It 
 was wrong, I was mad with jealous anger, but I did 
 not think I was. Could you overlook it?" 
 
 "You speak lightly," he replied, sternly. "No, you 
 can never re-enter my house. I have arranged it all. 
 I did so when I took poor Lady Hamilton back to the 
 castle. I told our guests that you had been suddenly 
 sent for by your father, that I had driven 3'ou to the 
 station — and it is to your father's house that you must 
 go-" 
 
 "Very well," she said, drearily. 
 
 "You do not seem to understand," he remarked. 
 
378 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 sharply; M do you not know the danger, the peril that 
 
 hangs over you?" 
 
 She did not; but of what use was it to say so? 
 
 "Try to collect yourself and understand," he con- 
 tinued; "time presses. I cannot keep them away 
 much longer. You must depart at once without being 
 seen. No one must know at what hour you went. You 
 must go to your father's house and wait there. If it 
 should be needful to send you abroad, I will arrange 
 it." 
 
 "Have I done so very wrong?" she murmured. 
 The earl cried out passionately: 
 
 "Heaven give me patience! You must be mad to 
 ask me such a question. One would think you did 
 not know what wrong meant." 
 
 Hildred stood quite still, looking almost helplessly 
 at him. 
 
 "You do not seem to realize or to know what you 
 have done," he said, hastily. - 
 
 "I do, I do," she moaned; "and there will be no 
 pardon. I wish that I might fling myself into that 
 lake. I would, but that there is a life to come." 
 
 "Hildred," said the earl, sternly, "listen to me. I 
 have told you that you must never re-enter my doors; 
 but you bear my name, and for my name's sake I will 
 shield you. The Countess of Caraven may have done 
 wrong, but the world must not know it. I must save 
 you from the consequences of your mad folly. See — I 
 went quietly to your rooms and have brought you 
 these." He gave her a cloak and a bonnet with a 
 thick veil. "I found them in your wardrobe. Have 
 you any money?" 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 379 
 
 "No," she replied, vacantly, "none." 
 
 He took out his purse and gave it to her. 
 
 "I would accompany you," he said, "but that it 
 would draw down suspicion on you. I must be here 
 to ward it off. Wrap yourself in this cloak. Hide all 
 that amber satin." 
 
 With cold, trembling hands she obeyed him. Sud- 
 denly she remembered the rubies. She unclasped the 
 necklace and bracelets. 
 
 "Take these," she said; and the earl took them — 
 it was better, he thought, to humor her. 
 
 "Now you quite understand, Hildred? You must not 
 go near Court Raven — you are known there. You must 
 walk to Worseley; that is a larger station; no one 
 will know you. Take a ticket for London. When you 
 reach there, hail a cab and go straight to your father's 
 house. Are you quite sure that you understand?" 
 
 "Yes; what must I say to my father?" she asked. 
 
 "You had better tell him the truth. He is a quick, 
 keen man of the world; he will know far better than 
 I do what should be done. Tell him all." 
 
 "Yes," she replied, mechanically. % * 
 
 "Now hasten away from here, Hildred," he said. "I 
 am in mortal fear. You understand all. You know 
 the road to Worseley — it is direct — you take the high- 
 road without turning. Good-bye." 
 
 She raised her dark, sad eyes to his face; all the 
 love, the passion, the regret, that she could not put 
 into words, was revealed in them. 
 
 "Good-bye," she repeated. 
 
 He did not hold out his hand to her. Had he been 
 
38o 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 speaking to the merest stranger, his voice could not 
 have been colder or more stern. Then he turned quick- 
 ly away, and Lady Caraven walked across the coppice 
 and through a lane into the high-road. She walked 
 quite mechanically. She had to go to Worseley, 
 to take a train for London, and then go to her father's 
 house. She repeated the words over and over again 
 to herself, like a child who dreads forgetting a lesson. 
 Her face was deadly pale; her limbs trembled with 
 cold. The golden stars shone down upon her; the 
 night-winds whispered round her. She walked on, 
 unconscious of it all. 
 
 It was the early dawn of morning when she reached 
 the station — a large railroad junction, where she was 
 both unknown and unnoticed. The train started for 
 London in half an hour. No one spoke to her or ap- 
 peared to see her, as she took her place, and in a few 
 minutes more she was on her way. 
 
 It was a hard punishment — terribly hard for such a 
 trifle, she thought, wondering that the earl could be 
 so stern. She was tired, fatigued, exhausted with 
 passion and emotion. She had neither eaten, drank, 
 nor slept since the evening before. When she reached 
 London she asked a porter to call a cab for her, and 
 gave the address: "Mr. Ransome, the Hollies, Kew," 
 — and the drive thither seemed to her more than ever 
 like a dream. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 M YOU SHOT LADY HAMILTON" 
 
 Arley Ransome had not worked quite so hard of late; 
 there was but little need. He had achieved the height 
 of his ambition; he had a large fortune; he was able 
 to speak of his daughter, the Countess of Caraven; 
 he could claim kinsmanship through his daughter 
 with some of the noblest families in England. There 
 was no need now to work quite so hard; he could linger 
 over his daintily-spread breakfast-table and read his 
 papers at his leisure, content if he reached the city 
 before noon. On this morning he had seated himself so 
 as to enjoy three things at once — the beautiful view of 
 the river from his window, the blight fire in the grate 
 and the recherche little breakfast that had been served 
 up to him. It was a sudden shock to him when, on 
 hearing a sound, he raised his eyes to the door, and 
 saw there a pale, beautiful woman, who stood wring- 
 ing her hands. 
 
 "Father," she said, "I am come home." 
 
 In utter amazement he started from his seat. His 
 daughter, his beautiful Hildred, the Countess of 
 Caraven, pale as death, wrapped in a dark traveling- 
 cloak! What could it mean? 
 
 I — I am very glad to see you, my dear," he said; 
 but he had a horrible foreboding that something ter- 
 
 381 
 
382 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 rible had occurred, and that the days of his greatness 
 had vanished. "Come in, pray come in, my dear — do 
 not stand there. How strange you look! Where is 
 Caraven? Dear, dear, how odd it is! Come in, Hil- 
 dred — the servants will think it strange to see you 
 standing there." 
 
 She entered the room and walked up to him with 
 haughty mien. 
 
 "This is the end of my marriage, father, " she said, 
 calmly — "the marriage that you told me could be hap- 
 py without love. This is the end of it, and I am come 
 home. " 
 
 "Sit down, my dear, sit down; there is nothing so 
 horrible as a scene, and this looks like one. Take off 
 your cloak and your bonnet. What a strange head- 
 dress!" 
 
 She unfastened the thick traveling-cloak, and there 
 in picturesque disarray was the rich evening dress of 
 amber and black, with a faded crimson flower clinging 
 to it. The lawyer looked on in utter dismay. This 
 disregard for dress and appearances spoke more for- 
 cibly than anything else could have done — told more 
 plainly than words that something dreadful had hap- 
 pened. 
 
 "Evening toilet, Hildred! Pray, my dear, put on 
 your cloak again. I do not know — I was not prepared 
 — (put it on quickly, before any of the servants com 
 in. What is it, Hildred— what is the matter?" 
 
 " Not much, father," she replied, drearily; "my mar- 
 riage has not turned out well, and I am come home, 
 you see." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 383 
 
 "But that is nonsense — you cannot come home. 
 What is the matter? Tell me," and the lawyer, 
 with a very resigned expression of face, put away 
 his pate de foi gras and folded his hands to listen to 
 his daughter's story. 
 
 "You have not quarreled with the earl, I hope — thar 
 is, you have not left him?" 
 
 "He has sent me away," she replied, and Arley Ran- 
 some's face grew very dark, 
 
 "There is not much to tell," she continued, wearily. 
 "You misled me — you told me that marriage could be 
 happy without love. I find that love is the soul of 
 it, that without love marriage is like a dead body. I, 
 being the weaker and inferior, was the first to learn to 
 love. I learned to love my husband — he has never 
 cared for me." 
 
 "You are too sentimental, Hildred," said Arley Ran- 
 some, severely. 
 
 "I have been doing my best for my husband," she 
 continued, "and we were growing happier. In-time 
 I think that he would have loved me; but someone 
 else, a fair woman— one of the kind of women that he 
 admires — Lady Hamilton, came, and — " 
 
 r, I see,' 1 said the lawyer — "the old story, jealousy 
 and quarreling. Surely, Hildred, you have not thrown 
 away the labor of a lifetime by growing jealous and 
 vexing the earl?" 
 
 "I have done worse than that," she said— "far 
 worse. I was jealous of Lady Hamilton. I thought 
 that both she and my husband were deriding me. I 
 followed them when they wei)t out; to see the sun set 
 
384 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 over the lake. I hid myself behind the alder-trees to 
 
 listen if they said anything about me; and then— I 
 cannot tell how it happened — my husband saw me. 
 He was very angry; he said that I was never to enter 
 Uis doors again, but to return home at once to you." 
 The lawyer's face cleared. 
 
 "You are quite sure that you have told me the whole 
 truth?" he said. 
 
 "Yes, quite sure. What should 1 keep from you? 
 It seems a very hard punishment for what was merely 
 a fault rather of judgment than anything else. I told 
 the earl that I loved him, and that jealousy had driven 
 me mad." 
 
 "You told him that? Then rely upon it, in a few 
 days all will be well. He will forget his anger, and 
 come to you." 
 
 "I do not think so," she returned. 
 
 "You are quite sure, Hildred, that you have hidden 
 nothing from me?" he interrogated; adding, "It is, as 
 you say, severe punishment for so small a fault." 
 
 She looked up at him in surprise. 
 
 "What can I have to hide, papa? In telling you of 
 my love and my jealousy, I have told you the worst." 
 
 "Then all will come right again. In the meantime 
 keep up appearances, go to your own room unobserved, 
 and wait until 3 7 our luggage arrives. I shall say that 
 you are come for a few days' change. Keep up your 
 spirits; all will come right again, I feel sure." 
 
 "I am very tired, papa," she said. "I think I will 
 stay in my room to-day." 
 
 "Very well, my dear; do just as you like; you know 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 385 
 
 best, of course. I will say that you do not feel very 
 well. Go to your room, by all means. I hope you 
 will soon be better. Now try to cheer up; it will be 
 all right; I will see to this difficulty with your hus- 
 band for you." 
 
 She looked up at him proudly. 
 
 "You must not interfere, papa! 1 shall never return 
 to him now!" 
 
 He looked pityingly at the white face. 
 
 "You appear very ill, Hildred. Is there nothing 
 that I can do for you?" 
 
 "Nothing," she replied, coldly. 
 
 In her heart she felt bitterly angry with her father. 
 She had trusted him, he had misled her. She did 
 not offer to kiss him or to touch his hand, but went 
 quietly out of the room and upstairs, leaving him 
 with some very unpleasant thoughts. 
 
 It had not been an agreeable interruption to his 
 breakfast, but he tried to think little of it. It was 
 only a quarrel after all, and his daughter had done 
 nothing wrong. He should make it all right in a few 
 seconds when he saw the earl. He wrote to him before 
 he went to the city, telling him that his wife had 
 reached home safely, but was looking very ill. 
 
 The rest of that day Hildred remained in her room, 
 and on the morning following she had not come down- 
 stairs. It was after noon when Arley Ransome, with 
 a face as pale as death, asked for admittance to her 
 apartment. 
 
 She bade him enter, and he did so, with an open 
 letter in his hand. It was her husband's writing, she 
 perceived. 
 
$86 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 31 You have deceived me," said her father, sternly; 
 "you told me that you had hidden nothing from me. 
 Your husband tells me that he has hidden you here be- 
 cause you shot Lady Hamilton on the evening of the 
 thirty-first — shot her with intent to murder — and that 
 you confessed your guilt!" 
 
 Without a word or a murmur, she looked at him* 
 and then fell like one dead at his feet. 
 
CHAPTER XLI 
 
 "she loved him as no one else ever could" 
 
 The young countess, as she stood behind the alder- 
 trees at Ravensmere, had heard the sound of a shot; 
 she was too dazed with her own grief and misery to 
 note the direction from which it had proceeded. She 
 had fancied that something went whirring through the 
 trees. That something was the ball that had been fired 
 at Lady Hamilton, which pierced her shoulder, and 
 would have pierced her heart had it gone in the direc- 
 tion in which it had been aimed. 
 
 For the moment Lord Caraven had been too bewil- 
 dered to know what had happened ; what he was say- 
 ing in reality to his guest was that he liked his wife's 
 maiden name better than any he had ever heard. Lady 
 Hamilton, who never liked to hear anyone praised 
 but herself, asked at once what it was. He had an- 
 swered, "Hildred Ransome;" and those were the words 
 Lady Caraven had heard. They had been no sooner 
 uttered than Lady Hamilton fell on his shoulder with 
 a faint, low cry — a cry that seemed almost simultaneous 
 with the firing of the shot. 
 
 The earl knew she had been shot, but by whom or 
 why he could not guess. He laid her down for one 
 minute while he looked around ; then it was that he 
 saw the white face of his wife. He jumped to the 
 
 387 
 
388 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 conclusion that she had done it; she, and no other, 
 was- there on the spot. She had even herself avowed 
 her jealousy. She had followed them, and in the mad- 
 ness of her folly had shot Lady Hamilton. No other 
 idea occurred to him. He said to himself at once that 
 it was so, and he implicitly believed it. He had rushed 
 to her and told her that she was a "guilty woman. " 
 She had owned it. But they were speaking of different 
 kind of guilt. He meant the guilt of murder; she 
 meant the guilt of being a spy upon him. No doubt 
 of her guilt relieved his mind. Even in that first be- 
 wildered moment he said to himself that she should 
 never enter his house again, but that he would shield 
 her because she bore his name. He had told her to 
 remain where she was while he carried the senseless 
 lady to the house. 
 
 There was % a terrible consternation. He had the 
 presence of mind to throw the agitated inquirers off the 
 scent. He said that the poachers were out — must be 
 out for a chance shot fired in the woods had wounded 
 Lady Hamilton. Some of the gentlemen staying at the 
 house went with the keepers to scour the woods. Dire 
 were the threats of vengeance as to the rogue who 
 had done the mischief. Meanwhile a groom was dis- 
 patched to Court Raven to summon a doctor — the 
 wounded lady had been taken to her room and laid on 
 the bed. At first the earl was frightened lest the 
 wound should prove mortal; but one of the ladies 
 staying at the castle, who knew something of surgery, 
 declared that the wound was not dangerous, and that 
 the ball could soon be extracted. After hearing that, 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 389 
 
 the earl returned to his unhappy young wife. His first 
 great fear that she had been guilty of murder had been 
 removed; there remained the fear lest the wound should 
 prove dangerous in the end. It was better, he thought, 
 that she should go away at once. 
 
 He made two announcements to his household, which 
 no one even thought of connecting. The first and 
 most startling was, of course, that Lady Hamilton had 
 been shot accidentally — a chance shot — though why a 
 ball-cartridge had been used was a puzzle— supposed 
 to have been fired by poachers in the wood; the sec- 
 ond was that Lady Caraven had been suddenly sum- 
 moned to her father's house in London. No one 
 dreamed of connecting the two announcements, and 
 in the disordered state of the household it never 
 occurred to any of the guests to question the servants 
 as to when the countess had gone. She had been 
 sent for after dinner, and the apologies that the earl 
 made were deemed quite sufficient. Some of the guests 
 indeed said that it was as well Lady Caraven was out 
 of the way, as she would probably have been greatly 
 distressed. To this day the earl is uncertain what in 
 his panic he said or did. The only idea quite clear to 
 him was that he must shield the woman who bore his 
 name. 
 
 It was not very long before the doctor arrived, and 
 then all alarm was at an end. He found the ball at 
 once; it had not gone very deep into the shoulder. It 
 was extracted, and the wound bound up. 
 
 Then lovely Lady Hamilton raised her Had, and 
 asked, languidly: 
 
39° 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Shall I be very ill, doctor? " 
 
 "No; I hope not. You will suffer a little pain — 
 nothing much, I trust" 
 
 "Shall I be ill for a long time?" she asked. "Ah 
 me! how little I dreamed that I was coming to Ra- 
 vensmere to be shot!" 
 
 "It is very unfortunate," said the doctor; "but I do 
 not think you will be ill very long, Lady Hamilton. 
 You must take heart." 
 
 "To think that of all the people in the world they 
 should select me! I suppose it was quite an accident 
 though. They were poachers, I am told. Now, doctor, 
 I want to ask you a very serious question." 
 
 The doctor seemed to imply by his manner that he 
 was all attention. 
 
 "I shall be very happy to answer it, if it lies in my 
 power," he said. 
 
 "Tell me-— shall I lose — that is — will my temporary 
 seclusion interfere at all with what I may call my good 
 looks?" 
 
 He told himself that the amusement he felt must be 
 carefully concealed. 
 
 "I think," he replied, confidentially, "that I may 
 reassure your ladyship. I do not see hov; it can pos- 
 sibly affect you in that fashion, and the needful rest 
 will be most beneficial to you." 
 
 Then she was content to remain in hev room, not 
 suffering very much pain. To be petted, indulged, 
 made a great heroine of, to be the center of all anx- 
 iety, was very pleasant to her. She knew that all 
 her admirers would be in a state of anxiety about her, 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 391 
 
 that a hundred perfumed notes would reach her every 
 day, that flowers and fruits, newspapers, books, all the 
 trifles invalids love, would be showered upon her; 
 above all, she would be a great source of interest to 
 the handsome earl. She did not think very much 
 about who had shot her; there were poachers about, 
 and it must have been a stray shot — no one had done 
 it purposely, for, as the lovely lady told herself with 
 a smile, she had not an enemy in the whole wide 
 world. 
 
 The keepers had made strenuous efforts to find the 
 poachers, but they had evidently made their escape, 
 frightened, doubtless, at what they had done. No 
 trace of them could be found. 
 
 It was with a sense of relief that Lord Caraven went 
 to his room that night. He wanted to be alone to 
 think over the events of the day. He found himself 
 dwelling less on the terrible fact that his wife had 
 shot Lady Hamilton than on the wonderful fact that 
 she loved him. 
 
 "I have gone mad — I love you — let me die!" 
 
 The words haunted him like the refrain of a song. 
 
 He could not sleep. All night the pale, passionate, 
 beautiful face was before him. The words rang in 
 his ears as they had rung when he saw Hildred in the 
 starlight, pleading, praying, accusing him, all in one 
 vehement storm of words. So he would see her until 
 he died. He felt as though she had been a stranger 
 to him until then. The passionate love which had 
 flamed into hot jealousy had been hidden under a 
 cold, calm exterior. How she loved him! He had 
 
392 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 never seen any woman's face light up so splendia.y. 
 For the first time in his life he owned to himself that 
 by the side of her magnificent beauty blonde loveliness 
 faded into nothing. He wondered that he had lived so 
 long in the house with her, so long under one roof, 
 yet had not noticed that which everyone else remarked. 
 
 He was struck most of all by the fact that she loved 
 him. It did not matter about anything else. He had 
 read her truth and her love in her face. She loved him 
 as no one else ever would or could; and it flashed across 
 him that the wife he had neglected and despised was, 
 notwithstanding what she had done, one of the noblest 
 women in the world. If it had but been different; if he 
 had but thought more of her before this happened! 
 How she must have loved him to let herself drift intc 
 such a crime! Was there anyone who had ever loved 
 him half so well? 
 
 "I wish it had never happened," he said to himself. 
 "She is a noble woman in spite of all, and I — well, I 
 could have loved her, but now she must never re 
 turn." 
 
 Yet it showed how strongly his feelings were swayea 
 when he thought far less of wounded Lady Hamilton, 
 than of the fact that his wife loved him. 
 
 He could not sleep or rest. Never had his pillow 
 seemed so hard, his thoughts so troublesome. The 
 excitement had been too much for him. Wherever he 
 went, whatever he did, his thoughts were with Hildred. 
 Had she reached Arley Ransome's house? Had he 
 acted wisely in letting her go alone? Would any clew 
 to her guilt ever be found? These questions followed 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 393 
 
 him, haunted him, pursued him. If he went to talk to 
 any of his visitors, the conversation was sure to turn 
 upon the poachers and Lady Hamilton. 
 
 Wearied of it all he sought refuge with Sir Raoul 
 in his room ; and the soldier noted with concern how 
 worn and haggard the handsome earl looked. 
 
CHAPTER XLII 
 
 "l AM SORRY I DID NOT KILL HER*' 
 
 Greatly disturbed in his mind about his wife, and 
 worried excessively by troublesome inquiries as to the 
 accident which had happened to Lady Hamilton, Lord 
 Caraven determined to seek refuge with his kinsman, 
 Sir Raoul Laureston. 
 
 "Let me stay with you, Raoul," said the earl on en- 
 tering his room; "my guests tease me to death. One 
 hears of nothing but Lady 'Hamilton and the poachers. 
 I have had to tell the story over and over again, until 
 I am fairly tired of it. Let me find rest here." 
 
 Sir Raoul looked at the earl's haggard face. 
 
 "Poor boy," he said; "it is rather hard for you cer- 
 tainly. I promise you that I will mention neither 
 Lady Hamilton nor the poachers." 
 
 "Poachers!" repeated the earl, contemptuously. 
 "Surely you — " He paused; he had been on the 
 brink of betraying the secret that he had sworn never 
 to reveal. 
 
 Sir Raoul laughed. 
 
 "It seems to me," he said, "that you are just as 
 bad as anyone else. You cannot keep away from the 
 topic." 
 
 "We will discuss the weather, the last new book, 
 politics, the papers — anything," proposed the earl ; 
 
 394 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 395 
 
 and then he added, "that reminds me — some version 
 of this story is sure, I suppose, to get abroad. The 
 papers will make a sensational affair of it." 
 
 "I thought we were to avoid the topic," said Sir 
 Raoul, quietly. "Now you have touched upon it 
 again." 
 
 "And to make matters worse," remarked the earl, 
 with a gesture of weary despair, "here comes the doc- 
 tor. " 
 
 Dr. Randall entered the room unannounced, and in 
 great haste. The earl sprang from his seat at the 
 sound of his agitated voice, his face growing pale and 
 anxious. 
 
 "Surely," he said, "Lady Hamilton is not worse?" 
 
 "No, she seems better. It is not about Lady Ham- 
 ilton that I want you, Lord Caraven. I was sent for 
 the moment I left here in behalf of the man who used 
 to act as your steward — John Blantyre." 
 
 "John Blantyre," said the earl, vaguely. "Is he ill?" 
 The subject did not interest him very much — indeed 
 he thought it trivial amid the excitement of his own 
 affairs. 
 
 "No, not ill in the common acceptation of the term," 
 answered the doctor. "He is dying, I fear." 
 
 "Dying, yet not ill! You speak in riddles, doctor." 
 
 "It is all a riddle to me," said the physician; "per- 
 haps you can solve it. He has committed suicide — that 
 is, he has made an attempt on his life, but he has not 
 quite succeeded." 
 
 "He was very foolish," remarked the earl. Even the 
 fact that his confidential steward had attempted to de- 
 
396 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 stroy his own life seemed to him a matter of less mo- 
 ment than the fact that his wife loved him. 
 
 Dr. Randall looked uneasily at the unconscious face. 
 
 "May I speak on a private matter?" he said. 
 
 "Certainly," was the quick reply. "I have no secrets 
 from my relative, Sir Raoul." 
 
 "I cannot quite understand it," continued the doctor. 
 "They sent for me, and when I reached the house 1 
 found that Blantyre had attempted to take his life. 
 I will not tell you how — there is no need to add to a 
 list of horrors. I found him dying, not dead; he is 
 dying now. His only cry was for you, Lord Caraven; 
 he wanted to see you." 
 
 "I do not in the least aesire to see him," said thf? 
 earl, quickly. "Frankly speaking, doctor, repentant 
 sinners and death-beds are not much in my line. ] 
 could do him no good." 
 
 "Perhaps not — yet he gave me no rest until I had 
 promised to ask you to visit him — no rest at all. The 
 strange part of the story has to come, Lord Caraven. 
 It was not a poacher who fired the shot — it was him- 
 self. We have this time done the poachers an in- 
 justice." 
 
 The doctor was not prepared for the effect of his 
 words. The earl sprang from his chair, rushed across 
 the room, and seized him by the arm. 
 
 "Say that again," he cried. "John Blantyre fired 
 that shot?" 
 
 "So he says," replied the doctor. "He gasped the 
 story out to me in broken words. 'I always hated her. ' 
 he said, 'hated her; aucj last night I shot her by thq 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 397 
 
 edge of the lake. I shot her through the heart, and 
 I saw her fall, and' — -* 
 
 "It is impossible!" cried the earl. "The man must 
 have been delirious! He never saw Lady Hamilton 
 in his life — how could he hate her?" 
 
 "That is the strangest part of the story," said the 
 doctor. "He persists in saying that he shot Lady 
 Caraven. I cannot understand the matter." 
 
 "I do," put in Sir Raoul, calmly. "Blantyre was 
 dismissed at Lady Caraven' s desire, and he swore to 
 be revenged upon her. This is his revenge — he shot 
 Lady Hamilton, believing her to be the countess." 
 
 "It is impossible!" repeated the earl. "They are so 
 different. Lady Hamilton is fair, the countess dark — 
 he could not mistake them." 
 
 Suddenly he remembered that it was in the semi- 
 darkness of night that the occurrence had happened 
 and Lady Hamilton was wrapped in a silvery veil. 
 Could he have mistaken them? The doctor shook his 
 head. 
 
 "I do not understand — it is, as I have said, a riddle 
 to me. I should certainly advise you, Lord Caraven, 
 to see the man; that is the only way to clear up the 
 mystery. " 
 
 "There is no mystery," said Sir Raoul. "It is as I 
 say: the man intended to murder Lady Caraven — by 
 mistake he has shot Lady Hamilton. How he mistook 
 them is, perhaps, a mystery, and that you can solve by 
 going to see him. Go. Ulric. " 
 
 "Yes," responded Lord Caraven, "I will go — I will 
 go with you, doctor, if you are ready. Raoul, it would 
 be as well noc to mention this." 
 
398 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "You may rely upon me," said his friend. 
 
 The doctor and the earl quitted the room together. 
 The carriage was ordered, and they drove at once to 
 Court Raven. 
 
 They were not long in finding Blantyre's house, and 
 before long the earl stood by the death-bed of his late 
 steward. The man's dying face was turned toward 
 him, his dying eyes gleamed as they recognized him. 
 
 "My lord," he said, "you were always kind to me. 
 Her ladyship ruined me — she turned me away — and I 
 hated her. I would not harm one hair of your head; 
 but I have 'killed her, and I am not sorry, I am glad." 
 
 "Whom have you killed?" asked the earl, calmly. 
 
 The dying eyes glared. 
 
 "Whom? The Countess of Caraven, the beautiful, 
 proud, imperious woman, who with one wave of her 
 hand sent me to ruin — I have killed her." 
 
 "How did you kill her?" inquired the earl. 
 
 A wild laugh came from the man's lips. 
 
 "How? I have watched and waited many a long day. 
 I have stood in the high-road when she passed by, but 
 never until the other night did I get one chance. I 
 could have shot her dead a hundred times, but I 
 would not, lest in taking her life I took also the life 
 of one who had never harmed me. I hated her be- 
 cause she ruined me. She drove me from my place, 
 she left me branded as a thief among my fellow men, 
 she left me without character, without reputation ; she 
 was my bane and my curse, so I shot her. But I am 
 not all bad, and I was sorry when I saw her fall dead. 
 I came home, but she followed me; she has stood near 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 399 
 
 to me ever since — a woman with dead eyes, awful to 
 look upon — awful to see." 
 
 "Tell me," said the earl, quietly, "how did you know 
 that it was my wife?" 
 
 An expression of cunning came over the dying face. 
 
 "I knew her by the scarf — her silver scarf — she wore 
 it over her arms the first time I saw her." 
 
 "You tried to take a terrible revenge," said Lord 
 Caraven. 
 
 "It has been worse for me," returned the dying man 
 — "a thousand times worse for me. I went five times 
 after five different situations, and on each occasion it 
 was flung scornfully in my face that I had been dis- 
 missed from Ravensmere. When I found that I was 
 ruined, I swore that I would kill her ladyship, and 
 I have done it." 
 
 "Thank heaven that you have not!" said the earl, 
 hastily. "I am thankful to say that your murderous 
 shot never reached my wife. The lady you have in- 
 jured is a stranger to you — Lady Hamilton; she had 
 thrown Lady Caraven's scarf over her shoulders : — hence 
 the (for me) fortunate mistake." 
 
 The look on the dying man's face was terrible to see 
 — the fiendish disappointment, the bitter hatred. 
 
 "Then I have not killed her after all?" he cried. 
 
 "No; you have wounded an innocent lady, a stranger 
 to you — that is all; my dear wife you have not injured. " 
 
 "And I sent for you believing that she was dead, 
 dreading lest an innocent man should suffer for my 
 deed, longing, also, that you should know I had taken 
 my revenge." 
 
400 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "I can only thank heaven you have failed," said the 
 earl. John Blantyre raised himself; the hatred, the 
 bad passions in the dying face were terrible to see. 
 
 "Tell her," he cried, "I am sorry I did not kill her; 
 tell her that she ruined me and that I hate her for it; 
 tell her that I sent her my curse, and that after I had 
 cursed her I never opened my lips again!" 
 
 He fell back exhausted, and he kept his word. Never 
 again were his lips opened in mortal speech. The earl 
 tried, Sir Raoul left his sick-room to try to soften and 
 persuade him, gentle, low-voiced women knelt by his 
 side, a grave minister pleaded with him — it was all in 
 vain ; after that one terrible curse his lips were mute 
 and dumb, whether so stricken by heaven or whether 
 the result of his anger and disappointment no one ever 
 knew; he died in obstinate, sullen silence. 
 
 When that last scene was over, the earl, who had re- 
 mained with him to the end, returned to Ravensmere. 
 John Blantyre's crime and suicide had saddened him 
 inexpressibly. He was not without plenty of sense 
 and reflection. He saw at once that this was the result 
 of his own folly — his inattention to his duties. He had 
 implicitly and blindly trusted this man simply because 
 he was too idle to overlook him and his accounts. 
 What was the result? He had grown reckless with 
 long impunity, and, when his quick, intelligent wife 
 discovered the amount of his peculations, she had 
 dismissed him at once. For what had happened there 
 was only himself to blame. 
 
 "How I wish that I could live my life over again," 
 he thought; "I would act differently; but as that i? 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 401 
 
 impossible, 1 must make the most I can of the time 
 that remains." He was more saddened and unhappy 
 than he ever remembered to have been in his life be- 
 fore. He sought Sir RaouPs room. 
 
 "I am quite out of spirits to-day," he said; "let me 
 talk to you, Raoul. This dreadful death of Blantyre 
 has been a shock to me that I shall never get over. I 
 feel as though I am to blame for it, all through my 
 negligence and want of looking after people." 
 
 "You have been to blame," agreed Sir Raoul; "I do 
 not deny that. But your indulgence ought not to have 
 made him a thief." 
 
 The earl sat down; he laid his head back with a tired, 
 wearied expression. 
 
 "How my life has changed, Raoul!" he said. "I 
 seem suddenly to have grown into a man, wiser, sad- 
 der than I had ever thought to be. One thing above 
 all others puzzles me — how could I have been so blind 
 or so foolish as to misjudge her?" 
 
 "Misjudge whom?" asked Sir Raoul. 
 
 "Hildred. Oh! I forgot I did not tell you that! You 
 believed, of course, that she had been sent for." 
 
 "Certainly I did!" replied Sir Raoul, in amazement. 
 "Was it not so?" 
 
 "No — that is the worst part of my trouble. There 
 is no truth in it. I sent her away myself." 
 
 "You sent Hildred away!" echoed Sir Raoul, slowly. 
 "What do you mean, Ulric?" 
 
 "I told her that she must never enter my doors 
 again. Now I find that it is all a mistake." 
 
 Sir RafHiJ tried to be patient, but it was very diffi- 
 cult 
 
402 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "I do not in the least understand what you mean, 
 Ulric. Why did you send Hildred away, and what was 
 
 a mistake?" 
 
 "I shrink from telling you. Upon my honor, I am 
 ashamed of myself. Do you know, Raoul, I positively 
 believed Hildred had done this deed — I believed she 
 had shot Lady Hamilton." 
 
 An expression of deepest contempt came over Sir 
 Raoul' s face. 
 
 "I should never have imagined such a thought would 
 enter your breast," he said indignantly. "I speak plain- 
 ly to you, Ulric, as I have never done before — your 
 wife is wasted on you — she is a thousand times too 
 ^bod for you. She is one of the noblest, truest, pur- 
 est women under the sun. You — if you could so mis- 
 judge her — are to be pitied. Hildred capable of 
 murder? Heaven give me patience! I could not have 
 believed you would entertain such an idea. I could 
 not have imagined that you were so utterly devoid of 
 reason." 
 
 "Listen, Raoul — do not judge me quite so harshly. 
 You do not know all. Let me tell you my story." 
 
 And without further discussion the earl related the 
 whole history. 
 
 Sir Raoul listened in silence. 
 
 "Great heaven!" he cried, at last, "to think what a 
 heart you have thrown away!" 
 
 "But, Raoul/' he rejoined, "when I found her hid- 
 ing behind the trees, and she owned she was guilty, 
 what was I to think?" 
 
 "Careless as you have been of her," said Sir Raoul, 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "you might have known her better. If I heard her say 
 such a thing, I should, even in spite of her own 
 words, believe in her innocence. Shame on you, 
 Caraven, that I, a stranger to her, should have to take 
 up her defense! Shame on you that you did not un- 
 derstand her better! She had learned to love you, 
 poo*r child! I thought she would. You drove her 
 mad with her slighted, wounded love and her jeal- 
 ousy, and she followed you; that was what she meant 
 when she owned that she was guilty. She meant guilty 
 of loving you when you have studiously neglected her 
 — guilty of jealousy when there was love. I under- 
 stand her words, even if you do not." 
 
 "I am very sorry," said the earl, humbly; "doubly 
 sorry, because, you know, Raoul, I was really begin- 
 ning to love and care for her." 
 
 "Beginning!" cried Sir Raoul. "I hope that I shall 
 keep my patience. Beginning to love her! You will 
 have to answer hereafter for all these long months of 
 neglect and unkindness. To me your sin appears a 
 terrible one. You had one of the noblest women in 
 the world for your wife, and to gratify your foolish 
 whims you have neglected her. Shame on you, Car- 
 aven — you are no man to treat such a wife in such a 
 fashion!" 
 
 "What can I do?" asked the earl, humbly. 
 
 "Whither have you sent her?" was the stern inquiry. 
 
 "To her father's house," replied the earl. 
 
 "Then I will tell you what to do. Go as fast as 
 steam can take you and ask her pardon. She is a no- 
 ble woman, she may forgive- but-" added the soldier, 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 frankly, with a flush on his honest face, M I declare 
 that if I were in her place I never would." 
 
 The earl took the advice offered him, and went 
 straight off to town. 
 
CHAPTER XLIU 
 
 * YOU HAVE MADE MY LIFE HATEFUL TO MS* 
 
 Lady Caraven had refused to see anyone; she had 
 refused to quit her apartment. The horror of the 
 charge made against her overpowered her. Her hus- 
 band believed her guilty of intent to murder. At first 
 that was the only idea her mind could grasp — a hor- 
 rible, distorted idea. She could not think clearly. 
 Her husband, whom she had saved from ruin, whom she 
 had roused from indolence and self-indulgence, whose 
 better nature she had called into life, whom she loved 
 with a passionate love, had judged her guilty of murder. 
 She could not realize it; she could not put her 
 thoughts into words; they assumed no tangible form. 
 Then slowly enough she returned to a clear memory 
 of what had happened. 
 
 Someone had shot Lady Hamilton; who it was, or 
 how it had happened, she could not tell. Then she 
 remembered having heard the shot fired, of which at 
 the time she had thought so little. She remembered 
 how something had whizzed through the trees. By 
 degrees all the events of that dreadful night returned 
 to her clearly and forcibly — the startled cry, the sound 
 that came from the borders of the lake, the tramp of 
 many feet — and she wondered that all these things 
 had had no significance for her when her husband had 
 
 405 
 
406 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 cried, "You guilty, cruel woman!" and she had owned 
 herself guilty. Then she saw how the mistake had 
 arisen. They had been playing at cross-purposes. He 
 meant that she was guilt}'' of murder; she meant that 
 she was guilty of jealousy and of following him. She 
 was in despair. Of what avail would it be now to de- 
 fend herself, to tell him that she was not guilty, to try 
 to clear herself? Her husband would never believe 
 her; he would always suspect her because of her own 
 words. 
 
 "Was there ever a fate like mine?" cried the un- 
 happy girl. "What have I done that such a lot in 
 life should be mine?" 
 
 Her courage, her bravery, her hope and faith seemed 
 all to give way. She was in despair. Her husband be- 
 lieved her guilty of a great crime, and she had no 
 means of proving her innocence. The only hope that 
 remained to her was that the real criminal would con- 
 fess, and so free her from the accusation; but that was 
 most unlikely. In her own mind she believed that 
 some lover of Lady Hamilton's, wild with jealousy, 
 had fired at her; if so, it was most unlikely that he 
 would accuse himself. 
 
 No, there was no hope. She had striven so bravely 
 to bear cruel fate; she had done her best; she had 
 made a brave fight where many people would have 
 run away — and now it was all ended. So far was her 
 husband from loving her that he believed her guilty of 
 a crime. The girl's heart failed her utterly; she would 
 fain have turned her face to the wall and died. 
 
 "Sir Raoul would not have believed it," she said ta 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 407 
 
 herself; "he would have defended me. " All hope was at 
 an end. She felt that she could never interest herself 
 in life again. Then a vague but none the less terrible 
 fear came over her. She could not tell what might 
 happen. Suppose that Lady Hamilton should die! 
 Someone must be punished. Her husband had said 
 that he would keep her secret, but suppose that he 
 found it impossible to do so — that, from circumstan- 
 tial evidence, others suspected and accused her — what 
 would she do? There could be no defense. She had 
 been found behind the trees, and she had said she was 
 guilty. Could it be within the bounds of possibility 
 that she, Hildred, Countess of Caraven, would ever 
 be brought before a public tribunal and tried for a 
 crime of which she was perfectly innocent? Her vivid 
 imagination ran riot about it. She pictured herself in 
 a dark cell. She wept until from sheer exhaustion 
 she slept. 
 
 A knocking at the door aroused her. 
 
 "Hildred," called Arley Ransome, "I wish to see 
 you. " 
 
 "Papa," said the girl, "I am tired of the world — 
 tired of my life. Let me die in peace." 
 
 Fearful of drawing the attention of his servants, he 
 went away, returning again and again with the same 
 entreat}', but she would not see him. She refused all 
 food, she never attempted to go to rest, and at last 
 Arley Ransome grew alarmed about her. He would 
 not force open the door — that would create a scandal, 
 and the notion of scandal was as bitter as death to 
 him. It was with a feeling of intense relief that he 
 saw Lord Caraven arrive. 
 
408 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "This is a terrible business," he said. "My daughter 
 must have been driven to great extremes before she 
 did this." 
 
 "It is all a foolish mistake," cried the earl. "Where 
 is she? I want to see her," 
 
 "A mistake!" said the lawyer, with dignity. "Most 
 men would give your conduct another name, Lord 
 Caraven. People should be careful before they make 
 such mistakes." 
 
 "Where is Hildred?'* cried the earl. "I want to see 
 her at once." 
 
 "I am not at all sure that my daughter will see you," 
 said Arley Ransom e. "I must say that she has been 
 cruelly treated. You are a peer of the realm, Lord 
 Caraven, but have you behaved as a gentleman to my 
 child? Have you treated her with courtesy or. affec- 
 tion?" 
 
 "No, I have not, but this is not the time to discuss 
 such subjects. I want to see my wife — to apologize to 
 her." 
 
 That utterance cost the proud earl a great effort. It 
 did not conciliate Arley Ransome. 
 
 ' Something more than an apology is due, my lord," 
 he said, gravely. "You write to me, telling me that 
 my daughter has been guilty of an attempt to murder. 
 In the silence and darkness of night you send her from 
 her home as though she were one of the guiltiest crim- 
 inals in the world. You denounce her to me, and then 
 you hurry after her, saying that it is all a mistake. 
 Such mistakes are not to be pardoned, my lord." 
 
 The earl kept his patience with great difficulty. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 'Will you let me see my wife?" he cried. 
 
 Arley Ransome saw that he had gone as far as pru 
 dence would permit him to go. 
 
 "I can tell you nothing of your wife, Lord Caraven," 
 he said; "I hardly know whether she is living or 
 dead." 
 
 The earPs face changed. 
 
 "Is she ill?" he cried. , 
 
 "Even that I cannot tell you," answered the lawyer. 
 "My daughter has shut herself up in her room, and 
 has refused to see anyone. I can only say that since 
 she heard you had believed her guilty of that crime 
 she has neither eaten, drank, nor slept." 
 
 "Let me go to her at once," said Lord Caraven. 
 "Do not be hard on me, Mr. Ransome — I have had a 
 great deal to suffer." And these few words disarmed 
 the lawyer. 
 
 They went together to Hildred's room. Arley Ran- 
 some spoke first. 
 
 "Hildred, I have something very particular to say to 
 you — open the door." 
 
 There was not a sound and Lord Caraven began to 
 feel slightly alarmed. 
 
 'Hildred," said her father, "I have a message from 
 your husband.*' 
 
 Still there was no sound, and unable to control 
 himself, the earl cried out: 
 
 "Hildred, for heaven's sake speak to mel Let me 
 in — I want to see you!" 
 
 The sound of his voice seemed to have an electric 
 effect upon her. The next moment she turned the key 
 \n the lock and opened wide the door* 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 With a cry of fear and surprise, he started back 
 when he saw her. He had seen her lately so beauti- 
 ful, so radiant — now her long black hair hung in dis- 
 order over her shoulders; her face was pale and stained 
 with tears, her eyes were dim, her lips white. He 
 hardly knew her. 
 
 "Hildred!" he cried. 
 
 She looked at him with dim, sad eyes. "You!" she 
 said. "Is it you, who thought me guilty of murder?" 
 
 Lord Caraven turned to Arley Ranpome. 
 
 "Leave me alone with her," he said, "I have much 
 to say." 
 
 Mr. Ransome went away. The earl entered the 
 room and closed the door. He went to his wife, hold- 
 ing out both his hands. 
 
 "Will you forgive me?" he said; "I can never pardon 
 myself. " 
 
 But she shrank from him. 
 
 "You believed that I committed murder," she an- 
 swered. "No, I cannot touch your hands." 
 
 "Hildred, listen. It was almost all your own fault — 
 you said you were guilty. " 
 
 "Not of murder," she rejoined. "I could not have 
 supposed that you would think me capable of that, 
 much as you dislike me." 
 
 "I do not dislike you, Hildred," said the earl, in a 
 voice full of emotion: "and I am, indeed, grieved at 
 having offended you. Do not refuse to pardon me." 
 
 "There can be no pardon, my lord, for the wrong 
 you have done me," she replied. 
 
 And then the earl knew that, if ever he won his 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 411 
 
 wife's pardon, it would be a work of patience and of 
 \ime. 
 
 "I cannot believe," he said, "that you will be un- 
 kind or unjust to me, Hildred — I have suffered more 
 than you have." 
 
 "That is not possible," she rejoined; "no one has 
 accused you of a terrible crime." 
 
 "But I have suspected an innocent person," he said, 
 "and it is harder to inflict than to bear pain." 
 
 "My pain would not displease or discompose you," 
 she said. 
 
 There was something in her manner which half- 
 frightened him —she seemed as though her brain were 
 dazed. She did not appear like herself. He began to 
 wonder if suffering and suspense had really driven her 
 mad. 
 
 "Hildred," he said, very gently, "do you know that 
 you frighten me?" 
 
 "Do I?" she asked, drearily. "I am glad. You ought 
 to be frightened about me. I have never done you any 
 harm, and you have been most unkind to me — you have 
 been cruel to me, you have made my life hateful to 
 me. " 
 
 "Nay, it is surely not so bad as that?" 
 
 "It could not well be worse," she said. 
 
 He gazed anxiously at her. She looked pale and 
 wan, with the stains of bitter weeping on her face. 
 He saw, too, that she shivered like one seized with 
 mortal cold. 
 
 "Hildred," he cried, "do forgive me — you do not 
 know how grieved I am to see you like this. I want 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 to tell you how the misunderstanding happened. Will 
 you listen?" 
 
 "Yes," she replied, mechanically, and she sat silent 
 and motionless while he told her the story. She 
 looked at him when it was ended with dull, dim eyes. 
 
 "I am very sorry," she said, "that Blantyre made 
 the mistake. I almost wish that he had shot me 
 through the heart. What have I to live for?" 
 
 "I could not spare you, Hildred — you have been the 
 good angel of my life!" he cried. 
 
 "You would be better without me. Your estates are 
 free and unencumbered now — you have roused yourself 
 to a sense of your duties — you know how to perform 
 them. I am of no more use. I am sorry that John 
 Blantyre missed his aim." 
 
 "That is not like you, Hildred. Where is your 
 bright energy, your hope, your cheerful animation?" 
 
 She clasped her hands with a shudder. 
 
 "I am sick," she said — "sick with a terrible de- 
 spair. " 
 
 He was at a loss what to say to her — she seemed 
 immovable. Suddenly her face flushed, and a bright 
 light came in the eyes that had been so dim. 
 
 "You sent me from your house, Lord Caraven, and 
 pronounced me guilty on what seems to me very light 
 evidence. I may claim to be at least as credulous as 
 yourself, yet I declare that had anyone accused you of 
 murder I should not have believed it. You judged 
 me guilty at once — guilty of trying to murder — I, who 
 never in my life trampled even upon a worm. Why 
 should you have thought that I wished* Lady Hamil- 
 ton dead?" 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 413 
 
 He looked slightly confused. 
 
 "You remember that you told me you were jealous of 
 her," he replied. 
 
 "Jealous," she repeated, drearily. "Did I ever love 
 you then? I have forgotten — my brain is dazed, dull. 
 1 seem to remember nothing clearly, except that you 
 judged me guilty of murder. Did I love you?" 
 
 The wan face and dim eyes touched him inexpress- 
 ibly. 
 
 "You have said so, Hildred. I hope you will say 
 the same again," he answered. 
 
 "Never, if you thought me guilty of murder," she 
 said, decisively. "My life has been a sore disappoint- 
 ment to me; it has been hard to bear; it has not had 
 one gleam of light. But it is all over now. Now that 
 you have accused me of murder, I have no further in- 
 terest in it." 
 
 She looked so hopeless and so dreary that he was 
 deeply pained. It struck him, too, that she looked 
 terribly ill. 
 
 "Hildred," he said, gently, "be merciful. I am 
 much to blame; but you will surely pardon me." 
 
 He tried to touch her hands, but she drew them 
 proudly away. She stood before him erect and de- 
 fiant. 
 
 "I had my life given me to enjoy, as others had," 
 she said. "I had the power of loving, the longing for 
 happiness, as others had. What right had you to crush 
 them? What right had you, because you wanted my 
 money, to take my girlish heart and break it? What 
 right had you to inflict all these years of shame and 
 
414 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 sorrow upon me? What have I ever done to you that 
 you should repay me after this fashion?" 
 
 'Nothing," he replied. "I am guilty/' 
 
 "When you thought I had tried to commit murder, 
 you turned me from your doors; in the darkness of 
 night, alone and unfriended, you bade me be gone. 
 Which kind of murder is worse — that which destroys 
 a body, or that which slays heart, mind, brain, and 
 hope? I say that in this sense you have slain me." 
 
 "Hildred, be merciful to me!" he cried. 
 
 "I will show you the same mercy that you have 
 shown me. Go from my presence and do not let me 
 see you again." 
 
 "Do you mean that, Hildred?" he asked, sadly. 
 
 "I do. You have disliked, despised, scorned me, ever 
 since we first met. Now that you have suspected me 
 of a crime you have reached the climax. We shall 
 meet no more." 
 
 "You said that you loved me, Hildred," he pleaded. 
 
 "Did I?" she replied, with a harsh laugh. "Then 
 I take back my words. I love you no more; you have 
 been cruel to me — as cruel as the men who put out 
 the bright eyes of a little bird that it may sing more 
 sweetly. Let me pass; I have no more to say." 
 
 With shining eyes, and pale, passionate face, she 
 swept from the room, leaving the earl overcome with 
 astonishment. 
 
 "She is the most high-minded woman I have ever 
 met in my life," he thought. "I have been blind, in- 
 deed. How superb she looked in her indignation! I 
 will win her yet. I have never cared about winning 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 415 
 
 her before, but I swear to give my life to the task now.' 
 
 It seemed probable that it would be a very long one, 
 for Lady Caraven positively refused to see her hus> 
 band again. In vain Arley Ransome pleaded for him; 
 she was inexorable. 
 
 "Even a worm will turn when it is trodden upon," 
 she said. "I have suffered my last indignity at his 
 hands." 
 
 The earl was compelled to return to Ravensmere,and 
 he did so almost despairingly. Lady Hamilton was fast 
 improving; she would be able to go to her own home 
 soon, the doctor said, and all anxiety about her was 
 quite at an end. The truth of the story had come to 
 light; all the papers had it; everyone knew that Lady 
 Hamilton had been shot by mistake, and that it was 
 the young Countess of Caraven whom John Blantyre 
 had intended to kill. 
 
 The earl confided the result of his mission to Sir 
 Raoul, who was not much surprised. 
 
 "You have tried her beyond her strength," he said; 
 "I should advise you, without loss of time, to return 
 to London again." 
 
 Lord Caraven did so, but his journey was fruitless. 
 Hildred refused to see him; to all entreaties from her 
 father she answered simply: 
 
 "I have not one word to add to what I have said;" 
 and with that answer the earl was obliged to be content. 
 In sheer despair he sent for Sir Raoul, who, though 
 almost unfit to travel, hastened to him; he besought 
 him to use his influence with the beautiful young wife 
 who had no pity for him. Then he grew wildly jealous 
 
4*6 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 at the idea that she woufd listen to Sir Raoul when sta 
 
 refused absolutely to listen to him. 
 
 "Why should you have more influence over her than 
 I have?" he asked, half angrily. 
 
 "Because," said Sir Raoul, "I understand the higher, 
 better, nobler part of her nature, as you, I fear, will 
 never understand it. I will try what I can do." 
 
 "Tell her then, Raoul," went on the earl, his tone 
 and manner changing suddenly, "that I was blind to 
 her beauty, her goodness, her truth, but that I see all 
 now. Tell her that I did not love her when I first knew 
 her, but that I love her now; tell her, if she will buit 
 forgive me, I will make the devotion of my whole life 
 atone for my past neglect " 
 
 Sir Raoul promised. Lady Caraven did not refuse 
 to see him. He was shocked and startled at the ter 
 rible change a few days had wrought in her. Ho 
 looked at the pale face. 
 
 "How you have suffered, Hildred," he said. 
 
 "Yes ; I came to the end of my patience at last. 1 
 can bear it no longer, Raoul; it was a life of torture 
 after all, and I will never return to it. I could not 
 be brave any longer." 
 
 "Poor child!" said the grave, pitying voice. "Some 
 words are running in my mind/ Hildred, about those 
 who, having put their hand to the plow, turn back 
 again. May I ask, are you one of those, Hildred? Are 
 you tired of heroism?" 
 
 "There was no heroism in my life," she said. 
 
 "Nay, pardon me; there -was the grandest heroism 
 possible. Do you know what my idea of heroism really 
 is? w 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 417 
 
 She looked up at him with greater interest than she 
 
 had yet displayed. 
 "Tell me, Raoul." 
 
 "This is the grandest heroism, * he said — "the hero- 
 ism that makes saints and martyrs — bearing the burden 
 of our lives patiently and cheerfully, never failing in 
 strength and endurance. I thought that you would 
 heroically and cheerfully bear the crosses and trials of 
 your life. So you did for a time; now you have laid 
 down your cross, saying that it is too heavy for you 
 to bear. Ah! Hildred! believe me, good was never 
 yet won by cowardice. Take it up again, this burden 
 you have laid down. In the day of adversity fail not 
 — be a heroine until the end." 
 
 His words cheered and encouraged her, as they al- 
 ways did. 
 
 "What would you have me do?" she asked. 
 
 "I would have you lay aside your coldness, your 
 pride, your reserve," he told her. "Do not become 
 a revengeful woman. Your husband has, it is true, 
 outraged and insulted you, but it was a mistake, and 
 he deplores it bitterly. Be generous; leave revenge 
 to small souls and narrow minds; rise above it, and 
 forgive him." 
 
 "You do not know, Raoul," she said, "that my heart 
 is sore with trouble." 
 
 "I know," he replied, "it is hard to bear, but you 
 must forgive him. You must again take up the duties 
 of your life, resume your occupations, devote yourself 
 to the welfare of your husband, forgive generously and 
 entirely all that has happened, live for the good work 
 
4t8 
 
 PkOM OUT THE GLObM 
 
 you have fcegun. Once before I asked you il ycz *zcre 
 strong enough to take up the burden of your life and 
 carry it bravely. I ask you the same question now." 
 
 She was quite silent for a few minutes, and then, as 
 the mist rolls from the hill-tops before the light of tha 
 sun, all shadow passed from her face, and she an' 
 swered him. 
 
 "i will. I will do all you advise, Raoul. I will 
 forgive my husband. You say that he loves me now. 
 I shall put his love to the test. If it fails, well and 
 good — I will do my duty without the sunshine of love 
 to cheer me; if it stands the test, I will try to crown 
 his life with my love." 
 
 He looked long and lovingly at her. 
 
 "You are a brave girl, Hildred — you are a good wo 
 man/' he said admiringly. 4 1 wish there were mo< 
 like you. I will tell Ulric that you are willing to s4 
 him now." 
 
 "If you please," she ref ponded; "but, Raoul, do no* 
 repeat what I have said. I want to test his love mj 
 self." 
 
CHAPTER XLIV 
 
 "WHEN I BEGAN tO LOVE YOU WITH A LOVER'S LOVE I CAM- 
 NOT TELL" 
 
 Lady Caraven decided to follow the advice of her 
 friend Sir Raoul and forgive her husband. She re- 
 ceived him in the pretty little boudoir in which the 
 few months of her girlish life at home had been spent 
 It was a pretty room, octagon-shaped, with a large 
 bay-window that looked across the lawn to the river 
 —a room that seemed fitted for a young girl's habita- 
 tion, with hangings of pink silk and white lace, a 
 profusion of flowers, and a few pretty water-color 
 drawings. 
 
 She was standing by the window when he entered. 
 
 His step was so light and quiet that she did not 
 hear him at first; and he looked at her for half a min- 
 ute in silent admiration. The tall slender figure was 
 draped in a plain black silk dress; the dark hair was 
 carelessly arranged after a picturesque fashion; the 
 lovely face had a faint hue of returning health and hope. 
 Her hands were tightly clasped, and the expression 
 on her face was one of deep thought. 
 
 "Hildred!" he called, and at the sound of his voice 
 a crimson flush seemed to burn her neck and face. She 
 was quite silent for a minu>e, and then she twrned to 
 turn and held out her hand. 
 
 410 
 
420 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "Can you — do you really forgive me?" he asked. "I 
 hardly dare to hope that it is true. M 
 
 "It is quite true," she replied; and he detected a 
 slight tremor in her voice. "Let me ask a question 
 in my turn! Is it true that you love me?" 
 
 "Yes," he answered. "It is as true as that heaven is 
 above me." 
 
 "Will you tell me how long you have loved me?" 
 she asked, quietly. 
 
 "I will answer you quite truthfully, Hildred," re- 
 plied the earl; "I cannot tell you. When I first mar- 
 ried you — I speak freely — I did not like you; to me 
 you were simply an incumbrance that I was compelled 
 to put up with. I saw nothing in you — neither beauty 
 nor mind; yet we had to live together, and in some 
 kind of way I was grateful to you. For many long 
 months after our marriage I looked upon you simply 
 as an unformed school-girl. The first thing that I 
 awoke to was a knowledge of your beauty. I heard 
 everyone praising it and I began to perceive that in 
 place of an unformed school-girl I had one of the most 
 beautiful women in England for my wife. The next 
 thing that struck me was the way in which you spoke 
 to me; I began to admire your pride and spirit, your 
 noble ideas, your grand notions of duty. The day I 
 saw you dismiss John Blantyre was the day, I believe, 
 on which I first began to love you. Then I admired the 
 way in which you roused me, the way in which you 
 broke up without mercy all my dreamy, luxurious life. 
 I loved you for the brave manner in which you took 
 your stand by duty. But when I began to love you 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 421 
 
 with a lover's love I cannot tell. On the night of the 
 ball, when I saw what you had inscribed on your tablets 
 — 'My husband' — my heart beat faster than it had 
 ever done before, and I felt the greatest inclination 
 to take you in my arms and kiss your face a thousand 
 times; but I could not. After that my love grew. I 
 watched you — you were beautiful and graceful, my 
 love; I listened to you — your words were replete with 
 wit and wisdom; I saw how your whole time was 
 given to useful and noble occupations. But when I 
 began to love you with a lover's love I cannot tell, 
 Hildred. I should like to say one thing to you, ,J he 
 continued, hurriedly — "they are humiliating words for 
 me, but true ones. Whatever there is of good in me, 
 I owe it, my wife, to you. I was sunk in pleasure, 
 in self-indulgence. I had but one idea of life, and 
 that was to get as much from it as possible. I own to 
 you that I never even thought of duty; I hated the 
 word. My thoughts and interests were centered in 
 myself. 
 
 "Men died; I cared not, so that I lived. Men starved; 
 I had plenty. Those who depended on me were 
 ground down, oppressed, and burdened. I cared not. 
 so that the means were forthcoming to gratify my de- 
 sires. My wife, it was you who aroused the nobler soul 
 within me, who taught me to live for others and not 
 for myself, who taught me that there is a pleasure in 
 virtue. After heaven, I owe all that is good in my life 
 to you, and I thank you for it." 
 
 She bowed her head in sweetest courtesy. She could 
 not speak to him. His words had filled her heart with 
 the very fullness of joy. 
 
422 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "I am sure," he continued, "that, when a strong 
 chain of circumstances led me to believe that you were 
 guilty of a great crime, the strongest feeling in my 
 heart was disappointment that you were not the 
 angel that I had taken you to be. Then when you had 
 gone, and I was left alone, left without you, I knew that 
 I loved you. I found my life a blank; my thoughts 
 were always with you; my heart had gone with you. 
 Then I knew that I loved you with a lover's love, and 
 that I should never be happy until I had won you." 
 
 A glad light came into her dark eyes, but she made 
 no reply. He continued: 
 
 "Hildred, as earnestly as a man can speak, I ask 
 you to forgive me. Forgive the base selfishness that 
 married you for money without love and without any 
 knowledge of your real worth. Forgive the insolent 
 neglect, the cruelty, the coldness, the pain I have 
 caused you. Forgive the last and greatest blunder of 
 all — my unjust suspicion. I do not deserve your par- 
 don, but I ask it." 
 
 "I forgive you," she replied. "We will bury the 
 past; we will talk of it no more. But, Lord Caraven, 
 I am going to put your love to the test." 
 
 He interrupted her. 
 
 " Hildred," he said, "do not call me, Lord Caraven; 
 try to say, Ulric." She looked at him with sweet, shy 
 eyes. 
 
 "Ulric," she said, "I am going to put your love to 
 the test." 
 
 "I may say with safety that it will bear it," he re- 
 plied. 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 423 
 
 "Our marriage was a mistake," she said, softly — 
 "perhaps we were not altogether to blame for that. 
 We have made great mistakes since, in which we have 
 both been to blame. What I propose is a year's ab- 
 sence. A cousin of mine, Mrs. Glenvil, is very ill 
 and is ordered to Nice. I ask you to let me go with 
 her. She will be away a year — see what that year will 
 effect. If love of me has sufficient influence over you 
 to keep you good, industrious, active for the benefit 
 of others as you are now, I shall believe that you love 
 me. If in a year's time you come to me and tell me 
 that you love me better than ever, that time and ab- 
 sence have not changed you, I will return with you, 
 and will make you a most loving, devoted wife. Do 
 you accept, my love?" 
 
 He stood for a few minutes in thoughtful silence, 
 and then he said: 
 
 "Yes; I accept it — I shall be pleased to prove my 
 sincerity to you." 
 
 "There need be nothing in it for people to gossip 
 about," she said, shyly. "You have but to tell any- 
 one who inquires that I have gone to Nice with my 
 cousin, and when the twelvemonth has elapsed, that 
 you are going to fetch me home." 
 
 "I am willing, Hildred," he said, "and shall count 
 the days and the hours, my wife, until we meet. I 
 never knew how sweet the word 'wife' was, nor how 
 much it meant until now." 
 
 As it was agreed, the only persons to whom they 
 told the result of that interview were Sir Raoul and 
 Arley Ransome, who both cordially approved of the 
 
424 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 plan, foreseeing that it would end well. Everyone be- 
 lieved that Lady Caraven had been so suddenly sum- 
 moned because of the illness of Mrs. Glenvil, and 
 when a short paragraph in the fashionable papers 
 told that the young countess was going to Nice for a 
 short time with her cousin, no one had a word to say 
 about the arrangement. 
 
 The earl returned to Ravensmere to show all needful 
 politeness and respect for Lady Hamilton. It was a 
 great relief to him when the doctor pronounced her 
 well enough to return home, and he was a little sur- 
 prised when he found that she regretted leaving Sir 
 Raoul more than anyone else. The noble, honest 
 soldier had made a great impression on the beautiful, 
 fashionable coquette. 
 
 "He is a man worth loving," she said to herself. 
 
 Then the earl returned to London to see his wife 
 and Mrs. Glenvil off. He went with them to Dover. 
 They had decided upon going to Paris first. He stood 
 for a few minutes on the deck oi the steamer before ii 
 sailed; he looked with longing, wistful eyes at the face 
 of his young wife. 
 
 "Hildred, how I wish that I were going with you!" 
 he said. 
 
 "So do L" she replied, with a frank, charming 
 smile. "But that would not do. You must stand the 
 test. You will come to fetch me, and the year will not 
 
 seem so long." 
 
 He sighed as he looked at her. 
 
 "I have a kind of fear that I shall be like the naughty 
 boy in the story-book/' he said— M l shall meet with 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 425 
 
 my just punishment, Hildred, if anything should hap- 
 pen to me before the year is out." 
 
 "I promise to return to ) r ou at once if you are ill or in 
 trouble," she replied earnestly. 
 
 "My darling, give me one kiss!" he cried, suddenly. 
 
 But the countess drew down her veil, "No," she 
 said, "that would make the parting even harder. 
 Good-bye. Heaven bless you, Ulric!" 
 
 "Good-bye, my wife!" he said; and his eyes filled 
 with tears as he watched the steamer cutting her way 
 through the blue waves. 
 
CHAPTER XLV 
 
 "THIS IS OUR REAL WEDDING-DAY, HILDRED* 
 
 No man ever set to work with greater zeal tha*n did 
 the handsome earl. He did not delay one hour in 
 London; he went back at once to Ravensmere. only 
 eager to begin work. There was to be no more idle- 
 ness, no mbre dissipation, no more self-indulgence. He 
 had made up his mind that all the plans his wife had 
 contemplated and begun for the benefit of the estate 
 should be carried out before she returned home. The 
 model cottages should be built, and men with their 
 families residing in them; the schools should not only 
 be erected, but open; the almshouses should be fin- 
 ished, and the old women occupying them. She 
 should find her protege Ellen Woodruff installed as por- 
 tress in one of the lodges; every wish his wife had ever 
 expressed should be carried out, every desire fulfilled; 
 houses should be repaired, farms put in good order — 
 he would neglect not a single thing that she had ever 
 proposed or thought of. No matter what it cost, all 
 should be done. He took Sir Raoul into his confi- 
 dence, and they found that by employing extra hands 
 the work could be done in the time. 
 
 Lord Caraven did not lose an hour. No one look 
 ing at him now could have believed that he had ever 
 been indolent. There were days when he rose with 
 
 420 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 427 
 
 the dawn of the sun and worked without ceasing until 
 it set — days when he found no time for anything but 
 riding round and encouraging the different sets of men 
 to work. Everyone knew at last what his object was 
 — that he wanted all finished before his wife came 
 home. 
 
 When that was known, the workers grew even more 
 anxious to please him, for there was not one on the 
 estate, man or woman or child, who was not anxious 
 to please the young countess and who did not love her. 
 
 "She will be happy at last," said Sir Raoul to him- 
 self as he saw that love for her was gradually but surely 
 influencing the whole of the young earl's life. 
 
 Lord Caraven, in the midst of his labors and toils, 
 did not forget to correspond continually with his wife. 
 He wrote to her every week, never telling her what 
 he was doing, but dwelling continually on his pas- 
 sionate love for her, on his intense desire to see her 
 again. 
 
 "These are our love letters, Hildred," he wrote once. 
 "This is our courtship. The day on which we meet 
 will be our real wedding-day," and she smiled to her- 
 self as she read. He was won at last, and no one but 
 herself knew how happy she was to win him. 
 
 So the year passed away. It was thought advisable 
 for Mrs. Glenvil to return before the English winter 
 began, and the beginning of September was fixed up- 
 on as the time for her and the countess' return. The 
 earl prayed his wife to allow him to go to Nice to es- 
 cort them home, as was at first arranged She answered 
 "No," that her father would do that She did not 
 
4*8 
 
 FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 wish to meet him again until she met him at home* 
 Her father would bring her to Court Raven Station; 
 he could meet her there and take her home. 
 
 "She is right," said Sir Raoul; "that seems to mi 
 more fitting. She is right, as she always is." 
 
 So the day came — a bright September day — when 
 all the world seemed changed to the Earl of Caraven. 
 The train was due at the Court Raven Station at three 
 in the afternoon, and the earl was to meet it. 
 . Lord Caraven kept his word. The day was cele- 
 brated as a wedding-day. Great tents were erected in 
 the park, and all the children and the tenantry were 
 feasted therein to their hearts' content. There was 
 nothing but rejoicing and merriment and happiness. 
 
 The earl stood by the carriage when the train 
 stopped. There was not much time for greeting then. 
 He clasped his wife's hands between his own, hesitat- 
 ed for a moment, and then kissed her. 
 
 "My wife — my darling— welcome home!" he said. 
 
 Then he helped her into the carriage and took his 
 seat by her side. He saw her face grow pale with 
 emotion as the ringing cheers of men, women, and 
 children fell upon her ear; and as the carriage drove 
 slowly along, more than one rough voice cried: 
 
 "Heaven bless your ladyship! Welcome home!" 
 
 They drove slowly, for the crowd was great. She 
 had seemed especially to belong to the people, this 
 dark-eyed, beautiful woman, who had worked so hard, 
 ^nd they were delighted to "have her in their midst 
 again. The earl had not failed to tell them all, both 
 rich and poor, what they owed to her, and rich and) 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 poo v were there to welcome her. The crowd increased 
 as th^y drove through the park and when the carriage 
 stopped at the great entrance it was wonderful to see 
 the throngs of people. The earl stood up to thank 
 them for their kind and spontaneous greeting. Then 
 he took his wife's hand in his, and a beautiful smile 
 brightened her face as she looked round upon them — 
 there was hardly one in the vast gathering who had not 
 received some kindness, some favor or benefit from her 
 hands, 
 
 "My friends," he said, "every man who loves his 
 wife has a pet name for her. My wife is the good an- 
 gel of my house." 
 
 They then passed indoors, followed by the good 
 wishes of all who knew them. 
 
 There was a small and early dinner-party at the 
 castle; the members of it were the earl, the countess, 
 Sir Raoul, Arley Ransome, and Mrs. Glenvil. After 
 dinner. Lord Caraven drew his wife's arm within his 
 own. 
 
 "This is our real wedding-day, Hildred," he said, 4 so 
 I am not going to apologize for taking you away horn 
 our guests." 
 
 They walked across the long drawing-room to the 
 balcony where the last roses of summer were hanging, 
 and where the creepers formed a bower. 
 
 "It is not cold," he said. "Will you come out here? " 
 
 They went out together, and stood watching the 
 sunset over the trees in the park. 
 
 "First of all, Hildred," said the earl, "guess what 
 news I have for you." 
 
FROM OUT THE GLOOM 
 
 "I cannot guess, H she replied. 
 
 "You would never imagine," he said. M J told you in 
 one of my letters how sorry Lady Hamilton was to 
 leave Sir Raoul." 
 
 She looked up at him, her face full of interest. 
 
 "Yes, you did," she assented. 
 
 "It has ended in this way. He met her again in 
 London, and again at Brighton, and they are to be 
 married at Christmas. She has given up flirting, and 
 cares for nothing under the sun but her soldier lover." 
 
 "I am glad of it," said Lady Caraven. "She is a 
 beautiful woman, sweet, gentle, and gracious. Her 
 only fault was coquetry. I think she is safe with Sir 
 Raoul. He will not allow much of that." 
 
 "Still you will own that you are surprised, Hildred?" 
 
 But she did not answer him. She had placed her 
 hand in his and was looking far away at the light of 
 the setting sun, as one in a happy dream. 
 
 "I wanted to say something else to you, my darling," 
 he continued, putting his arm around her and kissing 
 her fondly, while she nestled to his side. M I want to 
 thank you for all you have done for me, and to tell 
 you that I think the greatest blessing heaven can con- 
 fer upon a man is the gift of a patient, unselfish, de- 
 moted wife — such as has been given to me." 
 
 in ud