y^/ 
 
VIZETELLY^S ONE-VOLUME NOVELS, 
 
 V. 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 LOVE AND LUCEE. 
 
VIZETELLY’S ONE-VOLUME NOVELS. 
 
 BY ENGLISH AND FOREIGN AUTHORS OF REPUTE. 
 
 In Crown 8vo, good readable type^ and attractive binding ^ price 6s. each. 
 
 THE~IRONMASTER; 
 
 OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 
 
 By GEORGES OHNET. 
 
 Translated without abridgment from the 146th French Edition. 
 
 NUMA ROUMESTAN; 
 
 OR, JOY ABROAD AND GRIEF AT HOME. 
 
 By ALPHONSE DAUDET. 
 
 Translated by Mrs. J. G. Layard. 
 
 “ ‘ Nuina Roumestan ’ is a masterpiece ; it is really a perfect work ; 
 it has no fault, no weakness. It is a compact and harmonious whole.” 
 —Mr. Henry James. 
 
 COUNTESS SARAH. 
 
 By GEORGES OHNET, Author op “The Ironmaster.” 
 Translated from the 118th French Edition. 
 
 A MUMMER’S WIFE. 
 
 By GEORGE MOORE, Author of “A Modern Lover.” 
 
 “A striking book, different in tone from current English fiction. 
 The woman’s character is a very powerful study.” — Athenaeum. 
 
 MR. BUTLER’S WARD. 
 
 By MABEL EOBINSON. 
 
 BETWEEN MIDNIGHT AND DAWN. 
 
 By INA L. CASSILIS, Author of “ Society’s Queen,” 
 
 “ Strangely Wooed : Strangely Won,” &c. 
 
 PRINCE SERGE PANINE. 
 
 By GEORGES OHNET. 
 
 Translated from the 110th French Edition. 
 
 THE FORKED TONGUE. 
 
 By E. LANGSTAFF DE HAVILLAND. 
 
 THE THREATENING EYE. 
 
 By E. F. knight. 
 
ViZETELLY’S ONE-VOLUME NOVELS. 
 
 V. 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 LOVE AND LDORE. 
 
 By JOHN HILL, 
 
 AUTHOR OF “ THE WATERS OF MARAH,” “ SALLY",” ETC. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 VIZETELLY CO., 42, CATHERINE STREET, _ SIRA AH, 
 
 1885. 
 
LONDON ; 
 
 PRINTED BY J. S. VIRTUE AND CO., LIMITED, 
 CITY ROAD. 
 

 It is right that I should say that in the composition of 
 Chapters I. and II. of this story, I am indebted to my 
 friend Henry George Murray for his assistance. The rest 
 of the book i§ wholly my own work — such as it is. 
 
 JOHN HfLL. 
 

 t. ''---. I <^ 
 
 ■. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEE PAGE 
 
 I. CORSAR AND SON 9 
 
 II. CORSAR AND PARTNER 17 
 
 III. Sandy 25 
 
 IV. Sandy’s Rooms 31 
 
 V. Cyrus Shute becomes a Millionaire .... 38 
 
 VI. Firelight, Tobacco, and Gloom ..... 47 
 
 VII. The Cruise op a Sunbeam ...... 54 
 
 VIII. May Signals with the Black Peter . .62 
 
 IX. Foils . 73 
 
 X. “Come to me at once,” Jenny . . . . * . 83. 
 
 XI. Jenny 97 
 
 XII. Jenny — further .113 
 
 XIII. Jenny Retrospective still 126 
 
 XIV. Carl Surrenders .135 
 
 XV. “ Some time I’ll Call You ” 146 
 
 XVI. How Sandy made Sundry Great Resolutions . . 158 
 
 XVII. How HE Kept them. ....... 167 
 
 XVIII. Rather Idyllic 174 
 
 XIX. Facilis Descensus 186 
 
 XX. Mr. George Clinch 194 
 
 XXI. “Sir, I will ! ” 204 
 
Vlll 
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 CHAPTER ^ PAGE 
 
 XXII. Colonel Shute is astonished, and John Ratnham 
 
 PERPLEXED 215 
 
 XXIII. The Candour of Carl Corsar 226 
 
 XXIV. The Anna Maria,” and what came out of her . 232 
 
 XXV. Outside the Academy 240 
 
 XXVI. The Girl I left behind Me 246 
 
 XXVII. Colonel Shute feels Ugly 255 
 
 XXVIII. Mr. Corsar settles down and takes a Rest . . 264 
 
 XXIX. My Poor Dad ! . . 269 
 
 XXX. Carl the Self-centred . . . . . .275 
 
THE COESAKS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 LOVE AND LUCEE. 
 
 CHAPTEE*!. 
 
 CORSAR AND SON, 
 
 It is not every young man of seven-and-twenty or so wlio has 
 a father. Still fewer, in all probability, have such a one as 
 Carl Corsar had, whatever their age. Almost every young 
 creature probably regards its father as something god-like, 
 infallible, omnipotent — a present help in time of trouble, a 
 source of all good, a just and merciful dispenser of reward 
 and punishment. The shock of finding all this to be not 
 merely partially true, as in most cases, but wholly and 
 hideously false, as in this, is a horrible one, and Carl received 
 it on arriving at years of precocious perception.'; 
 
 The bland, cultured, and courtly person who bore that rela- 
 tion to Carl had been his bad angel, and the lad had never 
 found a compensating good one. 
 
 Mr. Corsar, senior, was undoubtedly entitled to the descrip- 
 tion of gentleman by birth, but he had alienated his right to 
 the title by his own acts and deeds and thoughts — which are, 
 indeed, more than acts. Brought up with good education and 
 plenteous fortune, he had misused the former and dribbled 
 and gambled away the latter. Having wasted one fortune, he 
 married another, in days long previous to the Married Women’s 
 Property Act, and spent it much as before, except that stocks 
 and shares, instead of cards and betting, became the medium 
 
 B 
 
10 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 — the sieve — through which he shook out his own and, as much 
 as possible, other people’s capital. 
 
 The unhappy woman who had married him for the reason 
 women do marry plausible scoundrels, because she loved him, 
 had left him, after having had the flimsy ethical common- 
 places in which she had been reared battered out of her by 
 the cool and keen unscrupulousness of her husband’s tongue 
 and life. That is long ago now. She died in Paris, and 
 was buried at the expense of the arrondissement under a 
 flctitious name — for no one knew her real name except her 
 husband, and he did not care anything about her. She left 
 a son, Carl Corsar. 
 
 Mr. James Corsar was usually to be found by visitors in 
 well-practised poses, in a round-backed writing-chair, which 
 gyrated on a swivel, with a cigarette in his mouth, and a 
 subfusc decorously fashionable suit on his elegant if angular 
 body, gold eye-glasses oiif^the aristocratic bridge of his nose, 
 and an expression of calm dignity and bland appreciation of 
 his own worth. His face was handsome in the Napoleonic 
 style, a bloodless, ageless face. Viewed from some yards’ dis- 
 tance by candlelight, he might have been Borneo ; seen in the 
 close, cruel candour of morning sunshine he was almost 
 Lear. He had a useful set of facial expressions for every-day 
 purposes — polite surprise, reverent attention, gentle scorn, 
 &c. — which years of mirror- study enabled him to assume 
 at will. 
 
 There was one other expression which had once or twice 
 been seen on him by his friend Cyrus Shute and a very few other 
 people. It came of its own accord, and wa» by no means the 
 result of practice. It was once observed when a gentleman of 
 French origin, in the city of New Orleans, threw his lost 
 stakes in Corsar’ s face, so that his lip bled, and the dollars 
 and notes were strewn on the floor. The gentleman of French 
 origin was shortly afterwards strewn on the floor, and passed 
 out of currency, which the stakes did not. It was not a nice 
 expression. Cyrus Shute remarked that it was a hell of a 
 face. It was. 
 
 Mr. Corsar was fond of proclaiming his insuperable 
 attachment to the ideas of the Old School and the ancien 
 regime. He used both phrases, but especially preferred the 
 latter. He was the vieux gentilliomme, living, with a touch- 
 ing mixture of pride and humility, in the irreverent to-day, 
 
oil, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 11 
 
 among tlie demagogic hordes who had seized and squandered 
 the lands and treasures his by birth and blood-right. At 
 least that was the theory he advanced, and resembles the 
 phraseology in which he enounced it. Iron-grey old wit and 
 beau that he was, his little drolleries and epigrams acquired 
 a fictitious value from the air with which they were dehvered, 
 and served, no less than his pathos and pride, to screen the 
 colossal humbug and infinite moral rottenness that lay behind 
 them all. 
 
 He had a pale, opaque skin, blue- shaded where he shaved, 
 which was everywhere possible on his face — that, too, being 
 part of the ancien regime, no doubt ; and a fine set of steely- 
 white teeth — a very, advantageous possession to the frequent 
 smiler. His eyes were dark, circum-bistred, sunken, and 
 inscrutable ; his eyebrows black and marked, and strongly 
 contrasting with his short, iron-grey hair, AVhen he sat in 
 his swivel-chair, his white ringed hands crossed upon his 
 knee, his clear-cut, full-fleshed, Napoleonic face slightly up- 
 lifted, his body clothed in old but elegantly cut clothes, and 
 linen beyond criticism, he suggested irresistibly the Portrait 
 of a Gentleman — in reduced circumstances, as a witty spectator 
 once described it. 
 
 This person had, while taking his son with him as a lad on 
 his frequent, varied, and often sudden pilgrimages, taught 
 him to disbelieve in any meaning or purpose in life except 
 that it was a source of pleasure and pain, the former sought 
 and seldom found, the latter avoided but seldom escaped; other- 
 wise, as a mere mill for grinding young into qld, a process which 
 to Carl seemed to advance rapidly. Then in the kindest and 
 most neatly expressed manner in the world, Mr. Corsar com- 
 pelled his son to admit the fact that if he chose to attach him- 
 self to those rigid and peculiar tenets which were coarsely and 
 vulgarly known as common honesty, there must be a separa- 
 tion, a split. In fact, Carl must learn to adapt himself to his 
 environment in life alone and unaided, and survive if he 
 could. Carl took the latter alternative, and came to London 
 alone, at eighteen, with a present of a few pounds given in a 
 lucky and benevolent moment from his father. Carl was no 
 greenhorn at that age. No son of James Corsar could be that 
 at any age ; but he felt lonely, and looked round him at the 
 vast, gas-speckled murkiness of London, wondering where the 
 
 opening was. 
 
12 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 Carl had lived mostly in those small French towns peopled 
 by a shameless, shabby society of British defalcators ; and 
 such families and boarding-houses and reunions surrounded 
 him as are usually described by the term shady.’’ And in 
 these abodes of vitiated talent, battered reputation, and all 
 uncleanness, Carl had grown up, when he ought to have been 
 playing cricket and football in England. And so he came to 
 England at eighteen, with the cynicism and blasphemy of a 
 French comic journalist on his lips, a handsome thin face, 
 with the expression of eight-and-twenty, a keen brain, a great 
 appetite, and a light poeket. He reverenced neither man 
 nor woman — nor anything else, certainly not children. 
 
 That was simple enough. He had neyer known a man or 
 woman who could be revered or believed in to any great 
 extent. Men hitherto had been to him creatures who played 
 at billiards for j^etits verves^ and touched the balls and altered 
 the scores shamelessly ; who played cards for ^etits verves, 
 cheated shamelessly, drank a great many petits verves, smoked 
 many cigarettes, evaded their pecuniary obligations, even 
 their debts of what they call honour to each other ; abused 
 one another when absent on every opportunity to whatever 
 third party chose to listen ; read the Almanack des CocoUes ; 
 and always talked about fabulous remittances they were 
 expecting from England from their connections in the House 
 of Peers. Women had been creatures quite worthy of such 
 men, who had petted and well-nigh spoiled him on account 
 of his good looks and straightforward nature, imtil time 
 taught him that such blandishments were a fraud and a 
 weariness. 
 
 He had passed, therefore, through the school of impecu- 
 niosity, quite understood what the struggle for existence 
 meant, and analysed the atmosphere of humbug into its com- 
 ponent parts. In London he began to put his experience to 
 some use. He spoke French readily, and managed to get a 
 post as assistant in a large cheap shop, one of those places of 
 vast dimensions where everything is sold at a low price, and 
 where the rules are long hours and low wages. 
 
 Beyond this Carl was in the receipt of nothing a year, with 
 a colossal and problematic fortune in the remote perspective 
 of paternal assurances, payaWe, as Carl pleasantly put it, 
 ^ree months and six days after the inauguration of the mil- 
 lennium. To a less robust mind, the hideous monotony and 
 
OR, LOVK AND LUCRi:. 
 
 13 
 
 small chicanery of the great shop would have been a good 
 take-off for a plunge from Hungerford Bridge/’ again to 
 quote Carl’s peculiar style of pleasantry. He, however, did 
 nothing of the kind. He stood and measured out glass-cloth 
 at fourpence three-farthings^ per yard in the day, and ho 
 studied and attended classes at night. At some period he 
 slept and took meals, but record omits to say when. 
 
 One day he got a holiday, went to the University of Fen- 
 chester, in East Anglia, and to his immense surprise and joy 
 won a scholarship in science at the ancient and loyal founda- 
 tion of Audit College. A few years passed. He took annual 
 prizes, and a high place in the final examination, and became 
 a private tutor or coach,” was appointed an assistant lecturer 
 in his special subject, and began to be betted on as the next 
 Science Fellow. 
 
 Near this period Mr. Corsar, sen., appeared in London, 
 elegant, smiling, and mysteriously affluent. He took apart- 
 ments in the convenient but expensive locality of Jermyn 
 Street, and expanded and shone with benevolence, dignity, 
 and Worth. Not wit, wealth, or piety did he pride himself 
 on, but Worth, solid, sterling Worth. He had quite accepted 
 the notion of Carl’s success, and patted himself on the back 
 for having caused it. You are prospering at Audit ? ” said 
 he to his son, when the latter called on him, after the father 
 had pitched his moving tent in Jermyn Street. 
 
 Well, yes, more or less.” 
 
 That is well. The more you cultivate the habit of self- 
 support the better. It gives a knowledge of the world and a 
 desire to excel. That is why I gave you a good education.” 
 
 Oh, you did ? 
 
 ‘‘Eh ? Yes. And it is particularly fortunate for you that 
 you have managed to add to your little income by your own 
 exertions, as it is not just yet in my power to give you that 
 liberal allowance which I think due to a son of mine.” 
 
 “ Thanks.” 
 
 “Not at all. Not at all. We are not responsible for our 
 natural affections. They are implanted, I may say, like our 
 family pride, or our — in fact, family features. You are a 
 handsome dog, Carl. You’ll damage some fair heart yet.” 
 
 “Thanks.’’ 
 
 Mr. Corsar suddenly changed his tone : 
 
 “ Hang it, sir, don’t be so infernally monosyllabic and dry. 
 
14 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 It is irritating and impertinent. Althougli we may differ on 
 matters of opinion, we may be civil. I’m your father.” 
 
 Well, I can’t help that. AVhat do you want? Help? 
 I can afford to let you have £100 a year now, with a little 
 extra effort. Look here, will you take it, and live — where 
 you please, anj^where, except among those infernal sharks 
 and tigers at Plageville-sur-Mer, and keep on the right side 
 of the law ? ” 
 
 You’re a sort of fool, Carl. Too much learning hath 
 made thee mad, eh ? Can you imagine me — me, living on 
 £100 a year, where ? No. Don’t make degrading sug- 
 gestions. Don’t try and pension off your old father on condi- 
 tion he keeps out of the way. That’s not nice in you, Carl. 
 It is not what I expect from my son.” 
 
 I never said or implied that at all. However, let that go. 
 What do you expect from your son, I wonder ? ” 
 
 ^‘Nothing. There. Except a little civility, and a little 
 consideration. Pity, if you like. Carl, I’m too old a dog to 
 learn new tricks. As for the sharks and tigers, I hate ’em. 
 They bore me. They are vulgar and irritating to a degree. 
 I have done with them I hope for a time, perhaps for ever. 
 Now if you are not ashamed, in your beautiful pride and 
 prejudice, to stay here a little longer and listen. I’ll give you 
 a little advice, as I can’t give you anything better, the advan- 
 tage of the excess of my years over yours. I do this from a 
 sense of duty, though the ribald youth of the day would say 
 I do it from the natural pleasure the old take in laying down 
 the law to the young.” 
 
 Mr. Corsar’s calm dignity had quite returned now. I am 
 going to speak in all earnest sincerity to you, a thing you 
 will have observed I do not invariably feel compelled to do.” 
 ^^I have.” 
 
 “Don’t make flippant interruptions. Learn to distinguish 
 mere smartness and repartee from true and spontaneous quiet 
 wit. Of course I can’t give you experience. You will get that 
 for yourself, and I hope you will like it. I was myself once, 
 as you may have heard, a fellow-commoner at Audit, though 
 I did not take a degree — like many great men who have since 
 earned distinction. I did not in fact stay sufficiently long. 
 The place itself was well enough— well enough, but it dis- 
 agreed with me. Many places do.” 
 
 Carl smiled grimly and nodded. 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 hj 
 
 ‘ ‘ To go more into detail, I would recommend any young 
 man of parts tliere to behave as follows. To your superiors — 
 supposing you still feel that you have any, after five-and- 
 twenty years or so of residence on this planet — be courteous 
 und submissive in demeanour, preserving in the meantime a 
 complete independence of opinion and action in all matters. 
 Probably some of the dons are gentlemen of taste and educa- 
 tion now, though I dare say many of the old school of eating- 
 nnd-drinking machines are left.” 
 
 They are some of the most famous and hardworking men 
 in the country.” 
 
 Ah ! you are enthusiastic. A good sign.” 
 
 No, Pm not. I’m merely stating well-known facts.” 
 Avoid that dry, persistent, argumentative style as you 
 would poison. It will make you very unpopular. And in a 
 general way, ^put money in thy purse,’ as it is fortunately in 
 your power, though not yet in mine, to do. Don’t be in too 
 great a hurry to make friends. A man with your brains and 
 face ought always to be able to get useful friends. Therefore, 
 I say, don’t take up out of mere foolish good-nature with 
 fellows who may prove bores, or borrowers, or both.” 
 
 Don’t think ^mere foolish good-nature’ is one of my 
 weak points.” 
 
 Ah, well. I think there is much of the milk of human 
 kindness running in our veins.” 
 
 Maybe. But it’s turned, and lactic acid fermentation 
 set in some years ago.” 
 
 ^^Por goodness’ sake don’t drag your professional jokes 
 into private and social conversation. You must get rid of 
 these little gaucheries, or I shall think England has made you 
 like her own dear blundering, dunderheaded self. Cultivate 
 yourself. Cultivate cultivated friends.” Mr. Corsar liked to 
 play with his words in this airy style. He thought, like the 
 alliterative poet, that ^4t argueth facility.” ‘^I had several 
 very intellectual friends myself. There was old Miller. He’s 
 a celebrated professor of something now ; and Lyatt — Harry 
 Lyatt — ^he adorns the English bar. We three have heard the 
 chimes quite as late as Shallow did, if not later. However, 
 I must not talk reminiscences, or I shall resemble that justice 
 of the peace too much. Well, I am just an old buck with 
 wits enough inside my head to keep me from putting a purple 
 wig outside it, so bear with me, and hear the last words — on 
 
16 
 
 THE COKSAKS ; OK, LOVE AND LECKE. 
 
 this occasion — of one who by acting on his own maxims has 
 led a remarkably pleasant and not unexciting life. I’ll write 
 memoirs some day. Eemember, there is no time like youth, 
 and it is soon gone, though care and skill may preserve a 
 ghastly similitude of it for some years — vide a few highly 
 distinguished members of my club. Take in this world what 
 pleasure you can get. Eemorse and all that are generally 
 bearable.” (By Jove! thought Carl, he’s getting sincere 
 now.) I wouldn’t gamble, as to a person of your rigid and 
 admirable principles it would as a rule be a losing concern. 
 If you have love affairs — as of course you have by the dozen — 
 manage that the other party to the concern shall always be 
 more in love than you are. ^ II ye toujours une qui tend la 
 joue.’ Never show pain or provocation, but always give back 
 an injury in excess of what you receive. Never repent. You 
 needn’t do things, but if you do, don’t repent. And with 
 
 • good health and food ” Knock. 
 
 A gentlemen to see you, sir.” 
 
 I told you I wasn’t at home I ” 
 
 “ So I told him, sir.” 
 
 What did he say ? ” 
 
 Said he’d step up and wait, sir.” 
 
 That’s cool. What sort of a person ? ” 
 
 ‘‘Eich-looking. Not a gentleman, sir, exactly.” (Mean- 
 ing that he, the visitor, had given no largesse to him, the 
 menial.) 
 
 ‘^Name?” 
 
 Colonel Shute, sir.” 
 
 ‘^Ah! well, show him up. Don’t show anyone else up. 
 Go away, Carl. Excuse my abruptness, but this may mean 
 business.” 
 
CHAPTEE II. 
 
 CORSAR AND PARTNER. 
 
 While the servant descended, and the visitor ascended, Mr. 
 Corsar sat in his swivel-chair and stared upon the fog. The 
 paternal expression and dignified attitude were gon^. His 
 limbs relaxed, he almost sprawled, and his eyes stared 
 gloomily at the fog. He was not thinking of the fog, though 
 it was the most conspicuous thing present to think about, and 
 so thick and so penetrating that it hung in sad festoons round 
 the gas globes, and gave the atmosphere a distinct taste, a 
 very nasty taste, suggesting the relit stump of a Dutch cigar 
 early in the morning on an empty stomach. Mr. Corsar 
 thouglit: “ Now it’s like that brute’s infernal keenness and 
 beastly greed to come down on me just because I’ve got a 
 pound or two more than usual. He shan’t get it, not a 
 pewter farthing, or brass either.” 
 
 Ah, Shute! welcome again. How are you, old friend? 
 Well, I hope. So you have found me out at last.” 
 
 I have so.” 
 
 The speaker was a short, sturdy man, with an egg-shaped 
 head, covered with streaky dark fur which came to a point in 
 the middle of the high forehead, and was shorn very close, 
 so as to be incapable of parting. His eyes were small, grey, 
 bright, and hard, and lay in wait as it were behind fine gold 
 spectacles. His nose was large and hooked, his cheeks had a 
 tendency to hollowness, and his chin came well to the front 
 from under a short thick moustache, dark and streaky like 
 the hair. It was not a handsome face, but it was a distinct 
 one, such as crowds are not made of. He wore a black broad- 
 cloth coat, unbuttoned to display a sealskin waistcoat and a 
 very massive gold chain. His trousers were of shepherd’s 
 tartan, and his boots, which were rather large, but pointed 
 and elegant, shone with unearthly brilliancy and newness, 
 
18 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 while their dimensions were called attention to rather than 
 disguised by white gaiters of the description called spats in 
 these day. Prosperous but uncultured city man, the casual 
 observer would remark on beholding this gorgeous whole. 
 The casual observer would of course be wrong, as he gene- 
 rally is, but Cyrus Shute knew that ]Dretty well, even as he 
 knew that the world is largely made up of casual observers 
 who come to erroneous conclusions. 
 
 This person took u]p a position on the hearthrug, that 
 position so graceful and characteristic of the English-speaking 
 race in which the hands separate the coat-tails behind, bring 
 them in two lateral sheaves to the front, and keep them in that 
 position by plunging themselves into the trouser-pockets. And 
 he contemplated Mr. Corsar serenely and silently. The latter 
 looked bored and impatient. Finding the cordial and hearty 
 tone ineffective, he said shortly — 
 
 Well, what do you want ? 
 
 A drink, anyhow. Tour climate I find, like most others, 
 productive of thirst.” 
 
 Mr. Corsar placed a bottle of whisky on the table and one 
 ^lass. Shute administered to himself freely. 
 
 You will have a drink, too, sir ? ” 
 suppose I must humour your superstitions.” 
 
 And Mr. Corsar languidly fetched a second glass and drank 
 u very little whisky largely diluted. 
 
 ^^And now, may I again ask to what I am indebted for 
 this visit ? ” asked Mr. Corsar, with frigid dignity. 
 
 ^^How?” 
 
 Will you explain why you are here ? ” 
 
 Well — yes. That’s what I came to do.” 
 
 Cyrus Shute helped himself to a cigarette he observed in a 
 box behind him on the chimney, and lit it deliberately. 
 
 ‘^You don’t seem in a pressing hurry about it. Will 
 another time do as .well? I am rather busy just now.” 
 
 Are you now ? Been asked by the Secretary of State for 
 your advice on the Eastern Question maybe? Telegraphing 
 to your duly sworn broker to buy a million or two more 
 United Preference likely ? No. I thank you. This occasion 
 will suit me elegant, if you can spare me haf an hour of your 
 valuable time for cam. and private discussion.” 
 
 Mr. Corsar leaned back resignedly in his chair and waited. 
 ^^Sir,” said the dweller on the hearthrug, in the black 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 19 
 
 tearskin of wMcli his gay feet gleamed, “it is some years 
 now since we met. You are altered.” 
 
 “ You are not.” 
 
 “ No. But we will not at present discuss that. You are 
 not the same man. You have become a frequenter of gilded 
 saloons. You look haf-played out and sick. Now I knew a 
 James Corsar once,” continued this slow unappeasable talker 
 to an imaginary third party (whom he occasionally called 
 sir) “what was a man. Yes, indeed. None like unto him. 
 Present sick-looking, fraudulent imitation sittin’ before me 
 specially unlike. Don’t look as if he could drore up a pro- 
 spectus of the International A — mal — gamated Oroid Bank, 
 Limited, does he now ? Man I remember did. Did it blame 
 well, too. Principal depot, Sam Costa’s bar. Manager’s 
 office, wherever you could find the manager. Mostly in rail- 
 Toad cars and hotel elevators. European backers. Baring, 
 Coutts, and Pothschild ad HI. Prospectus tearfully eloquent 
 to the horny-handed (and lunkheaded) on the delooding 
 bogus companies unhappily too common through the State. 
 Implored ’em not to neglect this opportunity where a scheme 
 -had been devised which solved the problem of high interest 
 and puffick security. Yes, sir ! And the miner didn’t neglect. 
 The horny-handed sowed, and Corsar reaped — reaped 10,000 
 ‘dollars like ten cents, and spent ’em like the same. 
 
 “To see him stand up before a safe with two bits and a 
 bottle of Pobinson County in it, and say to that crowd of 
 ragin’ devils that wanted to break in the safe first and lynch 
 Pirn after when the thing had bust : ‘ Boys, you can kill 
 me. There are many of you and one of me. It won’t be 
 
 difficult. But I’m d d if you take the savin’s of the 
 
 •orphan and the mites of the widder ’cept across my body! ” 
 And then to hear him gas and lie, and stroke their fur the 
 right way, till they sauntered ofi meek and trustful. And to 
 see him saunter ofi by the next cars, with the remainin’ 
 widows’ and orphans’ property safe in his vest pocket. James 
 Corsar was a partner worth havin’. No man on this oblate 
 .sphere could lecture in England as he could on the Cause of 
 the Chivalrous Secesher, himself (at the time) a ruined frag- 
 ment of southern aristocracy, accompanied by his wounded 
 .and disabled veteran partner, the friend of Lee and confidant 
 ‘Of Jackson, Colonel Cyrus Shute.” 
 
 During the leisurely delivery of this monologue, Mr. Corsar 
 
20 
 
 THE CORSAIIS ; 
 
 had brightened visibly. It was just possible that the visitor, 
 whom in his haste he had mentally called ^Hhat brute,” was 
 not going to demand a loan (a euphemism of Shute’s for 
 extorting a gift), but had some purj)ose of a ditferent and 
 more friendly nature. 
 
 Well, Shute, do sit down and explain,” he said with more 
 good humour. 
 
 Shute then took some small parcels out of his hat, and 
 solemnly unfolded them on the table. They contained hard, 
 glittering, variegated mineral lumps. 
 
 What’s that ? ” said he. 
 
 Mr. Corsar examined the lumps. 
 
 ‘‘ Gold, by Jove ! ” 
 
 ^^And what’s that?” he added, spreading a square of 
 vellum beside them, with a large blue seal in the corner, and 
 the following inscription : — 
 
 ‘‘Assay Office, Neyada, b.S. 
 
 This is to certify that Messrs. , of the 
 
 Black Gulch Gold Mining Company, having voluntarily 
 forwarded to us samples of the rough ore from the mine 
 working under their control. We have applied tests to the 
 same, and have found the yield of the Anna Maria Mine to 
 be exceptionably pure and easily worked.” 
 
 (Signed and countersigned, largely and irregularly.) 
 
 Where did you get that ? ” asked Mr. Corsar. 
 
 Got it made up in blank — over there.” 
 
 Over where ? ” 
 
 ‘^’Mur’ka.” 
 
 ^^It’s worth nothing. It is childish to expect peoj)le to 
 believe in a thing like that.” 
 
 ‘ ^ Over there, yes. Not here.” 
 
 Where’s Black Gulch ? ” 
 
 Don’t know.” 
 
 Is there such a place ? ” 
 
 Don’t know. There may be. I never heard of it.” 
 
 Do you know, Shute, that this looks very much as if you 
 were contemplating some kind of fraud? ” 
 
 Compared to which the Amalgamated Oroid was angelic 
 rectitude. Well, maybe it does, some.” And twitches came 
 in the hollows of Cyrus Shute’ s cheeks above the ends of the 
 moustache. That was his way of smiling. 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 21 
 
 Where did you get the gold ? ” 
 
 Prodded it u]d with the end of my stick while out for a 
 walk.’’ 
 
 In the neighbourhood of Black Gulch ? ” 
 
 About there. Scooped up a pocketful. Trod the place 
 smooth. Bought haf an acre of simple farmin’ party for 
 small sum. Goin’ to share profits with the intelligent and 
 valuable assistance of my friend and former partner, James 
 Corsar.” 
 
 Cyrus winked here and twitched. The friend and former 
 partner smiled benevolently. 
 
 That’s good in you, Shute, to think of an old friend. Do 
 you know I really almost thought you had come to — in fact 
 to borrow money.” 
 
 Now ! Did you ? Not me. If I go down I don’t drag 
 people with me. Not my way. No, sir.” 
 
 It teas Colonel Shute’ s way precisely, but no matter. 
 
 ^^I don’t quite see this business yet. Tell me more 
 about it.” 
 
 Cyrus told. It appeared that he had really purchased a 
 piece of ground between two really productive mines, that 
 piece 6f ground having been given up by previous speculators 
 as not worth the expense of a pickaxe, much less the complex 
 machinery of modern mining, and holding every promise of 
 remaining worthless to the end of time. He proposed starting 
 a company with the professed object of working this, and at 
 present wanted Corsar, as he pleasantly put it, to drore up a 
 pro — spectus,” as his own brain, though keen, was not over- 
 burdened with the refinements of modern education. The 
 leading notions of this he had ^‘figured out,” lucidly enough, 
 in his own fashion on a piece of paper, which he submitted to 
 Mr. Corsar. The latter inspected it. Yes,” he said, some- 
 thing may possibly be done with this, let’s see.” And he 
 wrote an experimental document on the lines of Shute’s 
 figuring out, of which the following is a true copy : — « 
 
 American Gold Mines, 
 
 10,000 Shares Preferred, Eegistered, Treasury Stock of the 
 Black Gulch Gold Mining Company, Black Gulch, Peterson 
 County, Nevada U. S. (incorporated under the laws of the 
 State of New York), to be sold at the greatly reduced price 
 of 12s. per sha re (par rate $25.) 
 
THE CORSARS ; 
 
 The property of the Company consist of the mine Anna 
 Maria^ which embraces considerably over one square mile of 
 the same ledge (of inexhaustible wealth) as the Perdition and 
 Hallelujah gold mines. This ledge teems with natural wealth 
 in the form of free milling quartz in which wire gold can be 
 perceived by the naked eye, of which the official assay the 
 proportion of gold to be £120 to £190 per ton. 
 
 Considerably over £3,000 has already been spent by the 
 spirited board of control. Shafts have been already sunk 
 respectively 80 and 60 feet and a tunnel is in 400 feet, being 
 within 5 feet of the upper side of the ledge. Will tap it 
 at a depth of 145 feet. Several veins of rich ore, averaging 
 from 5 to 7 feet in thickness, have been laid bare, and in all 
 of them the gold can plainly be discerned by the naked eye. 
 Two thirty- stamp mills are already at work and have crushed 
 a quantity of ore, yielding a gross average of £100 a ton. It 
 is simply with the object of extending their operations, pur- 
 chasing additional plant and machinery, and securing a greater 
 command of skilled labour, that the Board of Directors have 
 consented to sell the shares above mentioned. 
 
 The Company, desiring to represent accruing profits at 
 the most modest figure possible [here Shute twitched, while 
 Mr. Corsar read on gravely and reverently], hopes, upon the 
 realisation of the shares, to be upon a fixed dividend-paying 
 basis, and expects, after full satisfaction of all claims for legi- 
 timate and unavoidable expenses, to pay an initial dividend 
 of 3s. per month. It is confidently believed that, six months 
 hence, the shares selling at the present low rate of 12s. will 
 fetch at least from £15 to £20 each in any market in the 
 world. Over caution may induce many to question the validity 
 of that statement, but it is made upon careful and conscien- 
 tious calculation by well-known speculators (who are them- 
 selves shareholders), and has been more than verified by the 
 past experiences of thousands of individuals who owe their 
 present fortunes to the happy investment of a few pounds — 
 nay, perhaps even a few shillings — in speculations which pro- 
 mised infinitely less. 
 
 ‘^The total yield of the mines in the Pacific States since 
 1849 would pay the national debt of Great Britain nearly 
 twice over. As so small a sum is needed to defray the cost 
 of the proposed extension of operations, and as the shares in 
 the market are fast disappearing, intending purchasers are 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 25 
 
 implored to seize at once an opportunity wliicli if once missed 
 can never recur, and will be a cause of life-long regret. 
 
 ^^Subscriptions for ten stares (£6) will be received, for 
 wbicb certificates will in all cases be sent per registered mail 
 to any address. Eemittances may be made payable to 
 
 , where also maps of the Black Gulck 
 and neighbouring mining estates may be consulted.’^ 
 
 And Mr. Corsar put down his papers and looked up 
 blandly. 
 
 How’s that ? ” He had quite entered into the humour 
 of the thing,” as he called it now. 
 
 ‘^Pretty,” said Cyrus. Then he added, Now my notiou 
 is that you, the aristocratic and cultivated, go over and work 
 my country, where you will be appreciated, and are perhaps 
 less known, while I stay over here. You see, what the proud 
 descendant of the Dutchmen at the Brevoort House might 
 call vulgarity goes down over here as ^ dry humour ’ and 
 ^ originality,’ ’specially if backed by bullion. I must bo 
 pitchforked into a good social claim by you, and will open an 
 office and pan out on maps and statistics and get a list of 
 directors. Well, all that to be talked over. Think the thing 
 looks like business ? ” 
 
 ‘^It’s crude just now, and will require great care. So 
 many of these things have gone wrong lately, that even the 
 British Owl is opening his eyes.” 
 
 Well, we’ll have to shut ’em. Say, come] and dine with 
 me to-night, and talk ! Your Criterion has points about it — 
 what do you say ? ” 
 
 If you will consent to be my guest ? ” 
 
 I run this show up to now. No, sir ! You dine with me* 
 Hullo, who the holy ? ” 
 
 Carl had entered again, ^‘1 beg pardon,” he said, I 
 didn’t mean to interrupt.” 
 
 My son,” said Mr. Corsar, laying his hand affectionately 
 on Carl’s shoulder, which the latter impatiently edged away. 
 
 Colonel Shute — an old friend.” 
 
 Glad to meet you, sir. If your son, Mr. Corsar, will join 
 us to-night, I shall be real proud.” 
 
 Thanks,” said Carl. ^‘I came to say I was going’ up to 
 the University to-day, so I must decline your kind invitation, 
 whatever it was.” 
 
24 
 
 THE CORSARS ; OR, I/)VE AND LUCRE. 
 
 Well, I’m sorry. Hope we shall meet again.” 
 
 Carl did not reciprocate the hope. Each scrutinised the 
 other keenly. 
 
 ^^I’m going now,” said Shute, ^^come around and hev’ a 
 drink, Mr. Corsar, junior?” 
 
 Thanks, haven’t time.” 
 
 ^^Well, next time,” sjiid the imperturbable Cyrus. 
 long.” And he went, Mr. Corsar ringing the bell. 
 
 ' Who’s that? ” said Carl. 
 
 business acquaintance, a business acquaintance. A 
 good fellow, but has a quaint manner.” 
 
 H’m. Tiger again, eh ? Take care, father.” 
 
 I’ve always done that. Now you leave me alone, and I 
 will leave you alone. I won’t have you of all people criti- 
 cising my affairs, especially when you know nothing about 
 them. It is probable that you will not see me again for some 
 time, so remember my advice. Good-b^^e.” 
 
 Good-bye, father. No good my saying anything at all ? ” 
 Not a bit. Go your way, and rejoice that you are not as 
 this publican.” 
 
 But I don’t rejoice. Never said I did.”J 
 ^^Well, go your way, at all events, and leave me to go 
 mine.” 
 
CHAPTEE III. 
 
 SAISTDY. 
 
 Far away in tlie mythic aeons, about the time when the laby- 
 rintbodon criticised the current notions of cosmogony, and 
 determined to write his own ideas on the subject with his 
 own hideous hands on the rocks, an angel came down on 
 earth dressed as a monk: — lest his angelic nature should be 
 suspected, and make him unpopular, as did occasionally 
 happen — and founded the ancient University of Fenchester. 
 Such are the facts. Any Fenchester man will go to the stake 
 for them, which is about the most convincing proof one 
 can give of propositions otherwise unsupported by ordinary 
 credibility. 
 
 This Fenchester, whether it arose by spontaneous genera- 
 tion, fortuitous concourse, or otherwise, is to this day not 
 extinct, nor is there, in spite of old contrivances to make it 
 expensive and exclusive, and modern dodges to make it cheap 
 and accessible, and permanent wrangling over both, the 
 slightest prospect of its extinction. The town has come into 
 existence to supply the needs of the University, and its popu- 
 lation consists of cooks, coaches,’’ bedmakers, livery-stable 
 keepers, billiard-markers, grocers, tailors, money-lenders, 
 booksellers, landladies, and other ladies. I am informed by 
 a Gazetteer” of the year 1822 , that it has ‘^considerable 
 trade in iron, corn, and oil.” I dare say it has. I never saw 
 an3dhing traded in its market except raw meat, ballad-sheets, 
 bootlaces, and stony pears in their seasons. 
 
 Besides those of the University, which are imposing, 
 though of every possible date, colour, and style, the principal 
 public builings are public -houses. As a natural corollary to 
 the above, there are also a county jail and asylum. The 
 streets are narrow, distorted, and impure — qualities which 
 seem mentally infectious to people who reside in them long. 
 
 Society is limited. There are the dons and their families, 
 
 c 
 
26 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 the local clergy (who frequently wear gowns in the streets in 
 discordant combination with tall hats) and their families, the 
 
 coaches ’’ (who curiously enough frequently manage to have 
 very pretty daughters, which is advantageous for a coach) 
 and their families, after their kinds, and the medical man, 
 after his kind. Then there are the people who have come 
 to live at Fenchester, because all the above are to be found 
 there, and imagine themselves part of a highly intellectual 
 community, and go to lectures they do not understand, and 
 wear double eye-glasses^ 
 
 The students are many and various. They increase and 
 multiply, and replenish the town, and do their best, in spite 
 of proctor and police, to subdue it. Some of them have from 
 time to time, as the centuries passed, attained to great emi- 
 nence ; many have not. They live their three or four years 
 out — work, play, waste, gather, enjoy, run, row, read, sing, 
 smoke, drink, cut chapels, get ‘‘ proctorised,” \vrite poetry 
 and fall in love every May regularly, come up,” go down,” 
 and finally ^‘go out,” or try to, or are ^ ‘ sent down” prema- 
 turely ; and then another couple of thousands take their places, 
 and tread out the same mill, grind the same wheat and tares, 
 and go their ways, each and all with the remembrance of a 
 unique experience. I suppose ants really are different one 
 from another, and have different experiences, when looked at 
 from the ant point of view. So with undergraduates. A 
 gate-porter, or a proctor, or dean, or a viva-voce inquisitor pro- 
 bably finds them alike, with a wearisome iteration. But each 
 knows what a very exceptional and original person he really 
 is, though he outwardly may conform to the rule of dressing, 
 behaving, and talking and walking exactly like every one 
 else, of having a red (or green) tablecloth like every one else, 
 and (nowadays) Japanese screens, a dado and etchings like 
 every one or nearly every one else. 
 
 It is not difficult to get cheap fun out of them, perhaps, and 
 their curious little superstitions and habits, but they have a 
 pleasanter part of life there than they or we, you and I, ever 
 will get again. Nearly all have youth and health ; many have 
 money, and some have brains. And they have several years 
 of leisure and opportunity to enjoy all these in a comfortable 
 place with a copious supply of acquaintances, and every pos- 
 sible means of indulging in the exquisite pleasure of complete 
 irresponsibility, supported on good food and exercise. 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 .1 
 
 I think if I were given a chance of making one of those 
 delightful bargains with the devil which were so frequent in 
 the Middle Ages (and in which the devil was so often and so 
 shamelessly swindled by the human parties to the contract, 
 who could generally give him pints,’’ as Colonel Shute would 
 say, in most kinds of iniquity), I would stipulate that I should 
 be an undergraduate of the second year, with plenty of money, 
 plenty of undispelled illusions, the conceit, appetite, and 
 digestion of twenty-two, my examination always a year ahead, 
 and a set of large old rooms in the great red, ivy«grown quad- 
 rangle of Audit College, Fenchester, for a thousand years. 
 
 I should accumulate a great many beautiful and comfort- 
 able things in that time. After a century or two the vulgar, 
 new, and garish furniture of the tasteless yesterday would 
 become the old, artistic, and fashionable penates of the cul- 
 tured to-day. Think of the wine and cigars kept for, say, 
 three hundred years undisturbed ! Wh5nmeT:housand years 
 were over I would become a fellow, a resident fellow, and 
 drink that wine and smoke those cigars, and write for the 
 monthly reviews, and be well paii for it. This bargain in- 
 cludes a permanent bedmaker aged sixty, always kind, clean, 
 and capable, and an intelligent, honest, sober man-servant aged 
 forty. Then I would be given an honorary degree for my 
 distinguished work in the field (why ‘Afield”?) of science, 
 literature, or art ; I do not care which, say all three ; and 
 retire. Then the devil could make me a solicitor in London 
 in the nineteenth century if he liked, or anything else he 
 thought equally operative as unqualified Tartarus on me. But 
 this may be regarded as mere trifling. To our tale. 
 
 One fine May afternoon, in the kind of weather lady novel- 
 ists like to describe as glorious, a young man (who ought to 
 have been reading hard, with a cup of tea and a pipe, for his 
 examination) was escorting one elderly lady and three young 
 ones through the gate of Audit College, and expatiating with 
 pride on the beauties of that noble foundation. The gateway 
 is of brick, mellowed by age from scarlet to a deep, dull red, 
 and fringed with long trails of dark ivy. It is four-square, 
 with a turret at each corner. 
 
 ‘‘It is beautiful,” said one of the young ladies. “One 
 expects to walk through it straight into the Middle Ages, and 
 find people with rapiers, and doublets, and lutes, and daggers 
 inside.” 
 
 / 
 
28 
 
 THE COHSAllS; 
 
 You will see all those, except the doublets, in my rooms. 
 I don’t see anything more mediseval here than a cook’s man 
 ■with a tray on his head to-day, unless it be a bedmaker 
 emptying slops into space. When they built the place drains 
 were thought vanity and a dangerous deceit, so they made 
 none. The place is therefore one of the healthiest residences 
 in England.” 
 
 AVhen was it built ? ” asked the elderly lady. 
 
 ^^It was founded by Cornelius Audit, sometime Bishop of 
 Glastonbury, and first master, and endowed by the then reign- 
 ing sovereign. I don’t know who he was, or exactly when 
 this happened. Then, at a later date, the place was added to 
 by Lady Tabitha. I don’t know why she added to it.” 
 
 Lady Tabitha who ? ” 
 
 . don’t know. We always call her Lady Tabitha. I sup- 
 pose she had another name. That’s her in the stiff petticoat 
 on the right ” (pointing to mighty quaint stone effigy on gate) ; 
 ‘^the middle one, with a crown on one side with a bird’s nest 
 in it, is the king.” 
 
 Which king? ” 
 
 I don’t know. The king who endowed the place. The 
 ^ then reigning sovereign.’ The smaller one on the left is 
 Bishop Cornelius, unless he’s Lady Tabitha and Cornelius is 
 the other. I’d have got a guide-book and a ladder, and made 
 sure, if I’d thought you would care to know.” 
 
 The college has turned out a great many geniuses through 
 history, 'hasn’t it ? ” asked the young lady who had first spoken. 
 
 Yes, I shouldn’t wonder if it turned me out, if I’m as 
 shaky a month hence as I feel now. The Danish steelyard 
 nearly finished me two or three years ago. You are not 
 required to be a genius here ; in fact, they are rather sus- 
 picious of them, so many used to get ploughed and throw dis- 
 credit on the college, and then blossom out as celebrities after- 
 wards ; but in the matter of steelyards. Common Pumps, and 
 chapels, they put their feet down firmly. That is not a Com- 
 mon Pump; it is a rather dodgy sundial. It is put here 
 under the clock-tower, in order that it may be set right every 
 Saturday with comparative ease. The men used to turn it 
 round sometimes, which had a confusing effect, before it was 
 rigidly attached to the pavement. On the right you observe 
 the chapel. It was built in the eighteenth century, and care- 
 fully constructed of a different colour and style from the rest 
 
oil, LOVE AND LLX'RE. 
 
 29 
 
 of the place, of which, of course, eighteenth-century taste dis- 
 approved. Over the door you observe the pious inscription 
 • Dormis mea domus orationis erit? Then it occurred to them 
 they were rather putting their feet in it, so they didn’t finish 
 the verse, and left posterity to fill in the obvious part for 
 themselves.” 
 
 It seems to me, Sandy, that you have learnt nothing here 
 but misplaced fiippancy,” said the elder lady. 
 
 Oh, I have learnt more than that, Mrs. Eaynham. I can 
 row, I can make outers and mags with a rifie, I can fence, I 
 can play the guitar, I can dance breakdowns. I have passed 
 my Little-go, which is one of the highest criteria of intellectual 
 merit the place supplies. See, here are my rooms, and I 
 think rest and tea will do you all good after your journey. If 
 you want intellect and learning and all that you must get it 
 out of Corsar. I’ve asked him to meet you. I think you will 
 like him. Come in.” 
 
 Sandy Maxwell’s rooms were over the Bishop’s Gate, a 
 similar structure to the Great or King’s Gate, though a trifle 
 smaller, and decorated with no such statues. The second floor 
 of this made a very comfortable apartment. It consisted of a 
 large square room with a door at each corner. These doors 
 led to the front turrets, the first containing the bed, the second 
 the culinary and kindred apparatus, the third the private 
 correspondence and other arcana of the owner ; the fourth was 
 merely a spiral stone staircase. There was a certain symmetry, 
 a certain compact inclusiveness, reminding one of a rnediseval 
 castle on a small scale about this abode,* which was very satis- 
 factory. The room was lined with antique panelling, extend- 
 ing from floor to ceiling. The latter was crossed by huge 
 black, irregularly cut beams. Such was its bare internal 
 construction. Each temporary inhabitant', from the time of the 
 Henrys, had stamped an ephemeral individuality on it, no doubt, 
 by furniture and decoration, or the absence of one or both. 
 
 But I doubt if this room had ever found before so sympa- 
 thetic a tenant, one who was so thoroughly in unison with the 
 surroundings. I do not mean that he alfected what is known 
 as medisevalism ; but he was mediaeval to a large extent. 
 His ethical convictions, his respect for physical force as the 
 highest law, for proficiency in the use of it as the highest 
 masculine quality, his admiration of woman’s beauty, or 
 rather of women for their beauty, his exaggerated devotion 
 
£0 THE CORSARS ; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 to them and utter absence of any respect for them, his freedom 
 from superstitious restraints, which he thought good to keep 
 up among the lower orders, were none of them exactly 
 characteristic of the nineteenth century. 
 
 It were exaggeration to say he was merely mediaeval. He 
 was the outcome of the roving intriguer of Le Sage, the gay 
 and witty marquis of Moliere, the gentleman adventurer of 
 the Spanish main, and the amusing but unscrupulous gallant 
 of the Restoration. At least he would like to have been, but 
 for the fetters which nineteenth-century civilisation puts upon 
 such laudable ambitions and picturesque tastes. If the practice 
 were not prejudiced by the vulgar accessories after the fact of 
 police magistrates and the Central Criminal Court, he would 
 have killed men in single combat on the grass-plot of Audit 
 College, skilfully and picturesquely, without the slightest 
 compunction, and considered the action a feather in his cap, or 
 a scalp to his belt, if the metaphor be preferred, at least, he 
 thought he would. 
 
 He was quite capable of singing songs under some girFs 
 window to a guitar by moonlight, and quite capable of grow- 
 ing tired of her, and saying a light-hearted good-bye as soon 
 as he had won her affection, which latter he also could often 
 do. For Sandy Maxwell was a good-looking fellow in a certain 
 style, had magnificent physical proportions, not gigantic but 
 symmetrical, good, even artistic, taste in dress, and a power 
 of making himself agreeable when he chose to exert it. On 
 this particular day he was rather dull and depressed, in spite 
 of the fact that he was the escort and cicerone of three very 
 pretty girls, who all were fresh to the place, and had that 
 curiosity which is sometimes so pleasant to satisfy. As for 
 everything else he was, and everything else he thought he 
 was, we will let him show it for himself, as much as he thinks 
 fit. 
 
CHAPTEE IV. 
 sandy’s rooms. 
 
 “ Mille objets — bons a^rien, admirables a voir ; 
 
 Caftans orientaux, pourpoints du moyen-age, 
 
 Eebecs, psalterions, instruments hors d’ usage. 
 
 Un antre, un musee, un boudoir ! ” 
 
 The leading ideas suggested by the contents of Sandy Max- 
 well’s room were Love and War. For above tbe very com- 
 fortable semi-oriental and multi-coloured furniture, and tbe 
 tightly if miscellaneously filled book-cases, hung or stood, in 
 picturesque confusion, in disorder perhaps more artificial than 
 artistic, scimitars, matchlocks, shields, pictures of strange, 
 rare, and fanciful types of female beauty, rapiers, a lute, 
 daggers, a guitar, pistols, foils, gloves, miniature Venuses of 
 Milo, the Capitol, and elsewhere, which gave the character to 
 the place of being a mixed shrine of Ares and Aphrodite. A 
 glance, however, at the books would convince one that these 
 were not quite the only tutelary deities. Athene and the 
 Muses ought to have been pleased to find Spinoza and Kant 
 (mostly uncut) flanking Victor Hugo (dog’s-eared), and in the 
 neighbourhood Haeckel, the Bible, Horace, Mill, De Musset, 
 Euclid, Theophile Gautier, Thackeray, Dumas (on chemistry, 
 on the art of being a musketeer, and on camellias), Dickens, 
 Moliere, Mark Twain, &c. There was much more than this 
 which might be catalogued much in the same anarchic style. 
 It may be added that Alexander Maxwell, of Audit College, 
 Esquire, had read some pages of all these books, and all the 
 pages of some of them. 
 
 He stood pouring out tea for his guests while they occupied 
 themselves as ladies in such a room for the first time always 
 do. Mrs. Eaynham sat down and looked round, observing, 
 ^‘Dear me, you know sight-seeing is much more tiring than 
 one thinks ! ” while the girls roamed about examining the 
 things,” pulling them about, trying the piano, sitting on 
 
32 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 tlie different chairs to test their comfort, taking their gloves 
 off and looking out of window at the great red court with its 
 flower-fringed windows made gay for May. 
 
 May, by the way, was the name of the youngest Miss 
 Eaynham, and a very nice girl she was. As she sits in the 
 window, in the attitude of one riding on a side-saddle, one 
 arm round a stone muUion, the other in her lap, we cannot 
 do better than look at her for a little while. It is always a 
 wholesome and a soothing thing to look at a really nice girl. 
 Not too long, or artistic admiration and gratitude to nature 
 and evolution give way to envy,, discontent, and even hatred — 
 hatred for the persons who have (as we have not) the privilege 
 (which they do not, of course, appreciate as we would) of con- 
 stantly looking at her, of talking to her, of making her laugh, 
 of taking her out ” maybe, or even of kissing her. When 
 the last is too minutely reflected on we find ourselves skulking 
 home to sharpen the assassin’s knife. 
 
 May Eaynham has a small round head, now decorated with 
 a large black felt hat, flexible as to brim, adorned with a 
 black ostrich feather, and rather on one side, after the manner 
 of a certain portrait of Van Dyck. As she now sits you catch 
 the line of her forehead, cheek, chin, and jaw, and the little 
 coiled knob of hair over the part kijown to the French as 
 nuque, (‘‘ Poll ” suggests elections, taxes, and parrots, and if 
 necks at all onen^s necks). When she turns round you will 
 have an opportunity of observing that her face is a little 
 longer than you thought it would be, that her eyebrows are 
 horizontal, her eyes a sort of grey- — dark grey, honest-looking 
 eyes (candid I think the proper word is), which look at you 
 steadfastly, devoid of self-consciousness, her nose straight and 
 slender, her mouth like that of a certain helmeted Minerva, 
 with down-turned look, well known and frequently copied, and 
 that her chin is rather pointed. Her hair is fair, with varying 
 tones, and has a slight natural tendency to waviness, encouraged 
 by occasional twisting and compression round a hair-pin. Her 
 sisters were rather like her, but the character, piquancy, and 
 attraction which made up the Baynham individuality reached 
 their maxima in her. They were a little taller, a little fairer, 
 and had not quite so much expression. 
 
 Sandy, there’s a man coming up your stairs,” said May 
 from her Sister Anne ” position. A knock came at the door. 
 
 Come in ! ” 
 
OK, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 33 
 
 Hullo, Sandy ! — Oh ! I beg your pardon.^’ 
 
 All right, Corsar, come in. Let me introduce, &c., &c.^’ 
 And he introduced duly. ^ ‘ Did you get my note ? ’ ’ asked Sandy. 
 No ; I haven’t been to my rooms. I have just come from 
 
 town. I came in here quite casually, not knowing ” 
 
 ‘‘All right. My note was only to explain the facts ; I ask 
 you to come. Have some tea ? ” 
 
 “Thanks. Is this your first visit to Fenchester ? ” asked 
 Carl Corsar of the group generally. 
 
 Mrs. Eaynham replied: “Yes; it is so interesting. We 
 had never been in a university town before, and it is all so 
 curious and picturesque.” 
 
 “I like to see the caps and gowns,” said May, still in the 
 window seat. “ I saw a small old man to-day in a red gown 
 and a fiat velvet hat with a gold cord round it, walking about 
 the streets quite unconscious that there was anything the least 
 funny about his appearance.” 
 
 “Yes? Oh there are plenty of things here more ridiculous 
 than the costumes. Some of the people who wear them, for 
 instance.” 
 
 “ I like it ; it is rather becoming to most, I think.” 
 
 “ What is? ” 
 
 “The common cap and gown which the — the ones like 
 Sandy wear, you know.” 
 
 “ The undergraduates ? Oh, yes. Sandy looks very pretty 
 in it, doesn’t he ? And he wears his cap at a tip-tilt over the 
 left eye, which is held to be highly attractive ; and having a 
 gown slit up the back from the tails to the collar is also 
 considered distingue,'*'^ 
 
 “ He is a sort of don, you know,” said Sandy, “ and has to 
 be proper — at any-rate in public.” 
 
 “ What are you, Mr. Corsar — a professor ? ” 
 
 “Not quite. I am a bachelor of what is called arts. It 
 means sciences in my case.” 
 
 “ What do you wear then? ” 
 
 “I? A black gown with ribbon tails just here, which 
 fioat out on the breeze on each side, so. The recent bachelor 
 takes precautions that they shall so fioat — conspicuously.” 
 “Isn’t it like a girl,” said Mrs. Eaynham, “to care so 
 much more what they wear here than what they do ? I’m 
 afraid May has not got the making of a student in her. By 
 the way, there is a lady’s college, isn’t there?” 
 
34 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 Well, yes,’^ said Carl; but they don’t fulfil the Tenny- 
 sonian idyll at all. Everybody was wildly excited before they 
 came, and the old dons prophesied long special trains full of 
 elopers with special licences every week. The women arrived. 
 Nothing happened, any more than if a flock of pigeons had 
 alighted in a field. I lecture to some of them — and don’t 
 enjoy it.” 
 
 What do you lecture about, Mr. Corsar ? ” asked May. 
 The harmless and peaceful branch of science called 
 Botany. I have to take personally conducted tours round the 
 gardens sometimes, and pull flowers to pieces.” 
 
 ^^That must be rather nice, I should think,” observed one 
 of May’s sisters ; much better than dissecting, or chemistry, 
 or some of those nasty things some people enjoy so much.” 
 But don’t you hate to pull flowers to pieces ? ” asked May ; 
 when you have given names to the bits, you have nothing 
 left to do but throw them away, or press them in a book, 
 which is only another way of throwing them away. Do the 
 dead names give you more satisfaction than the live flowers?” 
 ^^In the first place,” said Corsar, ‘^what gives me most 
 satisfaction is the prosaic fact that pulling vegetables to pieces 
 is to me a source of income. Secondly, if you saw some of the 
 dissected flowers I have seen under the microscope, you would 
 allow that cutting them up was justified — aesthetically I mean 
 —by the results made visible. Thirdly, it can surely never be 
 wrong to increase knowledge — especially among people such 
 as undergraduates, who haven’t much.” 
 
 Don’t be personal, old man ! ” said Sandy; ‘4t isn’t so 
 long since you were an undergraduate yourself, you know.” 
 Isn’t it? Well, I suppose it isn’t. It seems so though.” 
 Well, yes,” said May, who was not in the habit of having 
 her opinions disputed, especially by young men, and respected 
 Corsar in proportion, I admit that I was rather laying down 
 the law on things I didn’t understand. I shall remember 
 by-and-by that I am in a place where everybody is supposed 
 to know something.” 
 
 Don’t take that for granted. Miss Eaynham. There are 
 a good many here whose only quality is a vast incapacity for 
 knowing anything. And they are quite happy too.” 
 
 ^^WiU you dine herewith us by-and-by?” asked Sandy 
 of Carl Corsar. 
 
 Well, no thanks ; I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’ve got a 
 
OK, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 35 
 
 procession of pupils coming from five till eleven, \vitli an hour’s 
 interval for ^ hall ; ’ and I must be off now for the first, I’m 
 very sorry ; I’d like to stay here much longer. Perhaps I 
 shall see you to-morrow, Mrs. Eaynham? ” 
 
 We are to be taken to the races to-morrow, I believe.” 
 
 ^^Ah, yes; but that is in the evening. Won’t you come 
 and lunch with me in the afternoon ? ” Mrs. Eaynham looked 
 dubiously at her daughters and at Sandy. 
 
 ‘^I’in sure,” she began, it’s extremely kind of you Mr. 
 Corsar ” 
 
 But you’re awfuUy busy,” said May, and we shall be an 
 undisguised plague. We shan’t know exactly when to go, 
 
 and you won’t like to turn us out, and ” 
 
 Oh, yes, I will ; I’ll tell you exactly when to go, if that’s 
 your difficulty.” 
 
 ‘‘ It’s all right,” said Sandy, I’ll bring ’em along. What 
 time ? ” 
 
 ^‘Two, if you don’t mind. I don’t think I can get away 
 from the laboratory before. Thanks. Well, I shaU expect 
 you all at two.” 
 
 When Corsar was gone, Mrs. Eaynham said, Now that’s 
 very kind of him, and to complete strangers too, isn’t it ? ” 
 
 ‘‘Hospitality seems the rule here,” said Miss Eaynham, the 
 eldest of the three. “ I think every friend of yours you’ve 
 introduced, Sandy, has asked us to some meal.” 
 
 “Yes; you see that gives them an excuse for walking 
 about with you afterwards in public places ; and any man who 
 hasn’t got people of his own up likes to be seen about with 
 some other man’s, especially under certain circumstances 
 which, being no flatterer, I will not detail. You see it gives 
 them no trouble ; they order lunch, or breakfast, or whatever 
 it is, and the kitchen, the gyp, and the bedmaker settle it 
 between them.” 
 
 “ You needn’t attribute low motives to your friends’ civility 
 in that horrid way,” said May; “ we shall simply put it down 
 to feelings which, being no flatterer, I will detail — to wit, 
 jealousy.” 
 
 “ That’s right, sit on me. ’ You’ve got a live don, captured 
 by your bow and spear, and now you spurn the humble 
 instrument who brought him into your range.” 
 
 “Now that for you is almost vulgar. Suppose you do 
 something to amuse us now you’ve got us here.” 
 
26 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 What would you like to do ? Play whist ? Box? Dance 
 while Kate plays the piano ? If she will be so kind, or if 
 some one will, I don’t mind giving you a sword-dance, or a 
 hornpipe, or a cachuca, if I may go and put on my flannels. 
 That would be very pretty, I can assure .you.” 
 
 ^^You might teach me some of these accomplishments. 
 Now I’ve had tea, I want to do something ; I want to do some 
 mischief preferably. I think I’ll have a lesson in boxing.” 
 
 All right ; nothing easier. Here are gloves ; you can hit 
 me, and I’ll give instructions.” 
 
 After about five minutes of this amusement, in which May 
 hit viciously and put herself quite out of breath without ever 
 touching her skilful and cat-like adversary, she gave in, sa^dng 
 it was much too hot, and plied a fan — Sandy’s, not her own — 
 vigorously in the window-seat, and remarked, You are so 
 provoking, you move your head about so that I can’t hit you ; 
 I’m sure that can’t be fair. We will sit still and talk.” 
 
 Sandy took ofl her gloves and his own with a pleased grin. 
 He was not a bad-looking fellow, Sandy, though he had not 
 the beauty and regularity of face which marked out Carl 
 Corsar among other men. He had a queer, knowing, rather 
 retrousse face, something after the style of M. Grevin’s Parisian 
 young men of fashion, with light brown hair, a low wide 
 forehead, grey eyes, rather sunken and bistred, but keen and 
 humorous, a wide mouth, with a slight, wandering attempt at 
 a moustache over it, and a good deal of jaw. There was just 
 a trifle of the cat about that face ; but it was an attractive 
 one. His body was symmetrical and powerful — perhaps a 
 a little heavy, but in all his movements it might be observed 
 that he fell into the most natural and mechanically appro- 
 priate attitude for the purpose, apparently without effort, 
 whether it were for drawing a cork or teaching May Paynham 
 to box. That is a very good criterion of physical perfection. 
 And Sandy could, as he said, row, run, dance, shoot, fence, 
 play tennis, and box, and all of them very well. 
 
 Now, who is this Mr. Corsar? ” asked Mrs. Eaynham. 
 
 “I thought we made that clear between us. He is a 
 lecturer and coach on botany, took a scientific first in final 
 honours, and has a very good chance of being the next science 
 fellow.” 
 
 Oh, yes, I know; but I mean where does he come from, 
 and who are his relations ? ” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 37 
 
 comes from London. I know very little about bis 
 people. He has a father alive, who doesn’t seem much good 
 to him, and has for money what he earns.” 
 
 Oh, I see.” 
 
 Mrs. Eaynham evidently felt that — almost justifiable — 
 maternal distrust usually provoked by good-looking young 
 men who are clever and have no money, except, as Sandy 
 said, what they earn. Perhaps it would be better, from her 
 point of view, if he had earned less and been naturally en- 
 dowed with rnore. 
 
 suppose he is not likely to get very much here, even as 
 fellow?” she said. 
 
 Three or four hundred a year. But he doesn’t want to 
 be rich, I don’t think. He won’t earn a penny more than he 
 wants. Nature cut him out to enjoy life ; it’s only necessity 
 which would ever make him work. But when he recognises 
 necessity he can work. I wish I could say as much.” 
 
 ^^You don’t know who his father is? It’s an uncommon 
 name.” 
 
 ‘‘His father lives in Jermyn Street, and belongs to the 
 Idlers’ Club ; that’s aristocratic and expensive enough.” 
 
 “ Uncle Waller belongs to the Idlers,” said May ; “he has 
 it on his cards.” 
 
 “ I know he does ; I’ve seen him coming out of it.” 
 
CHAPTEE V. 
 
 CYRUS 8HUTE BECOMES A MILLIONAIRE. 
 
 Mr. James Corsar and Colonel Shute dined as per pro- 
 gramme. The former ordered the dinner and the latter paid 
 for it. When they had finished they went down-stairs into 
 the cafe portion of the restaurant to smoke cigarettes and 
 drink coffee at their ease. Happening to find a portion of the 
 room free from clients who might lend a too willing ear to 
 their conversation, they selected a small table there and sat 
 at it. They were both in evening dress. The Colonel was 
 very fine, but perhaps a little too much the youthful dandy. 
 It is difficult to look conspicuous or garish in the black uni- 
 form of male society called ^Mress,’’ but Cyrus Shute almost 
 mastered the difficulty. His bosom-jewel,’’ as he called it, 
 was of several rather unsympathetic stones, and was large. His 
 sleeve solitaires were also large, and represented some strange 
 pastoral romance in bold relief. They were constructed of 
 the finest Black Gulch gold, and probably served as paper- 
 weights when not applied to their normal use. The revers ” 
 of his coat were silk — dark blue silk — and tucked carelessly 
 in between the shirt and very low-cut white waistcoat 
 with pink coral buttons was a silk handkerchief of rich 
 crimson. 
 
 When all this stood up, surmounted by a curly-brimmed 
 Gibus hat, somewhat canted over one eye, the world wondered, 
 the beggars said My lord,” which pleased Cyrus, and the 
 waiters displayed outward Oriental reverence and experienced 
 inward scornful doubts. They had experience, these pale, 
 polite, frigid, rigid, expressionless waiters, of all sorts and 
 conditions of men — no one more. They had seen gorgeous 
 young swells removed, like the late Mr. Aram, ‘ ^ with gyves 
 upon their wrists,” by cynical-looking members of the Crimi- 
 nal Investigation Department before now, while in the act of 
 standing champagne to a select circle of acquaintances. They 
 
THE CORSARS; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 39 
 
 had occasionally noticed that some of the most aristocratic 
 looking customers Tvould disappear for periods of five, seven, 
 or perhaps even fourteen years, and reappear somewhat worn, 
 thin,r and grizzled, stating they had been yachting for the 
 good of their health. They remembered, too, how that the 
 man who now occupied his spare moments in exercising a 
 broom outside in the street, and saying, Keb or kerridge, 
 sir ? ” had once stood in gorgeous raiment at their buffet and 
 ‘‘shouted’’ iced Heidsieck to a company of verdant young 
 gentlemen from a highly exclusive university club. Yes, 
 they knew several facets of the many-angled and far from 
 translucent crystal of London life, did the waiters, and their 
 verdict was that the black-moustached and resplendent Ameri- 
 can was “ cracked in the ring,” and that the quiet, handsome, 
 iron-grey Englishman of what police reports call “ gentle- 
 manly appearance,” who had such excellent taste in food and 
 wine, was probably occupying the role of pigeon to the other’s 
 hawk. Even waiters are fallible. 
 
 “ Shute,” said Mr. Corsar, leaning back and crossing his 
 feet. 
 
 “ Sir to you,” replied the other, chewing a big cigar in the 
 corner of his mouth. 
 
 “ I think you had better be a millionaire.” 
 
 “ I want to be ; it is a pro-fession which has bin the dream 
 of my youth and the aim of my matoorer manhood. I would 
 shine in it and do it credit. Hand me the million and try 
 me ; money returned if result unsatisfactory.” 
 
 “I mean you had better be one at once; it will make a 
 good impression on society. Cyrus Shute, the well-known 
 Western mine king, is now on a visit to England. The descrip- 
 tion of his residence in San Francisco sounds like a realisation 
 of the ‘Arabian Nights.’ It is said that he gave ten thou- 
 sand pounds for a Japanese tea-set at the Hotel Drouot, the 
 property of the late Henry of Navarre. Do you follow me ? ” 
 
 ‘ ‘ I see you, and go better. The celebrated financial phe- 
 nomenon, Cyrus Shute, whose already colossal fortune was 
 but recently increased by the bustin’ in of the Magellan Eail- 
 way Boom, is about to record his gratitude to the country for 
 whose institootions he has so pro-found a regyard, whose 
 hospitality to him, while a Secesh refugee, he will never forgit, 
 by building a free-school, or free bar, or free boarding-house, 
 or founding a bishopric, if you like, in the densely poprdated 
 
40 
 
 THE CORSARS j; 
 
 eastern home of the industrious poor of this great city. Do 
 you see me ? Peabody out of it, Astor nowhere.” 
 
 ^‘Yes, and I think I can go better; I can get you para- 
 graphed.” 
 
 Your bluffin’ was always more reelly artistic. You must 
 do that before you quit out of here. Out of England, I 
 mean.” 
 
 ^^Good; we will begin to-night. Come to my club; we 
 will see what can be done there.” 
 
 They left the restaurant, and walked slowly down Piccadilly. 
 Outside a ragged old man on crutches begged of them, and 
 they heard the wooden pegging on the pavement behind them, 
 and the piteous beggar’s whine as they negligently strolled 
 along. 
 
 Hang that fellow, I wfeh he would go,” said Mr. Corsar ; 
 
 I hate that sort of thing. I don’t like to be followed by a 
 cripple. I’m fated to have lame beggars pegging after me, I 
 think, whenever I go into Piccadilly. And it would be cruel 
 to give him in charge.” 
 
 Specially for people who don’t want to have their physi- 
 ognomies paraded through a London police-court, and taken 
 notice of by dog-derned detectives. Here, infirm one ! ” 
 
 ^^My lord !” 
 
 Here’s haf-a-dollar. Now git.” 
 
 Lord bless you, my lord, and make your sleep softer.” 
 
 Thank you. Good night.” 
 
 And they walked on to the club. And the pegging grew 
 fainter and fainter behind them. As they turned in at the 
 door, Mr. Corsar turned round. 
 
 There’s that infernal cripple selecting this street to beg in 
 now.” 
 
 And they went in. The beggar stood at the door and saw 
 them enter. 
 
 The Idlers’ Club is not a very old or a very exclusive club, 
 but it is fashionable; and well-known leaders of society, 
 whose names are familiar to the pen of the paragraphist, 
 belong to it. It has no political tone, except that matter-of- 
 course, unquestioning, and undiscussed Conservatism which 
 is natural to people who have anything to conserve, such as 
 their position, their money, and their irresponsibility for the 
 use they make of either. The loudest and Toriest of the 
 Tories among the Idlers are the members who have been 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 41 
 
 stockbrokers, or have belonged to some profession with an 
 artistic taint about it. These last try to look as if they had 
 completely forgotten — in fact never knew — where the Strand 
 was, or what the sensation of having a cardboard rectangle at 
 the end of a watch-chain was like. 
 
 The high subscription and entrance-fee keep the club very 
 select. There are members of the hereditary legislature 
 among its members, as well as one bishop. A king of one of 
 the less important European States is an honorary vice-presi* 
 dent. There is a dash, too, of the Embassy and 
 element about it. Several highly connected young university 
 men belong to it, as well as some very affluent, beautifully- 
 dressed young Israelites, who carry scent on their handker- 
 chiefs, and talk in a lordly way about the rashness of admitting 
 any infernal Jews ’’ into the place to lower its tone. Besides 
 all these and many more, Mr. J ames Corsar belonged to it, 
 which is a recommendation in itself. 
 
 That gentleman inscribed Colonel Cyrus Shute’s name in 
 the visitors’ book, and conducted him to the smoking-room, 
 where a few gentlemen were sitting and standing, reading 
 and conversing. A very worthy and imposing addition to the 
 crowd Mr. Corsar made, with his perfect ease and grace and 
 becoming evening dress, and his pale, calm, and Napoleonic 
 beauty, which required gaslight and such a good dinner as he 
 had had to give it its full effect. 
 
 ‘‘Now, what will you take. Colonel?” said he blandly; 
 “here you begin to be guest, you know. Shall we say a 
 liqueur?” 
 
 “ Call it Chartrooze — green.” (“I prefer to call it Char- 
 treuse,” thought Mr. Corsar.) Aloud he said — 
 
 “ Waiter, two green Chartreuse and two cigars. You know 
 the ones I always smoke.” 
 
 “ Very good, sir.” 
 
 Mr. Corsar looked round, and calmly — quite without self- 
 consciousness — faced the others present, who were scanning 
 him and friend with polite curiosity, as if in search of some 
 one. He found just then no one he knew, except distantly. 
 To these he smiled and bowed in a charming manner. Colonel 
 Cyrus was not so much at his ease. The very evident “ high 
 tone ” of the place, the quiet richness of the style of decora- 
 tion, the perfect ease and “at home” look of the members 
 (who, for aught he knew, might be real dukes), the impassive, 
 
 D 
 
42 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 polite curiosity of their expression, imposed on the simple 
 Western mind fresh from the balmy out-door air of the Pacific 
 slopes, and the balmy bar-room air of Sam Costa’s ; and he 
 felt almost shy, and envied Corsar his well-bred ease. The 
 Criterion was all very well. There people stared and could be 
 stared back at, waiters could be chaffed and treated to drinks, 
 and there were barmaids. But this was different. 
 
 I never was in a church,” said he afterwards, but once, 
 and that was after the sack of Peterborough, on which occa- 
 sion the chivalrous Secesher was totally demoralised. I was 
 on the winnin’ side there, and we pick-nicked in the Episcopal 
 church. But in a peaceful way I never was in a church. If 
 I was, I guess I ought to feel as I did when you took me into 
 that cam aoristocratic crowd at your club, pardner.” 
 
 After about half-an-hour, during which Mr. Corsar described 
 London beautifully for the benefit of his foreign friend and 
 other listeners, dwelling with a mixture of humour and pathos 
 on the peculiarities of the extreme parties in the political 
 world, the state of art, the theatres, the society papers, and 
 the Poor, skimming gracefully over all these topics with the 
 practised ease of a smart leader-writer, with little illustrative 
 and piquant anecdotes put in at intervals. Colonel Shute, 
 who had only been called upon at intervals to say Haow?” 
 and Why, is that possible ?” and to do that crooked wrinkle 
 of his sallow cheek which counted for a laugh, began to feel 
 more at his ease. One thing troubled him. He wanted to 
 spit, but seeing no one else do so was afraid to. The only 
 time on which his mouth was seen to screw itself into a pre- 
 paratory tube- shape, the expression which momentarily passed 
 over Mr. Corsar’ s face warned him. He was very sharp at 
 taking a hint. 
 
 “Ah ! ” said Mr. Corsar at last, “ here is a man I want you 
 to know,” as a middle-aged, bulky, shaven-faced man, with 
 small hands and feet, of which he was evidently proud, en- 
 tered the room, followed by another man like him, but older 
 and thinner, and with a more intellectual face. 
 
 “ How do, Corsar?” said the first comer, in a rich plummy 
 voice, and a tendency to pronounce his r’s like w’s ; “ how 
 do?” 
 
 “Glad to see you,” said Mr. Corsar. “I have a friend 
 here who is a stranger in our country, and wishes to obtain 
 information on British society, art, and statesmanship. I told 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 43 
 
 him I couldn’t do better than introduce him to you, didn’t I, 
 Shute?” 
 
 Cyrus arose. That is so,” he said. 
 
 Mr. Corsar then said, ^‘Let me introduce Mr. Waller 
 Eaynham, member of Parliament for South Dirtshire ; 
 Colonel Cyrus Shute, from the United States. 
 
 Mr. Waller Eaynham beamed and bowed. 
 
 Colonel Shute protruded his powerful and solid hand, and 
 seized Mr. Waller Eaynham’ s small and white one, saying, 
 ‘ Wery glad to meet you^ Mr. Waller Eaynham.” 
 
 Then Mr. Waller Eaynham said, ^^Let me in my turn 
 introduce my brother, Mr. J ohn Eaynham ; Mr. Corsar, 
 Colonel Shute.” All bowed. 
 
 have long wished to know you, sir,” remarked Cyrus 
 mendaciously to Waller ; you are the first British statesman 
 I have met. May I ask if you are in the present Cabinet ? ” 
 
 ‘‘Well, no. Colonel Shute, no. The fact is the other party 
 is in power just now.” 
 
 “ Ah, you belong to the old aoristocratic and constitutional 
 crowd. I might a’ guessed that.” 
 
 “ Yes. I am afraid you, as a Eepublican, will rather look 
 down on us, eh ?” 
 
 “On the contrary, I as a Democrat respect you, sir. I 
 tell you,” he added in a low voice, of course audible to the 
 whole room, and intended to be, “ that I gained my commis- 
 sion fighting for the poor old South, among the descendants 
 of your Gentlemen Adventurers and your Cavaliers, sir. I 
 represent a lost cause. You may yet win yours.” 
 
 “ Dear me ! dear me ! Well, I’m sure I’m delighted to make 
 your acquaintance. I remember well when the Civil War 
 was going on, the great heart of England was with you.” 
 
 “It was.” “The great brain of England wasn’t,” Cyrus 
 parenthetically thought. 
 
 “And except for the demagogic extravagance of a few 
 fanatics who would fain cry ‘ Peace ! peace ! ’ when there is 
 not and should not be any peace, w5 might have given you 
 material assistance, instead of humbling and disgracing our- 
 selves, as we have done, with that wretched Alabama com- 
 pensation. Were you an owner of much property in the 
 JSouth, if I may ask?” 
 
 “ I was so. I lost my ancestral estate in Virginia, consist- 
 ing of cotton clumps, forests primevyal, and niggers, and had 
 
44 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 to wander around the earth, accepting menial occypations for 
 the sake of mere bread and cheese and whisk — er — water.” 
 
 Dear me !” 
 
 Dough diamond, rough diamond,” whispered Mr. Corsar 
 to Mr. John Eaynham, but a brave, honest, tender-hearted 
 creature as ever breathed.” 
 
 Mr. John Eaynham looked at the honest, tender-hearted 
 creature. 
 
 Indeed !” he said. 
 
 Yes, and a man who, in his own homely Western phrase, 
 has ‘ got the sand.’ After losing all his vast property, he has 
 now in the course of years, by sheer pluck and energy, become 
 even richer than he was before.” 
 
 Mr. John Eaynham looked more respectfully than before at 
 Cyrus Shute, warrior, ruined slave-holder, and millionaire. 
 
 He tells me — but he does not wish it to be made known 
 — ^that he is going to devote large sums of money to the 
 improvement of the condition of the London poor (who, God 
 knows, want it badly enough) out of gratitude to the hos- 
 pitality he once met with as a destitute exile in England.” 
 
 Does he ? By Jove, I honour him for that.” 
 
 And John Eaynham took a far greater interest in Colonel 
 Shute than ever. John Eaynham respected wealth because 
 he knew what an omnipotence for good and evil it is and has 
 been throughout the world, but he respected philanthropy 
 more. It may be a weakness on his part, especially in a 
 man who had made his fortune in business, but John Eayn- 
 ham loved and pitied his fellow-men, knowing that while he 
 as one prospered a million were in abject miser}^ And many 
 a stealthy well-judged or ill-judged kindness had he done to 
 those whose need of kindness was great, as a small thank- 
 offering for his own possession of loving and comely children, 
 a comfortable home, and a large income. And in the course 
 of the evening he came to the conclusion that Colonel Shute, 
 though perhaps uncultured, was a thoroughly good fellow, 
 unassuming, and posses^sed of a fund of dry humour,” 
 Waller, who imagined himself a sort of combination of 
 D’Orsay, Disraeli, and Canning, absorbed the gentle flattery 
 of Corsar and the direct simple admiration of the American 
 with vivid delight, and invited the pair to dinner the following 
 evening. He asked his brother to come too, but the latter 
 excused himself, saying — 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 45 
 
 I have to run down to Fenchester to-morrow afternoon to 
 meet my wife and daughter, who are there under the charge 
 of young Maxwell, my wife’s nephew. By the way, Mr. 
 Corsar, there is a young fellow there of your name whom 
 young Maxwell speaks of often in terms of the greatest friend- 
 ship and admiration, can he be a relation of yours ? It is an 
 unusual name.” 
 
 ‘^Mr. Kaynham, that is my son. I am very glad to have 
 met you at all, but still more so having found you have a 
 youngster there who is a friend of my youngster. I should 
 like to meet this young Mr. Maxwell ; I am always anxious 
 to know my boy’s friends. It is such a criterion of a young 
 man’s character, his choice of friends.” 
 
 Very true. I hope we may all meet, both generations, 
 one of these days.” 
 
 ^^I hope to you won’t,” reflected Mr. Corsar. Then 
 
 aloud, Yes. It is a cheering thing for us old fellows — I beg 
 your pardon, Mr. Baynham, I mean for an old fellow like 
 me, to see the young men growing up and flourishing, and 
 enjoying themselves in a healthy way, as they do down 
 there at Audit.” 
 
 ‘^I understand your son took a very distinguished de- 
 gree ? ” 
 
 I am not too modest to say he did, and that I am proud 
 of him.” ' 
 
 Congratulate you, I’m sure. This boy Maxwell is a flne 
 fellow and clever, but a little wild. He is inclined to forget 
 that he is not as rich as some of his companions.” 
 
 ‘‘We did not always think at their age, Mr. Baynham, did 
 we ? We must make allowances, mustn’t we ? ” 
 
 “ At eighteen,” remarked Waller, “ I was a very wild dog, 
 I fear.” 
 
 “ At eighteen,” added the Colonel, “ I was carrying a rifle 
 and riding a horse under General Bobert Lee.” At the 
 mention of this name, Cyrus gently raised his hat. 
 
 “ Ah, Colonel,” said Mr. John Baynham, “ we have not all 
 your experiences.” 
 
 “ Thank your stars for that, sir,” was the reply. 
 
 “I was going to say,” the other continued, turning to 
 
 Mr. Corsar, “that this young Maxwell” (D n this young 
 
 Maxwell ! thought Mr. Corsar, with the expression of polite 
 interest) “is no blood relation of mine. He is my wife’s 
 
46 
 
 THE CORSARS ; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 nephew, has no parents, has a very small fortune, and I don’t 
 know exactly what to do with him.” 
 
 '^Ah! exactly. It’s a nice point. Being myself a poor 
 man, I told my hoy at the outset he would have to work for 
 his living, and he has done it right well.” 
 
 ^‘Well, good-night, gentlemen,” said Waller, have to 
 go to my chambers and write an article on foreign policy. I 
 shall see you to-morrow ? ” 
 
 I thank you,” said Colonel Shute. 
 
 Au revoir, then!” said Mr. Corsar pleasantly, and he 
 and his ‘‘pariaer ” strolled into St. James’s Street. 
 
 Now who is Waller Eaynham, anyhow ? ” asked Shute. 
 
 He is a fool.” 
 
 Yes, I know that. But further ? ” 
 
 He is an M.P. and has the entrSe of a great many exclu- 
 sive circles, and has the talent of spreading all over London 
 whatever he hears.” 
 
 Then he is to spread me ? ” 
 
 ^ ^ Exactly. And mind, he is as vain as a peacock about 
 his statesmanship, his wit, and the article on foreign poKcy 
 he is always writing, which no one ever sees, or ever will.” 
 
 I see.” 
 
 Good-night, my lord, God bless you I ” 
 
 Oh, sir I ” exclaimed Cyrus; there’s that blamed cripple 
 again.” 
 
 suppose he selects this as a likely place for charity 
 just at this time. Sure to meet men coming into or out of 
 clubs. I shouldn’t wonder if he picked up a good deal.” 
 
CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 riRELIGHT, TOBACCO, AND GLOOM. 
 
 Here’s a paper for you to take away,” said Carl Corsar to 
 the last of his pupils for the night, at 11 p.m., for whose sake 
 he had left Sandy’s rooms at five, strongly against his will ; 
 
 do as much as you can of it. Do it from the book. It’s 
 no use your trying to answer those questions out of your head 
 yet. It will only get you into the habit of writing wrong 
 answers. Let’s see, then I shall see you again at ten, day 
 after to-morrow ? ” 
 
 ‘‘ Yes.” 
 
 All right, good-night.” 
 
 The pupil left, and shut the door of the set of attic rooms, 
 and Carl Corsar got up and began putting books and papers 
 away with much neatness in a set of shelves he had made 
 himself. Out of common and cheap materials, and with his 
 own delicate and ingenious hands, he had made his rooms the 
 picture of comfort and practical convenience, though without 
 any seeking after artistic effect. Everything was good of its 
 kind. There was nothing he did not occasionally require, 
 and everything in frequent use was where he could readily 
 lay hands on it. Books, papers, tobacco, hats, microscope, 
 matches, pens, &c., were within easy reach, with the result of 
 apparent chaos, but superlative convenience. The chairs and 
 tables were strictly arranged for comfort and applicability to 
 their respective purposes, without regard to appearance. 
 There were no decorations, no pictures save two or three 
 large photographs of favourite professors, and over the chim- 
 ney-piece one magnificent etched portrait of the man he 
 revered above all others of the nineteenth century, Charles 
 Darwin. 
 
 And under that portrait Carl stood, waiting for his kettle 
 to boil, and smoking a slender short wooden pipe black with 
 age as he waited, his hands in the pockets of white flaDnel 
 
48 
 
 THE COKSARS ; 
 
 trousers, his body clothed in a blue flannel coat, known to 
 boating men as a Blazer. His face was, as has been said, 
 like that of his father, but fairer, and his hair instead of 
 being iron grey was light brown and brushed back away 
 from his forehead and cut short. His features and expres- 
 sion were certainly marvellously attractive and keen. Sandy 
 grandly put it that Garbs face had the regularity of Napo- 
 leon’s, with the meagreness of Caesar’s. As a matter of fact 
 he had keen blue eyes set wide apart, a pronounced aquiline 
 nose, a mouth which some ladies called singularly sweet,” 
 and a thin and bony but splendidly shaped jaw. And behind 
 this face there was plenty of head to hold brains. 
 
 Whatever he set himself to do with that head and those 
 hands, which worked so well together, he did, and did well. 
 Many and wonderful were the things he would make. He 
 delighted in making things. He made a wonderful apparatus 
 for warming his bath by the latent heat of steam out of a 
 few tin plates and leaden tubes. If the kettle leaked he 
 mended it. He made a fishing rod, a set of drawers for 
 pressed plants, and a case for microscope slides, in a way 
 which would have been a lesson to many a professional arti- 
 ficer. He was steadily practical and sternly real, and young 
 men who wrote passionate poetry and belonged to Asphodel 
 clubs, spouted dandified socialism at debating societies, and 
 adorned their rooms with dados, were as much an abomina- 
 tion to him as the apostolic don and dean who thought that 
 human beings who were not at lecture or dinner should be 
 in chapel, or the far from apostolic senior fellow of the old 
 school who held that persons not at chapel or lecture should 
 be in hall at dinner, especially senior fellows. 
 
 Luminaries of these kinds regarded Corsar as a rising 
 iconoclast, a natural though highly objectionable result of the 
 Abolition of Tests. He was destined, no doubt, to turn the 
 chapel into a dissecting theatre, to pervert surplices to profane 
 uses, and to abolish entirely those senior fellows whose main 
 duty and privilege consisted in eating the very excellent 
 dinners provided for them at the high table. He and his 
 chief. Professor McBean, an import from the advanced and 
 fiery North, had already set the stone mightily roiling, and 
 promulgated the audacious doctrine that some colleges de- 
 manded more than they supplied, were entirely human insti- 
 tutions, and as such subject to imperfections. 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 49 
 
 After holding forth seriously and sadly on these things in 
 Hall during the intervals of a copious repast, it was 
 instructive to observe the New Light rush like a large black 
 bat to his attics, undrape and disarray himself, plunge into 
 the (home-made) rocking-chair, put kettle on coals, light 
 slender black pij)e, and say, perhaps, say, Sandy, have 
 you read ‘ Jack Sheppard ’ ? ” Carl’s literary tastes had not 
 grown up with his other intellectual attainments. He had 
 not much time for leisure reading, and when he had usually 
 confined himself to sensation novels, French and English, comic 
 papers, and American humourists — all good things, no doubt, 
 but limited. in range. The ‘‘higher lights” — Shakespeare, 
 Beethoven, Eaphael, e.g . — simply bored him. 
 
 “When you’re not working,” he said, “you want some 
 awful rubbish that doesn’t require any mental effort to enjoy, 
 or else you get no rest. Of course I could get to like all the 
 big things if Ftried ; anybody could if he had time and brains, 
 I dare say, but I can’t be bothered. If I go to a theatre, I 
 should certainly prefer Madame Angoi to Hamlet P 
 
 And so he stood while his kettle boiled. As that useful 
 machine seemed to be in no hurry, he sat down before a small 
 rather tuneless piano he had bought at some sale, and played 
 the Bell Chorus from the Cloches de Corneville, Then he took 
 out his pet white rat, J uliet, from her box, sat down on the 
 hearthrug and remarked to her with a queer smile playing 
 round his thin handsome lips — 
 
 “ I wonder if one will always be a baby ? What do you 
 think, J uliet ? Do you know that I am your nurse ? I think 
 I ought to have one myself. I used to have one myself, but 
 that is a long time ago.” 
 
 When Sandy Maxwell came up to College, Carl discovered 
 in him a man who, although very different from himself, had 
 certain common S3.Tnpathies with him, and certain similar 
 views on the philosophy of things in general. Sandy’s 
 romance and impulse counterbalanced Carl’s stern mate- 
 rialism. Both knew something of men and women in a way 
 other than that of the majority of young men who surrounded 
 them. The difference was that Sandy thought he would like 
 to know more of them, while Carl thought he would not. 
 They had made acquaintance as “ coach ” and pupil at a 
 period when an ephemeral passion for science had entered into 
 Sandy’s comprehensive and versatile programme. 
 
60 
 
 THE COllSARS ; 
 
 By the time Carl’s kettle had boiled and his cocoa been 
 made, that gentleman had joined him, having rambled over, 
 as was his habit about this time, for a smoke and talk before 
 going to bed. These smokes and talks generally lasted till 
 about half-past midnight, when Carl began to prepare 
 lecture notes and specimens for the morrow. The two sat 
 before the fire in comfortable attitudes and smoked and drank 
 cocoa for some minutes in silent gloom, staring into the 
 glowing coals. At last Carl said — 
 
 See anything special in that fire ? ” 
 
 Curse it all!” replied Sandy, suddenly getting up and 
 walking about the room, and as suddenly re-seating himself. 
 I say, you know I ” 
 
 What’s the matter ? ” 
 
 ^ ‘ I have had everything in the way of chances to make me 
 happy, and I feel simply in a state of maudlin gloom.” 
 
 How’s your exam, getting on ? ” 
 
 Oh dash the exam. 1 That’s all right. I feel safe enough. 
 It’s not that.” 
 
 What is it ? ” 
 
 I can’t help feeling that my existence here has been an 
 infernal failure. I’ve got a tolerably good opinion of myself, 
 as you know, and a magnificent ideal of what a man ought to 
 be ” — here Sandy glanced wistfully at Carl, who was gravely 
 chewing large mouthfuls of bread and butter — ‘ ^ and a 
 proportionate disappointment at my personal inability to 
 attain it.” 
 
 I never have any ideals. If I want to have or do a thing, 
 I have or do it, if I can ; if not, I have something else.” 
 
 But you always can do whatever you want, hang you 1 ” 
 
 I used to think that. I tell you what it is, old man, I’ve 
 come to the conclusion one can’t have everything one likes.” 
 ^^Well?” 
 
 The alternative which appears tome to have points about 
 it is : Like what you can have.” 
 
 '' That’s all very well for a profane evolutionist like you, 
 who believes in what he touches.” 
 
 ^‘Oh! how about you? How much of the intangible do 
 you believe in ? ” 
 
 ''I don’t feel things or do them the same way. I ve 
 immense romantic capacities in me somewhere ; but then just 
 look at the way things have gone I I’m not weak enough to 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 61 
 
 blame luck. I know it’s my own look-out ; but look wbat I 
 might be doing now ! The dear old governor when he was 
 alive taught me all he knew, which was a good deal, about 
 men and women, and then sent me into Wanderleben with a 
 good education and allowance to find them out for myself.” 
 
 Lucky beggar ! ” 
 
 Just so. Well, I’ve been at two universities for a short 
 time. I come here, chock full of ideas and books, meaning 
 to be a fellow at least in no time. I take a classic exhibition. 
 Then I yield to your fascinations, and mess with needles and 
 forceps and microscopes and common frogs and elementary 
 biology, and also muddle with Kant and Locke and Bacon.” 
 
 And eggs.” 
 
 Shut up ! Then I row, and go target-shooting in an 
 ugly grey uniform, just because my friends want me to. For 
 the same reason I belong to two or three societies which cost 
 me money, don’t amuse me, and obstruct my reading, as they 
 all meet in my rooms some days in the week, I think, and 
 drink gallons of coffee; and now I’m trusting to a good 
 memory and a brilliant imagination to scramble anyhow into 
 a second-hand bachelor’s gown, and shake the dust of the 
 place from my feet for ever. What is still more provoking is 
 that you can do and enjoy all these things just as much as I 
 can, and succeed in your work into the bargain. And there- 
 fore I curse you solemnly, as that is nicer than cursing 
 myself.” 
 
 Thanks. But if you knew as much as I know about 
 myself, I don’t know that you would envy me much.” 
 
 Sandy looked at Carl curiously. 
 
 Hum. At any rate you are not the rolling stone that I 
 seem to have become. Why, you know, I don’t even get 
 seriously in love. I believe I have the capacity for a grand 
 passion in me, but it is getting frittered away distributively 
 in different places.” 
 
 ^^WeU, I think there are some points about the distribu- 
 tive style. I think one can get a good deal more fun out of 
 it. In some respects the passion that overmasters one is dis- 
 tinctly inferior, and makes one play the consummate and 
 utter fool.” 
 
 You speak with decision.” 
 
 ^ado.” 
 
 Have you — er — grounds for the conviction ?” 
 
 
 
62 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 have.’’ Carl smoked sombrely for a minute or two, 
 and then continued, Fact is, I was left to take care of myself 
 too early. Just fifteen is not the proper time for a fellow to 
 be left to go on the loose. Luckily, I hadn’t any spare 
 pocket-money to throw about, or I should be in a better posi- 
 tion to sympathise with you. I have always to work hard to 
 get about three hundred a year, and jou can’t get much 
 riotous living out of that. I work, of course, at the subjects 
 I like best ; that’s the only way.” 
 
 And, by Jove ! you have made them pay.” 
 
 Built a small structure out of nothing. But by a pro- 
 longed and beastly grind. Do you suppose I enjoy a mono- 
 tonous series of more or less idiotic pups who make me loathe 
 almost my own pet subjects? I should think an actor must 
 find even a really good part rather mean by the four hundredth 
 night. I amuse myself sometimes.” 
 
 Oh, you do !” 
 
 ^^You needn’t grin. When I get the chance. Here, by 
 way of rest, I just lie on the sofa and read the utterest rot in 
 the way of literature that one just laughs and smokes over, 
 when I can’t get up to town. I’m having a great bender on 
 sensation novels just now.” 
 
 Come and take a stroll in the quad.” • 
 
 No ; must do some work now, and then go to bed.” 
 
 Here an interruption was occasioned by the discovery that 
 Juliet had crawled inside the piano, and her extrication was a 
 work of time, perspiration, and profanity on Carl’s part. Like 
 most men engaged much in biological pursuits, Carl was 
 extremely fond of and very kind to animals, though he could 
 have done a vivisection with a cool head and steady hand, had 
 it lain in his career to do so. Juliet was reproved — Carl held 
 her up, shook one finger at her, and said ‘^Naughty!”- — and 
 carried to her box, ap.d there inclosed. Then Carl said — 
 What are you going to do in the long? ” 
 
 Going home — Watermouth, Eaynham’s place. I say, do 
 come with me, old man, will you ? We can amuse you for a 
 week or two, I dare say, and cheer each other at dead of 
 night with mutual melancholy and much tobacco. I wish you 
 would come.” 
 
 Carl looked wistful. 
 
 You’re very kind. I have to look over a lot of papers 
 next week. Will after that do?” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE, 
 
 53 
 
 Anything will do, but come.’’ 
 
 Thanks very much. I’ll try. I think you ought to go to 
 bed now. I fancy one does a little too much of this sitting 
 up and smoking. Pay for it some day. Pancy us two in 
 Bath chairs with locomotor ataxy! ” 
 
 Won’t fancy anything of the sort. Good night.” 
 
 Good night. Lunch to-morrow, mind 1 ” 
 
 Eight.” 
 
CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 THE CRUISE OF A SUNBEAM. 
 
 Carl Corsar had asked one guest to meet the Eaynhams at 
 lunch, and he was young Arthur Eaynham, a freshman at 
 Audit, a pupil of Carhs, and son of a deceased Eaynham, 
 brother to John and Waller. Arthur was in consequence 
 cousin to May and her sisters, and quasi-cousin to Sandy, who 
 good-naturedly tolerated him. Carl rather liked the boy; 
 not that he was at all likely to turn out a scientific prodigy, 
 but he was good-tempered and tractable, always behaved like 
 a gentleman, and had a certain limited sense of humour of his 
 own. Unlike his uncle Waller, he was no politician, nor had 
 he taken up any of the popular intellectual fads of young 
 men at Fenchester. He was no poet or prose writer, nor 
 could he even be legitimately called a prose-talker, unless the 
 language with which England is constantly being enriched by 
 her younger sons may be called prose. We, who hold to the 
 ancient and yet respectable notion that subject, predicate, 
 grammar, and general intelligibility are necessary to consti- 
 tute the most simple prose, deny that Arthur Eaynham talked 
 it as a rule, though when he did he was certainly, like a well- 
 known Frenchman, unaware of the fact. 
 
 But he was a nice, laughing kind of boy when he forgot 
 the dignity and the deep voice necessary to his position, and 
 could row and play games rather well, though he couldn’t 
 pass an examination to save his life. He had a pretty fair 
 face, reminding one slightly of May, though without her 
 distinctness and variety of expression. He always dressed in 
 the height of the fashion, and imprisoned his really small and 
 well-shaped feet in the tightest and sharpest-pointed boots, 
 and did his best to ruin his excellent appetite and digestion 
 by taking brandies and sodas and sherries and bitters he did 
 not in the least like or want, and because the other men ” 
 did it. 
 
THE CORSARS ; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 65 
 
 He was in abject bondage to Fencbester tradesmen (wbo 
 are allowed to be among the most upright, candid, and unsel- 
 fish of their profession), into buying wines and cigars of 
 whose flavours and brands he was no more judge than a girl, 
 and as to which he thought it better to be guided by the 
 dealer, who knows more about ’em than I do, hang it, you 
 know,” which was certainly true. He purchased elegant cord 
 breeches and cloth-legged boots, and cantered up and down 
 at the May races to the great edification of the lady visitors, 
 who asked their brothers and cousins ^ ^ who the funny little 
 man with the stern expression riding on a tall horse was?” 
 He would not play polo, enticingly expensive as was the 
 bedizenment of the club, because it was so beastly rough on 
 the ponies, you know.” He wandered about in winter time 
 in marvellous and fantastic varieties of the ulster species, and 
 spent a good deal of the handsome allowance his mother gave 
 him in proctorial and gate fines, was generally a great 
 ornament to his Alma Mater, and had no enemies. In short, 
 he was one of those numerous worthy young gentlemen who, 
 without experience, but with the best of intentions, make 
 fools of themselves because in their set it is exceptionally bad 
 form to be otherwise than a fool, and the virtue must be 
 assumed if not possessed. Many assume it with such con- 
 summate readiness that it is difficult to tell the imitation from 
 the reality. 
 
 He arrived first, and found Carl correctly dressed, his 
 moustache twisted and lisse, and his dishes in the fender. Then 
 the Eaynhams arrived with Sandy, and, to the surprise of 
 Carl, a benevolent-looking, elderly gentleman with grey whis- 
 kers, who said — 
 
 ‘ ^ Mr. Corsar, I hope you will pardon this intrusion, and 
 try and regard me as an old acquaintance. I am the father 
 of these,” and he pointed to the Misses Eaynham, the uncle 
 of this,” and he pointed to Arthur, and the sort of guardian 
 and imitation-uncle of that,” pointing to Sandy, ^^from 
 whom I have heard a great deal about you ; and I may 
 say I am much obliged to you for the amount of work 
 you seem to have got him to do. I dare say it was very 
 difficult.” 
 
 “ Very glad to see you, Mr. Eaynham. Sit down.” 
 
 I parted from your father yesterday evening,” said Mr. 
 Eaynham. I happened to meet him at my brother AValler’a 
 
56 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 club. A very pleasant little chat we had.’’ Carl winced 
 rather and changed the subject. 
 
 * ‘ Ah, yes, indeed ! Let me take those things and put them 
 down in corners, Mrs. Eaynham.” 
 
 ^‘Oh! thank you. I was just looking for a place where 
 they would not do any harm.” 
 
 And Carl had the pleasure of depositing ladies’ hats, sun- 
 shades, and other trifles — those charming, apparently pur- 
 poseless little things which carry with them their own faint 
 fragrance — for the first time in his own abode. 
 
 '‘Dish up, Sandy, will you, while I draw corks? Will 
 you take a glass of wine before . sitting down, Mr. 
 Raynham ? ” 
 
 “ No, thanks. I couldn’t do it at my time of life. I am 
 much obhged to you.” 
 
 “ You will, Arthur ? ” 
 
 “ Er — ^thanks. I’ll take a sherry.” 
 
 The ladies arranged themselves at the table, while Sandy, 
 with whom general adaptability to circumstances was a strong 
 point, became for the time a waiter. He did not merely put 
 a few dishes casually on the table ; he became absolutely a 
 serious, expressionless, skilled waiter of the highest Parisian 
 cachet. He carried the clean napkin pro format that waiters’ 
 napkin which is never used ; he offered wines with the grave 
 politeness of the dignified stranger, and lent the appearance 
 of scene from a comedy to the whole gathering. 
 
 “ I really believe we are people in a comedy,” said May, 
 when they were all noticing the ape-like gravity and assiduous 
 agility of Sandy. “ Papa is one of those uncles who are so 
 indispensable in the drama. Arthur is the young man who 
 ought to have a yellow wig parted in the middle, and an 
 eye-glass, and pronounce his r’s like w’s. Sandy is what you 
 see. I don’t exactly know what mother and the girls are — 
 guests or unimportant people, to show costumes, I should 
 think.” 
 
 “Thanks, dear,” said Mrs. Paynham. 
 
 “ What am I ? ” said Carl. 
 
 “ Oh, you — you, Mr. Corsar, are a villain, I think, who 
 will be exposed in the course of time, because you are dressed 
 in a black coat — and other reasons. But you ought to have 
 a tall hat and keep it on and stand about.” 
 
 “ Sorry I asked, now.” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 57 
 
 And may we be privileged to know,’’ said Mr. Eaynbam, 
 what part you have reserved for yourself ? ” 
 
 Ingenue,’'^ said Sandy, suddenly reassuming his normal 
 personality and sitting down, though you mightn’t think so.” 
 Talking of uncles,” said Arthur, ‘^why didn’t Uncle 
 Waller come up with you ? ” 
 
 Cares of State, I fancy, weigh on him. I’ve got a political 
 brother, Mr. Corsar. He is member for our county, and un- 
 fortunately for the other six hundred and odd legislators not 
 a silent member.” 
 
 Swaggering old sportsman, Uncle Waller. I was in the 
 house one night with Charlie Bohun of John’s, and Uncle 
 Waller spoke,” said Arthur. Began like the old boy in 
 Genevieve de Brabant ^ with a lot of notes : ^ In the year 1836 
 
 ’ Then they all yah’d and boo’d and howled like a 
 
 blooming bear-garden, and I didn’t catch the rest.” 
 
 ^^I don’t think that’s exactly the sort of way to talk of an 
 uncle,” said Mr. Eaynham. ^‘The common uncle,” he 
 continued, gets far more impertinence and far less respect 
 than he deserves. I am an uncle.” 
 
 Oh, well, hang it, you’re not like Waller Eaynham, Esq.” 
 I believe foreign policy is his strong point,” said Mrs. 
 Baynham in a sad, didactic society” voice. 
 
 She disapproved of fun being made — before a comparative 
 stranger — of elderly by young people. There was no know- 
 ing how far the practice might be carried if licence were 
 given it. Some daughter or nephew might make fun of her, 
 or even imitate her some day behind her back. 
 
 Yes,” said her husband, ‘^foreign policy in the shape of 
 awful menaces and secret information about certain malevo- 
 lent intentions of a power called by my relative ^ Wussia ; ’ but 
 then he is obliged to do that. It goes down wonderfully in 
 the county. The implacable personal animosity of South Dirts 
 — our county, Mr. Corsar — against the Emperor of Eussia is 
 wonderful. He causes the strikes. He invents frightful 
 engines which gather in the harvest quickly, out of the way 
 of the weather, for the malicious purpose of cheapening bread, 
 and so ruining British agriculture. He sends secret emissaries 
 to bribe the present Cabinet to back him up in all these courses. 
 He turns on undesirable weather. All, of course, in South 
 Dirtshire. There arn’t any other counties, you know ; at 
 least, we admit the existence somewhere of North Dirts, but we 
 
 E 
 
THE CORSARS; 
 
 6S 
 
 don’t think much of it. They plough with three horses. In the 
 enlightened and mountainous southern division we use four.” 
 Isn’t there any opposition ? ” said Carl. 
 
 ‘‘Only dissenting ministers, Kitualists who feel spiteful, 
 and one or two people in the advanced stages of total absti- 
 nence. All the rest loyally support the Church and Queen, 
 and the British Lion, and the Eed Lion, and so on. You 
 ought to see our county. By the way, Sandy tells me you 
 are coming to see us this summer. I hope it’s true ?” 
 
 “ Well, he was kind enough to ask me, certainly, and ” 
 
 ‘ ‘ And I back him up, Corsar ; and so do all of us, don’t we ? ” 
 “ I am sure,” said Mrs. Eaynham, “ we shall be very glad 
 to see Mr. Corsar.” At the same time she still wondered 
 who he was. If that mystery were only clear, she thought, it 
 would be well enough. But one likes to know a little about 
 people’s people you see, of course. 
 
 “ You’d better come, Mr. Corsar,” said May, who sat on 
 Carl’s left, opposite her mother. “We can show you ships 
 and guns, and sunsets and green downs with red-brick forts 
 on them, and take you to catch pouts. That’s the great thing 
 at Watermouth — catching pouts. You take a jam-pot full of 
 
 worms ” 
 
 “May, really !” 
 
 “ Well, you 
 
 “ Yes, after lunch, dear, perhaps.” 
 
 “There are other amusements,” said Miss Kate, the second 
 daughter ; ‘ ‘ there is the regatta, and most of the regiments 
 give dances and tennis parties in the summer.” 
 
 ‘ ‘ Pout-fishing is much more fascinating, ” said May. ‘ ‘ You 
 see all sorts of funny things and beautiful things under the 
 water where it’s shallow on a still day ; and I dare say Mr. 
 Corsar would know the names of them.” 
 
 “ Do you propose that Mr. Corsar should carry jam-pots 
 
 full of the nameless and awful things which fish are fond 
 
 of for you, as an amusement?” asked Mr. Paynham. “I 
 believe that’s your real programme. Whenever you find a 
 harmless man idling for the good of his health you think he 
 ought to fish for pouts and gaze on seaweeds and sunsets, as 
 if his life depended on it.” 
 
 “ I suppose you can estimate for yourself, Mr. Corsar,” said 
 May, with icy dignity, “the quantity of truth there is in all that.” 
 “ I should think fishing for pouts was rather fun. I might 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 59 
 
 be useful in making you apparatus,” said Carl. I’m ratber 
 a dab at little things of that kind.” 
 
 You should see the knotting and rope-plaiting Carl can 
 do,” said Sandy ; he ought to have been a sailor.” 
 
 ^^Very useful handy man to have about the premises, I 
 should think,” said Mr. Baynham. I wonder what wages 
 he would require to mend palings, put handles on doors, 
 and do a little gas-fitting, to say nothing of hunting for nasty 
 creatures for that child to fish with.” 
 
 I think I could do all that,” said Carl. ‘‘I ought to have 
 been cast away on a desert island with a tool-chest long ago. 
 Wish I had been sometimes. I suppose you are all going 
 down to the boats to-night ?” 
 
 I believe so,” said Mrs. Eaynham. Shall we see you 
 there?” 
 
 ‘‘I’m afraid not. Pupils will furnish the mild excitement 
 of my evening.” 
 
 “I’m not coming, Corsar,” said Arthur, “and I don’t 
 believe any other man will. Why this is the last day !” 
 
 “ Do you refer to the subject of Michel Angelo’s well-known 
 picture ? ” asked Mr. Baynham blandly. 
 
 ‘ ‘ Don’t know anything about the mediaeval sportsman. I 
 mean that the boats’ places for the year will be settled to- 
 night, and that if Corsar stays in he will find it jolly lively.” 
 
 “ A few have excused themselves,” said Carl, “ but I must 
 wait in for the rest.” 
 
 “ What a horrid shame ! ” said May. 
 
 “iN'ot at all. I’m used to it. Besides, the May races are 
 not a source of wild excitement to me. I rushed along the 
 towing-path and yelled for about four consecutive years 
 regularly alongside my college boat; but after that the 
 interest began to dwindle, when nearly all the rowing men I 
 knew had taken their degrees and gone down. Are you 
 going to ring a dinner-bell, Baynham, or swing a rattle, or 
 anything of that sort ? ” 
 
 “I was going to be in our second boat but for a fluke,” 
 said Arthur. 
 
 “ Oh ! what’s the fluke ? ” 
 
 “ Captain of our second boat caught me eating strawberry 
 ices and curagoa. That did it. And he got in such a boimd- 
 ing rage that he put Smith in my place. It’ll lose ’em their 
 bump as sure as fate.” 
 
60 - 
 
 thp: corsars ; 
 
 Shouldn’t be surprised.” 
 
 But I tell you what, Corsar, there is going to be sort of 
 supper-dinner and music, and perhaps a bit of a hop, this 
 evening in my rooms. Will you come round?” 
 
 ^'Very kind. Don’t think I can. You see, though you 
 and other men can cut coaching if you like, /can’t.” 
 
 Oh, rot ! Sandy’s coming, and he’s got his schools next 
 week.” 
 
 So much the worse for him. You had both of you much 
 better do some papers quietly,” Carl said with a private smile 
 to Mr. Eaynham. 
 
 Papers ! ” exclaimed Sandy ; think of it ! ” 
 
 *^No, don’t, if you want to enjoy yourselves. If you must 
 get ploughed, you may just as well have your fun first.” 
 
 ^ ^ What a nice thing a wet blanket is to have about the 
 j)remises,” said Sandy; never knew such a melancholy 
 view of things as Carl takes,” 
 
 Oh ! how about your last night’s conversation?” 
 
 Yes, but that was last night ; it’s day now.” 
 
 After lunch the party settled down in different parts of the 
 room and chatted. The gentlemen smoked cigarettes by per- 
 mission. May sat in a wicker folding-chair by the window 
 and looked out. A sunbeam arriving just then, and observ- 
 ing a nice head of glossy, fair hair, shone on it without hesi- 
 tation, and put the finishing touch on a very pleasant picture. 
 And Sandy sat in the window-sill and talked to her, while 
 Carl, standing on the rug^jand talking with Mr. Eaynham, 
 watched them. 
 
 In due time the whole party, excepting of course Carl, 
 started for a little stroll through the colleges previous to 
 going down to the river, and Carl was left to meditate on the 
 remains of luncheon. He became aware of a faint odour of 
 violets in the room, and finally traced it to a little wisp of 
 black lace which May had forgotten to put round her neck 
 when she and that sunbeam went away from Carl’s rooms 
 almost together. The sunbeam stayed a little longer than 
 she did before it went, being subject, unlike her, to the rigid 
 discipline of those laws which Carl so often studied. He had 
 that study stiU left as a consolation, but it failed to prevent 
 him from missing the girl, and the sunbeam that crowned 
 and caressed her before it wandered away to glitter on a 
 street window or two, to be refiected from the surface of the 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 61 
 
 river, and so dazzle two or three coxswains that they thereat 
 fell a-swearing and distributed undeserved blame to their 
 crews, and to gild the arrow vane of a large brewery, so that 
 it shone as if it were molten in the fire. 
 
 Late that night, while preparing his notes and spec imena 
 for the morrow, flannel-clad, pipe-smoking, he heard across 
 the dark vast court below his attic windows, open to the 
 summer night, the sound of waltzing melodies. He almost 
 felt the still air pulsate with the rhythmic beat of dancing 
 feet. He did not inform the rose that — 
 
 “ The brief night goes 
 In babble and revel and wine." 
 
 But he said, as he opened a drawer whence proceeded a faint 
 violet fragrance, Sandy’s a lucky fellow, luckier than I, for 
 all his groanings.” And he took out Juliet and talked to 
 her, and let her look through a microscope at some very inter- 
 esting things whose names he told her, and he asked Juliet if 
 she would like to go pout-fishing, to which Juliet replied in 
 her own language that she would infinitely prefer to gnaw 
 the works of the piano and finish up with a light dessert of 
 boot buttons. 
 
 No Sandy came to share cocoa and bread-and-butter and 
 sad outpourings that night. And the sunbeam was far away 
 now, making the air quiver on the Pacific slope, perhaps, and 
 sending undesired light into the desolate depths of the Anna 
 Maria soi-disant gold mine. ‘‘Well, the conclusion I’ve come 
 to, Juliet, is that one can’t have everything one likes. And 
 one selects the things one can’t have to like for choice. And 
 its bed-time.” 
 
CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 MAY SIGNALS 'WITH THE BLACK PETEK. 
 
 The day after the feasting and mirth of ^^the May/’ the 
 Eaynhams left Fenchester, and Nemesis descended on Sandy 
 Maxwell in the shape of an examination. It caught him at 
 the time when he had not studied moral philosophy long 
 enough to be a very profound authority on it, but quite long 
 enough to get tired of it. When one is pursuing the strange 
 Kantian chimera of a. priori knowledge through the eccentric 
 divagations it usually exhibits in Paper B, one is apt to call 
 festive overnight farewells ^ infernal rot” and other hard 
 names, and to regret not having taken up some — indeed any 
 — other subject. 
 
 So it was with Sandy, and the mingled effects of dancing, 
 supper, much tobacco, and no sleep to speak of, were much 
 sotto-voce anathema and some illustrations in a paper on 
 Egoistic Hedonism, which were modern and more derisive 
 than academic etiquette usually expects. In short, not being 
 Samson, or Guy Livingstone, or a walking monster of any 
 other kind as portrayed in ancient or modern mythology, his 
 Audit’s night’s entertainment was now a bitterness and a 
 reproach to him, sweet as it had been, and Paper B did not 
 act as an efficient restorative. 
 
 Here is an excellent opportunity for a brief discourse on 
 the short-sighted folly of indulging in transitory pleasures 
 whose aftertaste of regret is enduring, concluding with a 
 semi-j ocular allusion to the little book” of the Apocalypse. 
 Any one is at liberty to deliver it who consistently acts up to 
 his convictions ; and may benefit humanity largely by going 
 round on a lecturing tour to explain how he does it, and 
 whether he really likes life conducted on principles of con- 
 sistency and pure reason. 
 
 Sandy, with a face expressing mingled relief at the accom- 
 
THE CORSARS; OR, LOVE AXD LUCRE. 
 
 63 
 
 plishment of his task, and disgust at the meagre way in which 
 it had been accomplished, folded up his not very voluminous 
 documents of replies, wrote Alexander Maxwell, Audit/’ 
 with a flourish on the exterior, and deposited them with an 
 air at the table where the silent, black-gowned, sphinx-like 
 inquisitor sat receiving papers in (oh, irony!) a pair of large 
 twaste-paper baskets, labelled A and B. Then Sandy left the 
 schools, tossed the long-suffering rags which gave a theoretical 
 academic dignity to his person down the steps into the arms 
 of a man-servant who was waiting with a hat, a bag, and a 
 hansom, whose driver then drave furiously, in the manner 
 of Fenchester cabmen, to the railway, and Sandy went to 
 London. 
 
 There it will be discreet to leave him. Are not his achieve- 
 ments on that occasion, his reckless carryings-on,” yet the 
 topic of oral tradition and the fruitful source of mythic anec- 
 dote among the members of the Junior Imberbes Club ? For 
 among other humble necessaries Sandy of course had a Lon- 
 don club, somewhere between Piccadilly and Pall Mall, 
 frequented by youth “ not golden but gilded,” among whom 
 a young man like Sandy was a veritable hero. Sperge nec 
 sparge” was their pleasing and classic motto. AVhat their 
 fathers had gathered the Junior Imberbes scattered. That 
 was their conception of the division of labour. 
 
 Let us leap a little time and space. Only a few days, only 
 a few score miles. 
 
 Mr. John Eaynham sat in his study, at a well-covered knee- 
 hole desk, where he seemed to have been doing the kind of 
 simple arithmetic known as the addition and subtraction of 
 money. The addition was to the incomes of tutors and 
 tradesmen, the subtraction from the capital left by the late 
 Mr. Maxwell for the sole benefit of Sandy his son. Mr. 
 Eaynham was just reading a letter for the second time. This 
 was the letter : — 
 
 ‘‘Idlers’ Club, June ^ 18 — . 
 
 My DEAR John, 
 
 shall have much pleasure in accepting your invi- 
 tation to the little entertainment you contemplate, and I 
 know you will be gratified if I bring with me our mutual 
 friend Colonel Shute. He is indeed a most worthy and 
 benevolent man and an astute financier. He quite looks 
 forward to the visit. They have it at the clubs that that 
 
64 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 fellow Gladstone is going to, &c., &c., so I dare say I may 
 have to do a little speech-making and have a dinner at Water- 
 
 mouth. Would you mind sounding and about the 
 
 subject of a dinner ? 
 
 Your very affectionate brother, 
 
 ^^G. Waller Eaynham.’’ 
 
 t 
 
 Yes,’’ reflected John Eaynham, glancing absently at the 
 clematis outside the window swinging gently across the blue 
 sky. I didn’t know Shute was a mutual friend ; however, 
 as Waller seems to take it for granted, and Shute to antici- 
 pate it — well, there, it’s no use making a to-do ; I suppose a 
 friend of Mr. Corsar is all right. He is a perfect gentleman, 
 at all events, and one ought not to be too critical on the 
 demeanour of a man who has lived a life of outdoor adven- 
 ture in out-of-the-way places. Bother Waller’s politics and 
 dinners though.” 
 
 And he wrote a short assent. Then he took up the 
 morning paper. ‘ ‘ Emperor of Sclavonia wants a loan~to 
 make railway — convey troops against Emperor of Mongolia. 
 Latter wants same for ditto purpose with names reversed, 
 also powder, second-hand ironclads, and obsolete cartridges, 
 no doubt. Wonder which savage potentate is nearest bank- 
 ruptcy ? ’Pon my word these Eastern Empires are almost as 
 bad as South American Pepublics, I do believe. Those two 
 idiotic Pacific States cutting each other’s throats over and 
 concerning an exaggerated manure heap grievance want 
 loans too — ten per cent (stock worth nine, I think) and 
 eleven respectively. I dare say the revolutionary societies of 
 all these countries, whose ambitions are vague, explosive, and 
 consequently philanthropic, would pay best and longest if 
 they would only advertise in the money column, and probably 
 save their presidents and sovereigns the trouble and expense 
 of going to war, in their own efficacious way.” 
 
 And Mr. Eaynham leaned back in his chair and read and 
 murmured on. An old gentleman he was, not the old 
 gentleman ” of Punch,, usually of the fussy and testy ” order, 
 but one of those gentle-looking, neat-faced, white-whiskered, 
 tidy, courteous, Y?V/^^5-reading old gentlemen, often to be 
 found in summer-time in large Anglo-American hotels in 
 Switzerland, clad in grey tweed and white puggries, letting 
 their womenkind talk foreign languages for them to caib- 
 
oil, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 65 
 
 drivers and railway officials, and good-naturedly believing 
 that a modern and expensive education has enabled these 
 ladies to understand at least seven per cent, of the valuable 
 information the natives give them. 
 
 Mr. Eaynham got up and rang the bell. A black-clothed 
 servitor answered it, with the inevitable ^^You ring, sir?” 
 an expression conveying intense curiosity as to the possible 
 answer to the question. 
 
 Yes, Prout, I did. Do you know where Miss May is ? ” 
 Out in the park, sir, I think. She went out with a book 
 about an hour ago in the direction of the ’ammick, sir.” 
 
 Wish you’d go and ask her to come in here, will you ? ” 
 ^‘Yes, sir.” 
 
 And — er — Prout ! ” 
 
 ‘‘Yes, sir.” 
 
 “ Where’s your mistress ? ” 
 
 ‘ ‘ Out in the tennis-ground, sir. Miss Paynham and Miss 
 Kate is there, sir, playing tennis with Mr. ’Olroyde and Mr. 
 Cameron of the ’ighlanders, sir. And Miklos have come 
 back, sir.” 
 
 “ Has he ? what’s his news ? ” 
 
 “ Brought Mr. Maxwell’s luggage and ’orse, sir. Mr. Max- 
 well is to follow to-day, in time for dinner.” 
 
 “ Oh, ah, of course. Well, send Miss May here, will 
 you ? ” 
 
 “Yes, sir.” 
 
 After about a quarter of an hour (spent by Prout in looking 
 in the wrong places and asking questions of under-gardeners) 
 May arrived and knocked at the door. 
 
 “ Come in. Oh, it’s you, is it 1 The Emperor of Sclavonia 
 is much to blame. May. He is an irreclaimable barbarian 
 — ^what young Mr. Corsar would call a throw-back, no 
 doubt.” ^ 
 
 “ Yes, I always thought so — they all are. I have known 
 it ever since those Sclavonian naval officers — one was a prince 
 — got so conspicuously intoxicated at a dance in Watermouth. 
 But what have they done now ? ” 
 
 “They have almost made me forget it is your birthday, my 
 dear, and that it is now nineteen years since you were a 
 small, large-eyed object — ^you were an object then — in a white 
 hergonette, I have a good deal to do this morning, or I should 
 have sent for you sooner. In the meantime give me a kiss, 
 
66 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 and accept tliis little present. Get yourself a dress, or some 
 books, or whatever you like with it. I don’t quite understand 
 girls’ wants, but I dare say you do.” 
 
 And Mr. Raynham gave his daughter an oblong, semi- 
 transparent piece of paper with curious pink patterns, and 
 inscriptions on it, and, what is more, the small, distinct 
 signature of John Raynham in the lower right-hand corner. 
 His daughter gave the desired embrace, multiplied by three 
 (two cheeks and bridge of nose — happy John Raynham !), and 
 said the simple but effective words, ^‘Thanks ever so much, 
 papa ! ” (Miss Raynham and Kate said father and mother 
 when they remembered that fashion now consecrated the 
 words. May stuck to the papa and mamma of childhood.) 
 What are you doing this morning. May ? ” 
 
 I was out in the hammock, reading.” 
 
 Reading what ? ” 
 
 A Midsummer Nighfs Bream, and I think I had nearly got 
 into a midsummer day’s dream when Front came.” 
 
 Don’t you care about playing tennis with your sisters ? ” 
 They are enough to make up the set without me. I like 
 playing well enough with them, but not with men.” 
 
 Why not ?” 
 
 Men play so much better. Never mind, wait till Sandy 
 comes, he’ll show these Highlanders the way, I think.” 
 
 You are getting slangy.” 
 
 “ I know. It’s Arthur, I suppose. I can’t help it.” 
 
 Sandy is coming to-day.” 
 suppose so. I see his exam, is over.” 
 
 I didn’t know you read the University Intelligence. Per- 
 haps you read Current Prices as well.” 
 
 ‘^Oh, yes, often — Grey shirtings, languid; Staffordshire 
 pig, buoyant; Hungarian Gold Rentes, down a quarter. 
 Don’t you thank me for the info¥mation ? I am a voUau-vent 
 financier e,^'^ 
 
 Dreadful! Go and vole% au vent again. Remember you 
 are grown up — nearly.” 
 
 Quite. I feel large, elderly, and dignified.” 
 
 Large ? Eight stone four, I take it, with a mean length 
 of five three and a half.” 
 
 That’s no mean length for a girl.” 
 
 ^‘You are as bad as a Shakespearian clown I I mean 
 average length ; but ^ I don’t want to fight.’ Dignified, good- 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 C7 
 
 ness knows you are ! I believe you don’t play tennis before 
 those officers for fear of deranging your train.” 
 
 Haven’t got a train on. You see me at our dance, when 
 I sJiall have one. It certainly is rather unbecoming, not to say 
 cow-like, for girls to play tennis. I wonder they don’t think 
 of that before they gambol before the garrison so much.” 
 Don’t try to be satirical. May, at least, not in that manner. 
 Leave it for older and uglier people than yourself. By the 
 way. Waller’s coming down.” 
 
 Yes, I supposed so.” 
 
 And he’s asked me to let him bring an adventurous and 
 heroic American colonel, raw from his native slope — one of 
 your fabulously rich people they have out there, I understand. 
 I’ve only met him once.” 
 
 Oh, I hope he’ll come. I’ll read up the language in Bret 
 Harte, and ask searching questions about placer-mining.” 
 
 ** There is every prospect of his coming to dine, and perhaps 
 to dance. I shan’t ask him to sleep just yet. Wait till I know 
 him more. Besides, the place will be full. There, run away 
 now, and go on with the midsummer day’s dream.” 
 
 May went, but not out of doors. 
 
 She went up-stairs to her own room, her combination of 
 studio and library — not houdoir^ because as yet louder was in 
 her life an unconjugated verb. Although in summer-time her 
 principal apartment was the fair earth, with elms for pillars, 
 blue space for roof, with white or rose or gold-fringed, cloudy 
 drapery. May had a room of her own to do what she liked in, 
 when she liked. Had she been a man it would have been a 
 smoking-room. As it was it was a graceful and delicate 
 shadowing-forth of a pleasant and fair personality.” The 
 colouring and decoration were the accumulated result of her 
 suggestions, wishes, and imaginative impulses as they occurred 
 from time to time. In May’s multiform disposition there was 
 a sensuous delight in beautiful things, of the existence or 
 absence of which she would be dimly conscious perhaps even 
 in the dark. Similia similihus. 
 
 Her room gave the general impression of deep dull reds and 
 browns, not warm enough to be obtrusive, and lightened here 
 and there by the pale glimmer of old blackened silver mirror 
 frames or brazen candlesticks, and the black and white of an 
 etbhing or photograph. Where some other girl would have had 
 white or. ecru lace curtains, this girl had hangings of umber 
 
68 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 and olive, interthreaded with, tracings of silver. Her pictures 
 were few, and mostly of the black and white order. Etchings 
 she was especially fond of which portrayed old fantastic 
 towers and streets, or town-houses from Eland ers, Germany, 
 or France, and several people knowing this had given her 
 several such. Diirer’s Knight and Death had been given 
 her by somebody who vaguely thought that she was fond of 
 what somebody vaguely called high art. May thought it was 
 an ugly idea much too well expressed, but had taste enough 
 to see that among her old Stadt and Rath-Haiiser it was not out 
 of place. A Dance of Death series she had absolutely de- 
 clined, when offered it by her uncle Waller (who was an art- 
 critic soi-disant, among other things). When he said, But these 
 serve to remind even the fairest of us of our mortality,” May 
 answered, I don’t want to be reminded — more than once a 
 week — of mine, and I think skeletons are nasty.” There was 
 much in that. The fell march of Holbein’s horrible fleshless 
 cynic through the pomp and pride, the vice and virtue, the 
 richness and squalor, the wisdom and folly of men, greeted by 
 the tottering, friendless old man, yelled at and fled from by 
 the miser and emperor, leading away the peasant’s little child, 
 with cold, remorseless talons, a pitiless, grinning, triumphant, 
 material, horrible sixteenth-century phantasm like Holbein’s 
 Death, has surely no place in such a room as this : — 
 
 “ Here, wliere the world is quiet, 
 
 Here, where all trouble seems 
 Dead, winds and spent waves’ riot 
 In doubtful dreams — of dreams.” 
 
 Here, from the open windows, was to be seen the blue summer 
 sea twinkling under the sky, be^^ond the yellow and brown 
 town and mast-grown harbour of Watermouth, and in the 
 night the distant advance of the tides smote the dark silence 
 of the tree-clad plain between these windows and the sea 
 with a low, sonorous, soothing rhythm, like the music from a 
 curled sea-shell. Here in a corner between the fire and the 
 window stood May’s piano, where she could sit and play in the 
 late evenings, while the crimson streaks and primrose glow of 
 the sunset faded over the distant water and made a motive 
 for her melody. 
 
 There Maj^ loved to sit, to play whatever caprice put into 
 her head, or surrounding and memory suggested, to give out 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 69 
 
 a resonant confession of the then state of her mind, in tones 
 some petulant, some pathetic, many joyous. Sometimes the 
 waltz, in which the nineteenth century expresses its comfortable, 
 well-fed, well-dressed dilettante Welt-Schmerz ; sometimes 
 the defiant Soldier’s Chorus,” pealing up to the summer 
 sky like Maud’s war song ; perhaps the lively, thin crin- 
 crin compositions of latter-day comic opera; perhaps some 
 solemn, earnest music, with a meaning in it quite other than 
 champagne foam and prancing chorus-girls, from the soul of 
 Herr Capellmeister Bach, or some old song of England or 
 Scotland, which, if she was quite sure no one was listening, 
 she would sing to the sole critic she ever sang to, the silent 
 black cat, who gave to the room an air at once mysterious 
 and diabolic. Often while May was playing fugues or sing- 
 ing ballads to Peter the cat, Carl Corsar was rattling a polka 
 to sweep the cobwebs of idiotic pupildom from his brain and 
 soothe the listening Juliet the rat some hundred miles away. 
 Here is the opportunity for a treatise on undesigned coin- 
 cidences. 
 
 Against the wall, on one side of the room, stood a tall black 
 cabinet containing May’s books. She had not read very 
 much, but what she had read was among the best that the 
 world has succeeded in producing. The book most read of 
 all, most central, and most easy to reach, was Shakespeare. 
 She might, indeed, have been one of those fair young heroines of 
 his comedies, full of delicate and subtle gay thoughts, capable 
 (when the hour and the man came) of wonderful passion and 
 pathos, had she had the great good fortune to live in his age. 
 And he would have known and understood her better than 
 even you or I — or even Sandy — will ever be able to. The 
 translated history of that Knight of the Pueful Countenance, at 
 whom most of us have laughed, for whom some of us have 
 well-nigh wept, was not far from Shakespeare in that cabinet. 
 Then there was the mystic, three-fold world of Dante, that 
 shadow of the known on a background of the unknown, in its 
 own beautiful tongue. And not far off was the laughing 
 philosopher who gave to the world the troubles of Dandin and 
 Sganarelle, the pranks of Scapin, and the sombre cynicism of 
 Don Juan. That fair, distant world of chivalry and enchant- 
 ment in which Lancelot and Elaine, Merlin and Vivien move 
 in a sunlit haze of ancient forest, towered wall, and glancing 
 armour, was close to those near, dear friends of all of us — 
 
70 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 George Warrington, Arthur Pendennis, Philip Pirmin, the 
 eminent warrior Costigan, and the noble old figure of Colonel 
 Newcome. Nor were these all. 
 
 ^ ‘ Peter, do you know this is my birthday, and I am grown 
 up ? — ever so much more so than I was yesterday, of course.^’ 
 Peter blinked at the sunlight sleepily, and intimated that 
 these sensations were things of the past to a respectable elderly 
 cat, who had seen many children and grandchildren floating 
 in duck-ponds ere now. ^^And — listen, you lazy old thing! 
 Sandy is coming back again — Sandy who saved you from 
 rude and cruel boys when you were young and handsome, 
 neither of which you are now.” The sound of his hero’s 
 name provoked no responsive chord in that black, fur- enclosed 
 bosom. Peter thought, Niobe-like, of drowned progeny, and 
 still more of the heat of the weather, which evidently was a 
 beneficent provision of nature for elderly cats, for whose 
 health a good deal of sleep in the day-time had been pre- 
 scribed. 
 
 And May leaned on the sill of the window and looked at 
 the sail-specked sea. Peter arose, stretched, opened a very 
 pink mouth and yawned, and silently and suddenly, with an 
 agility beyond his years, jumped on May’s back, and sat on 
 her shoulders. ^ ‘ Ah ! One ironclad, two colliers, and a 
 yacht,” remarked Peter. ‘‘Now I don’t see what there is 
 interesting in that, even to girls who always take an interest 
 in silly and unprofitable things. Now if that sea were all 
 milk, into which some one ‘ had inserted some mice to make 
 it more nice,’ I could imagine a rational interest in it. I should 
 think that man-of-war, now, had a good many rats on board, 
 a thousand perhaps. Fancy a thousand rats — oh my! I 
 dreamed the other night I was chained down and gnawed by 
 rats. I must be more careful with those salmon back-bones 
 late at night.” 
 
 “ How wise you look, Peter! ” 
 
 ‘ ‘ Of course I do, silly child ! If she only knew what I was 
 really thinking of ! ” 
 
 Seven years ago when May was a slender, tree-climbing, 
 chocolate-cream-hungering young thing, with that combina- 
 tion of spring-like fairness, incomplete perfection, youth, 
 health, and sea-air which make up the marvellous and transi- 
 tory beauty of a child, before the no less marvellous but more 
 enduring beauty of womanhood has grown, when Sandy was 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 71 
 
 a big boy with a strong French accent, and Peter a very 
 juvenile cat with a tendency to chase all moving objects, from 
 wool balls to butterflies — part of the predatory instinct, no 
 doubt, interwoven with the poetry and prettiness of feline 
 adolescence — the said Sandy had rescued the said Peter, with 
 fracas and wounding, from certain young rustics who were 
 about to treat the kitten as the ignorant and ill-bred some- 
 times like to treat the defenceless and weak, as a certain mob 
 once treated a certain Stephen. They were making it a target 
 for stones, it being a stranger and a waif on the highway at 
 the time. No inspector of the P. S. P. C. A. happened to be 
 passing at the time, but Sandy did, and after a Homeric 
 encounter, brought the small black squealing thing and laid 
 it muddy and bruised in May’s hands. It had been her cat 
 ever since. 
 
 But that was seven years ago. In seven years a great 
 many things can happen. In mere existence for that time 
 people alter and develop greatly. So do cats. Seven years’ 
 famine or plenty, a seven years’ war, or seven years’ hard 
 labour would probably alter them still more. Think of the 
 opportunities ! You can commit one deadly sin a year, for 
 instance — a more leisurely mode of procedure than that usually 
 adopted, and tending to greater perfection of method and 
 detail. Do not seven years separate the sovereignty of Louis, 
 called Capet from that of Napoleon called Buonaparte ? 
 
 They showed Sandy Maxwell many countries, taught him. 
 many languages, gave him lessons hard and otherwise on that 
 curiously variegated thing called female human nature, and. 
 changed him from an ambitious and active boy to an agree- 
 able member of society such as we find him, a philosopher of 
 the Democritus school mostly, with much indefinite yearning 
 and no particular aim, endowed with many accomplishments, 
 physical and spiritual, with two pictures never quite effaced 
 from his mind through all the strange wanderings of his 
 apprentice year, whether courting Marquises d’Amaegui guitar 
 in hand, or seriously assuming to know something about the 
 theory of Free-will. And the two pictures were a dead father 
 and a child-girl nursing a wounded kitten. 
 
 And he, Sandy, came walking across the lawn this summer 
 afternoon looking searchingly up at the house, till he caught 
 the quaint picture of May and Peter, framed in flowering 
 clematis. And the sight brought him shame, for follies dead 
 
72 
 
 THE CORSARS ; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 and gone ; shame for the Juniour Imberbes Club, and its 
 siUy monotonous stagnation in the gross mud-honey of 
 town,” that mixed shame and good resolution which is of the 
 nature of a morning after ” sensation, and lasts nearly as 
 long. Watch well your iron idols, girls, lest they have feet 
 of clay. 
 
 Sandy waved a silk handkerchief. May, not immediately 
 finding a handkerchief, waved Peter, much to his disgust, 
 causing him to take an instant dislike to Sandy. ^^And I 
 think,” as the Doggrel Bard hath it, ‘^he was justified.” 
 
CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 FOILS. 
 
 Warum kiissen sich die Menschen ? 
 
 Sprach der Kater, Hiddigeigei.^’ 
 
 May snatched up a sunshade and ran down-stairs and out at 
 the front door, where she found Sandy giving directions to 
 Mildos Debrucza about his horse. This person, a tall, lean, 
 lantern-jawed, dark-eyed, black moustached ex-lancer of his 
 Austrian Majesty, born in the Bukowina of Greco-Eoumanian 
 parentage, was Sandy’s personal and confidential servant. 
 Sandy had saved his life once in some of his wanderings, and 
 Miklos, popularly Mike, served for his simple keep and any 
 occasional largesse Sandy had to bestow. They and the horse 
 understood one another well. Mike was an apt linguist. 
 When you have been born at Czernowicz, beaten by a Greek 
 mother, sworn at by a Eouman father, ordered about by 
 under-officers who sometimes were Poles, sometimes Magyars, 
 sometimes Germans, you have had great natural opportunities 
 for acquiring the gift of tongues. Mike was of indefinite age, 
 wiry, active, tall, without a superfluous ounce of flesh, without a 
 grey hair, and wore the quiet costume of a British groom with 
 a cavalry air and walk, and when he went with hollow eyes 
 gleaming, moustache rippling horizontally into space, on a 
 promenade in the gaslit byways of Watermouth, the uni- 
 formed military of that town found him a formidable rival 
 among the fair whom they languidly courted in the bar of the 
 Blue Bell and other resorts. 
 
 When May appeared at the door this person took his hat 
 off and disappeared, and she and Sandy went to the tennis- 
 ground, where a small gathering were enjoying the meal 
 called afternoon tea, so seductive and so fatal to him who 
 would enjoy a subsequent dinner. A basket-table was spread 
 under a shady pair of elms, and Mrs. Eaynham and the girls 
 sat on basket-chairs, while Arthur, who had been umpiring, 
 
 F 
 
74 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 lay on the grass, and two tall lieutenants hovered in the 
 neighbourhood of Kate and Ethel, cup in hand, only wishing 
 that the hot tea were iced brandy-and-soda, and that there 
 were more of it. Sandy was greeted by the Eaynhams and 
 introduced to Messrs. Holroyd and Cameron, one red and one 
 fair, one rather hot-tempered, the other rather phlegmatic, 
 otherwise demanding no very particular description. Clean- 
 looking, sunburnt, gentlemanly, broad-shouldered, narrow- 
 headed, close-cropped men, who talked of Sandy afterwards 
 as the foreign chap’’ because he had never been able to 
 lose the French throat ^^r.” 
 
 Every one was resting, including Arthur, who had done 
 absolutely nothing except remark Deuce! vantage!” at 
 intervals, in a highly athletic suit of clothes. After a good 
 deal of tea and thin bread-and-butter, it occurred to Arthur, 
 who was playing the part of host to the men in the absence of 
 his uncle, to suggest a glass of sherry before the final sets 
 were played. Holroyd and Cameron accepted with alacrity, 
 and they went to the house, Sandy accompanying. 
 
 Holroyd was a little sulky. In the first place he had been 
 on the losing side at tennis. In the second, he had walked 
 over about a mile and a half of dusty road for the purpose of 
 seeing May Eaynham, and had had to put up with Kate, 
 until May arrived seeming entirely monopolised by the foreign 
 chap. In the third, the foreign chap had shown a tendency 
 to absorb the ladies’ attention, and May’s in particular, with 
 his own conversation, that also being on subjects Holroyd 
 took little interest in, and in some cases did not quite under- 
 stand, though he had (with much temporary effort) passed 
 one or two examinations. Wherefore he lay in wait for 
 Sandy, to see if he could not be made to feel his position 
 better, to entangle him in his talk, to induce him to do some- 
 thing ridiculous, such as foreigners habitually do — sing a song 
 perhaps without accompaniment. That usually made people 
 more ridiculous than anything else in Holroyd’s experience. 
 In fact he distinctly sought for an opportnnity to score off ” 
 Sandy. In the hall, as they left the dining-room, he observed 
 numerous arm trophies, including the star of javelins which 
 denoted that a Eaynham had once been called on to exercise 
 the function of High Sheriff. Sandy took down what looked 
 like a genuine Andrea Ferrara and fingered it critically. 
 Swagger, thought Holroyd, who was one of the few soldiers 
 
OR, I,OVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 75 
 
 of modern England who take an interest in steel weapons and 
 the use of them. Here was the opportunity. 
 
 ^‘Do you go in much for this sort of thing? ’’ he said to 
 Sandy. 
 
 Yes ; I never let an opportunity pass of learning some- 
 thing new of the art of fighting. I like swords as some men 
 like dogs or horses.’’ 
 
 ^‘Eine blade that,” observed Cameron, contemplating the 
 scene with imperturbable eye-glass. 
 
 ‘ ‘ And the fellows knew how to mount them,” replied Sandy, 
 to say nothing of using them, in those days. You fence, of 
 course?” 
 
 Yes, I fence.” 
 
 ^^By Jove, I should think Holroyd did fence!” said 
 Cameron, dropping his eye-glass in sudden enthusiasm, ^^not 
 a man to lick him at foils and sticks.” 
 
 The front door darkened a little, for the figure of May 
 stood in it. Are you people going to fight ? ” 
 
 Happy thought 1 ” said Arthur. I say, Sandy, have a 
 bout with Holroyd with the foils. He’s an awfully good 
 man. I’ve seen him walk into the instructor here.” 
 
 Do, Mr. Holroyd 1 ” said May. It’s much nicer to look 
 at than tennis, and we will all look on. I should like to know 
 if Sandy is really as good as he thinks he is.” 
 
 Now for the score, thought Holroyd. 
 
 Well, if you like. Miss Raynham, and if — er — Maxwell 
 doesn’t mind. I’ll be most happy, but my hand’s rather out. 
 I haven’t touched a foil for a month.” 
 
 “Nor I for three,” said Sandy. “ Mike I ” 
 
 Mike appeared, sombre and picturesque, something between 
 Don Quixote and the ghost of the Corsican Brother in 
 modern British dress, under the shadow of the staircase, 
 through the doorway which led to the back parts of the house 
 from the hall. Sandy gave directions in a foreign tongue, 
 upon which Mike quickly fetched foils, masks, and gloves 
 from some mysterious lair. 
 
 “You can come too, Mike,” said Sandy, “to take the 
 things back. I know you want to come.” 
 
 Mike saluted, and followed the party, carrying the para- 
 phernalia. Holroyd was happier now. The foreign chap had 
 put on so much side that he was sure to be a duffer — people 
 who put side on always were. That is your fallacy, Holroyd. 
 
76 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 Sandy did, it must be confessed, put on wbat you gracefully 
 term side,” as a rule, but be was no duffer, at any rate in 
 these matters. Sandy was happy too. He always was when 
 he was going to hear steel clink on steel. He became medi- 
 aeval at once, with the same earnest readiness with which he 
 had for five minutes become a cafe waiter in Corsar^s rooms. 
 He felt a spiritual feathered broadbrim on his head, a spiritual 
 doublet on his body, a pair of high, wrinkled, and scalloped 
 boots on his legs, a cloak, and he certainly would soon feel a 
 real hilt in his hands. The illusion was a little theatrical, 
 perhaps, but he felt it, and it acted on his thoughts and 
 demeanour, his walk, expression, and gestures. He was the 
 polished noble rake of the old comedy about to salute death 
 with a satirical bow. He was an actor, playing to an appre- 
 ciative audience of one — himself. To the others he was Sandy 
 Maxwell, about to fence with Mr. Holroyd. 
 
 When they reached the lawn where the^trees were with the 
 tea and the ladies seated under them. May had already ex- 
 plained that there was to be a tournament, had voted herself 
 into the chair as Queen of Beauty, and prepared a rose to be 
 bestowed on the victor. All this in mere open jest, without 
 any half-suggested, half-concealed sentimentality. 
 
 Quite like a scene in Samlet remarked Mr. Eaynham, 
 strolling into the group in a grey felt hat, cigar in mouth, 
 hands in pockets. 
 
 ‘^You shall be the king and look on,” replied May, ^4f 
 you won’t poison the tea ! ” 
 
 What do you mean. May?” said Mrs. Eaynham. Then 
 suddenly reflecting that the question was not a brilliant one, 
 added, Oh ! I see. Of course.” 
 
 The group of spectators arranged themselves comfortably 
 in the shade of the elms, the two combatants stood face to face 
 with the afternoon sun to one side, shining through the upper 
 branches of the trees which bounded the lawn on the west- 
 ward and southward. Mike remained in the background. 
 
 Sandy saluted the spectators. Holroyd did the same. Then 
 they saluted each other, and put on their masks. Now Hol- 
 royd was a really good fencer after the gymnasium instructor 
 style, and fell into an accepted and academic attitude. Sandy 
 adopted an original one, which was French modified by in- 
 struction in Naples, and assumed the courteous gravity of the 
 man who might have just said, Je suis a vos ordres. Monsieur ! ” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 77 
 
 in one of those comedies with the inevitable duel in it. In 
 the meantime he kept his wits about him, watched Holroyd^s 
 attack, parried without attempting a riposte, with a coolness 
 which soon had the effect looked forward to of exasperating 
 Holroyd, who began to attack furiously and neglect his oppo- 
 sition. Consequence, a sudden, simple disengagement, and 
 a foil bent into a sudden hoop- shape on Holroyd’ s breast- 
 bone, before he could even sketch a parry. ' 
 
 One ! ” remarked Cameron, the imperturbable, grieved for 
 his friend, contemptuous still of the foreign chap, but dis- 
 regarding his feelings in pursuing the sacred calling of 
 umpire. 
 
 Movements, and sotU voce conversation under the elms, 
 leaning forward on the part of the ladies. Mike grinned. 
 Then Sandy let Holroyd touch him. Out of good-nature ? 
 Well, not quite. It was that he might acknowledge his touch 
 by the orthodox salute, a thing his antagonist had omitted to 
 do. Holroyd began to perceive that the desired score off the 
 foreign chap was not immediately likely to occur, and that 
 perhaps he was a little out of condition. However, he fought 
 on pluckily enough, having theoretical holes drilled through 
 his lungs about twice a minute. At last Sandy disarmed 
 him, picked up the dropped foil, handed it to his antagonist, 
 saluted, and waited. 
 
 This coup de theatre caused the umpiring eye-glass to say, 
 Drop it, old man, you’re beaten hollow.” 
 
 Now Holroyd, although instinctively disliking Sandy, and 
 short-tempered, was a gentleman, and said, taking off his 
 mask and wiping his hot face which had black wire marks on 
 the chin, You really are a wonderful fencer. Maxwell, where 
 did -you pick it up ? ” 
 
 ^‘In different places. In Paris. In Italy. There area 
 great many faults in the Neapolitan style, but they have 
 some good tricks. I’ll show you any time you like.” Mike 
 carried away the things solemnly, with a smile in his eye. 
 
 Thanks, I shan’t forget that. Miss Eaynham,” he added 
 to May, I’m afraid I haven’t earned your rose.” 
 
 “ Oh, that was a joke, here is a rose for each of you.” 
 Gratification of Holroyd, who subsequently put that rose 
 away inside the only book in his bare barrack-room, a worn 
 ‘‘railway ” edition of a sporting novel. 
 
 “Come to my room,” said Sandy, “ and have a wash.” 
 
78 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 “Thanks.” 
 
 When they came back, Cameron was slowly emitting 
 opinions. Fencing was good exercise, but no other use. All 
 that duelling they did a&oad was bosh. If a man wants to 
 fight another, why can’t he do it the proper way, with his 
 fists ? 
 
 “ Of course,” said Sandy, “ if a man be drawn into a fight 
 with a tramp or burglar, he uses his fists, and with the 
 average tramp or burglar the average gentleman would very 
 likely get the worst of it. But between gentlemen, don’t 
 you think noble steel more refined than the mauling and 
 collaring of bricklayers ? ” 
 
 ^ < Why, would you go in for the regular pistols and coffee 
 business?” 
 
 “ Pistols or swords. More luck in the former ; more chance 
 for skill in the latter. I don’t like duelling. I don’t wish it 
 encouraged. But even the milk-and-water theatrical combats 
 of Parisian journalists seem to me to have more dignity and less 
 awkwardness than the practice of sullenly ^ cutting ’ your rival 
 in anything whenever you meet him. Besides, there are some- 
 times two men so much in each other’s way that it seems 
 evident that each ought to take measures to remove the incon- 
 venient competitor. It is natural.” 
 
 “ That is very well for people like Mercutio and Tybalt,” 
 put in Mr. Eaynham, “ but how about the subsequent inter- 
 view with an elderly gentleman in a wig, temporarily adorned 
 with a black cap, in which the conversation is all on one side ? ” 
 “Do you know,” replied Sandy laughing, “I never con- 
 templated that. I was looking at the thing as it stands on its 
 own merits, apart from accidental hindrances and conventions.” 
 “ You were looking at it with the morals and feelings of 
 the sixteenth century, my boy, when every man was called on 
 to carry a sword, and use it for good purposes. It was right 
 enough for them, but the situation is altered now.” 
 
 A little more of this conversation caused Holroyd and 
 Cameron to discover that they had appointments elsewhere, 
 and really must be off, whereupon Sandy went to May, and said, 
 “ Now those two excellent bores have gone, let me see Peter.” 
 They ascended to the room with the black cabinet, the old 
 silver and brass, the etchings, and rich dark colouring. Peter 
 slept as usual. Sandy took Peter into his lap, and sat down 
 before the piano and began a Spanish song — a serenade — in 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 79 
 
 a deep voice, a little rough, but true. May walked about the 
 room listening and thinking. How well Sandy had fenced ! 
 What good attitudes he had fallen into ! How courteously 
 and gracefully he had behaved ! The cou]^b de theatre wqvq not 
 lost on her, but were taken as unpremeditated impulses and 
 put down to Sandy’s credit. Of course Sandy had done no 
 harm. He had tried to shine before a pretty girl and suc- 
 ceeded. Who would not with his opportunities? Now he 
 was doing it again in a different way. 
 
 When is Mr. Corsar coming?” asked she when Sandy had 
 finished. Sandy started. 
 
 To-morrow.” 
 
 Do you know the lecture-room trick in which a flask con- 
 tains a saturated solution of a certain salt, into which a 
 crystal is dropped, when the whole suddenly crystallizes? 
 Sandy’s vague incomplete feelings of shame, affection, self- 
 importance, and desir du lean were the fluid. May’s question 
 was the crystal. 
 
 Could it be that May had carried away a memory of Carl as 
 something other than simply a friend of Sandy’s ? What she 
 ought to regard Carl as was, of course, a mere appendage of 
 Sandy, an outlying part of his personality, like the college, 
 the caps and gowns, the river, the umbrageous lawns, and 
 choral services — all to be remembered as a background, of 
 which he, Sandy, was the foreground and central figure. 
 AYhile he existed May surely could not be so mad, so wrong- 
 headed as to make Carl the foreground figure, and relay l^im 
 to the middle distance ? He had never treated her as a lover, 
 certainly; only as a confidential friend and playmate, who 
 had taught him more English than his masters years ago, and 
 learned from him to climb, to skate, to ride, to fire pistols. 
 But the mere imagination of the possibility that some one 
 might seek to take her away from him led him to the dis- 
 covery that she was indispensable to him, even though the 
 somebody should be his best friend, Carl Corsar. If any 
 attempt to trespass on Sandy’s ground were likely to be made, 
 it were as well to put up a legible notice of Private Property 
 at once. And, after all, he loved her. For all his visits to 
 the Venusberg, for all his Spanish serenades, for all the foam- 
 born folly of great cities he had known, the vision of the little 
 girl nursing the wounded kitten had always come back to him 
 again, bringing repose and repentance. The star shone on 
 
80 
 
 THE COllSARS ; 
 
 when the fireworks had gone out and the will-o’the-wisps"fled 
 away. And here was the girl, and here was the cat. Sandy 
 got up from the piano and carried Peter to the window, where 
 May stood and looked at the sea. He looked at her as she had 
 not seen him look before. Peter awoke and observed. 
 
 wonder if Peter remembers the first time you carried 
 him?” said Sandy, as he handed the cat to May — for the 
 purpose of ascertaining if she would withdraw her hand when 
 it came into contact accidentally with his, as he meant it to. 
 She did not. He prolonged the contact until he felt her 
 fingers tremble a little on Peter’s black fur neck, then with- 
 drew his hand. This was the first move of the game, and he 
 had won so far. 
 
 He would be very ungrateful if he didn’t remember,” 
 said May. Eemember ! ” reflected Peter. ^^Of course I 
 do. But I don’t see why these old stories should be raked up 
 now. It’s all to his credit, no doubt ; but it is rather a painful 
 recollection to me. I was made ridiculous and uncomfort- 
 able and dirty, and no decent cat cares to be reminded of 
 that.”) 
 
 ‘^She is self-conscious now,” thought Sandy; ^Hhat’s all 
 right.” Aloud he added, Do you know that in all my wan- 
 derings for seven years past I never forgot you standing out 
 there on the grass one summer afternoon like this with him in 
 your arms?” 
 
 ‘^Didn’t you? ” 
 
 ‘.‘No. And I saw you again so, once, in a half -dream, when 
 they picked me out of a river in Austria, and I thought it was 
 death and Paradise coming together.” 
 
 “Sandy! What do you mean?” exclaimed May, coming 
 a little nearer. Sandy caressed the cat and May’s hand 
 again, and did not leave them this time. 
 
 “Oh, there was no danger to s]3eak of. It was only a 
 stupid accident. Mike was hauling me out, though he swears 
 I hauled him out. That’s how we made friends.” Maj^ 
 shuddered. Her emotions became hypersesthetic. 
 
 “ And you thought you saw — me and Peter ? ” 
 
 “You — not as you are — as you were ; and Peter as he was.” 
 Sandy had May’s hand in his now, and she was trembling. 
 The sun came in at the window and made Peter blink. 
 
 “ Punny,” said May. “ I wonder why ? ” 
 
 “ Because I loved you,” said Sandy fiercely, “ and so I do 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 81 
 
 now, and always do.’’ And lie kissed lier just above the ear, 
 where the little fair ripples of hair were astray. 
 
 You shouldn’t do that,” said May in a low, non-resisting 
 voice. 
 
 ‘^Why?” 
 
 Because — oh, it’s wrong ! ” This quite seriously followed 
 by, And I must go now.” 
 
 Because it’s wrong. Ah, well, that is a matter of opinion. 
 No other reason ? ” Silence. No other reason, May ? ” 
 
 ‘‘No, no other reason.” Sandy put his arms round her 
 and looked in her eyes. 
 
 “I see no reason at all why not,” said he. May surrendered, 
 and was kissed, and ran out of the room. Sandy threw him- 
 self on a chair. “ By Jove ! I wanted a grand passion. Here 
 it is.” And he meant it. 
 
 Holroyd and Cameron were walking back to barracks along 
 the dusty road. “ What a d d gladiator the man Max- 
 
 well seems to be ! ” said Cameron. 
 
 “ Not bad to talk to when you get him alone.” 
 
 Holroyd was jealous, and it made him scrupulously generous. 
 He felt his chance of May was waning, and May meant more to 
 this tall, stiff, brick-red, thirty-year-old officer with regula- 
 tion moustache and regulation ideas than she had any idea, or 
 any one else, but Cameron, his taciturn friend with a West-of- 
 Scotland accent. Cameron wanted no May himself, but he did 
 not like to see Holroyd “cut out” and generally “sat on” 
 by a person like the young foreign chap who put side on. 
 
 “ That’s just the way with girls,” thought good, honest 
 Cameron in his mighty inexperience. “ They all like a fellow 
 who can show off. If the outside is nice they don’t care for 
 the rest. Poor old HoUybush ! ” “Hollybush” was the 
 rather feeble nickname the mess had invented for Holroyd. 
 It referred doubly to his prickly temper and his name. Poor 
 old HoUybush! 
 
 When certain circumstances made May momentarily forget 
 Peter, that worthy animal fell, scrambling and clutching at 
 space like Claude Prollo, to the floor. ‘ ‘ Blank — Blank — 
 Blank! Dash I observed Peter hastily and loudly. “I 
 wonder what those two young fools are up to now. I wonder 
 which is the bigger fool. I’m afraid they’ll forget me .now 
 for a while. I like to be talked to and rubbed when I’m 
 awake. It may seem childish, but it makes one sleepy, and 
 
82 THE CORSARS; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 that’s the great thing nowadays. I will attract this fellow’s 
 attention.” 
 
 And Peter rubbed himself ostentatiously against Sandy’s 
 hand, which hung near the ground. 
 
 Hullo, Peter ! Did they drop him then ? Come up here.” 
 ^^Fool!” remarked Peter in his own language, don’t 
 address me like a kitten. You’ll expect me to run after my 
 tail and chase balls directly.” 
 
 I’m very much obliged to you, Peter. You’ve been very 
 useful to-day, as well as beautiful ; but you are always that.” 
 Not such a fool as I thought he would turn out when he 
 grew up. Purr, whurr. Keep on that sort of stroking; I 
 like it. I am sleepy. Let me dig my claws into your trousers, 
 so. Purr.” 
 
 I wonder what Carl’s views on May are ? I must keep a 
 jolly sharp look-out on him. It’ll be my own fault if I lose 
 her now — and I can’t lose you — my little May, whom I played 
 with. Pancy her a young lady of nineteen with her fibrst 
 lover. Wonder if I am the first ? I think so. Wish I could 
 tell her I’d never kissed any girl but her.” 
 
 And Sandy and Peter dozed in the arm-chair while the sun 
 went toward the north-west, where the sea was calm, wide, 
 with an o^l and amber glitter, under the warm veil of sum- 
 mer vapour. And May ? May shared a large bedroom with 
 Kate, and both were dressing for dinner in the soft light of 
 the evening sun. Kate noticed that May’s hands were a little 
 nervous, and that she dropped a hair-pin once or twice. 
 
 ^^It’s the effect of your birthday, May, I suppose.” 
 
CHAPTEK X. 
 
 ^^COME TO ME AT ONCE,” JENNY. 
 
 Pbw things look more cheerful than a room cleared and de- 
 carpeted for dancing feet when in use, or more dingy and 
 mournful after use, when the revellers have gone to well- 
 earned rest, when the echoes of music have died away, and 
 the floor is a receptacle for every kind of frail flotsam and 
 jetsam of dirty tarletan, torn halayeuse, fragmentary bouquets, 
 with a faint atmosphere hanging everywhere composed of 
 roses, musk, patchouli, toilet-powder, brandy-and-soda, and 
 beer for the band.” The Raynhams’ large ^ning-room was 
 in the former of these stages — the mirthful, wakeful, frolic- 
 some, initiatory stage, before fathers and mothers and chape- 
 rones had had time to get sleepy and iU-tempered. The 
 dancing ladies had fresh faces and untorn dresses, and the 
 dancing gentlemen were in the shy, sober, group-in-a-corner- 
 together state, which a few more turns and a few brandy-and- 
 sodas would soon modify. Mrs. Eaynham, with a languid 
 smile, was welcoming perpetual new-comers, who proceeded 
 to stand about uneasily if they were males, and feel their 
 collars and chins ; who smiled a great deal in a meaningless way 
 and glanced surreptitiously at mirrors if they were females. 
 
 Holroyd and Cameron were there, grave, tall, and sombre- 
 looking, as if they had had their hair cut that afternoon (which, 
 indeed, they had), as well as other men of war, horse, foot, 
 and marine. The most jovial, easy, unembarrassed-looking 
 ^n present were a few naval officers and young Arthur 
 I^ynham, who was chattering amicably to May and naaking 
 remarks which he considered cuttingly descriptive on every- 
 body’s appearance and costume. Waller Eaynham walked 
 about dealing his brilliancy out to dowagers in small doses, 
 like a revolving light. John Eaynham was giving directions 
 to Prout about wine, and scattering casual, abrupt, good- 
 
84 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 humoured greeting to passing guests. Ethel and Kate were 
 engaged in calling their female acquaintances dear a good 
 deal, and going through the correct amount of hospitable self- 
 denial in the matter of partners. One rather languid waltz 
 had been already ‘‘walked through” by a few young and 
 enthusiastic performers, who would wake up by-and-by to a 
 livelier appetite for exertion. 
 
 “May was listening to the kindly prattle of Arthur Eayn- 
 ham, with a sort of restlessness which had lately become 
 peculiar to her — an inexplicable fact to herself, but compre- 
 hensible enough to the passive and experienced spectator, if 
 he had happened to be present, which he did not ; for Arthur 
 was neither passive nor particularly experienced. He was 
 cultivating what he considered a hopeless but eternal and 
 deep-seated passion for his charming cousin, was claiming 
 more places in her programme than he had any right to 
 expect or any chance of getting, and was under the impression 
 that consideration and regard for him were the very natural and 
 proper motives that made her ask him questions about aca- 
 demic life. So Arthur went on placidly, like a little cataract 
 of slang, pouring out for ever anecdotes about proctors or his 
 boat, until at last a light broke on him that his eloquence was 
 of the sic VOS non vohis order, when May observed — 
 
 “ How well they fenced the other day ; is that done very 
 much at Eenchester ? ” 
 
 “ Oh, not so awfully much as all that.” 
 
 “As all what ? ” 
 
 “I mean every one doesn’t do it. It isn’t as if it were 
 boating or cricket, you know. But Maxwell partly set the 
 fashion in that, and taught me all I know ; wish he’d taught 
 me all he knew. Awfully good fellow, Maxwell,” added the 
 cheerful freshman patronisingly. 
 
 “ Praise fromHaynham is too valuable to be forgotten,” 
 remarked the person alluded to, stepping into the group with 
 a kindly glance at the enamoured and rather crestfallen 
 Arthur, who retired, feeling, as he expressed it to the 
 person he met, “rather out of it, you know.” The first person 
 he met happened to be Holroyd, who was advancing to claim 
 the dance that the triumphant Sandy was evidently making 
 his own by documentary evidence. 
 
 Mr. Holroyd remarked, “ Oh, that foreign fellow is here 
 already, is he ? ” 
 
OR, LOVE AiSD LUCRE. 
 
 85 
 
 Arthur replied: believe he was born in England, of 
 
 English dam and sire — awfully popular man up the ’Varsity — 
 rather a pal of mine.” 
 
 Ah, well, the ’Varsity isn’t Watermouth. I never was 
 at the ’Varsity myself ; but I should think the service was a 
 different business altogether.” 
 
 I must say I agree with you, Mr. Holroyd,” observed 
 Sandy as he passed with May on his arm. 
 
 What the devil did he want to put his oar into our con- 
 versation for ? ” remarked Holroyd ferociously to Arthur as 
 Sandy disappeared. Cameron was placidly listening to Ethel 
 Eaynham’s conversation, which was of the strict musical-glass 
 order just then, and troubled not his head (which did not 
 readily contain many ideas at the same time) about the affairs 
 of others. There was this difference between Holroyd and 
 Cameron. Though neither was a very entertaining com- 
 panion, the former rebelled at the idea of admitting any man’s 
 superiority to himself, the latter did not. 
 
 There, I mean to enjoy myself to-night, Sandy.” 
 
 And I mean to help you — if I can. Can I ? ” 
 t( Try.” This with a very provoking, because quite inex- 
 plicable, smile. 
 
 am afraid I am a stumbling-block and a rock of offence 
 to your friend Mr. Holroyd.” 
 
 ‘^Oh, bother Mr. Holroyd! Why didn’t your mysterious 
 and amusing friend Mr. Corsar come in when you did ? I 
 want to see him again.” 
 
 I don’t know. Oh, yes, I do though! He stopped out- 
 side on the lawn to talk to that American that Mr. Raynham 
 has invited, it appears.” 
 
 ^^Oh, Colonel Shute. Regular American name, Cyrus 
 Shute, isn’t it ? ” 
 
 With a regular American owner. Not half a bad fellow 
 either — quite a character in his way.” 
 
 A good character ? ” 
 
 have no reason to assume the contrary. Your friend 
 Mr. Corsar does assume it, though. I don’t know why. 
 Carl generally has a reason for what he does and says.” 
 
 Carl — why do you always call him Carl ? ” 
 
 “Excuse the platitude of my reply — because it is his 
 name.” 
 
 “ Rather a nice name. I like it ; I like him too.” 
 
86 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 Is this information of a public nature ? 
 
 ^^What do you mean? I don’t care who knows it, if I 
 choose to find anything likeable'^&bout any man — or woman.” 
 
 ^^Oh!” This in a relieved tone, for which mischievous 
 May was now able to assign an exact cause. 
 
 This is our dance. Come along, May.” 
 
 In the meantime a very different, though equally interest- 
 ing, conversation was taking place under the broad moonlight 
 that struggled through the elm-branches on to the lawn outside 
 the open windows between two men who were neglecting the 
 dance. Both were, of course, in evening dress, both looked 
 pale and dark in the moonlight, one was taller and slenderer 
 than the other. The shorter and sturdier was absolutely an 
 ‘‘arrangement in black'and white.” His hair bore to his com- 
 plexion in the moonlight the same colour ratio as his coat to his 
 shirt bosom. A pair of imperturbable-looking gold spectacles 
 clung to his aquiline nose. The former was Carl Corsar, the 
 latter Cyrus Shute. Both were under an elm-tree, and quite 
 unseen by the public. Carl was saying — 
 
 “ I tell you that I shall not have any hesitation in commu- 
 nicating any suspicion I may feel to Mr. Eaynham ! ” 
 
 “ Please yourself. May I ask what right you have to 
 suspect anything ? ” 
 
 “My reasons are my own property — till I make them 
 public.” 
 
 “Guess they’re my property too — without your telling. 
 You’d better shake down, young man, and take it easy ; it 
 always pays best.” 
 
 “ Take what easy? ” replied Carl suddenly. 
 
 “Your position,” said the other in his imperturbable 
 drawl ,* “ and a very nice position you seem to have got into, 
 it seems to me. Nice young lady, Miss Eaynham — seems to 
 appreciate your talents (and talents you have), don’t she ? ” 
 
 “What right have you to bring May into the conversa- 
 tion ? ” asked Carl, angrily forgetting himself. 
 
 “Did I bring ‘May’ into the conversation, sir? No. 
 Eespect for ladies was always a marked feature in Cyrus 
 Shute’ s character.” 
 
 Carl could have bitten his tongue out, if such an operation 
 had been of any use. He continued, sternly controlling him- 
 self — 
 
 “ You are what is usually described as an adventurer. You 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 87 
 
 have been given your social passport by one whom I know too 
 well, and your very presence in this country is a ground for 
 keeping a remarkably sharp eye on you, and putting honest 
 people on their guard against you.’’ 
 
 Shute’s hand went instinctively behind his coat-tail. 
 ‘^Eemember,” said Carl, ^^that that gesture of yours is a 
 threat to an unarmed man, and remember, at the same time, 
 that the excellent invention called the Long Drop is in active 
 use in this country.” 
 
 What — in — thunder are you talking about, young man ?” 
 replied the American, bringing his hand back — with a yellow 
 silk pocket-handkerchief in it. Pretty colour, ain’t it ? I 
 like this bilious, aesthetic business. Say, Mr. Corsar, you’ve 
 been reading Bret Harte too much — confess ? ” 
 
 Carl felt more and more enraged at this provokingly cool 
 customer. In fact, he never had been reduced to a worse 
 temper in his recollection. Such is the reward of probity. 
 You try to do an honourable action, and it turns and rends 
 you, and makes you, to use Cyrus Shute’s expressive phrase, 
 ^^feel mean.” 
 
 ^^Now see here, young man,” continued that worthy, 
 we’ve been talkin’ out here long enough. I don’t like 
 to see a clever young man like you make a dam fool of 
 himself.” 
 
 I must return your compliment, as far as cleverness goes,’^ 
 returned Carl honestly, though irefuUy contemplating the 
 calm audacity of this peculiar personage. ‘^It is a case of 
 diamond cut diamond.” 
 
 Why, yes. But one diamond cuts, and the other gits cut, 
 and I have convictions as to who’s which. Let me give you 
 a word of advice. What can you do ? You can say to the 
 boss here : ‘ You air nussing a viper in your bosom. That 
 viper’s front name is Cyrus — among familiars, Cy. My in- 
 stincts have elected to consider him a viper. He is a fellow- 
 guest of mine. I have no reason for my apparently ungene- 
 rous attack on his character, except that he is, as I am, as 
 many people are, acquainted with my father, of whom I may 
 remark, as he is not on the spot just now to defend himself, 
 that I choose to consider him a marked card.’ Is that the 
 sort of course for a gentleman of the effete East to take? 
 Now make peace, Mr. Corsar, junior. I don’t want to hurt 
 you, which I might, and don’t you try to hurt me, which you 
 
88 
 
 THE CORSAKS ; 
 
 can’t. It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks. Any 
 way, wait till they prick you.” With this consoling quota- 
 tion and comment Cyrus Shute moved off, considering negotia- 
 tions at an end. 
 
 Carl followed, saying, Well, I shall have an eye on you, 
 at all events.” 
 
 Eight.” Cyrus did not add that he would have both his 
 own dark slits gleaming through their glasses on Carl at all 
 convenient and necessary times. He knew Carl would leave 
 the next day, and that his only opportunity of speaking to 
 John Eaynham would be that night, so Mr. — or rather Colonel 
 — Cyrus Shute elected,” for reasons of his own, to keep a 
 diligent and unobtrusive watch upon Mr. Corsar, junior. Cyrus 
 generally had reasons for what he did, but, like other clever 
 people, did not always, or even often, divulge them. And he 
 roamed like an inquisitive little bright-eyed animal with short 
 dark fur and neat body round the sides of the dancing-room 
 slowly, till he brought up anon alongside the great Waller. 
 The young people — and others old enough to know better — 
 were executing a waltz and brushed past the two every 
 second. Cyrus’s occupation during dinner had been to let 
 the ponderous senator lead the conversation, agree with all 
 his conclusions, and bear them out with supplementary anec- 
 dotes, which did credit to the readiness and fertility of his 
 imagination. 
 
 Ha, Colonel ! As this is your first visit to Watermouth we 
 must show you some of our beauties, hay. Dare say you are 
 satiated with beauty, though, judging by the samples you 
 send over to us.” 
 
 ^^We export the raw material; Europe sends back the 
 manufactured article.” 
 
 Ha, hay ! Very good. Yes. Or fraudulently detains it, 
 hay?” 
 
 Arthur Eaynham said to his partner: Uncle Waller 
 
 always says ^ hay,’ I suppose I should do it if I got into the 
 House. Hereditary house or workhouse — the only ones I’m 
 qualified for, I’m afraid.” 
 
 Cyrus continued : There’s more beauty in this house than 
 
 I’ve seen for quite a while. Any of these your daughters, 
 sir?” 
 
 ^^Hay? Er — no — not exactly. Three of them happen to 
 be my — in fact nieces. You met them at dinner.” 
 
OR, I.OVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 89 
 
 Thought there was a family likeness,” continued the 
 unabashed Cyrus. 
 
 There the dance left off, and the two speakers were sepa- 
 rated by the crowd of heated human beings, who poured off 
 in the style of the celebrated Ark procession towards the room 
 where refreshments were to be obtained, and subsequently 
 wandered out of doors, to meet each other accidentally round 
 shrubs, like a game of Puss-in-the-corner, as some artless 
 young thing remarked to Arthur Paynham, who had piloted 
 her round and round the drawing-room diligently for the last 
 quarter of an hour, and been rewarded by a large stain of 
 violet powder on the right lappel of his coat, and several 
 smiles of sweet inanity. I really do not know who the young 
 lady was. I can assure the curious that if she had been of 
 any consequence I should have inquired, and papers on the 
 subject would have been laid on the table.” But Arthur was 
 a flirtivorous animal — or did his best to be — and was always to 
 be found, at dances, in obscure corners, with rather young 
 girls, possessed of a tendency to betray their retreat by sudden 
 and explosive laughter. There are girls who laugh like 
 bottles of effervescing mineral waters. This is mere useful 
 information, not sarkazzum,” as dear Artemus Ward would 
 say. 
 
 Sandy and May went, like the rest, out under the moonlight, 
 after a struggle for a cup of tea amongst many elbows and 
 trains. There Carl appeared, was greeted by May, and 
 generously accorded a dance. It was a very curious fact that 
 May had kept all her first dances open on the programme, 
 and only promised away the last seventeen or so (including 
 ‘^extras ”) to the garrison, &c., who had swarmed round her 
 in the early part of the evening. 
 
 Then Sandy said, ^ ^ May, I must go and dance with your 
 sisters ; I will deliver you into the hands of Mr. Corsar,” and 
 disappeared. 
 
 I saw you apparently thoroughly enjoying yourself. Miss 
 Eaynham,” observed Carl, ^^or I should have spoken to you 
 before.” 
 
 Yes. It is so delicious to have a good waltz, before you 
 are tired, with a good partner. I don’t know why, but it is. 
 I suppose you will think me silly for saying so.” 
 
 Please don’t suppose anything of the kind. There are 
 many things we know to be facts that we can’t give reasons 
 
 G 
 
00 
 
 THE COESARS; 
 
 for. Half the best things in the world, as well as the worst, 
 can’t be accounted for at all.” 
 
 ‘‘I think sometimes it makes a thing more enjoyable if 
 there is some unexplained mystery about it.” 
 
 Yes; only you like to have the secrets cleared up at the 
 end of the third volume.” 
 
 But there isn’t always a third volume in life. There 
 seems to be bits of one’s existence like the odd first volumes 
 of Tauchnitz novels which one picks up in some foreign hotel. 
 The person who leaves it there always takes care to take the 
 most interesting part away.” 
 
 To leave it at some other hotel you get to long afterwards, 
 or to throw it into the sea when crossing the channel.” 
 
 Is that a metaphor ?” 
 
 Yes, if you like. The channel is one we all cross, only we 
 don’t know that there is anything on the other side of it, for 
 no one has ever come back to tell us.” 
 
 “What very strange ideas you sometimes have, Mr. Corsar, 
 if you will allow me to say so.” 
 
 “Not quite my own idea that last, I’m afraid. The begin- 
 ning of the allegory was yours, the end I borrowed from 
 Hamlet?'* 
 
 May thought a little while, and then said, “Must you go 
 away to-morrow ?” 
 
 “ I must. I have things to do in Benchester. For example, 
 I have to look over papers which will show me in how many 
 different ways a fish’s venous system may be described by the 
 undergraduate mind, and how little many of them know what 
 a frog’s heart is like, much as they may have studied a 
 woman’s. Sounds romantic, doesn’t it ?” 
 
 “ I don’t think you have much romance in your disposition, 
 Mr. Corsar.” 
 
 “Don’t you? Why?” May had seldom felt before what 
 a very puzzling and exasperating weapon the word “why” 
 can be made in accomplished hands. 
 
 “ Oh, because you generally use poetry to make fun of, and 
 you said the other day that the liver had more to do with 
 people’s emotions than the heart.” 
 
 “Must one be set down as incapable of romance because 
 one states a simple fact?” 
 
 “But your ^simple facts’ are always unpleasant, somehow; 
 I suppose because they are facts.” 
 
OK, LOVE AND LI CUE. 
 
 91 
 
 A very good reason. The world is full of extremely 
 awkward facts ; hence the value of imagination, which peoples 
 it with pleasant ones.” 
 
 Don’t you think it a nice world ? I do.” 
 
 ^ ^ At this moment I am not quite sure. It might be made a 
 very nice place for me. But there imagination comes in 
 again.” 
 
 You ought to be quite satisfied with things, I’m sure.” 
 ‘^Why?’’ 
 
 I shall hire some one to assassinate you if you say ^ why ’ 
 much oftener. Because you have plenty to do and can do it. 
 Because you live, I suppose, among great and clever men, and 
 can talk to them every day ; because you are free to do what 
 you like in amusements, and books, and so on.” 
 
 ^^And because a very charming melody is being played 
 which we will dance to.” And they went in. 
 
 Carl felt that he must certainly own to himself that he was 
 very far gone, and he partially deceived himself into the con- 
 viction that May’s purely sensuous enjoyment of a waltz, 
 which Carl was keen enough to perceive but not to interpret 
 correctly, had some stronger reference to the individuality of 
 her partner than the mere fact that he was a man with an ear 
 for time and tune. 
 
 By Jove !” he thought to himself, forgetting realities in 
 a flight of dream pictures, ‘ ^ I should have to work twice as 
 hard. Dare say I could get a Manchester or Birmingham 
 professorship. What idiots those founders of fellowships 
 were to make celibacy a condition. What a charming society 
 there might be in Audit if you could keep your wife in college. 
 Thelema Abbey would be a fool to it. What gorgeous hall- 
 dinners and what dances one could have ! I must suggest 
 some of these points to the commissioners. Woman’s true 
 mission, to civilise dons and undergraduates — not before it 
 was needed either.” 
 
 When the dance had been danced out to its gasping con- 
 clusion, Carl and May again walked out of doors like the rest 
 of the world. 
 
 “I have one advantage over these people,” said May. 
 
 Only one?” 
 
 I mean that I know the way about here, which no one else 
 does except my sisters and Arthur. I want to catch cold, if it 
 is possible on such a warm night — I think it must be going to 
 
tliuncler — by sitting under the lawn elm trees. There is a 
 bench round one tree, here, just beyond the windows. We 
 have afternoon tea here often.” 
 
 What a grand retreat.” 
 
 And the two sat down, and leaned against the large bole 
 of the elm, quite unaware that the stealthy little American 
 had followed them, and seated himself placidly on the other 
 side of the elm. 
 
 May fanned herself, and said, ^^That was a good dance, 
 wasn’t it?” 
 
 It was. I think I shall dream about it.” 
 
 I dare say I shall. I always dream after dancing.” 
 
 * ^ Do you ? I wonder what they will be like on this occasion. 
 But I must remember that I shall as likely as not never dance 
 with you again. I must thank you and your people for help- 
 ing to make me pass one of the happiest weeks in my life — 
 thanks, of course, to our good friend Sandy, in the first place.” 
 
 I am so glad you like being here ; how awfully quick the 
 time has gone.” 
 
 * * It always does when you want it to go slow, and unfor- 
 tunately there is no way of putting the brake on to it.” 
 
 * ^ Do you know that Sandy tried to describe you to me 
 before we went to Fenchester ? ” 
 
 Really. Did he do it well ? ” 
 
 Not badly ; though there was a good deal he might have 
 said which he did not.” 
 
 I suppose I mustn’t ask further questions ?” 
 
 No ; I will say, however, that he made me feel rather 
 afraid of you when you first came into his rooms.” 
 
 When I first came. Seems a long time ago, doesn’t it ? 
 I hope you have since got rid of that impression.” 
 
 Oh, rather ! Or I shouldn’t quietly and persistently talk 
 all my nonsense to you in the way I do, forgetting that you 
 are a don — a creature I have vaguely tried to realise from 
 books. Are dons often like you ? ” 
 
 * ^ I fancy not. What a beautiful night it is ; it seems a pity 
 one’s dancing can’t be done out of doors, where it would be so 
 much wholesomer.” 
 
 ** Wouldn’t it be rather like the Walpurgis Night?” 
 
 I have not attended many. I dare say it would.” Then 
 a pause, after which Carl added suddenly, ^ ^ I wish I could 
 control my habit of making inconsequential remarks when I 
 
OR, LOVE AM) LUCRE. 
 
 93 
 
 particularly want to concentrate my conversation on the one 
 thing my mind is full of. Before I go, Miss Raynham, I want 
 to tell you several things. First of all, I should like to see 
 your father, and thank him for all his kindness. I am glad to 
 have been able to know him. Now, however, let me thank 
 you for yours. You have given a new light to the life of a 
 man who, I fancy, would otherwise have drifted into an old 
 don, believing in good dinners, frog’s hearts, and no one else’s. 
 
 As you say, they left out the romantic part when they made 
 me, and poured in a double dose of the material.” 
 
 I didnH say that Mr. Corsar.” 
 
 Well, you might have. I have been left to do my own 
 fight in life since I was a boy, and am, consequently, not a very 
 spotless specimen of humanity — not the sort you might care to 
 keep in a cabinet with glass doors — nor have I picked up very 
 high opinions of mankind as a whole, including myself. I 
 have not had much chance in the social way. All my best 
 friends are men, and I don’t mind telling you in confidence 
 that I have hardly ever before my advent here had more than 
 half an hour’s conversation with what we call in England a 
 real lady in my life.” 
 
 I should never have guessed that if you had not told me.” 
 
 Very good of you to say so ; so you must excuse me if I 
 talk to you much as I would to a man.” 
 
 Why, it’s rather a compliment than otherwise.” 
 
 ^ ‘ Is it ? Glad you see it in that light. At the same time I 
 strongly realise, to put it mildly, the fact that you are not a 
 man, and have lived in a world which is, as you called it, a 
 nice world, and very unlike mine and other people’s. I — I 
 wish to goodness somebody had taught me to speak my own / 
 mind to ladies. Here I have been plunging about like a bull 
 in a net of roundabout phrases, which can only be boring 
 you.” 
 
 You are not boring me,” said May in a low, kind voice ; 
 
 ‘‘but I don’t exactly understand yet what your difficulty is. I 
 am very glad to have known you, because you do talk as if I 
 were a man, and not as if I were a fool, as so many gentlemen 
 treat me ; and I shall not forget you.” 
 
 May spoke quietly and honestly, without the shadow of an 
 attempt at flirtation. 
 
 “ You were telling me why I ought to enjoy this world,” 
 said Carl, “and I said I might enjoy it very much if my 
 
04 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 imagination had its way. That assertion of mine was true 
 beyond all joking. If I could have my own way — there! I 
 must say it— I should tell you, May Eaynham, that all the 
 beauty, real and potential, of my life was put into it when I 
 saw you. I am a man used to control my passions, but for 
 once they are too much for me. I hope — I think I am not 
 doing an unworthy action in talking to you like this. I hope 
 you are not oifended — I don’t mean to be offensive — but I love 
 you. May, beyond all things and people. If I can give you a 
 decent home will you share it, and help to make a more 
 romantic and altogether higher sort of man of me ? You can 
 do it. No one else can. I have lived a good deal longer in 
 the world than you, and know it pretty well. I think I could 
 do a little in the guiding and protecting line for you, but not so 
 much as you could for me. Selfish, aren’t I ? If I talk in 
 this tone don’t think I don’t mean what I say, because I use 
 the languagel do. I wish I knew better,” and Carl laughed 
 a very sad laugh. Tell me, can this be — yes or no ? ” and 
 the keen, pale face looked eagerly at May’s very sad one. 
 
 Mr. Corsar, I’m not offended. I think you man enough 
 not to want any circumlocution. I must say no. I’m very 
 sorry ; I like you very much, and don’t want to lose you, but 
 — you understand ? ” 
 
 ‘^Yes, I understand. All right. Let us forget all about 
 it. There is no hope ? ” 
 
 ^^No, no. I’m horribly sorry.” 
 
 Don’t be sorry. You can’t help it, neither can I. Look 
 upon me as one who is your friend, and is ready to chaff and 
 dance as before, and teU you stories about frog’s hearts, eh ? 
 Ha ! ha ! ” And Carl breathed hard. 
 
 The still figure on the other side of the elm smiled a curious 
 little philosophical smile, and looked at something it held. 
 
 Before we go in let me tell you something; I meant to 
 tell your father, but I may not see him.” 
 
 The figure behind the elm walked away a few noiseless 
 paces on the grass, and waited in the background. 
 
 ^ ^ There is a danger I have a hint of threatening your father. 
 My warning may be of some use ; it is a painful one for me 
 to give, but ” 
 
 The figure in the background advanced, with audible, 
 crunching steps, and remarked : — 
 
 Sorry to disturb you. Mr. Corsar, sir, I’ve been looking 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 95 
 
 for you everywhere. A servant gave me this telegram to 
 deliver to you.” Here Sandy appeared and demanded May 
 for a dance. 
 
 Au revoir, Mr. Corsar,” said she. 
 
 Good-bye,” said Carl, may see you again.” 
 
 May and Sandy disappeared into the light and crowd, 
 leaving Carl alone with the scent of the summer night, the 
 music of the distant waltz in his ears, an oblong yellow 
 envelope in his hands. The American had vanished. Carl 
 tore open the telegram as one does tear open telegrams, 
 without noticing whether it had been tampered with, and 
 read by the moon’s aid, I am ill. Come to me at once. 
 Jenny.” Then he stretched his arms, yawned, took a deep 
 inspiration, and ejaculated in a low and concentrated voice. 
 
 Damnation and hell ! ” Then he laughed, and said, Poor 
 little Jenny! Wonder what’s wrong with her. Carl Corsar, 
 Esquire, you have made an ass of yourself ; make the best of 
 a bad job.” 
 
 And he turned round on his heel and walked into the 
 house, his hands in his trouser j)Ockets, crumpling that 
 telegram. Failing to find John Paynham, he told Ethel, 
 whom he discovered, not dancing, but sitting on a staircase 
 with Cameron (every step of that staircase was impassable 
 with recumbent, fan- working humanity), that he was obliged 
 to leave, and hoped she would convey his messages of apology 
 and thanksgiving to her parents. 
 
 Oh, yes ; of course. I’m so sorry you have to go,” said 
 Ethel, rising and shaking hands. 
 
 Then Carl discovered his hat with much difficulty, and 
 looked at his watch. Quarter past eleven. I say — you” (to 
 a passing footman), when does the last train leave Water- 
 mouth for London ?” 
 
 ‘^Eleven forty, sir.” Carl ran briskly to his bedroom, and 
 found Miklos on a landing. Ah I you are just the man I 
 want. I have to leave by the 11.40. Will you tell Mr. 
 Maxwell I’m obliged to go suddenly — had a telegram from 
 town — see.” 
 
 ^^I understand you, sir; I will pack for you,” and the tall 
 Greco-Pouman went noiselessly up the stairs, lighted Carl’s 
 candles, and packed his dress suit expeditiously, while Carl 
 was dressing in another suit, and putting on his ulster. 
 
 By Jove ! ” ejaculated Carl, as he sucked at an empty 
 
96 
 
 THE CORSARS ; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 clay pipe, and felt in his pockets, ^ ^ I Ve used all my tobacco, 
 and the station bar will be shut. I^m like Sisera, whom the 
 stars in their courses fought against.’^ 
 
 What is your tobacco, sir ? asked Miklos Debrecza. 
 
 ‘^Cavendish.” 
 
 Permit me to offer you the service of mine. It is caporal.’^ 
 Thanks ever so much. I^U take a pipe or two.” 
 
 Take the pouch, sir.” 
 
 No thanks. 1’U put some in mine.” 
 
 Miklos shouldered the portmanteau without waiting for 
 orders, and the two started. 
 
 At Watermouth Station Carl would have given Mike money, 
 but he said, take no money from my master’s friends.” 
 (Hear, 0 Flunkeydom, and be abashed!) 
 
 ^‘Damn it then, shake hands!” The dark eyes gleamed 
 pleasantly, and a lean, strong, brown hand grasped Carl’s 
 thin and pale one. 
 
 A word in your ear, Miklos. Your master and every one 
 here believe in that Yankee, Shute. Keep your eye on him. 
 Good-bye.” And Carl got into his third-class smoking 
 carriage. 
 
 Mike remained on the platform till the train started, gave 
 the military salute, and went leisurely about the town, well 
 knowing that his master would be well occupied till after 
 dawn, and sought quiet little amusements such as old cam- 
 paigners like Miklos know how to find. 
 
 Carl had his compartment to himself, and his reflections as 
 he smoked that caporal for two or three hours were strange, 
 confused, and rapid, like the noise and motion of the train. 
 And he read the crumpled telegram again : I am ill. Come 
 
 to me at once. Jenny.” 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 JENNY. 
 
 * ‘ Doch. stets verfolgen die Blicke 
 Der schonen Frau mich iiberall, 
 
 Sie winken : Komm’ zuriicke ! 
 
 And almost into Tannliauser the noble knight^s embarrassing 
 situation had Carl Corsar got himself, without the privilege of 
 papal forgiveness or even condemnation. It is perhaps degrad- 
 ing for a fellow of Audit, an evolutionist, a new light, a prac- 
 tical reformer, and the incarnation of hard reason, to have to 
 confess that he was the slave of a salad-day romance, whose 
 fetters of faded roses, old scents and songs, were stronger 
 than any tie of law, duty, or blood. But he was not in the 
 frequent habit of confessing anything of the kind. He had 
 made one great struggle to break up the past and forget the 
 whole thing, which struggle had ended in the whole thing ” 
 refusing to be in any way forgotten. And then he came to 
 the conclusion (like Tannhaiiser again) that, after all, it was 
 not such a bad thing if the best be made of it ; and what 
 further came of that we shall see. 
 
 The situation came about thuswise. One summer vacation, 
 when Sandy had finished his three freshman’s terms, and Carl 
 had not long ago taken his degree, the two went on what 
 they described as a reading party.” I say they described it 
 as a reading party ; they took not a single book, except a 
 map and a copy of Sandy Bar” on the part of Carl. The 
 luggage consisted of about three pounds of tobacco, several 
 pipes, a guitar in a case, a carpet-bag, and really, if I remem- 
 ber rightly, that was all. They wore fiannel clothes, and did 
 a good deal of their journeyings in sundry boats and barges. 
 The proprietors of the said barges Sandy vastly entertained 
 with his guitar, and both he and Carl showed themselves no 
 mean adepts at the kind of conversation peculiar to plyers of 
 barge-poles. 
 
98 
 
 THE COliSARS ; 
 
 They had a spell of wonderfully still hot weather, and as 
 often as not camped out under overcoats, instead of using 
 stuffy little bedrooms in ancient village inns. The part of 
 England they were in is not of great consequence. It was 
 not very remote from Eenchester, and was of a somewhat level, 
 almost monotonous description, possessing many beautiful 
 groves and woods, many picturesque old villages and small 
 towns, and a splendid stretch of horizon where sunrises and 
 sunset took place that few other districts could rival. As I 
 implied, most of the journey was done in boats, or on foot, 
 along the river Ox, halts being made at occasional vil- 
 lages and towns, where provisions, &c., were purchased if 
 necessary. 
 
 One evening, after pulling slowly through intervals of 
 green shade and broad glare, all the long hot hours of a J uly 
 afternoon, the yellow mist of the sunset straight ahead (their 
 temporary direction was westward, owing to a curve of the 
 river) fell on the roofs, trees, and steeple of a small, very old, 
 interesting town, once the site of a Eoman, subsequently of a 
 Danish fort. The Danes had never been turned out of it 
 either, and the descendants of the stout sea-kings had fur- 
 nished from this little town-village twenty trusty troopers of 
 the Ironside order, who had contributed not a little to the suc- 
 cess of the struggle for liberty of the seventeenth century. 
 This place was discovered by Sandy and Carl on the map, 
 where it was labelled Snorham.” 
 
 ^^How beautiful it looks — yon town the evening sun is 
 shining on. I wonder what is in it ? ” said Sandy. 
 
 Wonder what sort of beer they have ? I’m damned if I 
 was ever so thirsty in my life,” was the romantic reply. 
 
 Both ceased rowing, and let the stream take the boat slowly 
 on. Carl put on his blazer” (did I mention that a blazer 
 was a flannel jacket?) and lit a short clay pipe. The western 
 sky gradually spread itself out in soft bars of crimson, rubbed 
 apparently (with cloud-brushes dipped in a rainbow) on a 
 yellow-green background. Snorham had scraps of old wall 
 and buttresses standing where the river entered it. These 
 and the bulk of the town were of mouldering, deeply dis- 
 coloured red brick. 
 
 Just the colour of Queen’s at Cambridge,” observed Carl. 
 Were you ever at Cambridge, Sandy ? ” 
 
 Never. One ’Varsity in England is enough for me.” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 ^S9 
 
 ^ ^ I was tliere last October, examining for the Science Local 
 or something. I’d like to have Queen’s for a private residence, 
 to fill with good fellows of both sexes. It would be quite 
 equal to Thelema Abbey. I was there in the early autumn, 
 when the trees appertaining to the College Gardens were the 
 show thing — grand place for spooning in, and the men quite 
 seemed to see them in that light.” 
 
 Sensible men. What a grand colour this place is just 
 now! Let’s land.” 
 
 Land ? Bather ! No more pulling for me to-day.” 
 
 So they delivered their boat into the care of a loafer of 
 aquatic appearance, and walked into the town. A long, strag- 
 gling, dead-level, red-brick-and-tile street led them to a small 
 market-place, where no particular market ever went on, with 
 an ancient and very dry stone fountain in its centre. This 
 they examined, and j)assed on. At the outskirt of the town, 
 at the end of the High Street, a large and ancient inn appeared, 
 with creepers climbing its red and brown walls, and tufts of 
 moss and grass enough to feed a cow sprouting on the roof. 
 This was labelled ^^The Ship John Sandham licensed to sell 
 by retail Ale Spirits Wine and Tobacco Good Beds,” with the 
 usual absence of punctuation. 
 
 ^^Carl, we go in here — et fortuna sequatur,'^^ 
 
 The two travellers entered, deposited their bags on the 
 passage floor, and waited. In front of them was a flight of 
 carpetless wooden stairs, with those heavy balusters and 
 angular frequent landings peculiar to old staircases. Over 
 these balusters suddenly looked the leaning figure of a young 
 girl — and such a young girl ! All the Snorham damsels Carl 
 and Sandy had had opportunities in the last ten minutes of 
 studying possessed rubicund faces and yellow hair, also sturdy 
 bodies and red muscular arms, that suggested frequent exercise 
 and exposure in or near the river. This sudden vision was an 
 entire contrast to these. A small head of dark hair termi- 
 nating posteriorly in a plaited tail, with a small loose expan- 
 sion at its end (somewhere below the waist), set ofl a skin of 
 a delicate warm tawny colour, rather warmer and rather less 
 tawny on the cheeks. Two large dark-blue eyes, an ordi- 
 nary inconspicuous nose, and an indescribably attractive mouth 
 over a rather provoking little chin, completed the facial part of 
 this pleasing picture. Carl and Sandy had just time to par- 
 tially take in these facts, and give a quaint and bewildered 
 
100 . 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 glance at one another, when this small person came down- 
 stairs with some rapidity, and said. 
 
 You want father? He’s asleep. He’s generally asleep 
 after supper.” (This was near nine o’clock on a summer 
 evening.) ‘^I’ll go and wake him up.” And the young 
 beauty disappeared. 
 
 I say, Sandy ! — Snorham’s a funny place, isn’t it ? ” 
 
 Isn’t it?” And the two looked into each other’s eyes, 
 and saw a curious silent laugh in each. 
 
 ^‘Father,” i,e, John Sandham, licensed to retail &c., turned 
 up, looking red and slightly confused, as a man has a right to 
 look who has had a heavy meal, with plenty of beer, and gone 
 to sleep after it with a pipe in his mouth and the day-before- 
 yesterday’s paper in his lap. A large, not uncomely, fair- 
 haired, bearded, sun-tanned man, perhaps a little too fond of 
 beer and hot gin-and-water. 
 
 ‘‘Two beds, sir? Yes, of course. Jenny, show the 
 gentlemen up-stairs, and carry their bags; give ’em the big 
 room on the first-floor. There’s no one staying in the house, 
 sir, but ourselves, so you can have the best room.” 
 
 “ Thanks,” said Carl, who was chief speaker. “ I have no 
 doubt we shall do very well.” And this energetic host dis- 
 appeared to finish his interrupted repose. 
 
 Miss Jenny seized the two bags with two small hands, and 
 said, “Will you come with me, please ? ” 
 
 “Yes,” said Carl ; “ but we don’t let a child like you carry 
 our things, when we can carry them ourselves.” 
 
 ‘ ‘ I’m not a child, and I always carry the things when there 
 is anybody here, which isn’t often.” 
 
 ‘ ‘ I apologise for calling you a child. I see now I made a 
 mistake. But give me the bags.” 
 
 “ Thanks.” And Miss Sandham led them into a large low 
 bedroom with two beds, and lattice windows looking toward 
 the sunset, which had by this faded into a few long, leaden 
 streaks on a gleaming pale ground. 
 
 “ This will do beautifully, Sandy ; won’t it ? ” 
 
 “Rather.” 
 
 The girl had opened the window and was looking at the 
 sk3^ Then she turned round, and, for some reason or other, 
 selecting Carl as the proper person to speak to, said, “ Would 
 you like some supper ? ” 
 
 “Wo should, ver}" much. We have been walking and 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 101 
 
 rowing all the way from Fenchester for the last three days 
 and sleeping out of doors, and all sorts of things, and we have 
 terrible appetites.” 
 
 Are you students from Fenchester ? ” This with a little 
 curiosity, and a glance of approval at Carl’s face and becom- 
 ing costume of dark blue and white flannel. 
 
 We are. It is our holidays, and we are idling together.” 
 How awfully nice it must be ! And do you go just where 
 you like, and stay as long as you like ? ” 
 
 Within certain limits, yes.” 
 
 You see,” said Sandy, who considered himself entitled to 
 have some share in the conversation, it depends on how we 
 like a place how long we stay at it.” 
 
 What would you like for supper ? ” Again to Carl. 
 
 What can we have ? ” 
 
 Oh, I don’t know. You see hardly anybody ever 
 comes here to stay. The customers are town men, and 
 boatmen and bargemen, who come to the bar. I don’t serve 
 them.” 
 
 I should think not.’' 
 
 Let me see ; would you like some eggs ? ” 
 
 Yes ; we would like some eggs, wouldn’t we, Sandy? ” 
 Anything mademoiselle can give us.” 
 
 Are you French ?” said the girl, quickly turning to Sandy. 
 I’m more French than anything else. I have been in most 
 places, though.” 
 
 Then Miss Jenny, leaning back with her hands behind her 
 on the corner of the washstand, and, looking up again at 
 Carl, said, How many eggs shaU I do you — two ? ” 
 
 Eight, please, and have you any ham or bacon ?” 
 
 Oh, I forgot you are men, and you have been rowing. I 
 never take more than one egg at once.” 
 
 We only take them one at a time; but we like taking 
 several one after the other. Where shall we find them ? ” 
 
 Oh, I shall hear you come down-stairs. I’ll show you.” 
 And the girl disappeared. Sandy and Carl plunged them- 
 selves into large basins, and did a good deal of splashing and 
 soaping and towelling, and brushed their hair neatly before a 
 small glass (which represented their faces distorted and pale 
 green), Sandy in front, Carl behind, taking peeps over the 
 other’s shoulder. Then they put on two brown shooting-coats 
 from their bag, which did duty as evening dress, and marched 
 
102 
 
 THE COKSARS; 
 
 down-stairs. Tlie girl Jenny was waiting for them, with 
 small white arms bare, and brandishing a saucepan, while a 
 robust girl in a print dress, of the red and flaxen order, stared 
 open-eyed at the two strangers. 
 
 ^ ^ Look, this is the parlour. I’ve laid the cloth and things, 
 and the eggs and bacon will be dished as soon as Emma 
 remembers that they are on the fire. You must excuse 
 Emma ; she doesn’t often see strangers.” 
 
 Emma vanished, blushing and giggling, while Jenny looked 
 at her rather scornfully, and soon emerged from what ap- 
 peared to be the kitchen door, bearing a mighty dish of eggs 
 and ham, whose steam Sandy and Carl followed like hounds. 
 When they sat down Jenny proceeded to hand plates and cut 
 bread, and generally perform menial offices, which Carl and 
 Sandy somewhat protested against. 
 
 ‘‘Oh, but I must; I’m landlady and chambermaid and 
 waiter, and Emma is cook and boots — especially boots. Father 
 is the sleeping partner.” 
 
 “ Where did you pick up the habit of sarcasm. Miss Sand- 
 ham ? ” asked Carl. 
 
 “ I didn’t mean to be sarcastic; I can’t help saying what 
 I think of people sometimes.” 
 
 “ By Jove ! I’ll ask you some day for an opinion. I like 
 candour in that line.” 
 
 “ You might not like it, old boy, though,” said Sandy, 
 laughing. 
 
 “ AVhy not ? ” replied the girl quickly. 
 
 She evidently felt herself commissioned to defend Carl 
 against his companion, who laughed, and said, “ We’ll see.” 
 “What would you like to drink ? ” 
 
 “ I say beer, don’t you, Carl ? You were making eloquent 
 remarks about it a while ago.” 
 
 “I say beer, too. Will you be kind enough to get us a 
 quart of ale. Miss Sandham? ” 
 
 Miss Sandham gave one comprehensive glance of the blue 
 eyes at the two sunburnt incarnations of thirst before her, 
 and left the room, presently returning carrying a large foam- 
 ing pewter of a liberal quart’s calibre in both hands. “I 
 hope I haven’t spilt any. Shall I pour it out ? ” 
 
 “On no account, fair Hebe. Hand it over,” and Sandy 
 took a long, silent pull at the pewter, sighed, wiped the foam 
 from his lips, and handed it on to Carl. When Carl had 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 103 
 
 satisfied himself he held out the pewter to J enny and said, 
 ^‘Look!” 
 
 Jenny looked in. There was a spot of froth at the bottom 
 the size of a shilling — et prceterea nihiL 
 
 AVell done, both of you, you must be thirsty.^’ 
 
 We are— at least we were a moment ago. That is very 
 good ale, Miss Sandham,” said Carl. 
 
 Don’t call me Miss Sandham. Nobody ever did except 
 a horrid old schoolmistress. Every one calls me Jenny.” 
 Where was your school — here ? ” 
 
 No, at Yarmouth. I get my dresses and boots and gloves 
 and accomplishments there. You can’t get them here.” 
 
 So you were at a boarding-school at Yarmouth.” 
 
 ‘‘ I was. I learned very little except to read novels, and 
 play one or two waltzes. They couldn’t have taught me much 
 if I had worked, but I didn’t work. The other girls liked me 
 well enough, and I liked some of them, but they were rather 
 silly mostly. They cared more about chocolate creams than a 
 sunset in the sea. I saw the sea there for the first time, you 
 know. I dare say you are used to it, but I think it is one of 
 the most splendid things in the world.” 
 
 ‘‘I am not sure that I don’t prefer the chocolate creams,” 
 said Carl ; and when did your schooling end ? ” 
 
 About a year and a haK ago. Miss Winter — that’s the 
 mistress — gave me a punishment I didn’t deserve, so I told her 
 I wasn’t going to do it. Then she sent me to my room and 
 refused me any meals, so I went away early the next morning* 
 by the train , before any one in the house was up, and left a, 
 note telling them they might forward my luggage here. That- 
 was the last of my schooling. Then my sister got married, and 
 mother being dead some time, I have to do the house.” 
 
 I commend your decision. I dare say you were quite 
 right. I was wondering where you got your clothes from. I 
 shouldn’t think neat boots and frocks like yours grew in Snor- 
 ham in large quantities. Will you allow me to ask how old 
 you are, Jenny ? ” 
 
 Seventeen and a-half.” 
 
 Ah ! Well, you have life enough before you yet. 
 
 Don^t get much fun here, do you? ” asked Sandy. 
 
 ^‘No, nothing but stupid walks or sculling by myself. 
 I’ve got some books, and a ridiculous old piano in the corner 
 there. Can you play?” 
 
101 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 A little,” said Carl. friend here has got a guitar. 
 
 Shall we play to you ? ” 
 
 Oh! do, please. Father’s in the bar now; and he won’t 
 hear, or care if he did.” 
 
 Well, we will do our best. We have had an excellent 
 supper. Is it allowed to smoke here ? ” 
 
 Of course, if you like.” 
 
 Very well ; Sandy, trot up-stairs and get the pipes and the 
 guitar.” 
 
 When Sandy was gone, Jenny, who was waiting about, 
 apparently making up her mind to clear the table, said to 
 Carl suddenly, Tell me your name ? ” 
 
 Carl Corsar.” 
 
 What a curious name ! Are you foreign ? ” 
 
 Not at all; I’m as English as you are.” 
 
 I’m not quite English.” ^ 
 
 Indeed ; what are you ? ” 
 
 ^ ^ My mother was from the west of Ireland, descended from 
 Spanish people who got there somehow. I never learned my 
 history properly — my English history I mean.” 
 
 ^ ^ Ah ! that accounts for the difference between you and the 
 other people about here,” 
 
 Do you think I’m different ?n” 
 
 Of course I do. You don’t mean to say you thought your- 
 self like Emma hitherto ? You’ve been at school too long to 
 be as artless as all that, though the looking-glass up-stairs ts 
 green, and gives one a crooked mouth. Ah! here’s Sandy 
 with the things. Now you may sit down, and applaud at the 
 right moments.” 
 
 Carl and Sandy lit their pipes, the latter observing. 
 When you were at school. Miss Jenny, did you never smoke 
 cigarettes — in strict privacy I mean — at the same period that 
 you revelled in the forbidden lamp, the forbidden jam, and 
 the much more forbidden Ouida ? ” 
 
 Where did you learn all that ? ” replied the rather self- 
 conscious and laughing Jenny. 
 
 Oh ! I’m a kind of sorcerer. Look, we shan’t be the least 
 shocked or surprised if you like to take one of my cigarettes.” 
 Won’t you? Are you sure you won’t think worse of me 
 for it ? ” 
 
 If you don’t think worse of yourself, Jenny,” said Carl, 
 what does it matter what other people think ? ” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 105 
 
 ‘^Oh! but it does,” was the unanswerable assertion 
 founded on one of those instructive convictions that take the 
 place of reasoned ethics in the mind feminine. 
 
 However, rightly or wrongly, Jenny had her cigarette in 
 fear and trembling, and rather enjoyed it, I regret to say, 
 while Carl, shaking out imaginary back hair,” sat before 
 the curious, ancient, much-strummed-on piano, and drew 
 music out of it that made Jenny sit still, with her eyes wide 
 open, wondering how it was that the superannuated wires had 
 never produced such melody before in her memory since her 
 Irish mother had died, who had, certainly, much harmony in 
 her nature, and a merry, ballad-singing disposition. Sandy 
 turned up his moustaches, sat in his most effective troubadour 
 attitude, and twanged the guitar. Then Sandy sang the song, 
 ^^Es zogen drei Burschen wohl iiber den Ehein.” 
 
 Jenny appreciated the tune and asked what it was about, 
 and Sandy told her how the three students went to the Ehine 
 Hostelry, and the pretty, pathetic tragedy that took place 
 there, and what they all said. Jenny was silent. Carl looked 
 at Sandy, and began to wander off into melodious stories 
 without words of his own, as was often his habit, till Jenny 
 said to him: — 
 
 You sing me something I can understand.” 
 
 Then out of half jocular compliment to the young hostess, 
 Sandy, of course, not appreciating that fact, Carl gave that 
 plaintively ferocious song, of which the refrain was enough 
 by itself to breed vengeance for all Ireland’s wrongs, real or 
 imaginary — 
 
 For they’re hanging men and women 
 For the wearing of the green ! ” 
 
 Then a step of some weight being heard in the passage, 
 Jenny began in the most busy manner to clear the table in 
 a concentrated style, calculated to show that all her mind and 
 all her energies were devoted to the one object of becoming an 
 efficient parlour-maid. Carl and Sandy, at their remote 
 musical corner of the room, carefully ignored her presence, 
 and thus were the three discovered ” when John Sandham 
 entered in high good humour, the result of potations at the 
 expense of his bar guests. This careful parent observed — 
 Ah, that’s right, Jenny; you may go to bed when you’ve 
 done.” 
 
 n 
 
i08 
 
 THE CORSAllS ; 
 
 ^^All right, father.’’ Exit Jenny with table cloth and 
 tray. 
 
 Now gentlemen, you’ll take a drop o’ something hot with 
 me. I’m glad you’ve been able to get some noise out of that 
 old pianofort. Sometime back — year come next fall — there 
 was one or two commercial gentlemen here what played and 
 sang, and we had quite a lively little evening. Me and my 
 girl Jenny enjoyed ourselves proper that time. She likes 
 music, my maid does ; so do I.” 
 
 Carl ground his teeth at these remarks, and accepted Mr. 
 Sandham’s invitation to take something hot, with thanks. 
 Sandy followed suit. 
 
 The landlord detained them for the next hour with terrible 
 old stories of his own, pointless, and in the last stage of 
 decomposition. He did all the laughing himself in the right 
 places, and his guests followed suit with an effort. Poor old 
 Sandham was very glad to catch any one who had not heard 
 his store of anecdotes before. Then he asked if Carl and 
 Sandy could put him up to anything good in the way of chaff 
 and ’aye down Penchester wye,” with that revolting pronun- 
 ciation peculiar to parts 6f East Anglia. Carl said he was no 
 authority on hay, but that there was plenty of chaff going 
 about in Fenchester, superior, he was told, to what existed in 
 Snorham. 
 
 Then the worthy Sandham, after exhausting all the Tales 
 of my landlord,” and nearly reducing his guests to gibbering 
 imbecility thereby, and discussing racehorses, of which they 
 knew nothing but assumed a deep acquaintance, and finally 
 asking if they were sure they wouldn’t tyke a drop more of 
 something hot,” bade them good-night, and went on his way 
 rejoicing. 
 
 Isn’t it extraordinary, Sandy, that that old boor should 
 have such a daughter, and seem to take it as a perfectly 
 natural every-day fact ? ” 
 
 It is. My friend, ^ Tu te hrules d la chandelle.^ ” 
 
 ‘ ^ It is a very curious fact, and one I have often noticed, that 
 if there are two men, and a girl takes an evident fancy to — 
 the more preferable of them, the other begins to enunciate a 
 series of copy-book maxims on the general instability of 
 things, more especially on the disadvantages of the passion 
 called love and the misfortunes it usually brings, though he, 
 perhaps, may have spent the whole of his previous conscious 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 107 
 
 existence in tumbling in and out of tbe shallows surrounding 
 Cytherean isles. Selah.” 
 
 Yes, but I (I presume you wouldn’t waste all that rot on 
 any one but me) have stuck to the shallows up to now, at 
 any rate, while I instinctively guess at a deep when I see it, 
 as now.” 
 
 ^^And you’d instinctively plunge into a deep if you got a 
 chance, and you know you would. So go to bed, and be 
 damned.” 
 
 And they chased each other up the solid old staircase like 
 two schoolboys, and what is known as a bally-rag ” took place 
 in the large, low, old bedroom, and shocked the good, respect- 
 able, fusty old chairs and bed terribly. Those articles of fur- 
 niture had never accommodated human beings since the late 
 Mrs. Sandham died in the room. People of a certain class 
 like their relatives to die in the best bedroom.” John Sand- 
 ham belonged to this class. His poor, pretty, lazy, untidy 
 wife didn’t care if she died on the kitchen flure,” and would 
 have been quite happy there if a few ducks and a pig had 
 been allowed to nurse her. John looked at matters in a very 
 different light, of course, as a solid, respectable East Anglian 
 should, and gave her a funeral, ^^the best that money could 
 get,” and the pride of Snorham long after. should have 
 laughed myself into fits if I hadn’t been crying, and it had 
 been any one else’s hearse but our own,” said poor Jenny, 
 writing to a school pal;” ^^but father seemed to enjoy it, so 
 I didn’t like to say anything.” 
 
 And so it came to pass that Carl and Sandy used the best 
 bedroom, where J enny’s mother had died, and where the Sand- 
 ham family went when they wanted to die from time imme- 
 morial, even if they had to turn out a visitor for the purpose. 
 And they had as sound and undisturbed a sleep as might be 
 expected after a summer day of hard exercise, a good plain 
 supper, and a quart of ale ; and ghosts of diseased Sandhams 
 did not visit them. Carl would have told them to go and be 
 damned (a mean thing — a cruel thing to say to most ghosts), 
 and Sandy would never have awoke if twelve full-sized, heavy- 
 weight champion spectres had come in and gibbered, and 
 danced the houlachan in three sets with ghostly yelps. 
 
 The next day a lazy little paddle was done on the river, 
 instead of the customary daily journey of several miles. Jenny 
 sat in the stern of the boat, With her father’s approval ?” 
 
108 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 you ask. No, without it. Jenny had not a remarkably deep- 
 seated reverence for her father, nor, for the matter of that, 
 had any one else. His was not a profound, a farsighted, or 
 determined character, and every one knew it. Every one 
 liked him, and no one respected him. Even his daughter 
 sometimes called him by his front name, as if he were a con- 
 temporary and companion. 
 
 To make a rather long story rather shorter, I will say that 
 there happened what might be reasonably anticipated under 
 the circumstances. Given an independent, inexperienced, 
 motherless, self-willed girl, very young, of great personal 
 attractions, and a natural liking for refinement, art, and 
 nature, none of which she has much opportunity, under pre- 
 sent circumstances, of enjoying; given also a good-looking, 
 young university man of considerable parts,’’ of large human 
 experience, possessing a clever tongue, a manly, natural, and 
 genuine disposition, a handsome face, a tenor voice, and a 
 strong sense of the ridiculous ; given also very strong internal 
 capacity for volcanic and sensuous passions on the part of both 
 the above, what do you expect to happen ? 
 
 What did happen was, that Carl and Sandy stayed a whole 
 week at Snorham, an unprecedented length of time for any 
 one station on their tour, and found at the end of that week 
 that they had just cash enough to set them once more on the 
 Audit Boat Club steps at Eenchester. So they proceeded 
 against the sluggish stream of the Ox, and laboured their 
 way back to those pleasant rooms of Sandy’s in Audit, where 
 they wore fiannel clothes daily, and smoked tobacco, drank 
 shandygaff and Pilsener lager beer, and talked long and pro- 
 foundly. 
 
 The next vacation Sandy went to London, and was ignorant 
 of Carl’s proceedings until the beginning of the next term, 
 when he extracted from that young man the gradually and 
 reluctantly emitted confession that he had taken the train from 
 Eenchester to Wainleycotham, an East Anglian station (they 
 often have names like that), distant from Snorham some six 
 miles of dead-level fields, diversified with occasional ditches ; 
 that he had resided partly at one of these towns, partly at 
 the other. Also that in the flamy, foggy, fenland sunsets 
 of a winter afternoon two dark figures of different sexes 
 might have been seen (and were seen by occasional labourers, 
 who gave greetings in unintelligible East English) walking 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 109 
 
 over the limitless plain, leaning on casual gates or trees to 
 study the limitless view, and the occasional red-tiled roofs or 
 crooked, peeled-carrot steeple of some distant hamlet; after 
 which they would slowly stroll back while the long twilight 
 deepened and the great red moon rose in wreaths of yellow 
 cloud, and grew smaller and paler, and made reflections in 
 the black fen ditches, that one of the two travellers (to pursue 
 the style of G, P. R. J.) compared to curling silver snakes 
 ascending and descending. 
 
 Wish they were,” replied the other, who chewed quietly 
 at a cigar. I’d nail the silver with a landing-net, and 
 chance the snakes.” 
 
 Nasty old thing ! Spoiling my lovely comparison like that.” 
 say, Jenny, it’s time I took you home, or Snorham 
 tongues will talk of you.” 
 
 I don’t care.” 
 
 But doesn’t it occur to you that I do care ? ” 
 
 ^^I’d like to walk about under the moon all night.” 
 
 Did you ever have ague or rheumatic fever? 
 
 ^‘No. Why?” 
 
 ‘^Oh, never mind why. I thought you might have had 
 them, and liked them. There’s no knowing how people look 
 at life in this funny part of England.” 
 
 What part of England were you born in ? ” 
 
 The part called London.” 
 
 ^^I’d like to go there awfully. I have had a perfectly 
 hateful time here ever since last summer.” 
 
 ** Hateful — why?” This young man knows perfectly well 
 why, but wants to be told again. Degrading position for 
 rising young lecturer and Don-Presumptive, is it not ? 
 
 Oh, you know why ! ” 
 
 Here the two flgures become indistinctly separable in the 
 growing twilight, and remain so for a considerable period of 
 the journey, hurrying back to Snorham at the rate of about 
 a quarter of a mile in half an hour. 
 
 It is very old ^‘business,” and very old parts, but the scene, 
 and one at least of the actors, was fresh. Both enjoyed them- 
 selves very thoroughly, and were rather like two grown-up 
 children. They were also under the illusion, common, I am 
 told, in such cases, that their proceedings were of a profoundly 
 secret nature. And so on. And Jenny read poetry and novels 
 lent by Carl ; and Carl smoked,, and played the piano by him- 
 
110 
 
 THE COPvSARS ; 
 
 self at dead of night in the commercial-room of the Wainley* 
 cotham (pronounced, of course, Wy’cottum) Eailway Hotel. 
 
 It was a very ancient and recognisable state of things, a 
 very old tune, never played out, to whose music the world 
 turns round and the spheres march on, the poets write, the 
 birds sing, and casual human beings make damned fools of 
 themselves,’’ as Carl finished the above sentence, which is only 
 a quotation from the mouth of a friend of his, who ventured 
 to comment on his conduct. And this very old tune, this very 
 same old game, maybe played quite as well in East Anglia as 
 anywhere else. 
 
 The resentful contempt for common minds, common notions 
 and common errors peculiar to persons of strong individuality 
 of character, the intense passions for freedom and independence 
 of mind and body, and the power of putting these into strong, 
 clear, and often witty words, were not the least of the attrac- 
 tions J enny Sandham found in Carl Corsar . He applauded and 
 made clearer to her, views and ideas commended by her own 
 instinct and reason, which such friends as she might acci- 
 dentally possess at Snorham held in that authoritative repro- 
 bation which admits of no questioning and gives no reasons, 
 and is one of the distinguishing characteristics of the British 
 lower middle class. Jenny had a mind, although, perhaps, 
 her boarding-school education had done little towards the 
 cultivation of it, and Carl ^^teazed” out this mind quite as 
 he would have teazed out a bundle of connective tissue fibres. 
 And very nice and strong the fibres were, and tolerably clean 
 — much cleaner than his own mental fibres, on the whole, he 
 thought rather sadly. 
 
 And that winter Jenny’s eighteenth birthday arrived — the 
 31st December. 
 
 And on that 31st December she wondered (of course) what 
 would happen the next year to her. Also on that day her 
 married sister and a friend of hers made themselves very 
 pleasantly instructive by giving her a discourse on the pro- 
 prieties, lasting some three quarters of an hour, especially on 
 the heinousness of a young girl having a lover who used the 
 normal aspirates, and didn’t say ” when he meant ‘^hay ” 
 (which would very naturally have been his principal topic of 
 conversation to a young girl). They did not exactly state 
 their views in the above words, but in a far more diffuse, 
 tautological, vehement and generally irritant form, to which 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Jenny made the pithy, conclusive, but equally irritating reply 
 — Eubbish! ’’ Jenny could not see why she should not be 
 allowed to enjoy her hitherto not very enjoyable life in her 
 own way. She could not see the criminality of being a good 
 deal more intelligent, a great deal better looking, and at this 
 moment far happier than her female friends and advisers. 
 
 That is the way she put it, at least. She could not help 
 the above facts, nor, of course, would she if she could. She 
 was what circumstances had made her, and the world would 
 be a nice place if circumstances would kindly make a few 
 more of her. The supply is not equal to the demand. For 
 example — Sandy knew Jenny; Carl knew Jenny; so did 
 sundry large, red-looking young East Anglians, who wore shiny 
 black clothes on Sundays, and discussed tumblers of something 
 hot with old John. These mostly adored Jenny at one tima 
 or another. At first she had those beaming eyes of Lesbia, 
 of which it is difficult to say with exactness on whom they 
 were beaming. You see she had to differentiate between these 
 various new samples of the genus man, at first similar from 
 absolute novelty. This was a work of time ; she put them 
 into a mental basket and shook them up, and Carl came upper- 
 most, and a very good sortilegia too. 
 
 This little digression may be useful in covering the time 
 between December 31st, Jenny’s eighteenth birthday, andr 
 July six months after, when J ohn' ^Eaynhum took a drop too,,^^ 
 
 many of something hot and slept more profoundly than usual 
 
 after it, in fact he has not yet slept off the effect of a life of 
 dinner, supper, drop of something hot, and immediate slumber. 
 They thought he would be more comfortable in the old church- 
 yard, so they laid him there. He never perceived the change, 
 and has made no complaints. His son-in-law sails the Ship ” 
 now. This son-in-law, and his wife, and his wife’s friends, 
 and his own female relations made the once quiet and placid 
 old ship or old hulk of John Sandham a cro|^ between a 
 galley and a slave dhow to Jenny. 
 
 If they had contented themselves with merely cutting away 
 all the nasty untidy clematis, ivy and Yirginian vine that hung 
 about the old inn and harboured spiders and other evil beasts, 
 and ruined the stability of the house ; if they had only covered 
 the old wooden balustrades and panels with nice fresh paint, 
 and put a nice new-fashioned grate into the old parlour fire- 
 hearth, and decorated that grate with an interesting arrange- 
 
112 
 
 THE CORSARS ; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 ment in blue and pink and gold, consisting mainly of paper 
 shavings ; in fact, if they had confined themselves to putting 
 the house into a thorough state of repair, and not a day too 
 soon,^^ and cheap at the money too,” Jenny could have 
 accepted the situation ; but her sister, older and plainer than 
 herself — a good deal older and plainer — was aggressive. She 
 ^^told her so” and said, There! I always said sol” She 
 remarked, Well! how you ever can! ” and other potent and 
 pregnant axioms of Common-Place. 
 
 This made Jenny’s habitually independent self rebellious, 
 and drove her into exaggerated displays of self-will. She 
 was nagged ” at for coming down to breakfast at nine instead 
 of eight; next day she came at twelve, and got the girl, 
 Emma, now her only ally and slave, and that furtively, to 
 give her a fresh, new, and far better breakfast in the kitchen 
 than she would have had at eight in the parlour. This being 
 discovered, Emma went, with weeping and declamation, 
 married a ruddy giant in a guernsey shirt and corduroys, and 
 kept an opposition tavern. 
 
 The ultimate result was that Jenny, on receipt of the next 
 quarterly iustalment of a microscopic legacy, took a second- 
 class ticket at Wainleycotham for Liverpool Street. 
 
CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 JENNY — FURTHER. 
 
 Jenny Sandham’s sudden resolve, and consequent pilgrimage 
 to London, may, as far as its basis in reason is concerned, be 
 fairly compared to the action of one who takes a header into 
 the maelstrom to avoid the annoyance of a flock of shore 
 mosquitoes. It was one with the less risky proceeding of 
 suddenly bolting’’ from a second-rate and doubtless dis- 
 agreeable boarding school to her home. She had a small 
 fortune of ten pounds sterling, and chattels to the extent of 
 the clothes she wore, a new ulster, a watch, a photograph of 
 Carl Corsar, and a small portmanteau, so small that she had 
 carried it with her own strong and shapely little hands to the 
 outskirts of Snorham, and had there requisitioned a rustic 
 youth for the consideration of one shilling to carry it for her 
 to Wainleycotham station. 
 
 Her purpose, when in London, was to obtain employment 
 of some kind, that would make her free and independent, an 
 excellent intention, of which she had very vague ideas as to 
 the carrying out. Never having been in the capital before, 
 she had that reverence for it as a field of infinite possibilities 
 which people frequently have for the unknown, akin to the 
 feeling of the emigrant who determines to sell up everything 
 and see what can be done” in America, or some other dis- 
 tant haven of great promise and small fulfilment. If anyone 
 supposes she simply meant to throw herself straightway on 
 the mercy and protection of Carl Corsar, anyone is mis- 
 taken. It is true, however, that she had the two following 
 addresses as forlorn hopes graven on her memory : — 
 
 Audit College, Fenchester,” and Mermaid Club, Clarence 
 Street, Strand.” 
 
 Nothing remarkable happened to accentuate her journey, 
 and the train arrived in due time at the terminus. Her port- 
 
114 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 manteau having been consigned for the present to the cloak- 
 room, Jenny proceeded to look around her, and sat upon a 
 bench considering her next course. Where exactly to go to was 
 the main problem. The plan existing sketchily in her mind 
 was to get some lodgings, and then, by personal application, 
 or by answering advertisements to find herself a place as 
 shop girl, actress, heaven knows what — the stage attracted 
 her most, again, I suppose, on the principle of veneration 
 for the unknown — and live upon her means, with the view of 
 confronting Carl some day triumphantly, with the state- 
 ment : — ^^Look at me! Pve made my own fortune!” This 
 was all very well, but at the present moment Jenny, in the 
 haven of her desires, or in that part of it represented by the 
 G. E. R. Terminus, had not the shadow of an idea where to 
 begin, or whom to apply to for advice, and listened perplexedly 
 to those long echoing whistles which supply the place of 
 sea-birds calling in London, and make a large station so 
 cheerful. 
 
 Then Jenny looked up at the interwoven, smoky iron fret- 
 work of girders far above her head. No inspiration there. 
 And the interesting mural inscription did not seem productive. 
 The various people who passed did not look sympathetic. 
 They were travellers or porters occupied in their own affairs, 
 men who had been to the cattle show, or whatever other 
 instructive exhibition the venturesome provincial uses as an 
 excuse to his parents or wife for a visit to the town ; young 
 university men, on their way up ” or down,” who usually 
 gave her a critical furtive glance and then muttered to one 
 another ; the usual females in distress, others not in distress ; 
 one or two clergy, and a volunteer. But few of them looked 
 as if they had time or inclination to advise a young girl how 
 to make a fortune in London. 
 
 Finally, she concluded to leave the station and take a little 
 walk. Of course she would go for a little walk ” by herself 
 as readily in London as in the Fens. Therefore she emerged 
 into Bishopsgate, and walked slowly along it. It was the 
 hour of the day when the junior city stands about on the 
 pavement, picking its teeth and conversing before going back 
 to gaslit rooms in Mark Lane or LeadenhaU Street to assist 
 the great money-spiders. Nicely dressed every day young 
 men” formed the main part of the crowd, with an occasional 
 elderly one. Foreigners appeared numerous. Not inquiring 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 115 
 
 tourist foreigners, but business-like, talkative, Stock Ex- 
 change foreigners, who often hailed from Aldgate and the 
 East, or from Manchester and Hamburg, and originally and 
 ancestrally from the land watered by the J ordan. 
 
 Of course there was the usual impenetrable jumble of 
 traffic, but curiously enough no fog ; it was a brilliant, sunlit 
 day, and the tall imposing old buildings of Bishopsgate looked 
 almost cheerful, and certainly formed a picture worth remem- 
 bering as a first vision of London. And Jenny remembered 
 it. She loitered along, forgetting, girl-like, all her projects 
 and difficulties in the interesting study of windows and wares. 
 After a few minutes of bewildered wonderment, when she 
 had walked a little way towards Norton Eolgate, not knowing 
 or caring which way the street led, she saw a window and 
 door bearing the inscription, Hot joints from twelve to two, 
 chops, steaks, coffee, &c., at any time.’^ There was also an 
 advertisement in the window of certain coloured minstrels, 
 of the local theatres, and of Sanger’s (like Astley’s) Amphi- 
 theatre. It struck Jenny that eating dinner could not be a 
 waste of time, and that she might accidentally find out some- 
 thing or other inside there, by reading a newspaper. Vague 
 again, Jenny. However, in she went, thinking this time 
 rightly, that nothing ought to succeed like cheek,” in London, 
 and said — 
 
 Will you get me some steak please, and some potatoes— 
 and a cup of coffee ? ” 
 
 Steak and kidney pudding, would you like?” said the 
 waitress. 
 
 Yes,” said Jenny, as if the purpose of her life had been 
 the acquisition of steak and kidney pudding, and as if she 
 knew the combination well. 
 
 Will you sit down here ? ” 
 
 And Jenny found herself at a table, in a wooden compart- 
 ment, apparently of great age, for the wood was quite gone” 
 in places, and afforded copious repasts and a residence to the 
 creature who is ^‘your only true emperor for diets.” 
 
 A moderately clean cloth, a cruet-stand, and a bread-basket 
 were on the table. Jenny helped herself to bread, and 
 thought, If living in London is going to be like this, it isn’t 
 half bad.” Then she looked round. It was after two by a 
 yellow-faced high-suspended clock, and no other customer but 
 herself was there. The newspapers hung idle, fiabby and 
 
116 
 
 THE COESARS; 
 
 wrinkled, over the wooden’ bencli-backs whicb served as 
 divisions between the compartments. It was rather dark 
 inside these brown wire blinds. At the inner end of the 
 rather long room was a staircase curling away behind old 
 black panelling into the invisible. There was also the 
 kitchen, where a couple of young women were washing up 
 crockery and looking after the fire. The waitress was leaning 
 against a table, resting, and thinking of nothing particular, 
 after giving Jenny's order to the kitchen. 
 
 Jenny looked at her, and saw a distinctly pretty girl, with 
 magnificent dark eyes, a fine complexion, and dry, ‘ ^ fuzzy ” 
 dead-black hair. Her dress was an old black one, well- 
 fitting and shapely, but shiny at the seams, and she stood 
 there in an attitude any painter’s model would have required 
 several hours practice and swearing at to assume. This girl 
 lounged and loafed with a natural grace that made one think 
 she ought to be on a divan somewhere, in gorgeous attire, 
 smoking latakia. Jenny did not quite think all this. She 
 only thought the girl rather interesting, and felt she would 
 like to know her. When she brought the steak and kidney 
 pudding, J enny said — 
 
 want to ask you for some information, if you have 
 nothing else just now to do.” 
 
 Yes ? ” said the girl. She never added the word ^^Miss” 
 or ^^Mam” to her sentence. She evidently was not accus- 
 tomed to regard the customers as her social superiors. 
 
 Won’t you sit down ? They won’t care in there I sup- 
 pose, and I have no right to keep you standing. I speak to 
 you because you’re the first person I have seen in London I 
 feel I can speak to. I never was in London before.” 
 
 can see that,” said the other girl, and the two dark 
 beauties looked curiously at each other across the narrow 
 table. 
 
 daresay; and I want to know of somewhere where I 
 can get respectable lodgings that don’t cost very much ? ” 
 Excuse my asking — it makes some difference — what part 
 of London do you want to live in ? Where do you expect 
 to make your living ? ” 
 
 don’t know one part of London from another, and I 
 haven’t yet made up my mind how I’m going to make my 
 living — like you, perhaps ; you don’t seem unhappy.” 
 
 My dear child ! I beg your pardon, but I think you’re a 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 117 
 
 good deal younger tlian me. What can your parents have 
 been thinking about to let you stray off to town like this ? ’’ 
 haven’t got any parents.” 
 
 Oh. I beg your pardon again. Have you really no 
 people at all ? You see, if I’m to help you, you must let me 
 ask questions ; I’m naturally curious.” 
 
 I have no people I can live with. I’m not afraid of any- 
 thing, I don’t mind working — at least I don’t think so, and I 
 want to live somewhere — well the way people who make their 
 own living do live — so as to be able to find out things for 
 myself. But I’m awfully puzzled what to do. London is 
 such a great, noisy, tiring place.” 
 
 The good looking waitress felt a good-natured interest in 
 this curious lost child, and thought to herself, ^‘I suppose 
 she’s genuine. If she is genuine, she’ll have some luggage.’^ 
 Then she said aloud — 
 
 We must talk about this a little more. Have you got 
 , any things ? Because people who let lodgings like lodgers 
 to have luggage.” 
 
 Yes. I’ve got some things in the cloak-room at Liver- 
 pool Street.” 
 
 That’s all right. And have you any money ? ” 
 
 I’ve got this — no more.” Jenny showed her five-pound 
 note and five sovereigns. The other’s eyes flashed, and she 
 said — 
 
 ‘^Look here, my young friend, don’t you go showing your 
 cash to strangers like that again ! It doesn’t do in London.” 
 
 ‘^But I didn’t think you a stranger. You look like a 
 person I can trust, and if you tried to rob me, I believe I 
 could throw you out of the window,” added Jenny, laughing, 
 as 'she disposed of the remains of her meal, and leaned back 
 reflectively regarding the coffee. 
 
 The other girl was certainly of slighter build, and probably 
 a little lighter than the fine-bred, strong-limbed young 
 country girJ, whose delicate pallor was more the result of 
 irregular hours and meals than of weak physique, whose 
 little monkey-like brown hands owed their sun tan to sculling 
 on the Snorham river. The town-mouse looked at the 
 country-mouse, and said — 
 
 ‘‘I believe you could, if you wanted. Look here, let’s 
 clear out of this place — I shall have nothing to do till six — 
 and come out of doors. We can talk there better. I think 
 
118 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 Bometliing can be done. Here, give me a quid, and I’ll get 
 change and pay for your dinner, and tell them I’m going 
 out.” 
 
 And the girl disappeared. When she reappeared she 
 was dressed for going out — quite as tastefully dressed as 
 herself, Jenny observed, though in older and cheaper ma- 
 terials. Putting Jenny’s change into her hand, she sallied 
 forth. When they were both fairly outside the eating-house, 
 this curious girl said — 
 
 Since it seems we two are going to take each other on 
 trust, I, from my experience of people’s faces (I see a good 
 many, you know), you, because you don’t know any better, 
 suppose we introduce ourselves. My name is Sarah Levy, 
 commonly known to my friends as Sadie.” 
 
 ^^Mine is Jane Sandham, usually called Jenny.” 
 
 “ Very well, shake hands, Jenny Sandham, and let’s be 
 friends until we become enemies. I’m not prophesying ; it’s 
 only a way of speaking. I saw you were not one of our 
 people.” 
 
 Our people ? What do you mean ? ” 
 
 Haven’t you guessed from looking at me ? ” 
 
 Are you foreign ? You don’t talk as if you were.” 
 
 I’m a Jew. Have you any objection ? ” 
 
 Goodness, no ; why should I ? I suppose Jews are very 
 like other people? ” 
 
 They are often a jolly sight cleverer and better looking 
 than other people ; however I don’t want to boast. You are 
 very good-looking yourself, Jenny. I suppose you know 
 that ! ” 
 
 ^^I have heard so,” said- Jenny, smiling rather shyly. 
 
 Oh, have you ! Did a woman ever tell you so before ? ” 
 Oh — er — I really don’t remember now.” 
 
 Don’t tell stories. I don’t want to know your secrets, you 
 know. I was only chaffing. Look here, to return to business, 
 if you don’t mind the quarter of the town, I can find you a 
 nice cheap lodging, I think, for a time, where I live. Come 
 and look at the place. The outside isn’t swellish, but the 
 inside is comfortable.” 
 
 Would they like to take me in, though ? ” 
 
 ^^What, because you’re a shik — Christian, I mean ? Oh, 
 I shall say you are a friend of mine, and a harmless sort of 
 person. They won’t care, they aren’t J ews. Come and look. 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 119 
 
 If 3^ou like it, we can go for your luggage, and arrive like an 
 ambassador in a hansom.’’ 
 
 ‘^Do ambassadors generally arrive in hansoms?” 
 ‘‘Invariably. Now don’t be frightened because my short- 
 cuts are a little dingy. You will be among my people directly, 
 and you are safe enough there. Follow close.” 
 
 And the little Israelite dived from stately, if dingy, Bishops- 
 gate, into what was apparently a doorway. It led, however, into 
 an extremely narrow, high passage, under and between tall 
 houses, where it was necessary to walk in single file. Jenny, 
 as we know, was a courageous girl, but never having been 
 in a large and ancient town before, was naturally a little 
 startled at Catherine Wheel Alley. However, she kept her 
 feelings to herself. They passed through a sort of stable- 
 yard, developing gradually into a small lane, full of gam- 
 bolling black or fair-haired children, and then found them- 
 selves in a very narrow, very populous street, smelling 
 strongly of fried fish. Hatless girls wandered about in twos 
 and threes, as if they were quite at home ; curious old men 
 in peaked caps, with locks of hair hanging forward over their 
 ears, stood smoking in the shop-doors, while others, in long 
 coats, some with high boots, stood in groups talking eagerly in 
 curious languages, among which Jenny did not distinguish 
 Polish and German to be the principal. She had glimpses 
 of inner and further recesses, and culs-de-sac between the 
 houses, but had no immediate desire to penetrate them. The 
 whole was something so absolutely new and strange to her 
 experience, that she felt in a foreign country. She kept close 
 alongside Miss Sadie Levy, who said — 
 
 “ Do you know ? — no ! of course you don’t know where you 
 are. This is Petticoat Lane, where they have the market on 
 Sunday mornings. We’ll go there some day, it may amuse 
 you.” 
 
 And then they emerged from the dark, quiet “ Ghetto ” of 
 Petticoat Lane, into a wide, paved, bustling thoroughfare, 
 which, Jenny was informed, was High Street, Whitechapel. 
 And after walking along it some little way, Jenny’s wonder- 
 ment at the queer diversified crowd and the sudden changes 
 of scene she had gone through being extremely high, they 
 took a tram, which took them after about a quarter of an 
 hour to a small, dull, respectable-looking, deadly monotonous 
 side street. They knocked at. the side door, and waited. An 
 
120 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 elderly spectacled woman answered it, speaking with a pro- 
 vincial accent : — 
 
 Well, Sarah Levy, what for you ? ” 
 
 “IVe brought Miss Sandham, a friend of mine, looking 
 for apartments. She has left her things till she knew where 
 to take them to, and has come to look at yours.’’ 
 
 To shorten rather a long story, it may be stated that Jenny 
 and the pretty young daughter of the tribes became great 
 friends, as two people, one of whom is the helper and the 
 other the helped, are likely to become. It is quite probable 
 that Jenny would have found some one else to befriend her, 
 had she not found Sadie Levy. On the other hand, it is 
 equally probable that she would not. At any rate she did 
 find her and profited thereby, and made acquaintance with 
 the curious, picturesque, bustling, dingy, Jew’s quarter of 
 London, and learned to respect and admire that strange 
 people. I do not say ^Hhat ancient people” because, as far 
 as I know, they are about as old as a good many other 
 average nations, and younger than several, in point of civi- 
 lisation. It is true they had law, language, and literature 
 when our own ancestors were ploughing the foam for plunder 
 and prey, harrying by day, drinking and singing by night, 
 practices with modifications which many of them carry on 
 still. 
 
 To return to Jenny Sandham. Assisted by her friend, she 
 found her way a little about London, learned the use of the 
 omnibus, the ‘‘underground,” the policeman, and the after- 
 noon papers, and diligently sought a means of subsistence. 
 She answered advertisements for assistants in the retail 
 tobacco-trade, and found that she was insufficiently experi- 
 enced, or certificated, or that the place was already filled. 
 She found that dressmakers did not seem enthusiastic about 
 a young person who had hardly ever threaded a needle in her 
 life, and whose sole experience in dresses and hats related to 
 the pace at which they can wear out. She applied to a 
 theatrical agency which promised to find engagements for 
 anybody, without reference to capacity, age, or previous 
 inexperience. 
 
 The agency accepted a portion of her rapidly declining 
 fortune, and did nothing further. The idea of a girl of 
 eighteen bringing an action against an agency, a Firm, with 
 several names in it printed on a zinc plate on the corner of a 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 121 
 
 passage, was simply preposterous. Besides, actions cannot 
 be brought without money. Of course she could not be aware 
 that one whisky- drinking, bar-frequenting, fourpenny-cigar- 
 smoking being, with a waxed black moustache, was the only 
 representative the Firm of Farquharson, Gordon, and Main- 
 waring ever had or ever will have, and that her poor sovereign 
 went in short drinks for self and partners to this person the 
 same day in which she surrendered it. 
 
 Jenny was brave, but there comes to the brave a stern hour, 
 which only differs from despair as the brave ones differ from 
 the cowards, the strong from the feeble. The despair of the 
 weak is less suffering than the endurance of hopelessness by 
 the strong. This hour came to Jenny when her ten pounds 
 had gone, and her watch had followed them. 
 
 What her thoughts, struggles, intentions, hopes, tempta- 
 tions, agony were in that bad time she has never told. And 
 it is not for me to guess, to imagine, to pry. Spiritually she 
 was in the attitude of Dom Claude FroUo, hanging to his 
 tower. Were you ever in such a position? Then you can 
 answer the question. How does it feel ? for yourself. But it 
 was decreed that she should not fall. Salvation came. Not 
 a very tempting or very choice form of salvation, but better 
 than the three fates that face the destitute girl in London — 
 the union, the street, and the river. For more than you or I 
 can count these Three are the grim roads yet open. Jenny 
 went with the courage of desperation, and presented herself 
 to the manager of a smallish theatre in West Central London. 
 He accepted her services for the chorus. She was to have 
 nothing to say, little to do but stand in her proper place and 
 exhibit her maiden charms to the stalled and pitted animals 
 that paid to see the show. 
 
 This was the form her salvation took. But it paid her 
 rent and restored her self-respect. If I have the honour of 
 addressing a lady, I will ask. Would it restore or strengthen 
 your self-respect to display your person nightly for twenty to 
 twenty-five shillings a week to the public ? You think it 
 would not. But it did Jenny’s. It is paradox, but it is true. 
 Her worldly experience advanced by strange strides. From 
 Jewry to the theatre, from West India Dock Eoad to the 
 Strand, did a ’bus or train convey her daily, and off-time and 
 Sundays she spent with Sadie Levy at home. She learned 
 what charming manners, what . true generosity, urbanity and 
 
 I 
 
122 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 accommodating unselfisliness pervade the atmosphere of a 
 chorus dressing-room, how very acceptable beer, sandwiches 
 and oranges, and sweets” may occasionally become, and 
 what very thin stratagems and mechanical fun are sufficient 
 to divert a large portion of that critical and discerning body, the 
 British public. In fact, Jenny was guilty, after a month or 
 two of the theatre had taken away her shyness, of inventing 
 the expression, the Brutish public.” 
 
 Sadie, in Jenny’s absence, of course took opportunities to 
 gratify her natural girl’s curiosity as to who Jenny was, why 
 she was in London, and whether there was, somehow, as her 
 instincts suggested, a He in the case. Jenny had told her 
 very little — merely that she had no people ” — at any rate 
 
 none who appreciated her, or with whom she sympathised, 
 but nok where she came from, or any direct information. 
 
 What I have been doesn’t matter,” she said. What does 
 matter is what I am and what I’m going to be. And even 
 that doesn’t matter much.” So Sadie ransacked Jenny’s 
 room, carefully, slowly, and neatly, more neatly than the 
 politest officer of the Douane, for she did not wish to hurt 
 Jenny’s feelings by leaving signs of her conduct. The little 
 Jewess meant no harm. She liked Jenny very much, but she 
 was consumedly ” curious. She did not mean to make any 
 particular use of what she might find out. She only wanted 
 to find it out. 
 
 And she found nothing, except Carl’s photograph — cabinet, 
 wrapped in silver paper. ‘^And a very nice-looking young 
 man you are,” remarked Sadie Levy as she inspected Carl’s 
 face, to which the ^Wander Weyde Light” had done full 
 justice. ^^I can quite understand a girl liking you. And I 
 wonder who you are, where you are, and why you don’t turn 
 up sometimes. I think you will turn up later on. Trumps 
 always turn up last. And when you were dealt you belonged 
 to a trump suit, I think. Now you can go back. You won’t 
 tell, like a good fellow.” Of course after this Sadie took a 
 fresh interest in her young friend, and asked mysterious, 
 circuitous leading questions, which Jenny put down to her 
 knowledge of the world and general sharpness, and feared it 
 would be useless to try to take her in in any way. 
 
 When Jennie came home from rehearsal that afternoon, 
 she went to the eating-house in Bishopsgate, to partake of 
 some of the food which Sadie would hand, though, of course. 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 123 
 
 could not eat. For, frivolous and girl of tlie world as she 
 was inclined to be, though, she might scoff at the synagogue, 
 and call it a stupid old place, she drew the line at eating 
 Christian steak and kidney. She looked at J enny with a sort 
 of anxious parental expression, gave her some lunch, and a 
 mug of porter (Jenny liked draught porter now), and sug- 
 gested afterwards going out for a walk and talk. 
 
 All right,” said Jenny. IVe got to work hard the next 
 few days. WeVe got a new piece coming on, and I have two 
 lines to speak. Think of that ! Old J emmy says ( ^ Old 
 J emmy ’ was the reverential term the chorus of the Deanery 
 Theatre used for their originally good-natured, now much 
 worried and stormy manager, Mr. James Symes) — Old 
 J emmy says I ought to take lessons in step-dancing, that it 
 would advertise my anatomy a little. What do you think ? ” 
 I think you’re becoming an awful cockney, Jenny. Six 
 or eight weeks ago you would as soon have talked Dutch as 
 said ‘ What do you think.’ I am afraid your theatre life is 
 making you unfit for my society. What is your new piece ? 
 Can you get me a first-night order ? ” 
 
 Don’t know. I’ll try. Miss Alma Trevor said she’d get 
 me one, the other day, because I dressed her well. Most 
 likely she’ll forget all about it.” 
 
 I do admire Miss Trevor so ! Don’t you ? ” 
 
 She isn’t a bad old girl, when you do all she wants you 
 to do. The new piece is by some Frenchman, of course 
 adapted and all that. Time, present ; place, London, I sup- 
 pose, or Constantinople, or somewhere. It’s a burlesque.” 
 How very improper ! I hope you’ll get that order out of 
 Miss Alma Trevor. She’s in it, of course.” 
 
 Of course she is. She and Kate Gascoigne divide all the 
 best parts between them. Jemmy and Gascoigne had a row to 
 start with, over the screw ; Jemmy wouldn’t give in till Gas- 
 coigne threatened to chuck up the whole bag of tricks (her 
 words, my dear, not mine) and go to the Frivolity. Trevor 
 was awfully pleased at something or other, because Jemmy 
 got slanged, or because Gascoigne got less lines than she 
 wanted, I suppose, and got the author to put in two lines for me, 
 in a fit of good nature. She likes me. So do lots of the girls, 
 except one or two who wanted parts and can’t have them.” 
 
 To hear this slang, this green-room habit of speaking of 
 women by their surnames, from Jenny’s mouth, was like 
 
124 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 hearing a child or a parrot swear. She had just caught it 
 up, and thought it amusing to exaggerate it slightly, in order 
 to impose on Sadie, who replied — 
 
 This is perfectly awful, Jenny ! You’re hardly eighteen, 
 and what in the world will you be like at twenty-five ? ” 
 
 ^‘I’m getting what the books call ^hardened,’ I suppose. 
 At twenty-five I may aspire to do the leading skipping-rope 
 business at the Erivolity, perhaps. Seems at present like a 
 newspaper boy wanting to be editor of the Times y doesn’t it ?” 
 
 * ^ I suppose you’ll soon be too proud to live with us any 
 longer.” 
 
 ^‘I’m not proud. I don’t know what right you have to 
 say things like that.” 
 
 Bless you, I was only chaffing. Don’t be always sus- 
 pecting people of nasty insinuations. How do you like the 
 city ? Let’s go and do a tour of all the exhibitions that cost 
 nothing. We can seethe outside of the Bank, and St. Paul’s, 
 and the Tower. You’ve never been up to the Tower.” 
 
 What do all these men do here in the City? I hardly 
 ever see any women.” 
 
 Do ? Make money, or try to. What should they do ? ” 
 But they are always standing about talking. They don’t 
 seem to do anything. You and I work for our money. They 
 don’t seem to work, and I suppose they get lots more money 
 than we do?” 
 
 ^^They are making money when they are standing about 
 talking. . At least the men on ’Change are. There is no 
 law of nature which says the people who do the most work 
 are to get the most profit. Bather the other way.” 
 
 And these two kept up this sage prattle on things in general 
 for some time, wandering about the city scanning the shop- 
 windows, criticising the passers by, discussing the marvellous 
 cheapness of certain twelve-buttoned gloves, arguing on the 
 one topic on which girls can be serious for a long time to- 
 gether — dress, comparing notes on corsets, boots, kiltings, 
 box-pleats, violet-powder, deciding whether Jerseys should 
 button or lace up the back, etc., etc., eating nuts like irre- 
 verent little monkeys under the shadow of Ponies’,” and 
 finally, going back to Bishopsgate to tea, after which, Sadie 
 to her home, the eating-house closing at six or half -past, and 
 Jenp.y to her duties at the Deanery Theatre. Don’t forget 
 my first-night order ! ” were Sadie’s parting words. 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 125 
 
 Jenny was much, elated at the prospect of gradual pro- 
 motion in her profession, and saw fortune and large bouquets 
 from the Eoyal box somewhere in the mists of aerial per- 
 spective. The manager thought there was something in her, 
 and said so to Miss Alma Trevor, who agreed with him ; also 
 to Miss Kate Gascoigne, who differed from him. Miss Gas- 
 coigne was of the same dark style of beauty as Jenny, or 
 went in” for that style at present, and resented the inevi- 
 table comparisons which would be made between herself 
 and this girl half her age. Miss Trevor had pale orange 
 tresses, black eyebrows and brown eyes, and considered 
 Jenny an appropriate foil to herself, and further remarked 
 to Mr. Symes, She’s a dam useful little thing is Morton, 
 and good-natured. Got better manners than most of your 
 chorus. Jemmy. Doesn’t strew the floor with H’s, don’t you 
 know. If I go away from here I shall take her with me.” 
 I forgot to mention that Jemmy ” had ^^put up” the new 
 acquisition to the idea of having a professional name. 
 
 Might be useful you know, when some of your friends read 
 the bills accidentally. Daresay you wouldn’t care to have 
 your real name there.” 
 
 Thank you,” said Jenny. What shall I be called?” 
 Oh, I don’t care. Whatever you like. Let’s see.” And 
 he looked over some old bills. Miss Theo Morton has gone 
 to America, and has an Italian name now. Suppose you were 
 to become Miss Theo Morton ? Theo is a nice Frenchified, 
 fetching sort of name — easy one, too.” And Theo Morton ” 
 she became, and soon got to remember who was meant when 
 people shouted, ^‘Morton ! Hang it, where’s Morton ?” 
 
 And the time approached for the first night of the new 
 burlesque. Mr. Symes perspired, smoked more than ever, 
 took whisky and soda, dashed about, swore, took irregular 
 meals and little sleep. Jenny got nervous, and repeated her 
 two lines to herself in omnibuses, at her meals, before her 
 looking-glass, and in her dreams, with every variety of ex- 
 pression. 
 
 She got the order for Sadie, who radiantly borrowed a 
 scarlet and swansdown cloak from some friend of her own 
 persuasion who waited on ladies at their own houses, either 
 in town or country, at any hour,” in order to acquire such 
 articles. 
 
CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 JENNY BETEOSPECTIYE STILL. 
 
 The modern successor of the alchemist and astrologer despises 
 the pompous mystery and solemn triviality of his mediaeval 
 prototypes. The investigator of nature of the Middle Age, 
 such as the Dutch painters delighted in representing, sits in a 
 furred doctor’s gown in a Gothic chamber decorated with 
 stuffed and suspended alligators, pickled monstrosities whose 
 pallid faces leer through the glass sides of their phials, heavy 
 perfumes, brass-bound books of magic, mural inscriptions and 
 floor designs in the language of mystic nonsense— 
 
 “ Oti les monstres traces autour du zodiaque 
 Portant ecrit au front leur nom en syriaque 
 Dansent entre eux des boleros ! ” 
 
 where the confusion of pentacle, microcosm, and macrocosm, 
 with stars and common bones, typifies the strange mixture 
 of the known, the knowable, the unknowable, and the hope- 
 lessly silly which constituted the learning of Averroes or 
 Eaustus, as they sat waiting for gold, or for the devil attired 
 as a travelling scholar. They revelled in darkening the mys- 
 steries which Newton and Darwin and those with them 
 have helped to unveil for ever. But these last sought no 
 gold. They sought knowledge. When wisdom cried aloud 
 in her loneliness they preferred her above rubies, philo- 
 sophers’ stones, longevity mixtures, and all the despairs of 
 Chrusomania and rewards of charlatanism. 
 
 Carl Corsar was surely no exponent of a Faust-legend as 
 he sat in a fiannel boating suit one night peering through the 
 microscope, which was such a potent weapon in the hands of 
 investigators of his school. Some cavendish slowly burning 
 in the slender wooden pipe was the only spirit-controller and 
 altar of fumigation under the angular roof of his attic. The 
 
THE COKSARS; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 127 
 
 romance of it was apparently wanting — that wonderful Eem- 
 brandtesque light and darkness of magic, half-known nature 
 and half-ignored supernature which has given us the legends 
 wonderfully and eternally shaped forth from the crude folk- 
 lore by Marlowe and Goethe. Here was no passionate Claude 
 FroUo in his tower with Ananke” burning in his brain, no 
 cunning Subtle preying on human folly. Here was a young 
 man sitting at a table strewn with papers, dissecting instru- 
 ments, staining fluids, pens and matches, with the pale green 
 light of the shaded lamp on his tired, refined face as it leaned 
 scowlingly over the brass tube of lenses constructed by one 
 Zeiss of Jena. Before him the red-curtained window, a row 
 of narrow slits with massive grey stone partitions ; behind him 
 the fireplace, where the eternal kettle of college rooms was 
 cooling ; and above that, in half darkness, the black and white 
 portrait of Charles Darwin. And yet into this den of the 
 real and matter-of-fact Mephistopheles had penetrated in his 
 subtle modern way, and preached — 
 
 ‘‘ Grau, theurer Freund, ist aller Theorie 
 Und griin des Lebens goldner Baum ! ” 
 
 There was no Gretchen in a mirror, but there was a J enny 
 in a photograph. This, of course, was a period some time 
 before the sunbeam shone on May Haynham’s fair head, as 
 she sat in his window one summer day and made him forget 
 that there were other women in the world, less fair, less 
 refined, less gentle, less full of graceful refinement, but not 
 one whit less capable of love. And Jenny seemed lost now, 
 leaving only remorseful, passionate memories behind for him. 
 
 Carl had dismissed his last pupil, drank his last cup of 
 coffee, and was preparing for his morning’s lecture, which, 
 as usual, he had postponed to the last moment. When his 
 notes were fully prepared, and a satisfactory row of proofs of 
 his assertions therein (things despised by the mediaeval inves- 
 tigator) had been disposed in a box, on glass slides, he leaned 
 back in his chair, stretched, stood up, and walked slowly 
 about the room. Then he threw some coals on to the fire, 
 and excited them to burn by a combustible locally termed a 
 
 devil,” well known to University men, made of resin and 
 firewood, and supplied at an exorbitant price by the college 
 grocer. Then he played a polka on the piano. Then he 
 took Juliet out of her den and gave her her supper, and nursed 
 
123 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 her, and spake kindly to her. Then he drew the red curtains 
 hack and looked out through the open window. The battle- 
 ments outside prevented his seeing anything but the eternal 
 stars, and, as Carl remarked, ^^The infernal cats!’’ To 
 please J uliet he made threatening sibilant noises, proved by 
 experience to be extremely annoying and terrifying to cats. 
 Then he knocked the ashes out of his pipe, refilled and lit it, 
 and sprawled on his rickety old cretonne sofa, pufiing out 
 smoke and seeing visions in the clouds. Any sensible 
 
 man, Juliet,” he observed, would go to bed, now that his 
 work was done. I don’t go to bed. I am afraid the conclu- 
 sion follows — (you mustn’t eat boot-buttons, dear, they’re not 
 at all nice) — that I am not a sensible man. Come in 1 ” 
 
 And, following his vigorous kick on the door (frequent 
 among Audit men) Sandy entered, in a deshahilU of white 
 flannel trousers, a corps-student’s black-velvet jacket, and no 
 hat. 
 
 ‘ ^ How can you let that beastly white rat run over you like 
 that ? How are you getting on ? ” 
 
 Oh I I’m all right. How’s your work ? ” 
 
 didn’t come here at this time of night to talk shop. 
 AVhat a beastly state your rooms are in ! Come over to 
 mine. I’ve got a decent fire, and some food and liquor. 
 You seem to have let yours out, and got the place into a 
 perfect den of desolation.” 
 
 I suppose I have. I didn’t notice till you said so. What 
 have you got to eat? ” 
 
 ^ ‘ Pickled salmon, veal pie, Eudesheimer wine and Pilsener 
 beer.” 
 
 Nice mess to put into one’s inside at one in the morning I 
 All right — I’ll come. Go home, Juliet, and go to sleep. 
 You can’t come, he doesn’t like you. It’s his loss, not your’s, 
 but he doesn’t — I say, Sandy, do you mind my bringing over 
 my letters with me ? I haven’t had any time to read them 
 yet. Had six pups to-day since five o’clock.” 
 
 Of course bring them with you.” 
 
 Sandy’s habitation over the Bishop’s Gateway was certainly 
 more inviting to look at than Carl’s attic den behind the 
 battlements. Carl stood in front of the blazing fire with his 
 legs apart, and wagged his pipe slowly up and down between 
 his teeth. 
 
 Yes,” he said, this is better just now than my quarters. 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 129 
 
 And I haven’t even got a view. Why those idiotic old 
 founders made battlements to a place that never was meant 
 to be defended, especially on the inside, I don’t know. 
 They’re not pretty, and they’re no earthly use. I once tried 
 lying out there one warm evening. My face was nearly 
 black when I came in.” -- 
 
 ^‘Apoplexy?” 
 
 No. Soot.” And Carl tore open his letters, one by one. 
 At last he observed with much suddenness, What the — 
 who the — ? I say, look here ! ” 
 
 Sandy looked here. The following is what he read: — 
 Post-mark, London, E. No address. No date. ^‘If you 
 ever go to the Deanery Theatre, look out for Miss Theo 
 Morton.” 
 
 Carl did not know the 'hand, but he had instinctive unrea- 
 soning convictions which he did not immediately divulge as 
 to the writer. 
 
 Some coryphee has fallen in love with your distant view in 
 the stalls. Do you go to the Deanery much ? ” 
 
 ^ ^ Don’t remember ever going. Always heard it was a 
 I'otten sort of show.” 
 
 Perhaps she’s seen your photo at the Stereoscopic Com- 
 pany among other public characters, and asked who it was.” 
 
 My photo isn’t at the Stereoscopic Company just yet.” 
 
 ^ ^ Let’s see, here’s to-day’s paper. ^ Poyal Deanery Theatre. 
 This and every following evening till further notice, the new 
 spectacular Burlesque, ‘^The Granddaughter of the Regi- 
 ment,” adapted from the French of M.M. Crin-crin and 
 Pastiche by J. Milton Perkins. Mesdames Alma Trevor, 
 Kate Gascoigne — um — um. Messrs. Jones, Browne, and 
 
 Robinson — um — um, supported by the powerful Deanery 
 Company. Seats may be booked in advance. No fees. 
 James Symes, Acting Manager.’ My friend, this sheds little 
 light on the subject. She isn’t important enough to have her 
 name in the bill. She is the ‘ powerful Deanery Company,’ I 
 suppose.” 
 
 After a pause Carl said, Sandy, to-morrow’s Saturday. 
 What do you say to going to town ? ” 
 
 Can you get rid of your pups in time for the theatres ? ” 
 
 ^ ‘ Confound my pups. Who said anything about the 
 theatres ? However, now you mention it, we might investi- 
 gate this Burlesque.” 
 
130 
 
 THE COKSARS ; 
 
 I’ll come. Notliing like experiment. Grasp the moment 
 while you’ve got it. We may find something, of course, and 
 it can’t do us any harm.” 
 
 We may ^ strike ile.’ If we don’t like it we can go away, 
 scoop about, and do a 'general bender. I haven’t been in town 
 for an awful time.” 
 
 After this these representatives of natural and moral philo- 
 sophy sat down with the pickled salmon, the veal pie, and the 
 Rhine wine and Pilsener beer between them, and a short lapse 
 of conversation took place. Then Sandy, after a long draught 
 of the icy beer, pale amber in colour, which Bohemia fur- 
 nishes to the world, said. 
 
 What are you thinking about, Carl ? You’ve got a very 
 suggestive expression.” 
 
 I was wondering why they can’t' oftener invent some new 
 kind of woman. They are all so much alike.” 
 
 What is it you want ? ” 
 
 She, now,” continued Carl, glancing at a sketch on 
 Sandy’s walls of the elder Faustina, — ‘^she was a little 
 different — not much — from what many living women would 
 be with her opportunities. Put some beauty of the photo- 
 grapher’s windows in her position. Give her a good stoical 
 husband, like Marcus Aurelius, who believes in her simplicity 
 and fidelity to his dying day, and apotheosizes her by legacy. 
 Give her an age when it is the fashion to do what you gene- 
 rally please, and kill people you happen to dislike out of 
 revenge, or people you happen to like for fun, both with 
 impunity; when the rights of woman are to enjoy herself in 
 the way that pleases the female superior ape best — and a 
 funny way it often is. Given all this, don’t you suppose we 
 could turn out some two dozen incomparable Faustinas from 
 the people that exhibit themselves at fancy fairs for charitable 
 purposes, and sell -kittens to unhappy men ? ” 
 
 Perhaps it will be the fashion to have gladiatorial shows 
 some day, on purpose for the ^ belles dames sans mercy.'’ ” 
 
 By Jove ! We know some girls who would enjoy it, eh ? ” 
 ‘^Everyone would go, if it were the thing, just as they go 
 now to murder-trials, to church, to Hurlingham, to assaults- 
 of-arms or bull-fights, if they are in a country where such 
 things happen.” 
 
 When I was in Deutschland, and an ^Activ’ of the ^ Van- 
 dalen,’ there were some girls — English girls — who used to 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 131 
 
 watcli the students’ duels from concealed coigns of vantage. 
 They never tired of it.” 
 
 ‘‘ The appetite of bloodshed and the sight of strong men 
 contending has always been an insuperable delight and desire 
 to some women.” 
 
 ‘^And the tendency of all this discourse? If it has a 
 tendency.” 
 
 should like to educate into perfection some supremely 
 bad woman. I mean, of course, into perfection of badness. 
 She must have certain qualities as a groundwork — courage, 
 for example, to do as she pleases, to lead fashion, not to 
 follow it ; one who is not induced to sin by some flattering, 
 flim sy casuist of a man, but goes in of her own accord because 
 she knows it is worth doing, and wants it as good as they 
 make it. When I had done with her, she should fear neither 
 man, god, nor devil.” 
 
 It is a new idea to suppose bad women are rare.” 
 
 ‘‘Yes. But the present race of average bad women are 
 only bad so far as men make them so, and so far as they can 
 please men by being so. My woman would do it to please 
 herself, and not care what the feelings of the men were on 
 the subject.” 
 
 “ Deuced unpleasant person to be at large.” 
 
 “ Of course. She would be a celebrity, intellectual enough 
 to know that freedom is the highest happiness, brutal enough 
 to abuse her freedom to the She would select the good 
 and respectable men and make them her slaves, only to send 
 them empty away when they had surrendered their principles. 
 She would have supreme, unfettered taste in her dress, which 
 would be a scandal and a model to the ruck of respectability 
 who stared after her and bought her photos. She would try, 
 in fact, out of mere caprice, how many coaches and six she 
 drove through the unwritten statutes of social decorum, and ’ 
 yet be feared, hated, worshipped, and imitated. She would 
 make athletes fight for her amusement in deadly earnest, 
 instead of the comparatively tame excitement of football and 
 athletics, which women now enjoy so much to look at. It 
 would be an interesting experiment.” 
 
 “A sort of hash, in fact, of Cleopatra, Eaustine, Ashtaroth, 
 and an idealised — Jenny Sandham. Ha ! Touche, I think? ” 
 “ Give me a light, will you ? ” 
 
 “ Fill up the flowing beakers. We drink, Carl, to Jenny, 
 
132 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 and may site plunge you into no further insanity than this 
 present rhetorical ecstasy. Vivat ! Floreat ! ” 
 
 The next evening, after a comfortable little dinner en 
 Boheme — I particularise not, with the aim of keeping th^ 
 resorts of the illuminati undesecrated by the curiosity of 
 those in external obfuscation — Carl and Sandy sat, digesting 
 serenely, in the stalls of the pretty little house which has 
 been called the Deanery Theatre. The Burlesque was like 
 many burlesques, composed of a little fun, much stupidity, 
 selections from the music-hall songs, and gorgeous scenery 
 and costume. Through the first act their attention languished, 
 and Sandy was about to say, say, this isn’t good enough. 
 Let’s go somewhere else,” when Carl’s expression suddenly 
 became that of a pointer who sees a partridge, and he said in 
 a hasty whisper, By Jove! Look there!” Jenny, other- 
 wise Miss Theo Morton, entered in the costume worn (on the 
 stage) by the soldiers of the first French Bepublic, and gave 
 a message in two lines, containing three puns, to a fiery-faced 
 general. 
 
 Awfully becoming, though a nuisance in a campaign, 
 those long many-buttoned gaiters are ! ” remarked Sandy with 
 a calm smile. 
 
 ‘‘ Good Lord ! Sow does she get here ?” 
 
 Goodness knows. But she is here, my friend, and has 
 seen us, and so you are in for it.” The comfortable and 
 elegant peacock-blue plush of the Deanery stalls became as 
 thorns for Carl during the remaining two acts, in which J enny 
 appeared a good deal, but was mute. 
 
 At the end of the performance Carl and Sandy went to the 
 stage-door and waited. Don’t send your card in,” said the 
 latter; ^^you don’t want all the loafers here to know your 
 exalted personality. She has seen us, and is bound to come 
 out soon. Donnerwetter ! There’s another pretty girl ; won- 
 der who she’s waiting for ? ” 
 
 This last remark applied to Miss Sadie Levy, who had left 
 her stall behind those of our friends to wait for the same prey 
 at the stage-door. Several miscellaneous human beings were 
 outside that stage- door. There was an old woman waiting 
 for her daughter. There were two or three Junior Im- 
 levies waiting for other people’s daughters, and there was 
 a brougham waiting for Miss Kate Gascoigne. There was 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 133 
 
 an orange-woman and an Echo boy, who combined to fill the 
 narrow side street with hideous sounds. There was a pick- ' 
 pocket watching for an opportunity, and a little way off a 
 policeman, also watching for an opportunity. 
 
 One or two actors came out, and went straight into a tavern 
 opposite the stage-door. Two or three of the chorus came, 
 causing commotion and emotion among the Junior Imherhes. 
 
 Then came Jenny, in a black hat and an ulster. Sadie 
 received her rapturously, and expressed gratitude and de- 
 light for her evening’s amusement. People like Sadie enjoy 
 a burlesque thoroughly. But they enjoy a good strong 
 drama, where they can cry, much more than a spectacle where 
 they sometimes happen to laugh in the right place. Carl and 
 Sandy stood motionless, and let Jenny discover them. 
 
 ‘‘Ah!” she said on seeing Carl. I almost think she 
 blushed, but the gas lamp over the stage door was deep crim- 
 son glass. Then she added: “I couldn’t help doing some- 
 thing to let you know what a swell I’ve become. I’m going 
 to be a celebrity some day.” 
 
 Sandy glanced at Carl expressively. ‘ ‘ Come into the street, ’ ’ 
 said the latter. “We can’t talk well here.” 
 
 J enny introduced her bewildered but self-possessed friend, 
 of whom Sandy instantly took charge, and a two and two 
 procession formed itself in the street. After a little conversa- 
 tion the little regiment got “clubbed” again, and it was 
 suggested by Sandy that two hansoms should be obtained, 
 with a view to refreshments before the stern hand of the law 
 made further refreshment impossible. After a little demur 
 from Sadie about the hour, peremptorily overruled by the 
 impulsive Jenny, the expedition in hansoms was organised, 
 Carl and Jenny in one, Sandy and the charming little Jewess 
 in the other. They drove to the place where the two male 
 elements in the group had dined, and soon a jovial little group 
 was sitting round a table in an upper room, discussing anchovy 
 toast and lager beer. In the fuU, strong light, there, when 
 Carl had taken off his hat and overcoat, Sadie recognised, to 
 her great internal satisfaction and excitement, the Van der 
 Weyde photograph. “I always knew he would turn up at 
 last,” she thought, “ and I believe he’s a trump.” 
 
 Later on, the two girls were sent home to Judaea, or that 
 portion of it existing east of Aldgate Pump, in a prepaid 
 hansom. 
 
134 
 
 THE CORSARS; OR LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 He is an awfully jolly fellow/’ remarked Sadie, '^and 
 awfully handsome. But I think I like the other best, though 
 he isn’t a beauty.” 
 
 You’d better,” replied Jenny shortly. 
 
 Carl and Sandy walked about in the cool night air and 
 soothing solitude of the Strand, Pall Mall, and Haymarket, 
 the latter continually humming a sotto voce song. 
 
 Well,” said Carl, “ What do you think ? ” 
 
 ‘Heureux qui mettra sa cocarde, 
 
 Au bonnet de Mimi Pinson.* 
 
 That’s all I think just at present. Let’s go and have a 
 couple of cocktails at the Cri.” 
 
 So was rivetted the second link that bound Carl to the old 
 romance of the misty sunlit fields of the fen-land, begun that 
 far off summer evening at the old Ship inn. 
 
CHAPTEE Xiy. 
 
 CARL SURRENDERS. 
 
 When Carl came up to town by tbe night train from Water- 
 mouth he thought over all the story which it has taken three 
 chapters to tell only a fragment of. And he thought with 
 sorrow and remorse that he had allowed the memory of the 
 girl Jenny, who loved him, whom he had loved, who worked 
 and suffered to gain an honest living in order to shine in his 
 eyes, almost to pass away from him in the bewildering para- 
 dise whose golden open gates faint hope had shown him only 
 to shut them in his face for ever. He had almost been acting 
 out the cynical advice of his father : If you have love affairs 
 
 take care that the other party is more in love than you are.’’ 
 Sure in the possession of this wild, impulsive, half- educated, 
 wholly-honest girl, he had felt his own passion for her drift- 
 ing away to where 
 
 and 
 
 ** Go the old loves that wither,’^ 
 Wild leaves that winds have taken.** 
 
 He preached often the doctrine of gathering fresh roses, 
 throwing them away when faded, and replacing with new 
 ones ; he had listened and laughed at the light-hearted scorn 
 of Sandy for any kind of feeling for women, except that 
 easy, scornful toleration for a time, and avoidance when 
 satiety set in, which distinguished the gay Mousquetaire # 
 school of gallantry to which he belonged, but he was ashamed 
 in his own heart at having nearly been a personal exponent 
 of the theory. Curse it ! ” he thought, in that third-class 
 smoking compartment, ^^I’m glad May wouldn’t have me — I 
 deserve it.” 
 
 When he got to London it was too late to go anywhere but 
 to bed, where he slept scarcely at all, and half heard the last 
 waltz they had danced while he opened that telegram in the 
 moonlight. 
 
136 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 In the morning he started from the obscure hotel in the 
 Euston Hoad where he had — well — lain awake, and started to 
 see Jenny. She no longer lived east of Aldgate Pump now, 
 but shared a lodging with another girl of the Deanery, over 
 a gas-fitter’s shop in Camberwell, accessible from central Lon- 
 don by ’bus. The other girl was Miss Minnie James. Why she 
 had taken a particular fancy to the name of James it is diffi- 
 cult to say, as her father, the gas-fitter, was called Arnold — 
 quite as ^^nice” a name, one would think, for professional 
 purposes. However, Miss Minnie James she was. Carl had 
 scarcely ever seen this young woman ; at any rate, if he had 
 he noted her not.” 
 
 He took an omnibus and spent a long weary three-quarters 
 of an hour or so in reaching his destination. Then he rang 
 at the bell at the house of one Arnold, a gas-fitter, in a very 
 quiet, respectable-looking street, where tall, brown houses 
 stood back from the causeway behind railed-in pieces of 
 garden. This street is very productive in surgeons and 
 physicians, to say nothing of patent galvanic people and 
 mineral bath people. In fact there is quite a procession of 
 crimson lamps by night and brass gate-plates by day. This 
 is the kind of neighbourhood where rents are low. This is 
 where you will go in response to an advertisement of Bed- 
 room, gent’s, part use of sitting, tram and ’bus.” That is if 
 you do not go to Brixton, Clapham, Barnsbury, Dalston, or 
 Camden Town, where you will find newer, smaller, uglier 
 houses, lacking the dignity and deep colouring to be found 
 in Camberwell. 
 
 All sorts of curious people lodge here, but more particu- 
 larly an immense number of girls who are employed in bars, 
 theatres, and shops. From central London the omnibuses 
 bring them at night in swarms, gathering as they go, desti- 
 'flirnations, Camberwell and Kennington. Sometimes a dark, 
 little street ofi the Walworth Eoad, dingy, not old, merely 
 superannuated, like Versailles. Sometimes a very, very new 
 street, with much iron railing and very new looking Venetian 
 blinds, which indicate furniture inside covered with American 
 cloth, and green and pink vases with lustres appended on 
 the mantelpiece, and a photographic group in a red plush 
 frame on a sideboard, of the master, mistress, and infant of 
 the house. These streets are on the very edge of London, are 
 usually called Eoads, are never finished, and always have a 
 
OK, LOVE AND LUCRE, 
 
 137 
 
 field in the neighbourhood where a new church is building, 
 with a placard in front of it to the effect that funds are 
 urgently needed to finish it. Churches seem to have a sort of 
 carte llanche to spring uninvited into existence, live on ^^tick,’’ 
 and finally become debt-laden, wayside beggars, as here. 
 
 It was not quite so far on the outskirts that the gasfitter’s 
 house stood, but in an old street of tall, brown houses with 
 front gardens and frequent brass plates and crimson lamps as 
 aforesaid. Mr. Arnold himself came to the door in response 
 to Carhs ring. An old man with a grey beard, a nearly 
 bald head (of course with a hat on — gasfitters, like gentle- 
 men at clubs, always have a hat on indoors), a long, black 
 apron, two mild, pathetic, pale-blue eyes, and an accent 
 which was the result of thirty years of London on a basis of 
 Yorkshire. 
 
 Professor Corsar, come in, sir. I hope you have your 
 health, sir.” These people always called him Professor — ^they 
 thought it correct and respectful. 
 
 ‘‘Yes, thanks. How are you ? ” 
 
 “ Well, sir, well as one can hope at sixty-five. IVe a great 
 many things to be thankful for, no doubt.” 
 
 “ Have you ? Lucky man. How’s Miss Morton ? ” 
 
 “ She is nicely, I think ; nicely, thank you, sir, and will be 
 glad to hear you’ve returned.” 
 
 “ I thought — I understood she wasn’t well ? ” 
 
 “She has had a bit of a cold, and perhaps been a little 
 bilious the last day or two, it is true, now I think of it, but 
 nothing to hurt. I take it it’s those nasty, draughty wings at 
 the theatre, you know. You mightn’t believe it, sir, but when 
 I was employed, as I was, sir, some ten or so years ago, to help 
 arranging the footlights and floats, and one little thing and 
 another, at the Deanery Theatre, which you know, sir, was 
 rebuilt in 1869, I caught such rheumatism as I never had 
 in all my life. But there, I suppose the people there, car- 
 penters and that, gets used to it.” 
 
 “ Yes. Can I see Miss Morton ? ” 
 
 “Oh, well, yes, sir; you would catch her now "at the 
 theatre. She and my own girl went off by the ’bus just be- 
 fore you come. I should think you would have passed them 
 now about ten minutes ago.” 
 
 Carl suppressed with some difficulty the natural profanity 
 
 K 
 
138 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 wliich strong irritation prompted, and said, Then I suppose 
 she is quite well really? ” 
 
 Well, you may say so now, I think. Nothing the matter 
 there sir, no, nothing to signify. There’s my son Dick, now, 
 was a bit anxious about her — more than she deserved, if I 
 may say so to you, sir ; but then a young man do think more 
 of a young woman’s headache than an old man’s heartache, 
 they say.” 
 
 What business was it of his ? ” 
 
 There, sir! ” said the plaintive but long-winded old gas- 
 fitter, those are the very words I used to him. I said, Dick, 
 what is the young lady to you ? I have given you an education 
 above your station, I have saved to bring you up like some- 
 thing better than you are ; but that was not for you to be here 
 at thirty years old doing nothing, spending money on fine 
 clothes, and lying in bed half the morning — but there, I 
 suppose it’s our fault The fact is his mother was always too 
 kind to the boy, and gave him too good an opinion of himself. 
 I said to him that he had no right to think about a young lady 
 of the theatre, who might be a Keeley or Siddons some day 
 perhaps, and as good as engaged to Professor Corsar ; and, 
 says he, (I’m sorry to say it, sir, but says he) ^ D Profes- 
 
 sor Corsar 1 ’ ” 
 
 Did he, indeed ? ” 
 
 ^^He did so, sir. I was regular angry with him. I said 
 what right had he to speak so of a gentleman ? And he said, 
 
 ^ D him, and his Sandy Maxwell too I ’ Oh, Mr. Maxwell 
 
 was down here the other day, and Miss Levy. Ah, she gave 
 Dick a proper setting down, she did I ” 
 
 Maxwell was here, was he ? ” 
 
 ^^Yes, sir.” 
 
 Well, I’m off. Thanks for your information, Mr. 
 Arnold.” 
 
 And Carl strode away, too angry, too much in a hurry to 
 do anything but walk. He must have exercise of some kind 
 to get over the storm and confusion this conversation had 
 provoked in him. ^‘Now, there’ll have to be a row about 
 this,” he reflected. ^^I wonder what the deuce Sandy was 
 after down here ? Mr. Dick Arnold doesn’t matter so much, 
 but I have a notion that Sandy’s conduct in any situation 
 where pretty girls are concerned is not quite all that might 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 139 
 
 Idg desired. No, hang it ! He’s my friend and I’ll trust him. 
 Here, hansom ! ” One of the rare hansoms of this neighbour- 
 hood appeared. 
 
 Go to the Deanery Theatre, and drive like sin.” 
 
 Eight, sir.” 
 
 It is very soothing when in a stormy temper to be conveyed 
 rapidly in a hansom for some distance. The satisfaction of 
 seeing the foot passengers flying right and left is almost worth 
 the half-a-crown or more, probably three shillings, which will 
 be demanded. There are states of mind in which we yearn to 
 hail the nearest Juggernaut car, if we can find the stand, 
 harness six fire-brigade horses to it, mount on the top, and 
 proceed very rapidly down — say Oheapside — at noon, and past 
 the Mansion House, yelling pseans of vengeful joy and 
 dancing on the roof with a revolver in each hand. A very 
 competent Juggernaut can be got out of a common hansom if 
 you put a quart of four ile” into the driver and give him 
 carte blanche as to fines. Try, and you will probably get an 
 interesting exposition as to ‘‘who’s which” at Bow Street 
 afterwards. 
 
 Something of this sort Carl felt. When he arrived at the 
 theatre, where the stage doorkeeper knew him well by sight, 
 he was informed that there was a “ call” at eleven and that 
 no one, by direction of Mr. Symes, could possibly be seen. 
 The rehearsal would probably be over about three in the after- 
 noon. Carl departed to occupy himself as best he could, 
 leaving a message to Miss Theo Morton, to the effect that if 
 she wanted to see him she could take a cab and come to the 
 Bavarian Cafe, in the Strand, a place which both Carl and 
 “professional” people “used,” as publicans put it, a good 
 deal. Then, just to occupy the time, he went for a walk to 
 Trafalgar Square, and into St. James’s Park, and up Consti- 
 tution Hill to Hyde Park Corner, where it occurred to him to 
 call on a man he happened to know at St. George’s Hospital, 
 who had recently passed a very good examination after two 
 terms of Carl’s coaching. This man was an enthusiastic and 
 constant frequenter of two particular kinds of entertainment-- 
 first nights at theatres, and certain peculiar and difficult, 
 though frequent, operations in another sort of theatre. He 
 was at the latter amusement just then, and insisted on Carl’s 
 waiting to see it. 
 
140 
 
 THE CORSAKS; 
 
 This Carl did, and looked on with rather languid interest, 
 turning over in his mind continually the questions : What did 
 J enny mean by giving him the impression that she was at death’s 
 door and wanted him to receive her final deposition ? How 
 did she get his address ? If from Sandy, why did the latter 
 give it her — he, who knew so well the town-gallant’s first 
 commandment, never give a woman a man’s aMress if that 
 man is your friend, more especially if she asks for it ? What 
 was Sandy doing down there at all anyhow ? Why on earth 
 were girls ever made ? and when made, why need they rush 
 to London and go on the stage ? What made him go on that 
 infernal boating tour to Snorham, and that still more unfortu- 
 nate and more recent journey to Watermouth ? And, finally, 
 what he wanted to know was, how was all this going to end ? 
 And then he remembered that after all Jenny loved him, and 
 he her, and that she was only a girl, and girls were not made 
 of the same stuff as men. StiU she must be spoken to 
 seriously. 
 
 As they left and strolled up Piccadilly, his surgical friend 
 supposed Carl was, of course, going to the first night of 
 Alraschid. 
 
 What’s that?” 
 
 Pancy you not knowing ! It’s a forthcoming burlesque 
 at the Deanery.” 
 
 Oh, is it ? When does it come off ?” 
 
 To-morrow night.” 
 
 I dare say I shall be there.” 
 
 ‘‘H’m! I dare say you will.” And the surgical friend 
 grinned, and suggested lunch in the immediate future. They 
 walked up Piccadilly, and lunched at the Cafe Monico. 
 
 And now,” said Carl, I’m afraid I must say good-bye ; 
 I’ve got an engagement.” 
 
 Oh, all right. Ta-ta.” 
 
 Carl walked to the Strand, lingered about, looked at shops 
 and people, and finally dived into the Bavarian Cafe, and sat 
 down before a tall glass of Bavarian beer, and waited. The 
 lunch consumers gradually disappeared, lingering at the bar 
 in the ante-room for a final drink or cigar, and he was soon 
 nearly alone. He finished his beer slowly and waited. When 
 he had got halfway through the next glass and a cigar, a 
 hansom stopped outside, and emitted two young ladies, dressed 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 141 
 
 extremely well and in the height of fashion, with that mys- 
 terious cachet about them which is impossible to locate or 
 define, which proclaims to the practised eye the young lady 
 whose profession is the stage. They carry small plush bags 
 containing a purse, a pocket-handkerchief, and a small 
 j)owder-puff, also in the one case a paper of pins, and in the 
 other a rather dingy roll of ^‘lines’’ and ^^cues” resembling 
 a copy-book. 
 
 One was Jenny, otherwise Miss Theo Morton, of the Deanery 
 Theatre, very different now from the Jenny Sandham, of the 
 ^^Ship Inn,’’ Snorham, Carl had first seen some two or three 
 years ago. This was a tall and graceful young woman, with 
 an expression of slightly exaggerated unconsciousness that 
 all the men present turned to look at her, while the barmaid 
 made notes of her costume — a highly becoming summer print, 
 stiff from the hands of a skilled laundress. This was a young 
 lady who talked learnedly about matters theatrical, called her 
 manager old Jimmy, addressed female friends by their sur- 
 names, read the Referee on Sunday mornings, and knew all 
 the ’bus routes and fares in the four-mile radius. She had 
 not forgotten the fiery sunsets veiled in fenland fog, or the 
 man with whom she had spent so many sweet minutes in 
 gazing on the same. Her friend was fair. Very imposing 
 they both looked as they jetted” up to Carl’s table, under 
 the eyes of a worthy family from the country, who had got 
 into this place by some accident, and were regaling on beef- 
 steaks and bottled ale in a place the strong points of which 
 were Wiener Schnitzel” and Aecht Bairisch.” 
 
 Suppose she’s brought the other girl as a shield against 
 the impending row,” thought Carl carelessly. 
 
 Then Jenny shook hands and said. 
 
 My friend. Miss Minnie James — Mr. Carl Corsar, Professor 
 by rights, only it sounds so like a person who prestidigi — 
 bother ! conjures I mean.” 
 
 Carl bowed and looked at Miss Minnie James. What was 
 it that caused a sort of tremor to pass through him, as if he 
 had touched the handles of an induction coil ? It seemed to 
 him that there was a strange, unaccountable suggestion and 
 similitude, in this tall fair young burlesque actress who was 
 clad as the lilies and poppies of the field, while her father 
 wore a black apron with a hammer-containing pocket to it, 
 
142 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 and fitted gas in Camberwell, to- — May Baynbam. There 
 was the likeness. It was not strong, but it suggested itself 
 at once, though Miss Minnie James had an expression quite 
 her own. An expression which said plainly, I enjoy, I take, 
 I help myself and no one else ; I am admired, and take it as. 
 a due. What you can gather, I can scatter. All you can 
 save I can waste, and turn elsewhere for more. I have large 
 pathetic eyes, and find them very useful. When you think 
 they hunger for sympathy they really mean that I hunger for 
 nice things to eat, and dresses, and fans, and long gloves, and 
 wine that fizzes and pops — preferably at your expense, though 
 I think you a fool for spending the money. And I think 
 right as a rule. I like a good part, where plenty of people 
 can see plenty of me. I^m worth seeing, and know it.” 
 
 Not a very good companion for Jenny, surely? Yet it is 
 better,” Carl thought, for her to live with this family than 
 by herself, in spite of Mr. Dick Arnold, educated up to the- 
 point of despising his people and his work, I suppose, and 
 Miss Minnie James with her — oh, where did she get that face, 
 and what induced Jenny to bring her here ? ” 
 
 Miss James was taller than May, and possessed what Mr. 
 Symes (popularly old Jimmy), called a good front-row figure. 
 One of the long, slim, square-shouldered figures which came 
 into fashion a few years ago. The ladies sat down at Carhs. 
 table, and the tall, hovering, black-haired waiter was commis* 
 sioned to bring them some beer. 
 
 Carl looked outwardly calm, in reply to Miss Theo Morton^ s 
 searching glance. She is not half bad, not bad at all,” 
 he reflected. Improved since I last saw her. The Boyal 
 Deanery Theatre is a liberal education.” Aloud, he said. 
 
 Well, Jenny, what have you got to say for yourself ? ” 
 
 I have been rather seedy lately.” 
 
 So I was led to suppose. I may remark that you look 
 the picture of robust health. Had too much Bavarian Beer 
 and oysters, I suppose.” 
 
 No, but I was really bad ; wasn’t I, James ? Couldn’t go 
 to rehearsal one day.” 
 
 Quite true, dear. Are you coming to the first night of 
 AlrascJiid, Mr. Corsar ?” (Nothing like changing the subject 
 my dear, when they ask questions, she said afterwards to 
 Jenny). 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 113 
 
 I don’t know.” 
 
 Oh, Carl 1 You must; I’ve got a lot to say.” 
 
 ‘^I’ve got some lines, too,” added Miss James. 
 
 With these inducements I suppose it’s inevitable.” 
 
 Of course,” said Jenny. What have you been doing all 
 this time ? I have hardly heard of your existence.” 
 have been working a good deal.” 
 
 In the country?” 
 
 I have only been in the country a few days.” 
 
 Hang it, young woman,” he thought, I didn’t come here 
 to defend myself, but to pitch into you.” 
 
 After a good deal of desultory, very uninteresting conversa- 
 tion, Miss Minnie James, to Carl’s immense relief, said that 
 she must go, and went. He connected her departure with 
 the sudden vision of a gorgeous youth in the outer part of 
 the restaurant, rather of the Junior Imherlis order, and 
 thought no more of the matter. Then he turned to Jenny, 
 and said. 
 
 Now, will you explain ? ” 
 
 Explain what ? ” 
 
 Well, that telegram in the first place. Do you know that 
 it made me travel up to London in the middle of the night 
 yesterday, and go wandering on a ’bus to Camberwell this 
 morning? ” 
 
 Carl, do please forgive me. I oughtn’t to have done it, I 
 know. But I thought, I don’t altogether know why, partly 
 because I dreamed it, and partly because you seemed to have 
 forgotten all about me, and never wrote now, or came to see 
 me or anything, that you had — got fond of some other girl. 
 And I was really seedy too when I sent that.” 
 
 J enny looked very pitiful and very pretty as she stared 
 sadly at her tall glass of beer. Carl certainly felt that the 
 <^row” he proposed having was dissolving and becoming 
 slowly more and more relegated to the regions of procrasti- 
 nation, improbability, and impossibility one after another. 
 He kept up the cold cross-examination style a little longer, 
 however. 
 
 How did you get my address ? ” 
 
 Maxwell gave it me.” 
 
 ^ ^ I wish you would either call a man by his Christian name 
 or put a Mr. to his surname.’’ 
 
144 
 
 THE CORSAES; 
 
 All right, I’ll try, Carl. But you must have patience 
 with me. I’m not a lady after all, you know, and can’t 
 always do everything the right way as a matter of course, 
 like the lady you know down there at Watermouth.” 
 
 What do you know about her ? ” 
 
 Oh, there is one then! Oh, Carl, I thought so.” 
 
 ‘ ^ More information from Sandy ? Tell me exactly now 
 what he did tell you.” 
 
 ‘ ‘ He told me about the lunches, and fun, and so on you 
 and he had been having at Fenchester, and how you were 
 going down in the holidays to stay with him. He didn’t 
 exactly say there was a girl, but I understood it. I’m not 
 sure whether he was trying not to let me know, or to look as 
 if he were, but either way, he might have been sure of my 
 guessing.” 
 
 Of course he was. Carl’s eyes flashed. 
 
 ‘^Why should By Jove!” laughed Carl, ^^I believe 
 
 the suspicious and diplomatic young ass has been jealous of 
 me — of me ! Go on Jenny.” 
 
 That’s possible. When I wanted your address — all he 
 had been saying to me and to Sadie, and so on, and the way 
 he loolced, and everything had made us both very unhappy ; I 
 told her to get it out of Mr. Maxwell. She is dreadfully fond 
 of him, you know, and he seems to care for her as he might 
 for a cat or a dog ; that’s why she likes him, I think. I sup- 
 pose you’re the same. You like me as long as I am pretty 
 and nicely dressed, and do to be seen going about with you 
 when it’s convenient, that’s all. I wish I were a cat or a 
 dog, then I could always go about with you ; then you’d get 
 fond of some lady, and give me away to her as a present, I 
 suppose.” 
 
 Please go on with your evidence. We’ll go into the cat 
 and dog question afterwards.” 
 
 So Sadie asked him for his country address, as if to write 
 to him sometimes herself, and he, knowing Sadie liked him 
 too much ever to annoy him in any way, told her. Then I 
 knew you were staying with him, you see, so his address 
 would do for you. I believe he wanted me to send for you, 
 to get you out of the way, only didn’t like to say so straight, 
 after asking you to come himself.” 
 
 Fuftny fellow. One of my best friends too, but he will 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 145 
 
 be so infernally suspicious where any girls are concerned. 
 And all this Machiavelli business is so d silly.’’ 
 
 ^^But, Carl, you’ll forgive me for bothering you like this ? 
 It is silly, I know, but I couldn’t bear the idea of your for- 
 getting all about me — down there with her — and when I saw 
 JSadie’s face after Mr. Maxwell had gone, and she knew very 
 well that he was going straight to see this girl, the one you 
 say he is jealous about, I wondered if I looked like it — be- 
 cause I felt like it. And I dreamed about you, and then I 
 woke up and cried all by myself in the middle of the night, 
 and went over all the things you had said when we went out 
 walks in the fens to see the sun go down far away over the 
 black fields. I remeinber every word nearly. And I hoped 
 she would like Maxwell, and not you.” 
 
 ^^Well, don’t cry now, for goodness sake. Drink your 
 beer.” Carl was trying hard to keep up the stern, unfeeling 
 tone. It felt like such treachery, such abnegation of all he 
 had said to May to allow himself to be affected by what some 
 other girl said in her suffering. 
 
 Are you fond of her, Carl ? Do you like her better than 
 me ? ” 
 
 Carl looked at .the strange, sad face of the girl before him, 
 and remembered that she had no father or mother, and 
 dependent on him for ideas, for happiness, and everything. 
 She had never committed the shadow of a fiirtation with any 
 other man, many as her inducements had been under the tute- 
 lage of her friend Miss James. May was lost for ever. If May 
 were here to advise him now, what would she say when she 
 saw what a hopeless gulf of despair and degradation would 
 open before this wandering, impulsive, fatherless girl if her 
 only competent and sure guide and friend were to leave her 
 to her own devices and the ethics of Miss Minnie James, in 
 the merciless maze of great darkness with glittering points, 
 called London ? 
 
 ^‘No,” said Carl. He believed in nothing that he could 
 pray to, and he prayed vaguely, to May principally, to help 
 him through this crisis. 
 
 ^^Do you love me still, Carl then, after all?” said Jenny, 
 in a low eager voice, with a spark of wild delight in her dark, 
 sad eyes. 
 
 Yes,” said Carl. 
 
\ 
 
 Colonel Cyrus Shute became an object of great interest and , ■ ] 
 curiosity to tbe little circle at Watermouth. He always bad 
 interesting and appropriate anecdotes in stock, in order to ^ 
 
 give cases in point’’ to any desired topic, and bad acquired ^ 
 
 a tolerably efficient standard by wbicb to guage tbe mytb- 
 swallowing capacity of bis audience. He knew tbat Jobn ; ^ 
 Haynbam was taken by tbe abrupt manly style, witb an 
 occasional dasb of suppressed emotion, about tbe Old Cause 
 or tbe Old Flag. He knew that May liked descriptions of ^ 
 mining adventure, of revolvers, of forest fires, and gold ore, 
 put witb picturesqueness and quiet humour. The other ladies 
 of tbe family preferred to instruct Shute in tbe peculiarities of “ M 
 English civilised society, feeling tbe same satisfaction as 
 those who teach tbe blessings of tall bats and trousers to tbe 
 Papuan, or of soap and total abstinence to tbe denizens of ' 
 tbe London slums. It is pleasanter to instruct than to be j 
 instructed as a rule, and Shute assumed tbe harmless and 
 dove-like demeanour wbicb came from a sensation of shyness . 
 be never could quite get rid of in the presence of these well- ^ ^ 
 dressed high-toned” ladies. 
 
 He did not feel so shy witb May. She understood his J 
 peculiar vein of humour, was not shocked at bis most san- 
 guinary tales of tbe Pacific Slope. In fact. May rather liked 
 him, and was amused by him, and once made him almost "A 
 ‘‘feel mean” at the thought that he was existing on such ;f 
 thoroughly false pretences in the society of this happy, cheery j 
 
 English family. “Don’t care a curse about the men,” he 'M 
 
 thought. “Waller will take in most things I like to tell m 
 him by nOw, and I can always get a little money out of young M 
 cousin Arthur in giving him billiard lessons. Mr. Maxwell 'M 
 
THE CORSARS; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 147 
 
 is a bluffing kind of shaloot. I’ll give Mm away clean witli 
 pleasure, but it does seem mean to go back on that girl. 
 However, business is business, mean or not.” 
 
 Sandy disliked Sbute strongly, partly because May seemed 
 to like him, partly because Shute patronised him, gave him 
 advice, and addressed him as young man.” 
 
 Mr. Waller Eaynham was staying at the George Hotel, in 
 Watermouth, and Colonel Shute was staying (at Waller’s 
 expense j at the same place. They took a good many of their 
 meals at John Haynham’s hospitable table, where they had a 
 general invitation. It was a fine and imposing sight, after 
 lunch, on the fine days to see Colonel Shute standing on the 
 lawn with a big cigar under the big black moustache, his feet 
 well apart, his hands behind him, enjoying the ‘^calm repose 
 of nature,” and longing for some one to bet with On the per- 
 petual games of tennis. He did not care for so much unpro-^^ 
 ductive exertion himself, but he would like to bet on the 
 players. He did sometimes with Arthur Haynham, and 
 usually won. At billiards he rather astonished that young 
 gentleman, though after pocketing a few small bets he was 
 good enough to decline, in a paternal way, to take any more 
 of his money, though he took great pains to teach him to 
 play. At billiards, too, he had an opportunity of showing 
 ‘‘Young Mr. Maxwell” that he, Sandy, “couldn’t do just 
 everything” better than everybody else, as Shute suspected 
 him of believing he could. 
 
 Sandy was now, since Carl’s departure (“for which praise 
 and glory be,” said Cyrus), the only person who suspected the 
 genuineness of Colonel Shute’ s wars and rumours of wars, 
 and the reality pf his vast wealth (largely now due to the 
 “Anna Maria” Company). Shute perfectly saw that Sandy 
 disliked, doubted, and tried to snub him, and took a propor- 
 tionate interest in Sandy’s welfare. He used the hard little 
 eyes behind their gold and glass fortifications enough to find 
 out that “Young Mr. Maxwell was foolin’ around after Miss 
 May. Yes. Go on. Young Mr. Maxwell. You think, with 
 your eddication and your singin’, and your talkin’ and playin’ 
 and speakin’ with tongues and prophesyin’, you can always see 
 me and see a hundred better. But some time I’ll Call you.” 
 
 Otherwise, Cyrus almost forgot sometimes, in the pleasant- 
 ness and peace of the little orbit in which he now circulated. 
 
118 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 that there was such a thing (or rather, that there wasnH such 
 a thing) as the Anna Maria” Company. He had asked no 
 one to invest in it, no one to become directors, &c. He had as 
 yet simply allowed the rumour to spread that it was one of 
 the principal sources of his own wealth, and that he was 
 unwilling that shares should be taken, wishing to keep them 
 in his own hands. So much so, that he occasionally depre- 
 ciated the concern, and spoke of the expense and risk of gold- 
 mining, and the strong chance of persons losing their money 
 thereby. This, of course, led many persons to think, and to 
 tell each other confidentially, that Cyrus Shute’s pie was so 
 nice a one that he wished to keep all other fingers out of it. 
 Precisely what Cyrus meant them to think. Then, naturally, 
 they began to wish to insert their fingers into that pie. Pre- 
 cisely what Cyrus meant them to wish. 
 
 One fine, still summer afternoon, the regiment to which Hol- 
 ’royd and Cameron belonged, gave a dance, to which Mrs. 
 Paynham, her two elder daughters and Arthur went. May and 
 her father stayed at home, and consequently Sandy. And 
 John Paynham sat under tjae elms smoking a cigar and feel- 
 ing very happy and comfortable, while May, in a picturesque 
 embroidered costume, and Sandy in flannels, with a crimson 
 handkerchief round his waist and a flexible broad black hat 
 curved carefully at the right angles and directions on his head, 
 was her opponent. 
 
 At the usual hour, i.e,^ about half-an-hour before the after- 
 noon-tea, which Cyrus Shute had been instructed to like, as 
 part of modern civilisation and more wholesome and beneficial 
 than whisky, that gentleman appeared, having left W aller at 
 the Watermouth Yacht Club, after lunch thereat. He wore 
 a tall hat and a black frock-coat unbuttoned. He always did. 
 
 May said, You would walk up Mont Blanc in a tall hat 
 and an unbuttoned frock-coat, I do believe.” 
 
 Cyrus replied calmly, did.” 
 
 Of course a long cigar (paid for by Waller at the club) 
 protruded from under the black moustache. He was allowed 
 to smoke everywhere. It was a sort of compromise between 
 Mrs. and the Misses Paynham (the Missionaries), on the one 
 part, and Cyrus Shute (the savage) on the other, that if he 
 would take afternoon tea instead of whisky, he should be 
 allowed to smoke long cigars all the time.” You see what 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 149 
 
 a condition of playful submission and familiarity existed now 
 on the part of the warrior and adventurer, the Lord of the 
 Pistol and Eight Bower, the Brass-headed Corpse-maker of 
 the Pacific Slope. Here he was taking afternoon-tea, and 
 being instructed like a tame bear by two or three ladies in 
 what he ‘^mustn’t” do. Wealth is a power, ^^yea,’’ said 
 Cyrus, ^4t is a big thing.” 
 
 May nodded to him amicably, as she rushed about racquet 
 in hand, giving back Sandy’s vicious volleys. Mr. Eaynham 
 arose and said, 
 
 “ Ah, Colonel Shute ! How are you ? Come and sit down.” 
 
 Sandy took no notice of Cyrus at all, making his intense 
 pre-occupation in the game a pretext. This was not lost on 
 Colonel Shute, who said, 
 
 ^ ^ Pretty sight, ain’t it ? Almost makes one feel young 
 again.” 
 
 I shouldn’t think you had much difficulty in feeling that, 
 Shute. Why, to me you are a young man yet — and I don’t 
 feel old.” 
 
 Sir, I am forty-three last Thanksgiving. But forty- three 
 years of my kind of life make one^ older than sixty of yours. 
 I have fought ; I have been beaten. I have lost all that was 
 dear to me, I have been in prison (this was true) for the 
 good old Cause (this was not true, unless fleecing one’s 
 fellow-man be the good old Cause), like St. Paul, I have 
 been beaten with rods (and he might have added, ridden 
 on a rail), though I guess I ain’t like him in most other 
 ways. It’s hard not to get worldly, whether you want to or 
 not, sometimes, and a sight like that washes the grit and 
 muck out of one, and makes one wish one wasn’t mostly hard 
 pan and no gold. I loved a woman, sir, once. Never loved 
 any since — well there, that ain’t entertaining to other folks, 
 nor it ain’t much of a story after all.” 
 
 “ Go on Colonel. I don’t wish to be prying, but you inte- 
 rest my curiosity, and it demands satisfaction.” 
 
 Well, there ain’t much story. I was an out-post down the 
 Potomac — she was round there tendin’ the wounded or some- 
 thin’. Somebody saw me and drew on me, ’tother side. She 
 
 saw it. Took the d d Yankee bullet herself, ’stead o’ 
 
 me. Haven’t hankered after any other woman since — much. 
 See?” 
 
1.50 THE CORSARS; 
 
 Mr. Raynliam nodded his head in a silent, sympathetic way, 
 and said, 
 
 I see. I beg your pardon for insisting on the story. It’s 
 a beautiful one though.” 
 
 ^^AVell — it is.” Cyrus thought it a very pretty story in- 
 deed. He had read it in an American newspaper some twenty 
 years ago, and made a memorandum in a book. Woman. 
 Bullet. Potomac. Useful — pathetic. To be learned off right 
 away, for telling of self.” 
 
 Now them two,” pursued the Colonel, they seem to get 
 on elegant at that game, don’t they? ” 
 
 Yes. Oh, yes. They’ve been playmates ever since they 
 ^were children. They almost seem to me to be children still.” 
 
 Yes, but they’re not. I never had any children of my 
 own ; but most I’ve seen grew up, when Providence didn’t 
 ■^take ^em early, in the form of measles, or distemper, or 
 ^sech. Well, these are grown up. Do you mean ’em to be 
 playmates all the time, for life, if I may ask? ” 
 
 ^^Well, it certainly has never occurred to me that they 
 sshould — er— marry. That would require very serious consi- 
 <d:.eration before I allowed it.” 
 
 ■^‘It’s occurred to them, anyway.” 
 
 But how do you know this ? ” 
 
 Usual signs. More evident, of course, to an occasional 
 'spectator, like me, than to you who see ’em all the time. 
 Secluded walks in forests primevyal, represented in this ease 
 by a portion of your magnificent estate. Saw ’em once, before 
 I had time to turn the other way and get absorbed in fungus- 
 hunting, greet one another with an holy kiss. Well, 4t’s real 
 mean of me to spoil sport, and young Mr. Maxwell is a 
 clever young man with gifts. I hope he has many prospects, 
 though he don’t like me. Guess I’m too rough a lot’ for 
 the like of him, and yet Miss May, God bless her, don’t seem 
 to find me too rough to talk to. If I’ve said more than I 
 oughter I’m sorry, Mr. Paynham, real sorry, but you’re the 
 girl’s father, and it’s your right to know it all. And now my 
 responsibility is clear.” 
 
 I am very much obliged to you. Colonel Shute.” 
 
 Prout arrived with the afternoon tea, and the tennis game 
 was interrupted for the administration of tea by May, who 
 said — 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 151 
 
 “ How do you do, Colonel Sliute ? 
 
 I thank you, Miss May. Very well, indeed, and very glad 
 to see you. Very glad to see you, Mr. Maxwell.’’ 
 
 Sandy, hot, with a racket in one hand, which was an excuse 
 for not shaking Colonel Shute’s, gave that person a rather 
 superior and contemptuous recognition. 
 
 ^‘Tea will be through directly,” said May. suppose 
 you will have some ? ” 
 
 thank you. I was about to say. Miss May, that I 
 shall probably have a drink with you — of tea, for the last 
 time in this very pleasant place. I must go right back to 
 the city to-morrow.” 
 
 To London ? ” 
 
 ^^Yes. Bin wasting time here quite pleasantly. Haven’t 
 noticed how much of it I was wasting. See, Miss May, 
 you have no idea what business and work means now, I 
 suppose ? ” 
 
 ^^Oh, yes, I have. Business means talking to somebody 
 in a room, with sherry on the table, while somebody else 
 waits in an anteroom. Work means writing letters to some- 
 body else who is to come and talk, with sherry on the table. 
 Then somebody pays some money, and several people shake 
 hands very hard, and drink some more sherry and laugh. 
 I’ve seen it done.” 
 
 ^^Well, substituting whisky as the form of refreshment, 
 that^ is not a bad description — of my way of transacting. 
 But it’s got to be done, and as your pappa will tell you, if 
 you want to get, right through with anything, you must be 
 there yourself and know it all.” 
 
 ‘‘Very true,” said Mr. Baynham, a little absently. He 
 seemed to be working algebraic problems, in which two known 
 and one unknown quantity figured. The known quantities 
 were May and Sandy. The unknown, which he was trying 
 to work out, was Cyrus Shute. “We shall be sorry to lose 
 you,” he added, “all of us, I think. Hope to see you down 
 here again some day, eh? ” 
 
 “ I hope you will.” 
 
 Tea was consumed. Sandy sat on the grass, on the side 
 remote from Colonel Shute, and conversed inaudibly with 
 May, who looked embarrassed, as if she were being made a 
 participator in an unwilling rudeness, and told Sandy he 
 
152 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 shouldn’t. Whereat said he didn’t care. After tea Sandy 
 said — 
 
 Let’s have another game,” and stood up, racket in hand, 
 making a ball run up and down his arm. 
 
 May followed with a little hesitation. Mr. Eaynham and 
 Cyrus walked about talking, and finally disappeared towards 
 the house, seemingly with the view of taking a glass of 
 wine. 
 
 don’t think I can play any more,” said May; ^'I’m 
 so tired after sitting down. You don’t feel it till after you’ve 
 rested for a time.” 
 
 Then, my dear baby, don’t let’s play. Come for a walk 
 in the grounds.” 
 
 ^ Wery well. But not long, because it looks so fimny if 
 I’m not in in good time to dress.” 
 
 ^^Does it? Oh, well, it won’t look funny soon. It’ll look 
 perfectly natural when they’re used to it.” 
 
 Sandy, when are you going to tell papa? ” 
 
 Tell him what ? ” 
 
 About — you and me.” 
 
 I don’t know. I’m thinking it over.” 
 
 I think you ought — soon.” 
 
 So do I — soon. Let’s get among the trees, then we shall 
 look like people in a modern Academy picture.” And Sandy 
 gave a shake, as if to disburden himself of responsibilities. 
 
 Is that a desirable state of things ? ” 
 
 Yes. Come along. Besides, there’s a nice secluded seat 
 there, which was made for us, I think. Here we are, come 
 and sit down. There.” 
 
 Don’t, Sandy ! some one is sure to be looking.” 
 
 Bosh. It is a Sahara of solitude. Give me another.” 
 This sort of thing went on for about an hour. These two 
 lovers cooed and gibbered to one another in the ordinary way, 
 said the inevitable things, and repeated them the regulation 
 number of times, losing the memory of time and responsibility 
 while tracing the gorgeous hues of that stormy and splendid 
 cloudland in which rises the dawn of love. A pretty picture. 
 A young man and a young maid, sitting on a bench in the 
 friendly and concealing shade of a gigantic yew. She half 
 leaning across him, with a small ear hearkening to the loud, 
 healthy lubb, dup ! lubb, dup ! ” of a heart that had made 
 
oil, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 153 
 
 tlie same intelligent remark to some two score other little 
 ears, some with dusky, some with golden ringlets round 
 them ; playing with and re-arranging the hair some fourscore 
 other little hands, sun-tanned and white, had fingered, lis- 
 tening to the fervent, caressing words long practice brought 
 glibly to those lips that rolled out French r’s in an irresistible 
 low murmur. He looking and listening with half-awed 
 wonder at that real modesty, real freshness, and real fervour 
 of first love which had a sacredness almost beyond his power 
 to reverence. He comparing mentally her demeanour, words 
 and attitudes to those of the Others, wondering how it was 
 he never had experienced this sort of thing before, feeling 
 how infinitely above and beyond the frivolous, transitory 
 frailties which had strewn his path so long, this new, strong, 
 tender feeling was, which sometimes made him feel ashamed, 
 and once or twice made him even for a few moments forget 
 self. A pretty picture, and one of which there are many 
 replicas. 
 
 ^^I’m afraid you’ve got hold of a rather useless fellow, 
 Baby.” 
 
 I’m afraid so. Never mind. I dare say you can do 
 something if you try.” 
 
 Sandy had not expected to be agreed with in this matter-of- 
 fact way. He expected to be reminded of his various 
 accomplishments and many excellences, and ^ be told that 
 there was really nothing in the world of w^h he was not 
 capable of immediately assuming the control. 
 
 At this period it happened that Colonel Shute was strolling 
 about the premises, his gold glasses peering into perspective, 
 with the aim of finding these two truants. His object was 
 twofold. He had undertaken to give Sandy a message from 
 Mr. Eaynham, if he should succeed in finding him, on his 
 way out; and he wished, for his own gratification, to say 
 good-bye to May. 
 
 ^^And if I find one of ’em, I guess I’U find two,” he 
 reflected. He very soon noticed them between the branches 
 of the yew. The artlessly obvious, yea conspicuous, hiding- 
 places, thought complete and sufficient by lovers, are pro- 
 verbial ; a room where anybody may enter at any moment ; 
 a dining-table, where they join hands under the cloth, to the 
 delight of everybody, and then whisper ; railway tunnels, 
 
 L 
 
154 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 where they seem to think it is dark, and not to know quite 
 how long the obscurity will last, but rather to suppose three- 
 quarters of an hour. Here a comparison to a well-authenti- 
 cated habit of the ostrich may fitly be made. 
 
 Having espied his quarry. Colonel Shute changed his direc- 
 tion, so as to approach them from the front. This necessitated 
 a detour of some distance, as there was no convenient cover’’ 
 for such skirmishing, or rather scout- duty, in the immediate 
 vicinity of the yew. Still, to gain the direct approach, and 
 lose all suspicion of being a spy, the trouble was worth taking. 
 He was not noticed by the two young people until he was too 
 near for them to pretend not to see him, and go away. 
 
 Hullo ! ” said Sandy. 
 
 Mr. Maxwell, sir. Mr. Eaynham wants to speak with you 
 right away. Better hurry.” 
 
 Shan’t hurry,” murmured Sandy, sullenly. 
 
 Oh yes, do go, Sandy; don’t be silly,” whispered May. 
 
 Can I speak to you for a few minutes. Miss May?” 
 asked Shute, in a matter-of-fact un-emotional tone — the tone 
 he always. talked in. 
 
 Certainly, Colonel Shute.” 
 
 I thank you.” And Cyrus waited, while Sandy went 
 slowly away, his mouth full of cursing and bitterness, and 
 himself strongly inclined to shed Cyrus Shute’s blood. Cyrus 
 stood still, chewing his cigar and looking benevolently at the 
 retreating Saai^y through his glasses. When Sandy was well 
 out of earshot he spoke : 
 
 This is quite a nice bench. Miss May. Will you allow 
 me to sit on it ? ” 
 
 Oh, of course.” 
 
 Will you do me the favour to sit on it too ? I talk easier 
 sitting.” 
 
 << Very well.” 
 
 Sandy turned round and looked at this juncture, and saw 
 the re-occupation of the bench. And he went into Mr. Eayn- 
 ham’s study in a very bad temper indeed. 
 
 ‘‘Well, I’m right down sorry I’m quitting out of here. Miss 
 May.” 
 
 “I’m right down sorry too,” said May, gravely, in the 
 same tone. Cyrus twitched, and liked her all the better for it. 
 
 “ Ah, now you are trying to give me away. Well, you are 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 ^ 155 
 
 about the only person on this world who succeeds.” Then, after 
 a pause, You know I like you, Miss May. I’m old enough to 
 be your father, so you needn’t mind my saying that. In fact, 
 I feel as if I’d like to be a relative of yours — an elderly rela- 
 tive, say uncle. How’d Uncle Cyrus sound ? ” 
 
 I don’t like uncles. All the uncles in stories are rather a 
 bad lot.” 
 
 Well, I’m a bad lot; so that’s approprit.” 
 
 Yes, I suppose you are. Yes, I think, on reflection, you 
 will do for an uncle. I’m going to call you Uncle Cyrus. 
 Now tell me some of the worst things you have done. I want 
 to be told stories.” 
 
 Is that so ? ” quoth Cyrus. You shall be. What special 
 brand of iniquity do you hanker after ? Homicide ? Did I 
 ever teU you about how I shot Jack Dillon down Leadville ? ” 
 “ No. Who was he ? ” 
 
 ^‘By occupation a county sheriff. A small, fair -haired 
 chap, with a kind of stammer, and the mildest possible tone. 
 Shot fifty-four men, he had, in his time. Well, he came into 
 the theatre bar with a culle’d man, where I happened to be 
 having a drink. Jest after the war, that was, and feelings 
 was bitter, and I made a remark to the bar-keep that I didn’t 
 know culle’d men got served in that bar. Jack Dillon turned 
 round and said, ^ Who the h — ank are you, anyhow? ’ (Cyrus 
 is supposed to have meant to say blank, but to have brought 
 in the correction a little too late.) I said I was Colonel 
 Cyrus Shute, lately serving under General Bewryguard in 
 the 14th Texas Cavalry. He said I could go to — well ” 
 
 To what we will agree to call ^ hank,’ ” suggested May. 
 Cyrus twitched. 
 
 That is so. At that moment it occurred to those present, 
 with the exception of we two, to quit that bar. We each had 
 a navy six.” 
 
 In England you would have each had a navy nine, in all 
 probability — later,” remarked May, demurely. 
 
 Barrels ? ” 
 
 No. Tails. Go on. Uncle Cyrus.” 
 
 ^‘Miss May, you oughta been born an American gell. 
 You’re too smart for this country. Well, the bar-keep dived 
 under the bar and got out his Eemington and waited calmly. 
 ^See now,’ he said, ^ you chaps can get out of here — go on, 
 
156 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 have your shootin’ somewhere else. You’ll get breaking the 
 glasses.’ That started it, and Jack shot him first. Then I 
 shot at Jack, and hit his left leg ; didn’t hurt it much, and he 
 got my right hand — knocked off two fingers while I had to 
 take the pistol in my left. Next shot got him through the 
 head and dropped him.” 
 
 ^^IsthataU?” 
 
 That is all.” 
 
 I think I could invent a better story than that, Uncle 
 Cyrus.” 
 
 ‘‘Yes?” 
 
 “ Show me your right hand.” Cyrus showed a right hand 
 with large gold rings on it, and much black hair. 
 
 “I don’t miss those two fingers, somehow, there are five 
 here.” Cyrus twitched, and gravely remarked — 
 
 “ Miss May, I’m a freak of nature. I was born with 
 seven fingers on my right hand.” 
 
 “Ah, Uncle Cyrus, you have ‘given me away’ at last. I 
 think I must go in now.” 
 
 “ Well, I’m sorry ; real sorry. Business is taking me 
 away for quite a while ; but I shall see you again, you bet. 
 Say, Miss May, is there anything in the Prayer Book or any- 
 where, against Uncles being kissed before they go away on 
 business? ” May looked grave. 
 
 “I don’t think you know any better. Uncle Cyrus, or I 
 should be very angry with you. I shall be, if you talk like 
 that again. Eemember that. I like you very well ; but I 
 mean what I say.” 
 
 “Well, good-bye, anyhow.” 
 
 “ Good-bye.” 
 
 And May shook hands with, and was rather sorry to part 
 with this unscrupiilous, but occasionally entertaining, liar and 
 rascal. 
 
 Por his part, he thought, as he walked to the town, 
 “ Young Mr. Maxwell is having a bad time just now, I take 
 it.” Then he smoked and pondered, working out in his 
 mind a peculiarly brilliant idea which had occurred to him. 
 This was nothing less than the conversion of Miss May 
 Eaynham into Mrs. Cyrus Shute. 
 
 “ See now,” he argued, “ how it looks. Pappa, a respect- 
 able, high-toned, rich English gentleman. Uncle Waller, 
 
'V 
 
 OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 157 
 
 member of the legislature— look well on circulars, that name, 
 I take it, aa a director, a thing he’s quite fool enough to be 
 proud to be. The gell’s a pretty gell, and a smart gell, and 
 almost deserves the promotion — she does so. My sakes ! as 
 Mrs. Cy. she’d double the shareholders in the ^ Anna Maria.’ 
 Thought dry humour and pathos would suck in the average 
 English crowd. But it’s done more. It’s sucked in Pappa 
 
 Eaynham, and I’m d if it shall stop there now. He shall 
 
 give me the gell, with a few thousands on allotment, and the 
 rest fully paid up in the good old death-bed style — as much 
 rest, that is, as the ^ Anna Maria ’ leaves him.” 
 
 V 
 
CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 HOW SAJS’DY MADE SUNDRY GREAT RESOLUTIONS. 
 
 As was stated in the last chapter, Sandy went into Mr. Eayn- 
 ham’s study in a very bad temper, a condition which did not 
 become him. He was also rather hot, from walking fast, and 
 from general agitation, and felt distinctly taken at a dis- 
 advantage, when he found John Eaynham sitting cool and 
 comfortable, in a white waistcoat, with a puzzled frown upon 
 his brow. 
 
 You want me ? ” said Sandy. 
 
 ^^Ah, Sandy. Yes. Sit down. I want to talk to you 
 about two or three things, and I thought I’d take this nice 
 quiet time when everybody is out.” 
 
 Sandy sat silent and waited to hear what was coming. 
 
 Well now, about your finances — eh ? You haven’t been 
 paying much attention to that subject lately, I think? ” 
 
 Never did pay any, I’m afraid.” said Sandy, shortly, 
 adding, rather loftily, ‘‘ I have not got a commercial mind.” 
 “No. I never thought you had. That’s rather a pity. 
 You see, if you can’t pay any attention to the management of 
 your own affairs, you can’t be considered fit to manage those 
 of any — other person depending on you — a wife, for example ; 
 can you ? ” 
 
 “ What do you mean ? ” 
 
 “I mean simply what I say. But I ask you if the ques- 
 tion is not justified ? ” 
 
 “ I should like to know why you ask it at all ? ” 
 
 “ Should you ? Well, I will tell you. Now have you the 
 slightest idea of the proportion your expenditure, your debts, 
 and your capital bear to one another ? ” 
 
 “ I had a general notion— -a kind of mental account.” 
 
 “A mental account always added up so as to leave a liberal 
 
159 
 
 THE CORSARS; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 surplus in your favour ? I’m afraid that general notion is 
 not valuable. You see I am — at any rate have been — a man 
 of business, and I like to see things done and expressed 
 accurately and clearly. You are not an infant, and I have 
 not had the control of your money since you came of age, and 
 you are quite free to throw it into the sea if you like. Still, 
 as the old and trusted friend of your dead father, I don’t like 
 to see the process going on, and feel bound to utter my 
 protest, especially as y our university career is now over, and 
 nothing very definite has come of it, and it is high time you 
 faced your case for yourself. You have amused yourself at 
 Audit College for three or more years, and it is now high 
 time, as you are no longer a boy, to go out into the world and 
 do something.” 
 
 ‘ ^ If I get a good place in my Finals it ought to do some- 
 thing for me.” 
 
 Have you seen to-day’s paper ? ” 
 
 No ; I hardly ever look at the paper down here.” 
 
 ‘ ^ The paper ^ down here ’ is, in all respects, identical with 
 the paper anywhere else, and will equally repay your perusal. 
 Look at this.” 
 
 He’s unusually snappish, thought Sandy, as he took the 
 paper, folded so as to display his class-list. Sandy scanned 
 the first class carefully, and seemed surprised not to find his 
 name in it. An inspection of the second and third was sinfi- 
 larly unrewarded. Below the honour-classes came the desig- 
 nation — Allowed the Ordinary Degree — Alexander Maxwell, 
 Audit,” in isolated and unpleasant distinction. Sandy said 
 nothing, but searched for words profane enough to express 
 his feelings. 
 
 ^^You see now,” continued John Eaynham, in the cold 
 business” tone he had adopted throughout the interview, 
 ^^that the lavish expenditure in which you have indulged at 
 College, doubtless with the best of intentions, however in- 
 definite they seem to have been, has been quite unproductive. 
 That part of your career, therefore, ,may be ^considered as 
 practically wasted. Let us now look at your prospects. You 
 had a certain capital, small, but still a capital, under your 
 late father’s will. While I was your trustee and guardian, 
 it was invested by me, and you enjoyed the proceeds in the 
 form of an allowance. When you came of age, you left it 
 
160 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 > 
 
 precisely as it was, without inquiring into the nature of the 
 investment, without inquiring into the amount of the principal, 
 or into the possible depreciations it might undergo by the 
 fluctuations in prices, although I pointed out to you several 
 times how necessary all these things were.” 
 
 This, being the literal truth, made Sandy more angry — he 
 had not quite settled with whom — than an exaggerated or 
 false statement would have done. 
 
 You, then, regularly overdrew your income, and lived at 
 the rate of about twice as much a year as you really had. 
 How you spent it, whether profitably or otherwise, you best 
 know. I know this much, that j^u have a London club of 
 the most expensive order, that you seem to belong to nearly 
 every society and club in the University, and that you always 
 have the best of clothes and cigars and plenty of them. You 
 also keep a horse and a man-servant. I occasionally called 
 your attention to these matters with no definite result, in the 
 way of greater care on your part. You have now so seriously 
 reduced your capital, that you will no longer be able to do 
 these things, and must at once seek some occupation. You 
 might purchase a sort of apprenticeship to a brewery or other 
 sound firm, which I could ascertain the respectability and 
 solvency of for you, for example.” 
 
 I couldn’t do that.” 
 
 What can you do ? You see you must live.” 
 
 ‘^Yes. I don’t mind admitting that,” replied Sandy, 
 grimly. 
 
 ^^And you might meet — some day — some young lady, 
 whom you might wish to marry. Now it is scarcely necessary 
 for me to tell you that such a course is out of the question 
 now — that no father or guardian in his senses would permit 
 you to marry his daughter or ward under such circumstances. 
 Do you perfectly understand me ? ” 
 
 Perfectly,” said Sandy, grinding his teeth, and thinking 
 of May and Cyrus Shute on that bench under the yew tree. 
 
 You have been listening to some lie of that insolent black- 
 guard ” 
 
 I am not in the habit of sharing confidences of a family 
 nature with insolent blackguards.” 
 
 Well, what is the upshot of all this ? Yfhat have I got 
 left?” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 161 
 
 You have now in the bank, supposing all your debts to 
 be discharged, which of course they may be — I do not say 
 they are not (as a matter of fact they were not), about 
 three hundred and seventy pounds. With that for a basis, 
 carefully used, you might enter into some such business as I 
 have described, and redeem the failure your life has been 
 yet, you have abilities, and if you could only acquire perse- 
 verance and accuracy you might do something.’’ 
 
 If I could acquire a pair of wings, I might with practice 
 fly,” retorted Sandy, rather rudely. Then he added, ^^Have 
 you anything else to say ? ” 
 
 ^^No. But I should just think this over, if I were you, 
 and decide on something. I shall be very glad to advise 
 you.” 
 
 Sandy left the room, and slammed the door after him. He 
 made, in fact, that kind of exit which is often described as 
 
 flouncing ” out. And he went up to his room, and began 
 packing a portmanteau in frenzied haste and wonderful confu- 
 sion. AVhen tired of this, he summoned Miklos to finish it. 
 The finishing” was a convenient allegorical mode of speech, 
 implying that Miklos was to take all the things out and put 
 them in again properly, so that some power short of a 
 hydraulic ram might shut the portmanteau. This Miklos did 
 and departed to convey it and his own small and exquisitely 
 neat baggage — (a parcel, not a female) — to the station. 
 
 Miklos saw that something was wrong, and was discreetly 
 dumb. He knew his master pretty well now, and sympathised 
 with him. Miklos looked on good, worthy, sensible old John 
 Baynham much as 8capin looked on all fathers and husbands, 
 as persons of the Sganarelle and Dandin type, mere encum- 
 brances in the path of gallantry. This cheery old cynic, with 
 the aquiline bony brown face, the dark smiling eyes and the 
 long grizzling moustache, was not perhaps the best confidential 
 servant for a young gentleman of Sandy’s quicksilver tempera- 
 ment. Miklos was an old soldier, an old intriguer, a man 
 who was steeped to the eyes in all evil knowledge, and 
 regarded all kinds of moral scruple as subjects for derision. 
 But he was clean, punctual, tidy, and ingenious, devoted to 
 Sandy, and capable of grooming a horse, scrubbing a floor, 
 cooking a dinner, washing clothes, putting up shelves, or 
 'carving brackets, making up bouquets, acting if necessary as 
 
163 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 a private detective in a small way, and, above all, capable of 
 holding his tongue. , 
 
 Sandy put on his hat and walked down stairs. In the 
 hall he met May, standing imder the circle of javelins 
 on the wall, fingering the letters which the afternoon post 
 had brought. She was laughing a little, apparently at the 
 recollection of some joke. "V^en Sandy appeared, she 
 looked up at him as he came down the last two or three 
 stairs and said — 
 
 Sandy ! what is it ? 
 
 '‘Well, ifs this. Your father has been talking to me 
 about that most interesting of topics, myself. It appears 
 that I have no money, or deuced little. It appears that no 
 parent or guardian would be justified in allowing his daughter 
 or ward to marry me. He all but hinted that I was steeped 
 in profligacy, and distinctly informed me that my life had 
 been a failure — a fact of which I was dimly aware — which 
 didn^t make it more enjoyable to be told so by some one 
 else. He is kind enough to admit that I have abilities, and 
 to imply that I have not perseverance or accuracy enough to 
 use them. Finally, he suggests my going away and Doing 
 something.” This in a very injured tone. 
 
 "Well, but — that is quite right. Men ought to do some- 
 thing. I^m dreadfully sorry to hear of your money bother, 
 and I don’t know what I shall do when you are gone, but I 
 think you ought to go and do something, just to show that 
 you have got abilities and perseverance too. Besides, you know, 
 you can’t live on nothing, and you certainly can’t marry on it.” 
 
 "Is that all the sympathy you’ve got to give ? ” said Sandy 
 bitterly. " Why didn’t you say ' I told you so ? ’ It would 
 have expressed it all more compactly, and been about as con- 
 soling! Good-bye, May.” 
 
 And Sandy, still in spiritual storm, strode out through 
 the front doorway, and did not hear a half-crying voice be- 
 hind him say, — 
 
 " Oh, Sandy 1 come back to me ! ” 
 
 And then May went upstairs to her own room and snatched 
 up Peter the cat, and cried into his back and felt somehow 
 that the whole trouble was her fault, and persuaded herself 
 that she had done Sandy some deadly injury, which of course 
 was remote from the truth. 
 
OK, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 163 
 
 As for Sandy, lie walked at a stormy pace to the station, 
 and found on arrival there that he had the privilege of wait- 
 ing fifty-three minutes for a train, which did not improve his 
 temper, more especially as it made him feel that he had made 
 rather a fool of himself by dashing along a dusty road on a 
 hot afternoon without the slightest notion what time the train 
 might be. So he walked fiercely up and down a gluey 
 asphalt platform, which was slowly approaching boiling point 
 in the hot sunshine, and thought very bitter and angry 
 thoughts. He was rather angry with himself, distinctly 
 angry with John Eaynham, disappointed in May, and thirsted 
 for the blood of Cyrus Shute, who was, he felt sure, at 
 the bottom of all this.” Oh yes, Sandy ! Cyrus Shute wasted 
 your money, didn^t he? Cyrus Shute ‘^allowed” you ‘^the 
 ordinary degree.” Cyrus Shute has sins enough of his own 
 to bear, and bears them very well too, but that is no reason 
 for blaming him for other people’s. 
 
 Miklos was standing motionless and statuesque by the 
 little heap of luggage. Sandy stopped as he passed him 
 and said — 
 
 ^^Here, get a couple of second tickets. We are poor now 
 and may as well begin economising at once. I shan’t be 
 worth staying with soon. You’ll have to seek your own 
 fortune somewhere, and let me go to the devil my own 
 way.” 
 
 Miklos smiled and spake with tongues: think the 
 
 gracious lord (Sandy) will go more comfortably and expedi- 
 tiously to the devil with me to attend on his worshipful 
 person. Moreover by — (here strange oaths) — I will never leave 
 him.” 
 
 Good. Leaving many girls behind you this time, 
 Miklos?” 
 
 No, no, no. Besides, gracious lord, it is not the girls 
 one is leaving, it is the girls one is approaching that matter. 
 The future is of more consequence than the past to us — and 
 occasionally to them.” 
 
 Happy old scamp ! Your cheerful ethics are a cordial to 
 
 the wounded spirit. It is the future which matters, d 
 
 the past! Miklos, we’ll do something. We’ll make such a 
 future between us that the past shall be as the run before 
 jumping. We have had a long run. We will have a long 
 
164 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 and a liigli jump now. We’ll go — let’s see, we might go to 
 Mexico, or South America, anywhere where there is war and 
 chance. We can both speak Spanish — you are a soldier — 
 can ride, and shoot, and use all weapons. Miklos, I will be 
 President of a Eepublic, and you Commander of the Forces, 
 and we’ll be famous as Drak6 or Pizarro, from China to Peru, 
 and make a mighty nation, and discipline all the ruffians into 
 an army, kick out the priests, and lead a continent to civilisa- 
 tion. We’ll send over here for all the good men we know, 
 and raise such a crew that the fame of our name shall ring 
 across the oceans of both hemispheres, until somebody shoots 
 us. Then they will write about us as the last of the Gentle- 
 men-adventurers ! ” 
 
 Take your seats for the London train ! ” 
 
 Here there strolled on to the gluey asphalt, coolly and 
 leisurely, the small sturdy form and inquiring face of Cyrus 
 Shute, who, ignoring the presence of Sandy, got into a first- 
 class smoking compartment. Sandy was following, no doubt 
 with a view to giving Colonel Shute the advantage of candid 
 criticism, when the guard asked to see his ticket, arrested his 
 progress towards Cyrus’s car and remarked: Second be’ind, 
 
 sir.” There seemed to be a conspiracy that day to ruffle 
 Sandy’s temper. 
 
 Cyrus appeared to travel without luggage. It was true 
 that he kept several immense trunks at an immense hotel in 
 London, where letters and visitors arrived for him, where 
 they were very proud of Cyrus, and were glad to have him, 
 having ascertained from the society papers that he was a 
 Western millionaire, but he travelled as he stood. There 
 was a comb in what he called his vest pocket. He was 
 shaved always by a skilled artificer. He had a patent cel- 
 luloid collar, which* washed in five minutes and dried in ten. 
 On the subject of general cleanliness he had, as on most other 
 subjects, no fastidious scruples. He had never seen any one 
 take a daily morning tub, but he had heard such a thing 
 famiharly alluded to in England, and considered it a gra- 
 tuitously uncomfortable, unhealthy, and insane practice. 
 And as Cyrus put his feet on the cushion of the first- 
 _ class smoking compartment, and spat on its floor, he 
 remarked : — 
 
 Cyrus Shute, sir. You are quite smart, indeed. You 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 165 
 
 are pro-gressive. You have seen Corsar junior clear. You 
 have cleared young Mr. Maxwell. That’s all. The rest can 
 stop, I want ’em. Wonder how Corsar senior is getting 
 along? He don’t write. Now, why don’t he? Why the 
 H — ank — ah, that was Miss May’s joke. Well, she is a real 
 elegant piece — quite a sweet young lady.” 
 
 And as Sandy lit one of those highly-coloured, strong- 
 flavoured clay-pipes he affected, with a redolent mixture of 
 cavendish and honeydew which clogged the air with a faint 
 thick odour of ambergris with which it had been flavoured, 
 he said to Miklos — 
 
 What became of Mr. Corsar the other night ? ” 
 
 He went to London, and that is all I know.” (It is not 
 necessary to continually reproduce the circumlocutions, the 
 third persons singular, and other paraphernalia of reverence 
 which adorned the conversation of Miklos Debrecza.) 
 
 Wonder where the devil he is ! Why doesn’t he write 
 or something? Never mind, when we are President of Mexico 
 he shall come and instruct — in the State Bi-sexual University 
 which we shall establish — teach them the art of being an all 
 round good man. Here we go ! I wonder if we shall ever 
 be here again? ” Sandy chattered cheerfully nearly all the 
 way to London about wild projects of adventure, about 
 London, about the female sex, about tobacco, and about 
 everything, for he was desperately sad. 
 
 The loss of money could be remedied. His injured self- 
 esteem might be restored. His career might yet become 
 as a comet’s fiery trail across the darkness of common-place, 
 though as yet the priming of the comet had seemed damp 
 and spluttery. But what lay upon his whirling will and 
 mind, dizzied as by a sudden fall, was the old picture of the 
 young girl nursing a wounded kitten, his May, his little 
 girl, who had half-tamed that wild heart to her loving 
 hand, now perhaps to be lost and never found again. He 
 felt that he could never forget her, that the memory of 
 her would be as the white moon’s beautiful shimmer across a 
 turbulent sea. He would ride the dark waters before him 
 with the ever-present ghost of his lost love to keep watch 
 over him, to keep his hand firm on the helm, to keep his eyes 
 fixed straight forward and stop his ears from the singing 
 sirens. 
 
66 
 
 THE CORSARS; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 No more roses that trailed in the mire for him with the 
 lilly that lay on his heart. He would do something great 
 and grand, and leave dilettante art and pedantry, golden idle 
 days, the ‘‘ burden of bought kisses,” and all the waste, and 
 failure, and shame of the old days behind for ever. And 
 many other original metaphors, high hopes, and great reso- 
 lutions arose in Sandy’s mind. How much they were fulfilled 
 or forgotten we shall sometime partially see. 
 
CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 HOW HE KEPT THEM. 
 
 When Sandy arrived in town lie sent Miklos off with the 
 luggage, telling him to get a room at the Charing-Cross 
 Hotel. He himself wandered out of the Waterloo Terminus 
 to think over what he had better do, what would be the first 
 step towards that ideal monument of faith, love, purity and 
 glorious achievement on whose pedestal he proposed one day 
 standing. He began by going into a public-house and asking 
 for two pennyworth of whiskey. Still economical, you ob- 
 serve. The man in the bar, a sporting character in shirt- 
 sleeves, who was arguing with a friend about something a 
 person they familiarly called Freddy Archer had or had not 
 done, replied — 
 
 We don’t make two’s of whisky.” 
 
 Oh, damn economy ! give me a curacoa and brandy, 
 then.” 
 
 On feeling in his pocket to pay for this, he found he had 
 nearly thirty shillings in various coins. ^‘By Jove ! ” he 
 thought, can do lots of things with thirty shillings.” Then 
 he considered what, under the circumstance, he would do 
 with thirty shillings. In the first place he would get on to 
 the other side of the river. With this aim he walked Qj;er 
 Waterlee Bridge and loafed meditatively along the Strand. 
 At the corner of Wellington Street, he became conscious that 
 a tall, slender and elegant young lady, with a minute green 
 plush reticule, was saying, ‘^How are you, Mr. Maxwell?” 
 Sandy took off his hat, and found himself saying, ‘‘Hullo ! ” 
 in an audible tone to Miss Minnie James. And then he was 
 affected by the sudden shock which Carl had felt before. 
 This girl was the ghost of May, as he now saw. He had 
 hardly looked at her before. 
 
168 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 Where are you going? ’’ he said. 
 
 Well, it’s getting on for seven. I was thinking of going 
 into the Bavarian and dining.” 
 
 Strange coincidence ! So was I. Come along.” 
 
 ^^Oh, thanks awfully.” 
 
 How’s Miss Morton ? ” 
 
 ^^Oh, sJieh all right. We’ve had a row. We don’t speak 
 now.” 
 
 Any use asking why ? ” 
 
 ^^No, [not much.” The reasons being, first, that Jenny 
 had been put in a certain prominent position on the stage, 
 which Miss James had considered herself better qualified to 
 fill ; secondly, that Miss James had vainly endeavoured to 
 detach the affections of Carl Corsar from the said Jenny, it 
 followed that Miss James could not very well explain to a 
 comparative stranger (though she did not, of course, hesitate 
 to dine with said comparative stranger) the reasons of the 
 row. 
 
 So they went to the Bavarian Cafe Eestaurant, and had 
 dinner. Miss Janies sat upright, and conducted herself very 
 prettily, taking off long black-silk gloves that made her hands 
 and arms strongly suggest a well-groomed cat’s hands and 
 arms ; taking off and hanging-up her Henri II.” hat, too — 
 not to display her beautiful and saintly aureole of hair, but 
 because it was warm weather — and making herself generally 
 at home. Sandy argued that this was no breach of faith to 
 May. On the contrary, this was a concrete memory of May, 
 a fleshly ghost of her, and that was the only reason he tole- 
 rated the fleshly ghost’s company. He would appreciate the 
 bodily resemblance all the more, no doubt, from the spiritual 
 unlikeness. Perhaps this was part of that moon trail which, 
 by a new and forcible metaphor he had imagined May to cast 
 for ever as a path of light across the dark and turbulent waters 
 of the future. At any rate it showed he had not forgotten 
 her, or he would never take the trouble to justify himself in 
 using this peculiar means of keeping her memory green. 
 
 Oh my poor, generous, selfish, laughing, weak, wild and 
 desperately sorrowful Sandy ! May, your own innocent, 
 loving and merry Baby” is looking from her window across 
 the shimmering summer sea, and weeping because you never 
 heard her say, Oh, Sandy ! come back to me,” and wonder- 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 1C9 
 
 ing if the great joy and gladness that filled her life for a few 
 days was only as a wave that has broken and written its mark 
 on the sand of the shore by that desolate summer sea, never 
 to be washed out again. And a thought comes to her that 
 she knows she can trust you for ever, her boy, who played with 
 her, grew up with her and taught her all the pleasant pastimes 
 she will never care for again, and taught her at last to love you. 
 
 And that thought makes her almost happy again, as she 
 plays your favourite tunes by herself, and the sky becomes 
 golden, and the sea is no more desolate, and she tells it to 
 carry the message to you, and all over the world if you will, 
 that she will always love you and trust you, and never believe 
 what any shall say against you. What message shall the 
 river, rotten and fetid with the filth and greed and gain and 
 crime and nameless horror of the great city give back from 
 you to the sea ? Will the sea dare to take it and throw it 
 along with some foul dead jetsam at her feet? 
 
 The merciless sea, the great moving tomb, rhythmic with 
 the old heart-beats of all the dead it covers for ever, is more 
 merciful than that, more merciful than you. She will never 
 know that her iron idol has feet of clay. 
 
 For a ghost” and a memory” Miss Minnie James has 
 a hearty but selective appetite. Her simple repast consists of 
 six oysters, a Usque d'^ecrevisses, some cutlets of pork and fried 
 potatoes, a green salad with small onions in it, some Camem- 
 bert cheese, and two large glasses of Bavarian beer. At the 
 conclusion of the repast she thanks Sandy awfully, states that 
 she will be awfully late at the theatre, and suggests that a ^ 
 hansom will be the most rapid and agreeable mode of fon- 
 ^ yec^i^QD- for her. She also asks Sandy to come round to the 
 show,” later on in the evening, to call for her, in which case 
 she will do him the honour of supping with him. Sandy 
 agrees to this, pays for the repast, also for a hansom to con- 
 vey Miss James to the theatre, where an impatient public of 
 Senior Calvi and Junior Imberles, awaits and will soon applaud 
 her appearance in Alraschict, in which piece she is at present 
 exhibiting her talents and person, more especially the latter. 
 
 And Sandy is left to his refiections. 
 
 With them for companions he walked slowly down the 
 Strand towards Charing Cross. Being bound rigidly to a 
 course of economy he buys a rose of a flower girl at the 
 
 M 
 
170 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 top of Yilliers Street for sixpence, and inserts it in his 
 button-hole. Then he walks to his club, is respectfully 
 recognised by one or two Junior Imlerles, who sip cham- 
 pagne and kiimmel, writes a note to the secretary resigning 
 his membership, takes a last cigar and drink, glances at the 
 Sporting TimeSj not because it amuses him, but out of a sense 
 of what is aj)propriate to the situation. As he leaves, he 
 meets young Arthur Eaynham, beautifully dressed, with a 
 grave Piccadilly expression of countenance, and a three shil- 
 ling bouquet in his evening coat. 
 
 Hallo, Sandy ! where are you going to ? 
 
 To the devil, I believe,” replies Sandy, who likes coups- 
 de-tliedtre. 
 
 What’s the row ; hard up ? ” 
 
 More or less.” 
 
 Ah ! They’ve all got it. Never met with such a season 
 for hard-up-ness as this.” 
 
 How many seasons do you remember, then ? ” asks Sandy, 
 with a not unkind smile, for he likes, this absurdly dignified 
 boy with a monkey’s caricature of elderly club manners, 
 flavoured with modern ^‘form.” 
 
 Can’t remember now. What are you doing to-night ? ” 
 
 “ I’m engaged to-night.” 
 
 Ah ! You would be. Good business ? ” 
 
 Matter of opinion.” 
 
 I say, where are you going now ? ” 
 
 To the Charing- Cross, to change.” 
 
 I’ll walk a little way with you.” 
 
 You are very kind.” 
 
 Don’t mention it. Have a liquor first ? ” 
 
 Had one.” 
 
 Have another with me.” 
 
 No, thanks. And don’t you take to miscellaneous liquor- 
 ing between meals.” 
 
 ^ ^ Oh, rot ! Which way are you going ? Piccadilly or Pall 
 
 Man?” 
 
 ‘ ‘ Pall Mall, come along if you’re coming. But you seem 
 to be going to some festivity or other from your costume. 
 Don’t let me hinder you.” 
 
 “ Oh no. I always dress in the evening. I may drop in 
 at the Deanery later.” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 in 
 
 “ Oh may you! ” 
 
 Yes, why not? But I say, look here, Sandy, don’t be 
 offended if I say something.” 
 
 Wire in, my boy.” 
 
 Of course your affairs are not exactly any business of 
 
 mine ” 
 
 Not exactly.” 
 
 ‘^And I don’t know exactly what you are up to here, 
 though I can bally well guess. But are you quite certain it’s 
 all square somewhere else ? I know some men are less par- 
 ticular than others, but I draw certain lines — in short, are 
 you engaged to my cousin May ? ” 
 
 No, I’m not.” 
 
 Oh well, I beg your pardon. But don’t get riled, because 
 I didn’t mean any harm.” 
 
 All right. Look here, Arthur; you’re rather an ass in 
 some ways, but you are a gentleman and have a kind heart 
 and an honourable mind. Now take warning by a frightful 
 
 example. You drop all this d d affectation of being a 
 
 rake, and all that side those babies at the club put on. 
 You’ll drop a lot of cash and get jolly little return. If you 
 want to enjoy yourself, take old Carl Corsar’s advice — find a 
 good thing and keep it to yourself. Carl always knew what 
 he was about, and made a good thing of it. I’ve tried at the 
 same fences and arrived in the ditch. Now let’s drop the 
 subject. If you’ll wait till I’ve changed, we’ll go together to 
 the Deanery.” 
 
 Oh? All right. I say, there’s a girl there ” 
 
 There are several girls there. A large assortment kept 
 in stock, dear boy.” 
 
 Arthur laughed. ^ 
 
 Yes. But there’s an article I can confidently recom- 
 mend.” 
 
 Which is that?” 
 
 Tallish, black hair, left-hand corner.” 
 
 What’s her name ? ” 
 
 Well, I don’t know that I am at liberty to tell.” 
 
 Do you know ? ” 
 
 ^^Er — not exactly,” Arthur Eaynham looked uncomfort- 
 able. 
 
 Have you ever exchanged a word with her ? ” 
 
172 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 WeU, no.’^ 
 
 Sandy shrieked with laughter, as he hauled a stiff white 
 shirt over his head. 
 
 Do you mean to say you pay for a stall there to see the 
 same burlesque week after week, and haven’t got more by it 
 than that ? Would you like to know her name ? ” 
 
 ‘‘Yes, awfully. She looks a good sort — different from — 
 some of them.” 
 
 Sandy thought of Miss James, and said — “ Yes — she’s 
 different from some of them. Well, her name is Miss Theo 
 Morton, but I don’t advise you to get gone on her.” 
 
 “ Why not ? ” 
 
 “ Because there is another fellow there, whom you wouldn’t 
 like to run against, who would make very short work of you 
 if you did get messing about after her.” 
 
 ‘‘ Who ? 
 
 “ Don’t tell anyone.” 
 
 “ 1 ^ 0 .” 
 
 “ Carl Corsar. That’s his good thing which he keeps to 
 himself.” 
 
 “ My goodness ! What would the Dean say ? ” 
 
 “ He’s not likely to visit the Deanery.” 
 
 “ Fancy having one of one’s own dons for a rival ! ” 
 
 “ Fancy his having one of his own freshmen for a rival.” 
 
 “ WeE, he is a lucky man, anyhow. He’s such an infernally 
 good-looking man, too ! What a lark if we were to see him 
 at the theatre.” 
 
 “ You won’t. He doesn’t go. Knows better than that.” 
 
 “ AVhat does he do ? ” 
 
 “ Meets her somewhere afterwards.” 
 
 “ I say — is she S straight girl ? ” 
 
 “I know nothing to the contrary.” 
 
 “Well, doesn’t it seem a little funny for a man like 
 Corsar to be knocking about with her ? What’s going to 
 become of her ? He can’t marry her, of course, and it 
 seems — ” 
 
 “Marry! Well, Carl is not quite such a fool, if my 
 estimate of him be correct. But you seem very anxious 
 about her.” 
 
 “Well, hang it, I am I She seems so different from the 
 rest of the gang that you can’t help it — it’s almost as if she 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 173 
 
 were a girl one knew — a lady I mean.’’ Extraordinary 
 muddle as thy moral code is, Arthur, there are streaks of 
 splendour through its fog, such as dawn not on the mere 
 bestial who have been thy tutors and companions ! 
 
 ‘^Eot !' As a wife for a man like that, a girl like that is 
 absurdly unsuitable. A vacation lark is one thing, an irre- 
 mediable life-long mistake, always hampering, always drag- 
 ging down, is another. That’s what marriage would mean 
 under such circumstances. It’s perfectly shocking to con- 
 template.” 
 
 Arthur was, of course, a little dazzled by the unscrupu- 
 lous doctrine of his more brilliant senior, and of course a 
 little ashamed of having shown a glimmer of a tendency 
 towards 
 
 ‘‘ Fair passions and bountiful pities 
 And loves without stain’* 
 
 That was not Junior Imlerhis form at all. And they went 
 to the theatre together. 
 
 And we will leave them, and see whether Sandy’s estimate 
 of Carl’s disposition really was correct. 
 
CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 BATHER IDYLLIC. 
 
 OK'D of those warm afternoons, in the end of June or begin- 
 ning of July, when London looks best and feels worst, when 
 the docks, the canals, the river, the glue, tallow, and leather 
 trade, the slums and Covent Garden, combined with the 
 assistance of a hot sun to produce the most pernicious and 
 damnable smells that ever a city gasped faintly forth in the 
 summer stillness, when the parks were green and gay with 
 trees and flowers, when young people went round the Ser- 
 pentine in the long late evenings to make love, and watch 
 children sailing boats, and envy dipping, shaking, glittering 
 dogs their free plunge and freer shake, when flannel-clad 
 sun-tanned gentlemen played flannel* clad sun-tanned players 
 at Lords’, and combined together to play flannel-clad sun- 
 tanned Australians at Kennington Oval, when ’bus drivers 
 and conductors wore white hats and flowers in their button- 
 holes, in fact, the season of which the poet sings : — 
 
 ** Beneath the baneful star of Sirius, 
 
 When the postmen slowlier jog, 
 
 When the ox becomes delirious, 
 
 And the muzzle decks the dog,” 
 
 Mr. Carl Corsar, M.A., nicely ^dressed in cool blue serge, 
 with a straw hat (pepper and salt, old Audit Boat Club ribbon) 
 a flower in his button-hole, and a cigar in his mouth, walked 
 up the steps of the National Gallery, in Trafalgar Square, 
 glanced at the clock of St. Martin’s Church, then marking 
 three, glanced at the magniflcent prospect which is terminated 
 by the clock tower of Westminster glittering in the misty 
 sunshine, and waited. The custodian inside the door glanced 
 
THE CORSAllS ; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 175 
 
 carelessly at Carl standing between two pillars and leaning 
 on the rail, and took no further notice of him. He had seen 
 far too many persons of both sexes come up those steps and 
 wait to take any interest in Carl the Nth. 
 
 Carl waited. Eive minutes passed. Wonder why women 
 never can be punctual ? ” he murmured. Three more minutes 
 passed. Then a graceful form in one of those much bestriped 
 sateens in delicately blended colours which were fashionable 
 for summer wear at the time, appeared on the steps. He 
 threw away his cigar, advanced to meet the form, took off his 
 hat and said — 
 
 Well, Jenny! Allow me to call your attention to the 
 clock.’’ 
 
 I’m very sorry, dear, but it really was not my fault.” A 
 curious fact. They are always a few minutes late, are always 
 sorry, and it never is their fault. 
 
 ‘‘All right. You are here, and that’s the main thing. 
 Now, where would you like to go ? I’m ready and willing 
 to take my young woman for an ‘ outing ’ somewhere,” 
 laughed he as they went down the steps, “where shall 
 it be ? ” 
 
 “Let’s go into St. James’s Park. It’s nice there, and we 
 can sit down if we are tired.” 
 
 “And then go up Pegent Street, look at such shop 
 windows as seem inviting, and finish by feeding some- 
 where?” 
 
 “That will do. Whatever you like, Carl. Look at my 
 new gloves ! ” 
 
 ‘ ‘ Old gold, eh ? What is it, silk, yes. Very nice. Hope 
 it will be long before they ‘ bust.’ You certainly have a 
 talent for getting things that suit you.” 
 
 And they walked along Pall Mall, objects of admiration 
 and envy to many a weary old club-haunter, so clean, and 
 strong, and young, and handsome, and happy they both 
 looked. 
 
 “ Don’t you sometimes think you’re wasting your time 
 awfully, Carl, loafing about with me instead of doing your 
 work?” 
 
 “No, I don’t. Shouldn’t do it if I did. The time will 
 come soon enough when I shall have to go back to the 
 shop again. So let’s just waste as much time as we can. 
 
176 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 These jolly sunlit wasted days will count some time to us as 
 the best days in our life to look back to.’’ 
 
 There are one or two things I want to ask you about, 
 Carl — consult you, that is.” 
 
 Consult away. I have constituted myself your sole 
 guardian, my pleasing orphan. Regard me in the light of 
 the Court of Chancery, whose function it is to take care of 
 infants. You are the infant. Fire away.” 
 
 Well, I don’t think I can live any longer at old Arnold’s.” 
 ^^Oh. Why not?” 
 
 James — his daughter, you know — ” 
 
 know. Well? By the way, don’t call her James. 
 It’s ridiculous.” 
 
 Has been awfully nasty to me. Always is now. And her 
 brother pesters me a great deal. Makes jokes at me I don’t 
 like, and keeps asking me to let him take me out.” 
 
 The devil he does ! Anything else ? ” 
 
 ‘^Only it’s an awful way off, and I’m not happy there. 
 And you won’t be angry, Carl, or go and do something 
 rash?” 
 
 ^^I don’t know about not being angry, but I won’t do any- 
 thing rash.” 
 
 They say nasty things about you and me. At least she 
 and her brother do. Of course he’s an awful cad.” 
 
 Of course he is.” 
 
 And what he says or thinks doesn’t matter.” 
 
 Of course it doesn’t.” 
 
 And I don’t think she’s a — good girl, you know. Do you 
 understand ? ” 
 
 I do.” And Carl pondered silently as they went down 
 the steps by the Duke of York’s Column. Look here. 
 Infant,” he said at last, ^^you are quite right. I’ll find a proper 
 place for you to live in, and you shall leave at once, and cut 
 yourself adrift from them for ever. I ought to have thought 
 of that myself. I’ll tell you another thing you must be cut 
 adrift from too.” 
 
 ^^What?” 
 
 That pestilent den of iniquity called the Deanery Theatre.” 
 Oh, Carl! Why?” 
 
 I’ll tell you why, and I think you’ll agree with me. Look 
 here. I’m older than you, and know a jolly lot more about 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 177 
 
 these things than you do, and what I say is this. There is not 
 a woman there who is fit society for you, and very few men. 
 You know what they are in that chorus — ignorant, jealous, 
 greedy, spiteful, and possessing the taste and morality of 
 animals.” 
 
 But aren’t people out of the theatre like that sometimes ? ” 
 
 True. But you don’t get that ad nauseam and nothing 
 else outside, and you are not bound to associate with it.” 
 
 But if they are all that, I needn’t be ? ” 
 
 ^^Look here. I don’t care if you were the Madonna. As 
 sure as ‘ making up ’ will spoil your skin, so will that life 
 harden, discolour, and slowly corrupt your spiritual com- 
 plexion. And I won’t have it. You are worth too much now 
 to be allowed to depreciate that way. It isn’t as if you were 
 a great star, who can do as she likes. They can be ornaments 
 to art and to society, and people can admire as well as respect 
 them. All that you can understand, if you wilj only think it 
 over. Another thing. Do you think I am going to see my 
 Infant exposing her person to the admiration of young fools 
 
 from Sandhurst and shop-counters and old beasts from 
 
 well, from the nearest churchyard, if they had their rights, 
 who sit and snigger in the stalls, and have a right to, because 
 they have paid to see the show ? Not much. The Court of 
 Chancery is very easy-going in the matter of infant freedom 
 and behaviour, but it draws the line at that. Don’t you know 
 that old actors always carefully keep their female cMdren as 
 far from the theatre as possible? ” 
 
 ^^But I thought it was only pious people who disapproved 
 of the theatre ? ” 
 
 I don’t disapprove of it a bit. I like it. But I don’t like 
 your belonging to it. All that about the theatre being a 
 school of morals, an instructor, and a means of elevating the 
 masses, is utter bosh. The paying part of the masses don’t 
 want to be elevated. They want to have their senses tickled, 
 their nerves stimulated, and their flesh made to creep. They 
 want to cry at maudlin agonies, to laugh at coarse jokes, to 
 be harrowed by explosions, and to sympathise with convicts. 
 That’s what the hourgoisie want. The aristocracy want to see 
 as many women as possible as much undressed as possible. 
 A few eccentric people of culture — mostly objects of derision 
 — want to see Shakespeare., and all that sort of thing. I 
 
178 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 know I generally would rather see burlesques and explosion- 
 plays myself, though I don^t care much about theatres now, 
 and don’t mind confessing it. But that doesn’t make it good 
 taste. But then I only do it as a sort of holiday, like reading 
 a trashy novel to compose my mind, after looking over reams 
 of insane answers to examination papers. So you’ll leave that 
 show, and with it the society of Miss James and all her like. 
 You will cease to listen to that abandoned sewer-mouthed, 
 foul-minded stage-manager, Mr. Jemmy Symes, who looks on 
 you girls as a conjuror does on a well-worn bag of tricks or 
 a troupe of performing dogs. You will no longer kneel in 
 front of the fire curling your hair, while a pair of tights are 
 hung out to dry on the back of a chair, and Miss James is 
 calling her father a damned old fool on the stairs — as I heard 
 her do once, when she didn’t know I was there. See ? ” 
 
 Very well. If I must I must, I suppose. You know I 
 will do anything you tell me. But there is one person I don’t 
 want to drop, Carl.” 
 
 ''WeU?” 
 
 “That’s Sadie Levy. She has been kinder to me than 
 anybody in the world, except, of course, you. I don’t know — 
 I’m afraid to think what would have become of me in London 
 if it hadn’t been for her.” 
 
 ^ ^ My poor Infant ! But nobody asks you to give her up. I 
 think she’s a very good sort. What’s she doing? ” 
 
 “Oh, she’s at the old place. I saw her yesterday. She’s 
 ’ awfully down about Maxwell — Mr. Maxwell, I mean.” 
 
 “ What about him? He’s been very mysterious lately. I 
 don’t know the least what he’s up to, or even where he is.” 
 
 “ Don’t you? Then I’ll tell you. He used to take Sadie 
 out, and so on, till she got awfully fond of him, a jolly sight 
 too fond of him, and now he’s gone and taken up with another 
 girl. That’s all.” 
 
 “Down at Watermouth? Yes. I expect he’s engaged to 
 her. It began to look like it when I was there.” 
 
 “ ]S"o ; I mean a girl in London, who’s not fit to button 
 Sadxe’s boots ’’ 
 
 “ The devil he has ! What, another girl ? Who ? ” 
 
 “ Minnie James. I found it out from old Arnold. He was 
 in an awful way, half crying and half cracked, and said his 
 daughter had disgraced him and gone ofi with some swell. 
 
oil, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 179 
 
 You see lie was proud of her, goodness knows wky. "Well, 
 he is her father, you know. I knew who it was because I saw 
 them often go away from the theatre together.’’ 
 
 ^^H’m. Well, the conviction is forcing itself on me that 
 somebody ought to kick that young man. Not that I pity 
 Miss James much. She knows which side her bread is 
 buttered well enough,*^ and jammed and anchovied as well. 
 It’s the other two I’m thinking of. How can he be such 
 a fool ? Fancy leaving what he had for the sake of what he 
 has, if your account be correct.” 
 
 “It’s all wrong somehow, isn’t it? Do you know I think 
 men are rather a bad lot, taken altogether, almost as bad as 
 women. They talk about women being treacherous, and all 
 that, but they are just the same. Besides, it doesn’t seem to 
 make the same difference to them that it does to women,.” 
 “My dear child, men are a bad lot. They are mostly 
 beasts. They will talk in a very pleasant and proper way to 
 you, and then they will show your poor little letters to them 
 to each other and joke about them, and chaff each other, and 
 discuss you in a way that a dealer discusses a horse. That’s 
 partly why I want to get you out of all that hell on wheels 
 you are getting mixed in.” 
 
 “Well, now let’s talk of something pleasanter. Here’s a 
 nice curved bench. We’ll sit down. Now tell me all about 
 yourself.” 
 
 “You know most things about me, I think, don’t you?” 
 Jenny looked across the St. James’s Park pond at the 
 ducks, and bored holes in the gravel with her sunshade. 
 Then she said — 
 
 “You never told me what your people were like.” 
 
 “ For an excellent reason ; I haven’t got any.” 
 
 “ Are you an orphan too ? ” 
 
 “ Well, next thing to it. I have a father whom I hardly 
 ever see, who never was any good to me, and who is, between 
 you and me, rather a shady old party. I have no secrets from 
 you, Jenny, but I don’t tell anybody else this. I don’t think 
 I need go into details.” 
 
 “ I’m sorry I spoke now.” 
 
 “ All right. Infant. Anything else you want to know ?” 
 
 “ There’s a great deal I want to know. Carl, do you know 
 I’m awfully ignorant ? ” 
 
180 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 Are you?’’ 
 
 course I am. How could I be anytliing else? You 
 know I never had any proper education, and have just 
 picked up a few things anyhow. I come across lots of things 
 in books I don’t understand, and then I don’t like to ask you, 
 because it would only show you what a dreadfully silly use- 
 less sort of infant you’ve got hold of, and you would laugh at 
 me ; and that hurts, you know.” 
 
 I shouldn’t laugh at you. Just you tell me whatever you 
 want to know, and I’ll do my best to help you.” 
 
 “I can’t think what you can see in me to care about at all.” 
 ^^Mere eccentricity on my part. Is that one of the things 
 you want to know ? ” 
 
 You silly old Court of Chancery! No. It’s enough for 
 me to know that you do care, that you have cared, and been 
 kinder to me than anybody else in the world, ever since I was 
 a child.” 
 
 ^^I don’t know that anyone else would look on my conduct 
 in that light.” 
 
 I don’t care what other people think. Well then, Carl, 
 will you get proper things for me to read, to improve my 
 mind, and so on, and help me when I can’t help myself? 
 Not too dry, you know ; but I want to be able to talk to you 
 about things you can be interested in, and not like an igno- 
 rant infant, you know.” 
 
 ^ ^ All right. It’ll be a nice occupation for you when I’m 
 down at Fenchester.” 
 
 ^^And me here by myself? Oh, Carl; don’t leave me 
 alone.” 
 
 Don’t be an unreasonable infant. I can’t do my work, 
 for which I get nay money, unless I’m there ; and I can’t be 
 , there and here at the same time ; but I’ll often come and see 
 you and ^ take you out,’ as the phrase is.” 
 
 How often ? ” 
 
 “As often as I can. You may possibly not believe it, but 
 I shall miss you quite as much as you will miss me. I think 
 you can trust me by this time not to forget you.” 
 
 “Well, I suppose I can. But Carl, you know you did 
 forget me once. It’s no use your pretending you didn’t.” 
 
 “ Let’s talk about something else.” 
 
 “ AVhere am I to live, Carl ? ” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 181 
 
 When can you get away from the place in Camberwell?” 
 Oh, whenever I like, I suppose.” 
 
 Well, let’s think it over. Would you like to come out 
 with me and hunt for an abode ? Might be rather fun, I 
 should think.” 
 
 It would look rather funny, wouldn’t it ? ” 
 
 How do you mean ? ” 
 
 I mean they’d wonder what I was to you.” 
 
 ‘‘Who would?” 
 
 “ Oh, lodging people, and so on.” 
 
 “Let ’em wonder. Honi soit qui mal y 'pemeP 
 “ Yes. That’s all very well for you. You’re a man.” 
 
 “ Well, let’s see. Can’t I be your brother ? ” 
 
 “Looks like it, doesn’t it ? ” 
 
 “Well, uncle, grandfather, husband, if you like.” 
 
 “ Oh Carl ! Why can’t you really be my husband ? ” 
 
 “By Jove! There’s an idea. Let’s look at it in aU its 
 aspects.” 
 
 “You see, Carl, I believe, at least, I know you love me, 
 because you say so ; and of course I’ll do anything in the 
 world you want, if you tell me, whether I like it or not ; but 
 it is awkward rather for a girl. You see I haven’t got my 
 mother or anybody, and I never learnt the right thing to do, 
 and just have to behave by guess work and chance it. I 
 know I’m not expressing what I mean much. I don’t much 
 care about people’s opinions ; in fact, I don’t suppose there 
 are many people who trouble their heads about what I do, 
 and I’m only a sort of infant, as you say, and I am utterly and 
 entirely yours, to do what you like with. You will be kind 
 to me, Carl, won’t you ? ” 
 
 Carl was indescribably touched by this rather confused 
 appeal to his mercy, through which he saw clearly enough 
 the meaning struggling out between the lines. All he said 
 was — 
 
 “All right, Infant. Give the Court ‘time to think it over. 
 Chancery proceedings are dilatory, you know ; but they are 
 Equitable. Let’s get up and walk now.” 
 
 And they walked out through the gates of St. James’s 
 Phlace, up St. James’s Street, along Piccadilly, and up the 
 right-hand side of Pegent Street slowly, looking at the 
 passers, who were the extraordinary assortment of humans 
 
182 
 
 THE CORSAllS; 
 
 generally to be found there between four and five on a 
 summer afternoon, at the photographs, the bonnets, the fans, 
 the boots, gloves, carpets, armchairs, silk hangings, jewellery 
 and other attractions of that fascinating street. And Carl 
 bought Jenny a pair of gloves — a pair of long, black Swedish 
 gloves, such as had long been the object of her envy. 
 And they cost a whole five shillings, and Carl was reproved 
 for extravagance, and replied ^^Bosh,” and Jenny said she 
 didn’t believe he knew the proper ]3i'ice of anything, or the 
 difference between sateen and brown holland, or between 
 kilting and box-pleats ; and Carl admitted his ignorance, and 
 a lecture with demonstrations was given by Jenny before a 
 window in Oxford Street. 
 
 In fact the Court of Chancery condescended to unbend. No 
 one would have recognised the Fellow of Audit, the contri- 
 butor to the Microscopical Journal^ the lecturer and tutor of 
 youth, in this man in a straw hat, wandering carelessly with 
 Jenny through London, and treating all existence as a vast 
 joke. Once he met one of his pupils — a freshman — who 
 capped” him gravely and passed on, and marvelled, and 
 acquired new ideas as to the vacation habits of Dons. Carl 
 only laughed and said — 
 
 Oh Lord! I might have known that would happen. I 
 shall be at his mercy now.” 
 
 ‘‘ What do you mean ? ” 
 
 That was one of my j)ups who capped us just now. He * 
 will have found out that I am merely human ; that I gallivant 
 around town with an attractive infant, whose parcels I carry. 
 In short, his reverence for me will be gone. He won’t dare 
 chaff me, but he’ll feel chaff, and I shall feel that he feels it, 
 and break into an undignified grin. Ah well ! Bum vivimics 
 vivamus ! ” 
 
 What’s that ? ” 
 
 ^^If we are to be babies, let’s do it thoroughly. Hullo, 
 look there ! ” added Carl, in a graver voice. A cab passed 
 by, containing Sandy Maxwell and Miss Minnie James. 
 
 He must have seen me,” said Carl, or he wouldn’t have 
 looked so elaborately the other way.” 
 
 You see I was right.” * 
 
 Yes. Poor devil ! I am more sorry than I can express, 
 although he makes me angry too, that he should have turned 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 1S3 
 
 out sucli a man. I always hoped he’d make a splendid 
 fellow. He could have if he’d tried. That’s the worst of 
 it.” 
 
 You liked him very much ? ” 
 like him still, Jenny. If not, I shouldn’t be angry, 
 or sorry. It isn’t his knocking about with that woman I 
 mind. That’s nothing. Most men do that, but it’s the way he 
 is treating the other girls. It’s not quite on the platform. 
 There’s a certain kind of platform, I mean sl ] certain kind 
 of understanding, between gentlemen, however loose their 
 morals, which, I am afraid, he doesn’t quite understand.” 
 Perhaps he has some excuse you don’t know of. Per- 
 haps the other girl’s thrown him over, or he thinks so.” 
 
 ‘‘We shall see. Jenny, where shall we dine ? ” 
 
 “ Oh, I don’t know, some small and quiet place.” 
 
 “Very well.” 
 
 And they went to “ some small and quiet place” and had 
 a small and quiet dinner, washed down with a bottle of 
 Piidesheimer and a little coffee. After the meal, while they 
 were staring pensively at one another across the coffee cups, 
 Carl said — 
 
 ‘ ‘ The court has taken time to consider the question, and is 
 now ready to give an opinion. J enny, you and I will proceed 
 to get married.” 
 
 “ Oh, Carl ! Do you mean it ? ” 
 
 “I do. Of course people like you and me know that 
 marriage ceremonies are mostly different forms of verbal 
 bosh; but they do give, I believe, though I’m not certain, 
 a few legal advantages — though they’re nothing compared 
 to the possible disadvantages conferred by law upon married 
 persons. And it would give you a certain satisfaction, I 
 know, to have a document which the vulgar call ‘Lines’ — 
 awful lines they are on some people. So you and I will get 
 married in the shortest and cheapest method consistent with 
 the requirements of the law.” 
 
 “Yes, Carl,” said Jenny submissively, with a tremor of 
 great gladness and gratitude, “for he needn’t have,” she 
 thought; “he knows I would be his slave or his pet till he 
 was tired of me if he wanted it.” 
 
 Carl did not seem himself in this heroic light, and simply 
 thought he was taking the mpst reasonable course under the 
 
1S4 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 circumstances. But a man who is a chivalrous gentleman is 
 seldom actively conscious of the fact. 
 
 ‘^But you must wait a little. You must wait, in fact, till 
 the new statutes for the universities begin to act. You must 
 know that the pious founders of fellowships attached the 
 absurd condition that Fellows were not to marry. They may 
 get drunk, lead a profligate life, gamble, even murder, I 
 fancy, without losing their fellowship. But they draw the 
 line at marriage. I suppose the founders thought they were 
 doing men a kindness and fencing them round from a pre- 
 valent danger by the surest means they could, an appeal to 
 their self-interest. Well, a few revolutionary Eoyal Com- 
 missioners have upset that arrangement, and in a few months 
 I shall be free. It’s all very silly, of course, but it is so. 
 See?” 
 
 Yes. It seems hardly true yet, Carl, that I am really to 
 be your wife and be with you always.” 
 
 ^‘Always. We’ve neither of us any people to be consulted, 
 so we can do just whatever we like as to arranging our 
 affairs.” 
 
 And will you never get tired of me ?” 
 
 Get tired of you, my Infant, whom I’ve known since she 
 was a child ? No. I think not. But it will be awfully funny 
 at first to have one’s coffee made by some one else. By 
 Jove ! I’ve made my own coffee now for eleven years ! Look 
 here, Jenny, I must warn you of a few of my domestic pecu- 
 liarities while there is time. In the first place, I always 
 smoke everywhere.” 
 
 I don’t mind that.” 
 
 ^^I keep a white rat called Juliet, to which I am deeply 
 attached.” 
 
 I keep a black cat called Jael that I couldn’t part 
 with.” 
 
 ^‘That’s awkward. By the way, why Jael ? ” 
 
 Because she’s so fond of sticking her nails into people.” 
 
 ‘^Well, then, I hate having things put away tidy in any 
 room I work in. I like my hat and stick, and ink and 
 paper, and pens and newspapers and microscope all on the 
 table.” 
 
 Well, you must have a room of your own to do what you 
 like in, and I won’t come in unless I’m asked.” 
 
OK, I.OVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 185 
 
 “Let’s pay and go. Well, you tliink we’ll do ?” 
 
 “I tliink! Oh, Carl, I’m too happy to tell you what I 
 think. But I must go to the theatre now.” 
 
 “No you don’t. You’ll never go on that stage again.” 
 
 “But I shall forfeit my salary.” 
 
 “D your salary. I beg your pardon. I mean, that 
 
 objection is unimportant. Let’s go for a walk.” 
 
 “Where?” 
 
 “Don’t care. Where you like. I say, have you ever seen 
 a play of Shakespeare’s?” 
 
 “No, never.” 
 
 “Neither have I. Let’s go and see how we like it. I’m 
 sick of comic operas. I’m turning into a different sort of man, 
 I think.” 
 
 And they went to see a play of Shakespeare’s, the Mer- 
 chant of Venice, to wit, in which the part of the hero (a much- 
 injured money-lender) was played by one of England’s most 
 striking and marvellous geniuses. And when they came out 
 Carl said — 
 
 “I say, Shakespeare is good. I apologise for having 
 ignorantly called him a bore. Now, thafs the kind of thing 
 that would elevate the masses if the masses were capable of 
 elevation.” 
 
 “ But we are not the masses.” 
 
 “Lord forbid ! We are Carl and Jenny, a firm which shall 
 not dissolve till the hearse trots round, eh?” 
 
 You see Carl was a greater fool than Sandy took him for, 
 after all. 
 
 N 
 
CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 FACILIS DESCENSUS. 
 
 That to Avernus is as easy a descent as anybody could wish 
 to find. Some slide down, with slow acceleration. Others 
 stalk unwillingly, with a backward glance from time to time, 
 regretful but powerless. Some climb, many crawl down. 
 Sandy jumped. Even Miklos was astonished at his reckless 
 course. For Sandy exhausted his remaining capital, two or 
 three hundred pounds, in three weeks, the principal persons 
 profiting by this expenditure being keepers of restaurants 
 and hotels, livery-stables, lessees of theatres, railway com- 
 panies, and Miss Minnie James. 
 
 Desperation spurred behind and ruin yawned in front 
 At last the crisis arrived, the last day which Sandy ever 
 spent of many which had been, of license, waste, and riot ; 
 the end of the most stupendous scoop,’’ as he remarked, he 
 had ever been on — the last day of his youth, perhaps. For 
 he was young after all, then. Less so than he was a month 
 before, more so than he was a day after. His argument 
 was this, to any friendly expostulation: ^^Look here, my 
 boy, I’m going to smash. I know it well. But I mean to 
 have as much fun out of the process as I can, and then 
 take smiling whatever comes. I mean to have a splendid 
 ruin like Eome, not a miserable corrosion and slow stagna- 
 tion like Spain. Let me slide ; I’m half- cracked, you think, 
 but I’m not played out yet. I may be a fool, but I’m not 
 the kind of fool who funks things. If I go on the bend it 
 shall be one that shall fill the annals and found the tradi- 
 tions oi junior imlerhis yet in Eton jackets.” 
 
 And to those youths he was a brilliant Lucifer, to be 
 looked at with admiration and awe, this poor, reckless, passion- 
 
THE CORSARS ; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 187 
 
 guided, devil-ridden fellow with, the great strong body and 
 hopeless heart. How were they to know he dreamed at night 
 feverishly of far-off little May — as a child with a kitten, over 
 and over again, till he woke up shuddering and hiding his 
 tears in the darkness ? And the suave, satisfied, meaningless 
 Madonna face of Miss Minnie looked placidly on at his ruin, 
 and made a very good thing of it. 
 
 Hard eyes that grow soft for an hour ! Hers were always 
 soft — the same innocent, inquiring stare, that expressed so 
 fully all the intolerable deal of nothing which that pretty 
 head contained. 
 
 Sandy’s last day of unfettered festivity began well. In 
 the first place there was breakfast, and during that meal a 
 confidential conversation with Miklos. This was at his lodg- 
 ing in the Adelphi, where Sandy at present lay. When 
 Sandy breakfasted, iDeing by himself, he took porridge first, 
 then steak and onions, then a long pull, perhaps a quart, 
 of lager-beer. No effeminate baby-rake he, with trembling 
 limbs and appetiteless acid mouth. And he consumed these 
 light refreshments at ten o’clock in a pair of fiannel trousers 
 and a striped jersey. He then did some practice with a 
 pair of heavy Indian clubs. Then he sat down with a pipe 
 while Miklos cleared away. 
 
 ‘‘ She’ll turn up in the afternoon, I expect, Miklos. She 
 said she was going to some infernal ball in Pentonville last 
 night ; that will make her late. Did she go ? ” 
 
 ‘^Yes.” 
 
 It was more out of curiosity than because I cared that I 
 asked you to find out. Did she pick up with any fellow 
 there ? ” 
 
 She danced with a good many, and drank with a good 
 many.” 
 
 ^ ‘ N aturally . Bourgeois ? ” 
 
 Bohemesi*^ 
 
 Get drunk? ” 
 
 Not very.” 
 
 Spoon anybody? Excessively, I mean.” 
 
 Nothing important.” 
 
 Wish she had. It would give me some excuse for a row. 
 As it is I shall have to tell her the brutal truth. Miklos, 
 we’re going to stop all this rot. The end has arrived. We’ve 
 
188 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 got to go out and see what we can do for a living now. You 
 are no longer my servant. I can’t keep you.” 
 
 I will cease to be your servant. I will keep myself. We 
 will say I am your friend, if you will allow that.” 
 
 ^^By Jove, we will say it, and mean it, too. Yes, we’ll 
 finish to-day. Tell the brougham to come round as usual 
 after dinner, to take her to the theatre.” 
 
 We’ll see the rats leave the ship now, I think.” 
 
 That’ll do Miklos. Vivent les gueux ! ” 
 
 In the afternoon a hansom drove up with Miss James’s 
 fair halo, pale face, and great guileless eyes, visible in the 
 dark-blue background of the ^ ^ Border.” She liked Borders be- 
 cause they had looking-glasses in them, convenient for people 
 who carry powder-puffs in small plush bags. Sandy watched 
 the tall, slender, well-drilled poseuse from his window on the 
 first floor, as she got out and paid the cabman, who touched 
 his hat and thanked her. 
 
 She’s a very fine piece of human anatomy, anyhow,” he 
 muttered; ^^as such very creditable. Wouldn’t make a bad 
 waxwork either. Hullo, Minnie, what did you give the 
 cabby? He seemed awfully grateful.” 
 
 I gave him two shillings.” 
 
 Where from, Camberwell? ” 
 
 Camberwell, no ! Brom the theatre.” 
 
 ^ ‘ Bather under half the distance you could go for a 
 shilling. Well, if you like to chuck your money away on the 
 acquisition of popularity among cabmen, I can’t object.” 
 
 I always give that.” 
 
 Which settles the question for ever, of course. What 
 have you been doing? ” 
 
 Call at one. Let’s have a drink. I’m awfully thirsty.” 
 Here is some hock, will you have some of that? ” 
 
 ‘‘Oh, I don’t care for that; there’s no taste in it. Let’s 
 have a brandy and split.” 
 
 “ Very well. Though I like your cheek in saying Eiides- 
 heimer has no taste.” 
 
 “ I suppose you mean it’s me that has no taste ? ” 
 
 “ Well, it looks like it, rather.” 
 
 “ I don’t know how it is, but I don’t care for anything to- 
 day, except brandy and soda.” 
 
 “ Don’t you care for me ? ” 
 
OR, LOYE AND LUCRE. 
 
 189 
 
 Oh, of course I do ; that’s different. Oh, I say, Sandy, 
 I don’t get treasury till to-morrow. Could you give me half 
 a quid? I must get some things in Sidney Alley this after- 
 noon.” 
 
 ‘‘Oh?” 
 
 “ Yes, really.” 
 
 “WeU, rU see.”^ 
 
 “ Can’t you give it me now ? ” 
 
 “ Are you in a great hurry? ” 
 
 “ Well, I may as well get it done. I sha’n’t leave you for 
 long. A cab there and a cab back — oh, half an hour, perhaps.” 
 “ Do you never walk anywhere ? It would take you barely 
 ten minutes to walk from here, and the pavement is dry.” 
 
 “ I hate walking. Besides, it’s so hot.” 
 
 “ Very well, here you are — fire away ! Miklos ! ” 
 
 “Yes, sir.” 
 
 “ Get a cab — and,” he added in a tongue not comprehen- 
 sible to Miss James, “ see where she goes and what she does ; 
 write it down, and give it me as a note from some one when 
 you come back.” 
 
 Meanwhile Miss James was going downstairs. Sandy 
 leant back in an armchair, smoked his pipe, and waited, 
 chuckling over a French comic paper. In the course of time — 
 not half an hour, more hke an hour and a half — Miss James 
 returned, saying — 
 
 “ Have I been long ? ” 
 
 “ Not at all. Have you got all you want now ? ” 
 
 “Yes, thanks.” 
 
 Enter Miklos gravely with a note. 
 
 Miklos very much admired Sandy’s cynical absence of any 
 kind of confidence in or respect for the fair Minnie. That 
 was just the way, Miklos thought, after long experience, 
 “they” should be treated. Besides, both he and Sandy took 
 a childlike delight in discovering plots, laying traps, and 
 generally playing at being detectives. That amused them, 
 and was certainly productive of curious discoveries, seldom 
 calculated to increase their respect for humanity at large. 
 Miklos’s note ran thus : — 
 
 “She did not go to Sidney Alley. She drove to the Cafe 
 
 Monico, and met Mr. ” (mentioning one of the youngest 
 
 and greenest of Sandy’s junior imberhis acquaintance). “ I 
 
190 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 did not hear what she said. She spent no money. He paid 
 for both cabs. They had a pint-bottle of champagne. They 
 made an appointment (as she got into the cab, I heard itj 
 for supper at Greco’s to-night. She will take him from the 
 theatre in her brougham at half -past eleven.” 
 
 Sandy smiled. JSer brougham, too 1 ” he muttered. 
 
 ^‘What?” 
 
 Nothing, my dear. Where would you like to have supper 
 to-night after the show?” 
 
 ^^Do you know, I can’t see you to-night after the show. 
 You don’t ‘mind, do you ? Because I promised to go home 
 to-night, and my brother’s going to take me to a ball. It’s 
 his bicycle club that are giving the ball at the Horns at 
 Kennington.” 
 
 ^^Oh.” 
 
 ‘^But I’ll come where you like to-morrow night after the 
 show, I promise you !” 
 
 Oh, will you,” thought Sandy. 
 
 ^^Then you won’t want my brougham to-night, will you? 
 It will look better, you know, if you go home in a cab. A 
 private carriage might give rise to disagreeable questions or 
 remarks.” 
 
 ^^Oh, bother questions! Of course I want it. It doesn’t 
 matter what they say. Besides, as if they didn’t know ! Or 
 cared if they did.” 
 
 '^Well, Minnie, I assure you, you won’t go out with me 
 to-morrow night, or, for the matter of that, any more nights.” 
 
 Why not ? ” 
 
 The infantile blue eyes stared in amaze. 
 
 Because I’m going to jack-up the whole thing. I’ve spent 
 all my — Plunged, scattered, bust, broke, gone under ! Un- 
 derstand?” 
 
 Can’t you get anymore money? Won’t your governor 
 stump up?” 
 
 Haven’t got a governor, or any one to stump up for me.” 
 
 Can’t you borrow?” 
 
 No securities. Don’t suppose there’s anything here worth 
 pledging either — except, of course, your affection — but that 
 is far beyond all money valuation, of course.” 
 
 What do you mean? You ought to have told me before 
 you were going to smash. It’s not fair on me.” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 191 
 
 ^‘Oh? Why?’’ 
 
 ^^Why? Wliy, of course! Don’t you see that you have 
 made me look so silly; everybody knew that I was going 
 
 about with you, and now you turn out to be a d d outsider 
 
 after all, and they’ll laugh at me. Eegular caddish I call it. 
 And so I say so to your face I I never heard of such a thing. 
 I always thought you were a gentleman.” 
 
 ^^Did you? I never told you so. But what made you 
 think that ? ” 
 
 * * I heard you had lots of money. Two or three of my lady- 
 friends said so. They had it from fellows you knew.” 
 
 ^‘And who thought they knew me, eh? Well, I’m not 
 responsible for the opinions of your lady-friends or those of 
 the fellows I knew.” 
 
 And what’s to become of me, I’d like to know?’’ 
 
 So would I. I’m really curious about that. I suppose 
 you are really under the impression that you are an injured 
 individual ? ” 
 
 ^‘I shouldn’t wonder if I could bring an action against 
 you ! ” 
 
 ^^Oh! ^ What for?” 
 
 ** Deceiving me, and damages.” 
 
 What have I damaged ? ” 
 
 Why, my reputation for one thing.” 
 
 You saved me the pain of doing that some time ago.” 
 Well, you’re a beastly cad, that’s what you are, and I 
 don’t care who hears me say it. Eegular bilker.” 
 
 The Madonna face was getting rather red. 
 
 ^^Now look here. You have had your say, and said it 
 pretty freely. Now hear mine. You say I have injured 
 you. Very good. I will adopt your charming candour and 
 tell you a few little details that may soothe. In the first 
 place, you have had from me, in about three weeks, very 
 nearly two hundred and fifty pounds in dress, food, wine, 
 carriages, various luxuries, and hard cash. That doesn’t 
 sound like an injury. I don’t complain. Of course, you had 
 it of my free will. Secondly, I never represented myself as a 
 capitalist. Thirdly, you gave me to understand that what you 
 cared about was me personally, not what you could get out of 
 me. Such an assurance was, of course, very fiattering — so 
 flattering that I ventured to doubt it ; but I never lacerated 
 
192 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 those sensitive feelings of yonrs by expressing a doubt. 
 Fourthly, you stated, with strong expressions approaching 
 oaths, that you never spoke to any man but me, much less 
 went out with them. That asseveration you backed up by 
 having appointments on the sly with — ^let me see, here’s the 
 memorandum. ^June 27th; Charlie Maitland, 4 p.m., Vigo 
 Street Post-office.’ That was the day I had neuralgia, as you 
 were aware. With him you proceeded to dine at the Holborn. 
 ^July 2nd; Stanny Stuart, of the — th Lancers. Met you 
 outside the theatre after the show. Buie’s, Maiden Lane.’ 
 Yes, that was when I went out to dinner with some men, and 
 left you to do what you liked with the brougham. This after- 
 noon you met at the Monico, and had a pint of fizz, 
 
 while I was supposed to be under the impression you were 
 buying hooks and eyes and things in Sidney Alley. You are 
 to go with him to Greco’s to-night. Go; bless you both! 
 Now I should have kept these facts for my own private edifi- 
 cation, if you hadn’t had the ghastly cheek to abuse me as an 
 injurer of innocence, and general deceiver — in fact, as you 
 gracefully put it, a bilker. Now don’t }^ou think you had 
 better look at it in a new light ? You’ve had lots out of me, 
 and you have ‘ hedged ’ so skilfully that you have lots more 
 to fall back upon — fellows much greener than me. Sup- 
 posing I were to tell these little episodes to young 
 
 before he met you to-night? Never mind, I’m not going to. 
 Now it’s all up, do you see ?” 
 
 Miss James was petrified into submission. 
 
 say, Sandy, stand me another cab-fare, just to show 
 there’s no malice. You’ve given back as good as you’ve got. 
 
 By , you’re the best of the lot, after all ! You’re a man, 
 
 and not like these babies. I like a man.” 
 
 Yes, my dear. I know that.” 
 
 And I hope you’ll speak to me again, and things will come 
 round all right, and then we’ll have some more jolly times — 
 and by Jingo, we’ll make the other fellows pay for it 1 ” 
 
 Thank you. Next time you see me. I’ll see whether you 
 will condescend to recognise me. Good-bye, Minnie. You 
 see we’re both better friends now we know each other.” 
 Good-bye, Sandy. I’m sorry we had a row.” 
 
 People who come off second-best generally are.” 
 
 ‘^Ah! don’t go on like that. I’m not such a bad sort. 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 193 
 
 There, I won’t take that cab-fare. And I’ll stand you a drink 
 when I get the chance.” 
 
 ‘‘ Thanks. I’ll take it.” 
 
 Give me a kiss, Sandy ! ” 
 
 Won’t it spoil the make-up ?” 
 
 Oh, no,” said Minnie, unconscious of sarcasm. 
 
 All right.” 
 
 And that epoch in Sandy’s life was over. 
 
 / 
 
CHAPTEE XX. 
 
 ME. GEOEGE CLINCH. 
 
 Sandy sat alone in his window staring at the dim sunlit 
 masses of dreary buildings on the other side of the Thames ; 
 the muddy brown or Indian red of the barge- sails, the linger- 
 ing, laden, petroleum vessels with their topheavy-looking 
 stacks of green casks with grey ends, and the fussy, dirty, 
 vulgar-looking passenger steamers. Away on the left was 
 Waterloo Bridge with Somerset House, brilliant white, with 
 the aerial dimness of a summer day behind, half veiling St. 
 Paul’s dome in grey. He could just read Oopack ” in large 
 letters on the top of a ’bus as it crossed the bridge, and 
 wondered aimlessly who, where, or what Oopack ” was. 
 Then he looked at the lion on the top of the brewery, and 
 thought what good practice one could make at it with a rifle 
 from the window. And then his eyes travelled by way of 
 dreary brown Hungerford Bridge, with its white smoke-pufls, 
 back to his own situation, and he wondered if anybody had 
 ever made such a hopeless fool of himself before, and 
 whether — 
 
 “ this land was a white man’s 
 And was generally things on the square ? ” 
 
 Here was his future spoilt, his prospects of living the 
 leisurely, intelligent life of a gentleman blasted, his chance 
 of a charming girl for a wife gone, himself reduced to ^^hard- 
 upness,” dissipation, folly, and despair — by whose fault? It 
 did not occur to him to blame himself, beyond admitting that 
 he had taken things rather too easily, perhaps, but his whole 
 wrath came down on that one peculiar and unaccountable pre- 
 sence which had hovered over him like a hawk, and darkened 
 his atmosphere like a blight — Cyrus Shute. 
 
THE COr^SAllS ; or, love and lucre. 195 
 
 The last three mad weeks were gone like a bad dream, and 
 Sandy again felt what he felt when he made good resolutions 
 and determined to be Dictator of an American State. 
 
 '^IVe still brains, and pluck, and health and strength,” he 
 thought, and by Jove I’ll score off that fellow yet ! ” That 
 fellow being naturally, Cyrus Shute. 
 
 At this period of his reflections a knock came at the door, 
 and Miklos announced ^^Mr. Corsar !” 
 
 Carl walked in as if he had parted from Sandy two hours 
 before, with his straw hat on a little forward over the eyes, 
 and a cigar in his mouth. 
 
 Hullo, Sandy. Been looking for you.” 
 
 Sit down. I’m awfully glad to see you.” 
 
 ^‘Look here, I hear a lot of funny things about you. I 
 don’t want to misjudge you, but what I want to know is what 
 this all means ? Eh ?” 
 
 don’t beat about the bush with you. It means this. 
 In the first place I’ve been kicked out down there at Water- 
 
 mouth, and told I can’t have what I principally wanted 
 
 down there. In the second place I’ve got no money. At least, 
 not enough to last long ?” 
 
 What are you going to do ?” 
 
 Going to do without ’em.” 
 
 Don’t be an ass. What are you going to do ?” 
 
 Well, we’ll talk that over later. So you see now I’m not 
 quite so bad as you were given to understand ?” 
 
 Yes. I see what you mean. But you are not quite on 
 the platform yet.” 
 
 What’s the matter now ? ” 
 
 How about Sadie Levy?” 
 
 By Jove ! I’m awfully sorry. I utterly forgot her exist- 
 ence.” 
 
 She didn’t forget yours.” 
 
 What a brute she must think me! Shall I go and see her?” 
 ^^No. What good are you ever likely to do her? She’s got 
 over the preliminary shock of finding out that you were 
 usually in a state of profound and unique attachment to about 
 three girls at once, and now she’s had her idol knocked down, 
 it isn’t much good your presenting her with the collected 
 fragments in a dust-pan. I fancy you’d better leave her 
 alone.” ^ 
 
196 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 Very well ; I will. Now that’ll do for the sarcastic part. 
 I admit I deserve it, but you will be the first to see that when 
 a man’s down it’s not necessary to come and jump on him.” 
 ‘^My dear idiot, I came to see if I could pick him up. 
 Now let’s talk business. Why this sudden start from down 
 there ? What brought on the crisis ?” 
 
 ‘^That infernal blank who calls himself Colonel Shute 
 went and jawed to John Eaynham about me. Don’t know 
 what he said — half truth, half lies I suppose — but the critical 
 part was that he mixed up her in the story somehow. The 
 beggar has the blank Hank cheek to take an interest in her 
 himself.” 
 
 ‘ ‘ Oh ; you know that man won’t do at all. Can’t be 
 tolerated. I’ve no reason to tolerate him. If I found him in 
 some sequestered territory of his gay native land, where in- 
 quests are rare — I’d — tell him so.” 
 
 ^^Look here, let’s worry this out. What do you know 
 about him ?” 
 
 ‘^Meaning, what do I know against him? Well, strictly 
 speaking, nothing. Except that he looks like a marked 
 card.” 
 
 Well, what do you suspect? Can’t we light metaphoric 
 fireworks under his bed somehow? Hang it, we’ve got as 
 much brains as he has, I hope.” 
 
 ^^I generally suppose he’s an adventurer, and up to some 
 game. So do you. What next?” 
 
 ‘^What’s he up to, and who is he, eh? How shall we get 
 at this ? You’d like to see him up the tallest possible tree.” 
 ^‘And riding on the sharpest-edged rail. Of course. So 
 far our unanimity is perfect. I say, are those confidential 
 inquiry chaps any good, do you think? ” 
 
 ‘‘People, and books, say all sorts of contradictory things 
 about them. Some attribute to them superhuman subtlety. 
 Some say they simply absorb fool’s money and never find out 
 anything till everyone else knows it. Suppose they are just 
 good, bad, and indifferent, like other people.” 
 
 “ Think it’s worth trying ?” 
 
 “ Arrow shot into the dark. You see we might light on a 
 good man, and we might light on a duffer or a fraud.” 
 
 “ Suppose we interview one, and chance it ? Can’t hurt us. 
 We can always drop it if it isn’t good enough.” 
 
OK, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 197 
 
 And it may be amusing, and may be a success. But, my 
 dear boy, how about exes ? ’’ 
 
 >^0h. I’ll see to that. Now th^n, is it settled we try this 
 game ? ” 
 
 Yes, if you like ; I’m on. You can use me to fetch and 
 carry till my cash is all gone.” 
 
 Well, give me the paper. Which shall we attack? There 
 are three here advertising.” 
 
 ^^Eead ’em out.” 
 
 Morley and Groves.” 
 
 ^^Poor names those, rather. Go on.” 
 
 ‘‘Anderson and Co.” 
 
 “ Dubious. Sounds Scotch, which is good ; but I don’t like 
 Co. It looks like divided authority. Try again.” 
 
 “George Clinch, late Crim. Inv. Dep.” 
 
 “ Clinch is good. ‘ Late Crim. Inv. Dep.,’ is better.” 
 
 “ Perhaps he was sacked from it.” 
 
 “ Doesn’t matter. May be a sharp man all the same.” 
 “Shall it be Clinch?” 
 
 “Morley and Groves aren’t it. Any duffer could be called 
 Morley — or, for the matter of that. Groves. Here is one of my 
 few remaining quids. Now, heads Clinch, tails Anderson.” 
 
 “ All right.” 
 
 And Sandy’s hand uncovered a sovereign on the table.” 
 
 “ Heads it is. Carl, where does Clinch hang out? ” 
 
 “ Craven Yard, Northumberland Avenue. Ten to five.” 
 It’s now four. Come along. This may be a wild goose- 
 chase or it may not, but we will divest our minds of all 
 preconceived notions, either inspired by Inspector Bucket or 
 Javert or any one else, and give the man a fair chance.” 
 “Eight.” 
 
 And they rapidily covered the short distance from Adelphi 
 Terrace to Craven Yard, which is a highly respectable yard, 
 haunted chiefiy by highly respectable money-lenders. There 
 is a modest inconspicuousness about Craven Yard which suits 
 people of retiring disposition, who do not feel anxious to fiaunt 
 the fact that they visit offices there. You can disappear into 
 it from the general thoroughfare very readily, if you know it, 
 and it is ten to one if you ever notice it if you do not know it. 
 And yet it is pretty well known. 
 
 Mr. George Clinch was discovered in a den at the top of 
 
198 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 one of the houses, by following a black hand and an upward- 
 sloping inscription on the stairs. He sat in a very com- 
 fortable chair before a capacious knee-hole desk. On the 
 desk were certain books. They were significant books, com- 
 prising The Directory, The Peerage, The Army List, Brad- 
 shaw (British and foreign) and like funds of useful informa- 
 tion. The furniture consisted of a table, with more books, 
 two inviting armchairs in conversational attitudes, in which 
 Carl and Sandy were invited to sit, a small green safo, and 
 a wash-stand disguised as a desk, with a little fern grown in 
 a neat little red pot on the top. The windows were discreetly 
 opaque. Besides the entrance door, a green baize door led to 
 an anteroom. 
 
 Mr. George Clinch was a wiry, horsey-looking person, with 
 a dash of the soldier about him ; grey eyes which looked as if 
 they always were laughing at some joke of their own, under 
 thick,^ brown, perfectly horizontal eyebrows, a rather long 
 brown face, brown moustache, short-cropped brown hair. 
 Not bad-looking. Distinctly intelligent. Body strong-look- 
 ing; quietly dressed in browns and greys. Age, perhaps 
 forty — perhaps less. A beautiful collie dog lay beside him, 
 and fraternised at once with Sandy. 
 
 ^‘*Well, sir?” said Mr. Clinch. 
 
 Carl, it had been arranged, was to talk, Sandy only putting 
 in a remark when he thought proper. Carl told all the facts 
 he knew concerning Colonel Cyrus Shute, with a few keen 
 contemptuous touches and interpretations of his own. He 
 omitted to mention where he had first seen Shute, viz. at his 
 father’s lodgings. In the Watermouth incident he omitted 
 for the present the names. 
 
 You see, Mr. Clinch, as far as it goes it isn’t much of 
 what I suppose you would call a case. But a case is just 
 what we want you to help to get. It is unnecessary for me 
 to tell a man of your experience what I mean when I say it’s 
 pretty clear that this man is some sort of fraud, who has some 
 sort of reason for wanting to get my friend here — and me — 
 out of the way, so that he has the field to himself down among 
 these country people, who are not naturally suspicious, and 
 who are well ofi.” 
 
 You want to find out all you can about him, don’t you, 
 sir?” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 199 
 
 Just so. Can you give me any idea of the expenses of 
 such an inquiry, supposing I put the dots on the i^s and give 
 the matter to you to deal with ? 
 
 That would depend exactly upon the amount of trouble 
 the inquiry gave. For instance, suppose you wanted to find 
 if somebody was doing something at some place in — say Nor- 
 folk (to put a simple case) ; I should most likely have to go down 
 there and see. • Well, I should charge you the railway ticket, 
 and, if I stayed the night, the inn, or lodging, or whatever it 
 was, any trap I might hire, any squaring of any body, treatin’ 
 ’em to drink and such like. I should show you the bills, and 
 ask for a certain percentage commission over and above. If 
 I had to write letters and take cabs here in London, I should 
 charge for the stamps, and cab-fares just the same. See? If 
 you want a particular party constantly watched, I should 
 charge so much a day, and tell you beforehand how much.” 
 Well, that’s fair enough, certainly. Well then, will you 
 lend a hand and see what you can do about this ? ” 
 
 ^Wery well, sir. Now let me ask a little more about this. 
 What’s this man’s business now ? Oh yes, ^ Anna Maria ’ 
 gold-mine. Well, that may be a swindle, or it may not. I 
 should say it was^ as a matter of opinion. Has he got any 
 friends besides these friends of yours? ” 
 
 I don’t know. I presume so.” 
 
 How did they get to know him ?” 
 
 ^‘Introduced. Club. Shute taken there by a friend, it 
 appears.” 
 
 “ Yes. What club was that ?” 
 
 “Idlers.” 
 
 “ Oh, was it ? How long ago ?’^ 
 
 “Early this summer, I understand.” 
 
 “ Know where the party is who introduced him ?” 
 
 “ Left the country, I heard.” 
 
 “Where did he live before he left the country ?” 
 
 “ Jermyn Street.” 
 
 “ Know the house ?” 
 
 “Yes. I know the house.” 
 
 “ Oh ! Know the party’s name, p’raps ?” 
 
 “ Mr. Clinch, I was wrong not to tell you my own name at 
 first. We are in confidence here, on your honour ? ” 
 
 Mr. Clinch’s eyes danced. 
 
200 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 Certainly, sir. You needn’t go on. You’d rather not 
 mention that party’s name. I saw the likeness d’rectly I set 
 eyes on you to somebody I remembered. Then when you 
 spoke of that club it flashed on me.” 
 
 Carl was rather astonished. 
 
 Well then, Mr. Clinch, the matter is this : I feel no sort 
 of respect or gratitude to that party for anything. He was 
 brutal to his wife, and worse than useless to his son. Still I 
 don’t want to get him into a scrape. But as he is in America 
 he’s safe enough, I take it. Well, as a matter of fact, he 
 introduced the man Shute to these other men, Baynhams.” 
 ^^Yes, they dined at the Criterion first and went there 
 after. I saw ’em.” 
 
 Carl was rather more astonished. 
 
 I hadn’t any idea at the time who Shute was. I didn’t 
 know him by sight, but I do now. Should know his face 
 anywhere. , Can’t disguise his accent either. It’s curious. I 
 was foUerin’ up the other party, in connection with a divorce 
 case in the upper classes. He was suspected of something or 
 other by a lady’s husband — baronet he was, too. You’d 
 know the name if I was to tell you. I was employed by 
 the lady, too, to look after the baronet.- Of course neither 
 of ’em knew t’other was watchin’. And it came out the 
 gentleman’s suspicions was wrong, and the lady’s was right. 
 Gentleman had got mixed up with a lady at one of the 
 theatres.” 
 
 Here Clinch looked out of those merry eyes of his at Sandy, 
 who grinned. 
 
 Deanery theatre, I think it was ” 
 
 Sandy ceased to grin. 
 
 Pretty little house. They’ve got another piece on since 
 I was there. I used to go to the theatre to look after the 
 honourable baronet. I don’t often go to a theatre for plea- 
 sure, but I’ve been pretty often in the way of business. 
 Well, there was a decree with costs against him. It’s all 
 over now. Like to see the lady’s portrait — Deanery lady, I 
 mean, sir?” (to Sandy). 
 
 Certainly, if it isn’t a breach of confidence.” 
 
 Oh, I know a gentleman when t see him. I know you’ll 
 keep it to yourself. Besides, you’ve seen it before, p’raps — 
 may have got into the shop windows by now.” 
 
OJl, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 201 
 
 And Mr. Clincli opened the green safe and took out a cigar- 
 box. Out of the cigar-box he took a cabinet photo and 
 handed it to Sandy, still bending on him those mirthful eyes. 
 
 Oh, d — : — it ! ” exclaimed Sandy with a laugh, this is 
 too much.” It was Miss Minnie James. 
 
 Seen her before, sir, p’raps?” 
 
 ^^Well — yes, occasionally.” 
 
 Yes, I thought you had. Queer the way these things 
 happen,” remarked Clinch as he locked up the safe again. 
 Now about this Mr. Shute. Where does he live ? ” 
 
 Langham he always gives as an address.” 
 
 Say he is a rich man, don’t they ? ” 
 
 Papers do.” 
 
 Which papers?” Carl mentioned a couple of society 
 weeklies. 
 
 Yes. Well, it’s easy enough to get that sort of stuff into 
 that sort of paper, I believe. Well, I tell you what I’ll do, 
 if you like, sir. I’ll see Shute and have a talk with him, at 
 one of those places where yuu get American drinks, or some- 
 where, and see if I can reckon him up. I’ll want to speculate 
 in gold-mining, or I’ll know some one who does, or some- 
 thing ; see how we get on. I expect he keeps a portmanteau 
 or two at the Langham on tick and lives somewhere else. 
 Does he go to that club still ? ” 
 
 I don’t know,” said Carl. 
 
 I think he does,” said Sandy. Waller Eaynham takes 
 him there. Shouldn’t wonder if Waller put him up. There 
 would be a row probably then, because I fancy some of the 
 Idlers have knocked about the world a good deal more than 
 Waller, and know a tiger when they see him.” 
 
 ‘‘Well, the long and the short of it is, Mr. Clinch,” said 
 Carl, “that we want to reckon up this man, if possible, with 
 a view to opening the eyes of these friends of ours, and pre- 
 venting some possible fraud or catastrophe in that family.” 
 
 “ Very good, sir. Do you live in London ? ” 
 
 “I do just at present, but I am generally at Fenchester. 
 I do some teaching in the university there. Here’s my 
 address.” 
 
 And Carl pencilled a lodging in one of the streets off the 
 Strand on a card bearing on it, “ Carl Corsar, And, ColL, 
 Fenr 
 
 o 
 
202 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 Thank you, sir.’’ 
 
 It’s about your closing time, Mr. Clinch, isn’t it ? ” 
 
 Yes. Five o’clock I get out.” 
 
 Come and have something with us.” 
 
 Well, I don’t mind if I do.” 
 
 And Mr. Clinch put on his hat, took up his stick, locked up 
 everything lockable, put bits of paper and hairs between the 
 edge^f drawers, so that they would fall noiselessly if any 
 one attempted^ to open them, and so betray the attempt on 
 subsequent examination, and they all went downstairs, fol- 
 lowed by the now highly excited collie. 
 
 Shall we go to the Grand ? ” said Sandy.’ 
 
 ‘^No, sir. Too many Americans go there. Shute might 
 be there and see me with you, and that’d never do. You 
 come with me. There’s a very nice little place here, where 
 I sometimes go.” 
 
 And they went into the private bar of a small public-house 
 in Whitehall, on the way to Westminster, when three ^^goes ” 
 of whisky were consumed at Carl’s expense, after which Mr. 
 Clinch insisted on ordering three cigars at his expense. And 
 then they walked amicably towards Westminster. 
 
 Well, sir. I’ll say good-bye here. I’m going to take the 
 train home. Ill write and let you know when I want to see 
 you again.” • 
 
 right. Good-bye, Mr. Clinch.” 
 
 And he disappeared into the Westminster Bridge Station. 
 ^^I say, Carl,” exclaimed Sandy, taking his friend’s arm, 
 George Clinch is good business, isn’t he?” 
 
 ^ ^ He scored rather heavily off you in the matter of a photo 
 — and he scored off me, too, in the matter of my dreadful old 
 parent. You see, Sandy, the way it is is most likely this : — 
 Shute has got om some plant or others Doesn’t matter what, 
 but we take for granted he has some. And my dreadful old 
 parent has pitchforked Shute into society — of a kind — for a 
 consideration. Governor never did anything except for a 
 consideration. Why he has gone to America goodness knows. 
 Probably because England disagreed with him, as he once 
 observed to me many places do.” 
 
 Clinch showed a good deal of tact about that. You see, 
 he wasn’t sure whether you’d like Corsar senior’s name to be 
 mentioned before me, and didn’t mention it.” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 203 
 
 Oh, yes. That man’s got his head screwed on the right 
 way. Now, look here, Sandy, you are forgetting all about 
 yourself. It isn’t often that you do that, no doubt. But you 
 are. Where are you going to dine to-night? ” 
 
 Hadn’t thought of it. Where you like.” 
 
 Well, dine with me at the Bavarian, and we’ll have some 
 beer, and talk things over. Have you any idea whatever 
 what you are going to do ? ” 
 
 Sandy looked round him right and left at the stalwart 
 marines, dragoon guards, hussars, and artillerymen lounging 
 and swaggering about, conversing in groups, or breaking oS 
 conversation to waylay some ragged loafer or half-starved- 
 looking workman, to dangle glittering expectations before 
 his dazed or wary eyes, to represent the bubble reputation as 
 of the most irridescent and attractive description, and to 
 enlarge on the advantages of a free kit. 
 
 And Sandy said — 
 
 Yes, old fellow, I know what I’m going to do. Let’s go 
 and dine. I’ve had nothing since ten but talk, and some of 
 that fatiguing. Yes, I know what I’m going to do. And I 
 believe I’m right at last.” 
 
 I shouldn’t wonder if you were, Sandy.” 
 
CHAPTEE XXI. 
 
 ^‘SIE, I will!’^ 
 
 The principal and most striking feature about tbe city of 
 Smyrna, Ohio, is its dazzling and aggressive newness. Tbe 
 inhabitants are exorbitantly proud of this feature, and point 
 out invariably to inquiring visitors the fact that three years 
 ago there was nothing on the spaae now occupied by Smyrna 
 city except mere unproductive landscape, with wooded hills, 
 trees, and a river with fine abrupt rocks proj ecting into it here 
 and there, merely useful as surfaces on which to paste adver- 
 tisements of liver pills. Whereas now it is a flourishing and 
 prosperous city of some seventeen thousand inhabitants, who 
 produce and support eleven daily newspapers, and many other 
 indispensable ingredients of civilised life, such as oyster- 
 saloons, horse-cars, saw-mills, gaily dressed militia, politicians, 
 and several self-made men who live in large aggressively 
 luxurious houses, and are known as financial powers. These 
 have found that the shortest and easiest road to fortune for a 
 man of parts is to watch other people at work and lay odds 
 on the result — in other words, to speculate. 
 
 And though the barometer of commercial morality fluc- 
 tuates a little at Smyrna, it never gets very high. It gene- 
 rally stays at Eoul, with occasionally vibratory impulses 
 towards Stormy. This is not a place where people are green- 
 horns, nor is it a place where they are over-cautious. They 
 have no great faith in other peoples’ ventures, unless the other 
 people visibly profit by them ; but they thoroughly enjoy any 
 speculation which is of the nature of a game of chance, or 
 may be compared to a bet. And they are imbued with the 
 true spirit of evolution, so necessary to a rising state or city : 
 they never pity a loser. This is the way to get on. 
 
 There are three ways of treating the loser, that weaker one 
 
THE COllSAKS ; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE, 205 
 
 wlio goes to the wall prepared for him and his like from the 
 beginning. One way is to express ^Dity without helping. 
 This is frequent. Another is to neither help nor pity. This 
 is the Smyrna city method, though not peculiar to that rising 
 focus of civilisation. The third is rare, and not admitted to 
 he consistent with business-like and smart habits at all : it 
 consists in helping and pitying, especially the former. But 
 fortunately very few people do this, or so many losers, 
 weaker brethren, and unfit ones would survive that they 
 would swamp the fields of competition, overstock the 
 labour market, insert the thin end, and pave the way for 
 the ultimate millennial reign of pauperdom and pensioned 
 mediocrity. 
 
 ‘‘No, sir! ” said the Honourable Paul Stuart Potter, Mayor 
 of Smyrna, chosen delegate of the AVhoop Section Ticket for 
 State Legislature, on the Cojppertail and McDonnell Platform 
 of the Smyrna Convention of the Carpet-bag Party, in private 
 life a very sufficient dentist, addicted to the scientific use of 
 the imagination, “the weakest goes to the wall. Where else 
 should he go ? What’s walls for anyhow ? Gentlemen, what 
 is a wall ? It is a structure of a thin and ephemeral kind, 
 composed of bricks placed in imperf ect,contact with one another 
 by playful Irishmen. Here is a case of the weaker party 
 going to the wall for support and subsistence.” 
 
 “The weakest thing I ever did was to go on Wall Street 
 any way,” remarked Dr. Dennis Moriarty, Professor of the ^ 
 Smyrna University, with a pleasant laugh at Mr. Potter’s 
 rather elephantine facetice. 
 
 “What do you say to that, Mr. Corsar?” continued the 
 Hon. Paul S. Potter. “ I believe you devote a good deal of your 
 statutes to the proppin’ up of the falling at the expense of 
 the rising over in England. Isn’t that so ? ” 
 
 They were all having a quiet interview with drinks one 
 very hot day at the Grand Trunk House, the newest and 
 largest hotel in Smyrna. 
 
 “You are only too correct in your estimate, Mr. Potter. 
 Honest and industrious men in England have to pay taxes to 
 support incapables, loafers, drunkards, and failures generally 
 in carrying on a useless existence. The more property you 
 accumulate by energy, toil, and what you would call smart- 
 ness, the more heavily are ypu rated to support the incapables, 
 
206 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 loafers, and drunkards, as above. It is putting a premium 
 on idleness.’’ 
 
 Ah, why shouldn’t the poor devils be idle at all?” said 
 Dr. Moriarty . ^ ‘ I never do a bit more worruk than I can 
 
 helj). And I don’t mind votin’ for forty Bills to compel you 
 grain, oil, and railroad corner men to pay taxes to keep me 
 in tobacco and whisky. An’ that’s the chapest way of 
 encorragin’ the neetuv producks, too, that ye’re all ravin’ 
 about.” 
 
 Well, I am trying to be a man of business, in an amateur 
 sort of way, no doubt,” said Mr. Corsar, and I find the first 
 requisite is to divest oneseK of sentiment. Of course, I don’t 
 confess that to everybody ; but among men of business, like 
 yourselves, it’s no use pretending, is it?” 
 
 Certainly not, sir,” said Mr. Potter. Sentiment is too 
 thin, ’ceptin’ you want it sometimes in the way of politics. 
 That is, you want other people to have it. Are you a member 
 of the British Legislature, sir ? ” 
 
 Well, no. I can’t say that I have turned my mind parti- 
 cularly to politics.” 
 
 Well, sir. Mr. John Pooley Morton, of the Smyrna Demo- 
 crat, ’lowed you were a member of the British House of Lords 
 out on the rampage. I don’t want to pry into any man’s 
 private life ; no American ever does ; but we can assure you, 
 sir, it won’t go further than this room if you like to confide 
 ^In us.” 
 
 Well, yes. I remember the gentleman’s name. I think 
 he did me the honour of ^interviewing’ me j^esterday 
 morning.” 
 
 The publication of that interview, sir, together with your 
 introduction to me, have been the reason of the visit to you 
 of this present deputation. Smyrna city ’lows you are a 
 British lord going to try gold-mining, and, sir, Smyrna city 
 pities you, but admires.” 
 
 Smyrna city is very kind.” 
 
 It will be observed that Mr. Corsar neither admitted nor 
 denied the correctness of the impression that he was a peer 
 incognito. And now he gently led the conversation away to 
 channels leading more directly to some sort of purpose. 
 
 ^^Now, do you know anything about gold-mining, Mr. 
 Potter ? ” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 207 
 
 ‘‘I iiave done a good deal in tliat way — in shares. I never 
 saw a gold-mine.^’ 
 
 Haven’t you, now ? Fancy that. Have any of you gen- 
 tlemen any practical experience of modern gold-mining? 
 Dr. Moriarty ? ” 
 
 Not I ! Have you, Mr. Heintz ? ” 
 
 ^‘No. Noddabit. Moch better geeb a store. I geeb a 
 store over to Carmel, mister, negs depot to Marathon west- 
 ward Olid off here. You gom and zee me, and I’ll dek you 
 rai’t round.” 
 
 Mr. Heintz was a small, quiet, fair man, with spectacles 
 and a fresh complexion, a German suit of clothes, and an 
 inoffensive expression. There was only one other member 
 of the deputation, and he sat stern and silent, sipping a glass 
 of rye whisky and a glass of ice water alternately. He had 
 been introduced as Mr. Joel Haycraft, and had shaken hands 
 heavily,, observing, Glad to know yow, Mr. Corsar.” He 
 was a worn, sunken-eyed, grizzly-bearded, aged-looking man 
 of about fifty or fifty-five. He was thin, long-limbed, sun- 
 tanned, and inscrutable, shabbily dressed, spoke with a strong 
 accent, and sometimes spat on the floor. The rest of the 
 deputation used spittoons. He looked far nearer the ideal 
 Yankee type of fiction and caricature than any of the rest. 
 
 ^^Now, that’s unfortunate,” said Mr. Corsar, ^‘as you will 
 less fully appreciate the importance of the yield when you 
 look through my short abstract of the prospectus. Fact is, 
 this mine’s a hobby of mine, and instead of staying over in 
 England and receiving dividends, I prefer to come here and 
 personally superintend the out-put. Of course, I have no 
 intention of refusing to communicate the names of would-be 
 shareholders to the office in New York or London, but 
 please not to regard me as an agent, or a person in any way 
 desirous of inviting you to put down your money. I know 
 there’s nothing like talking plain English to keen business 
 men like yourselves, and so I tell you that the yield of gold 
 at present is such that the more shares I can get into my own 
 hands, at a decent price, the better I shall be pleased. So, 
 you see, I have no motive in wanting you to subscribe — in 
 fact, I don’t want you to. I don’t refuse. I daresay you can 
 have shares, and don’t mind telegraphing if you do, but it is 
 not strictly my business.” 
 
208 
 
 THE CORSAES; 
 
 Quite so/^ said Mr. Potter. ^‘You’re an amatoor ; you Vo 
 read stories about western gold-mining, and want to see it 
 done. I know. And youVe one of them dooks, only you 
 won’t ’low it. And what you’ll do is this. You’ll throw your 
 dollars down a dirt-hole. I speak straight. I’m Paul S. 
 Potter, and alius have spoken straight.” 
 
 But if the dirt-hole yields profit already? ” 
 
 Then silent and sombre Mr. Joel Hay craft took up his 
 parable and spake. And he said — 
 
 worked two years at that dash-blanked mudhole called 
 the ^ Anna Maria.’ I got a fevier, and I got a broke leg. 
 An’ that’s all I got, an’ all anybody ev^r got, an’ if your 
 comp’ny, sir, have got a grain of gold out o’ there they’ve 
 done a pretty steep thing. And that’s the frozen truth.” 
 
 This was a heavy one, and unexpected. No one else had ever 
 seen the mine up to now. But Mr. Corsar came up smiling. 
 
 ^‘Mr. Haycraft, whose experience is certainly much greater 
 than mine, appears to doubt the truth of my statements. I 
 am not accustomed to that. Still, I don’t suppose any offence 
 is meant, and I don’t mean to take any. All I can fairly say 
 is this : If you don’t believe it, come and see ! I hope that’s 
 speaking straight.” 
 
 And Mr. Corsar smiled radiantly around him, the personifi- 
 cation of courtesy, rectitude, and worth. He really might 
 have been an ornament to the House of Lords, but would 
 have looked more at home on the bench of bishops. For a 
 judge he was not sufficiently stern — too much sympathy, too 
 much friendly j)artiality and bountiful compassion glowed in 
 his handsome old face. You felt you could sit down before 
 him and sing — 
 
 “ A fine old English gentleman, one of the olden time ! ” 
 
 He suggested port wine, mail-coaches, Charlies, highwaymen. 
 Bow Street runners, prizefights, and all the merry pursuits 
 and soothing features of good (bad, or indifferent) King 
 George’s golden days. And he said, in his candid, manly 
 way — 
 
 Well, if you don’t believe me, come and see ! ” 
 
 And Mr. Joel Haycraft, who had led a hard, unsuccessful, 
 roving life, who possessed the heart of a Diogenes, the hand 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 209 
 
 of a coallieaver, tlie wooden face of a figure-head, with a very 
 far from wooden brain inside it, replied — 
 
 Sir, I will ! ” 
 
 Mr. Corsar was momentarily stricken dumb, but had the 
 presence of mind to bow. Mr. Heintz turned to Mr. Hay- 
 craft and said — 
 
 ‘^Votfor? Two-dree days railroad chost to zee dat olt 
 mine ? Te enemy of your laife.’’ 
 
 ^^Mr. Corsar,’’ said Mr. Potter, hope, sir, you will not 
 consider me, and Dr. Moriarty, and Mr. Max Heintz, as 
 sharing in Mr. Joel Hay craft’s opinions.” 
 
 Thank you, gentlemen. Nevertheless, I trust you 
 accompany Mr. Haycraft on our visit to my pit, the ^ Anna 
 Maria,’ for my satisfaction if not for your own.” 
 
 Mr. Corsar thought there was nothing like cheek. It had 
 often done him good service before. Of course he had never 
 expected any one to accept his challenge, but now it had been 
 accepted the only thing to do was to make the best of it and 
 trust the rest, as he beautifully put it, to Providence. That 
 Providence,” refiected he, ironically, which has never long 
 deserted me. The cherub that sits up aloft and takes care of 
 us poor rogues.” 
 
 ‘‘What’s the good of ut at all, Haycraft?” said Dr. 
 Moriarty to the sombre and laconic Joel, who replied — 
 
 “I don’t wish to offend Mr. Corsar. But I shall take the 
 cars right there when Mr. Corsar has concluded his residence 
 in Smyrna.” 
 
 “Then, by I’ll go, too,” said Mr. Potter. “The 
 
 whole crowd ’ll go too, and we’ll make a big thing of it. I 
 have, I guess, sufficient interest in the Grand Trunk Poad to 
 make money for the journey no consideration. I’ll get a 
 special train if it comes to that. Mr. Corsar, sir, allow us to 
 wish you good morning. We will meet again this evening.” 
 
 And the deputation shook hands heavily and withdrew, 
 with the exception of Heintz, who lingered. Outside, Dr. 
 Moriarty said, “He’s a grand jantleman, and I believe he’s 
 an old Oirish family.” 
 
 “I’ll lay him to be an English nobleman on the rampage,” 
 said Potter. “ Them teeth of his cost thirty dollars if they 
 cost a bit.” 
 
 “I ’low him to be a fraud,” stated Haycraft, spitting 
 
210 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 calmly, ‘^and a first-class, Al, copper-bottomed one. Don’t 
 think any wuss of him for it, either.” 
 
 Will you bet ? ” said Potter. 
 
 ^ ^ I will. I bet a thousand dallers no gold ever has been 
 got out of the ^ Anna Maria,’ or ever will be, ’ceptin what’s 
 put into it.” 
 
 ^ ‘ I bet a thousand dallers gold is found there, because this 
 English gentleman says so. Moriarty can hold the money 
 and bear witness for both.” 
 
 That is so. Come round and have a drink.” 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Heintz lingered. 
 
 Well, Mr. Heintz, what can I do for you ? ” 
 
 And then a curious thing happened. The fresh-faced, fair 
 little man suddenly lost his German accent, and said in a very 
 ordinary tone — 
 
 Say, is that all right ? ” pointing with his thumb over his 
 shoulder, presumably at the imaginary situation of the 
 Anna Maria.” 
 
 Is what all right, Mr. Heintz ? ” 
 
 Oh ! — things generally. You took it all beautiful. I 
 admired at you then, and tried to help you out of it.” 
 
 Will you kindly explain yourself, Mr. Heintz ? ” 
 
 Oh, G d your injured dignity, and G d 
 
 Heintz too. I’m Jack Dillon, down Leadville, Texas. I never 
 knew you }3ersonally, but I’ve seen you often enough. Now 
 then, stop that hand of yours. Don’t shoot. I’m a friend.” 
 Mr. Corsar moistened a very dry pair of lips, and said : 
 I thought you were dead ! ” 
 
 So your pardner Shute thinks. Here’s his marks on me, 
 too. I’m looking for him. But I’ve no malice against you. 
 He^s nothin’ to do with this plant ? ” 
 
 Not a bit,” replied Mr. Corsar, readily, I split with him 
 long ago. But I wish you wouldn’t use the expression 
 ‘plant.’ It suggests fraud.” 
 
 “And people might hear it? By I think you’re 
 
 pretty nearly the steepest thing I’ve seen. American smart- 
 ness ain’t in it with your aristocratic demeanour and grit. 
 You’ve got the sand. You’ll get through. I should be 
 sorry, real sorry, if you didn’t get through. See you’re in a 
 difficulty. Now show me your hand, halve stakes, and I’ll 
 help you ; and by Jack Dillon never lied to a pardner !” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 211 
 
 The one rascal looked at the other steadily for a few seconds. 
 Then Corsar laughed pleasantly and said — 
 
 ^^Done!’’ 
 
 “Shake hands! Now then see, here. Of course there 
 
 ain’t a d d dust-grain of gold there ? ” 
 
 “ Not a grain.” 
 
 “Nor any plant, ’ceptin’ the one delicacy forbids us to 
 mention, and rusty stuff the despairin’ duffers of former days 
 have left behind ’em?” 
 
 “ Not a bit. At least not that I know of.” 
 
 “Nor any workmen, nor any ^spirited board of control,’ 
 nor any ^ thirty-stamp mills ’ as per prospectus, nor any any- 
 thing?” 
 
 “Not a thing. You see I’m candid.” 
 
 “Now see here, this is what we’ve got to do. You will 
 stay here a few days, make yourself agreeable, get friends 
 and get shareholders. Get at the women. They’ll do any- 
 thing for a lord, ’specially a good-looking, beautiful talker 
 like you. Meanwhile I’ll get one or two bummers who’ll do 
 anything for a dollar’s worth o’ whisky, and take ’em right 
 there. We’ll rig up a wash of some kind, and salt the thing 
 scientifically. Joel Hay craft even, smart as he thinks he is, 
 won’t expect that, thinking, as he will, that you have not yet 
 been to the mine, and never dreaming of me having any 
 finger in it. If they believe in it, well and good; we’U 
 about bull that market. If they don’t, we’ll just raise heU. 
 Well, there’s Potter, Moriarty, and Haycraft; you and I can 
 settle them. Got a pistol ? ” 
 
 “ Oh yes.” 
 
 “Well, if any" one raises a row, shoot right into the crowd. 
 There’ll be nobody there but us, and my shaloots will keep 
 underground and witness nothing — shoot ’em’ if they did.” 
 “Yes, I suppose that’s the only way,” said Mr. Corsar, 
 calmly. “ And if I succeed, my friend,” ruminated Mr. Corsar, 
 silently, “I’ll shoot yow on the earliest opportunity that offers. 
 You’d get drunk some day and talk. Jack Dillon. Besides 
 there’s the profits, and Shute. Yes. And the United States 
 will then be rid of one of its superfluity of rascals.” 
 
 “ Well, then, we’re pardners ? ” said the more honest rogue. 
 “We are,” replied the more thorough. “ By the way, do 
 you know exactly where the infernal mine is ? ” 
 
212 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 find out that easy enough from some of the agents 
 round here.” 
 
 We had better depart now, hadn’t we ? ” 
 
 ^^Yes. Say, this is a big kite we’re starting. Hope it’ll 
 fly?” 
 
 So do I. By the way, where’s Shute ? ” 
 
 Don’t know. Down New’rleans way, likely.” 
 
 That is all right,” reflected Mr. Corsar,^^ they’re not likely 
 to hear of each other.” Good-bye, Dillon, for the present. 
 Have anything more ? ” 
 
 Not now. So long ! ” 
 
 And Mr. Dillon disappeared in search of suitable ‘^sha- 
 loots” to send onto the distant territory where the ^^Anna 
 Maria ” mine was supposed to be eflervescing with superfluous 
 bullion, to get apparatus — though it were of the slowest, 
 cheapest, and most old-fashioned kind — into something with a 
 superficial resemblance to working order at once, while Mr. 
 Corsar remained to be entertained by his Smyrna circle of 
 acquaintances — a circle which daily enlarged, but always 
 limited itself strictly to rich people of both sexes. Mr. 
 Corsar gently repelled the insinuation that he was ‘ ^ one of 
 them dooks,” with a kind of deprecating modesty which only 
 increased the general conviction. Besides, every one knew 
 that now-a-days the enterprising British nobility have taken 
 to all sorts of speculative fads, from buying land in Iowa to 
 becoming proprietors of hansom cabs in London. Beyond 
 this, the aristocracy of Smyrna were as ignorant as any French 
 novelist of the habits, titles, and privileges of the aristocracy 
 of Great Britain. So that this refined, handsome, acute, 
 courtly, and facetious old ruffian really had them at a great 
 disadvantage. 
 
 Ladies compared his taste in dress, and delicacy and tact in 
 conversation, to that of — say Mr. J oel Haycraft, and the like 
 of him, who suffered in the comparison. And the results 
 came in in the form of purchases of shares in the ^^Anna 
 Maria.” Nobody is so completely wise and so fully expert as 
 not to have a weak point somewhere, and James Corsar would 
 gently and patiently probe away till he found that weak 
 place, and when the suitable occasion arrived, jammed his 
 prospectus (altered to suit American minds) into it. He 
 always found occasion. As the exemplary and ingenious 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 213 
 
 Madame Marguerite d’Angoulesme, Queen of Navarre, and a 
 fe'w other people have observed, it is not the occasion which 
 makes the sin, but the sin which forges the occasion. 
 
 When people ignorantly assert that honesty is the best 
 policy, they forget that the practice of dishonesty is usually 
 confined to persons who suffer under many disadvantages of 
 education, of intellect, and of social status, to say nothing of 
 physical cowardice, which is an inconvenience few rascals can 
 thoroughly free themselves from. But given an educated, 
 intellectual, tasteful, courageous, entirely unscrupulous man, 
 with a wide and long experience of many grades of human 
 nature, and an immense field of villainous possibilities opens 
 out before him. That Mr. Corsar was more or less intellectual 
 is evident from his conversation. That he was courageous is 
 evident from the calm way in which he behaved under very 
 trying circumstances at the Grand Trunk House. That he 
 was unscrupulous, if any doubt that they may be reassured 
 from his little interview with Mr. J ack Dillon, whom Cyrus 
 Shute always represented as one of the victims of his bow and 
 spear in the old Texas days, but who still escaped bullet, 
 rail, and rope, one or all of which many persons hopefully 
 pray may some day be his lot. 
 
 And the days crept on and the crisis grew nigh. At last 
 the Honourable Paul S. Potter, Professor Moriarty, and Mr. 
 Joel Haycraft accompanied Mr. Corsar on to an extremely 
 elegant car on the Grand Trunk Eoad, amid waving of hand- 
 kerchiefs by the beauty and fashion of Smyrna city assembled 
 at the depot ; and the train started off, Mr. Corsar, hat in 
 hand, smiling on the car platform, with a flower in his coat. 
 It was a very dry-lipped smile. And so he set off, as on a 
 triumphal procession, slowly through the streets of Smyrna, 
 with a great bell clanging on the locomotive to clear the way 
 before him. 
 
 At Carmel, the next station, Mr. Max Heintz boarded the 
 train, remarking, ‘^Ah! how vos you, sir? Let’s haf a 
 tring to der kolt-mine, vere de leedle kobold’s are vorking 
 for you. Yes ? ” And he laughed merrily, in his simple- 
 hearted German way. When he was alone on the platform 
 ^ with Mr. Corsar he again became Jack Dillon, and said — 
 
 I’ve sent ’em off. We shall find a d d old stamp mill 
 
 at work, pounding out mush by the bucketful. It’ll be shaky 
 
214 THE COIiSARS; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 work, gettin’ the gold into the wash, though, with that infernal 
 old mud-dob there with the minor prophet’s front name.” 
 How much gold have you got?” 
 
 Scraped an old French napoleon to bits. Hope there 
 won’t be a nugget found with a gold nose and waxed 
 moustache on it. No. That’s a joke. I’ve done better work 
 than that.” 
 
 ‘‘But — with all deference to your superior knowledge — 
 isn’t that a very small quantity ? ” 
 
 “Who in h— U’s goin’ to pay for half a ton of gold-dust? 
 I’d like it to yield that, in bucket sf nil, naterally — but we can 
 keep puttin’ ‘ haftins ’ back into the wash muck. Got your 
 pistol loaded, in case of difficulties ? ” 
 
 “ Yes. What a nuisance that man Haycraft is ? ” 
 
 “ Oh, perdish him, any way. Ha’f stakes, partner? ” 
 
 “ Certainly.” And the train racketed and jingled on, and 
 the sun went down and the great yellow moon shone over 
 great endless plains, or glowed behind black pine-clad bluffs, 
 as it went ever racketing and jingling on ; and when the sun 
 rose in carmine and g-old and^green horizontal flame- streaks, 
 it racketed and jingled still, and Mr. Corsar, on his sleepless 
 platform, snuffed the morning air. “This,” he muttered to 
 the startled creatures who fled devious from the track, “is 
 life or death. Which ? ” 
 
CHAPTEE XXII. 
 
 COLONEL SHUTE IS ASTONISHED, AND JOHN BAYNHAM PEBPLEXED. 
 
 PooB old John Eaynham was naturally very uncomfortable 
 after having performed what he had considered his duty with 
 regard to Sandy. For many reasons. First of all, there is 
 always a kind of regretful recoil when a difficult and un- 
 pleasant duty has been accomplished. It is difficult to avoid 
 the thoughts, ^'Perhaps I went too far,” Perhaps it might 
 have been better if I had not been so precipitate,” Perhaps 
 things might have righted themselves.” 
 
 Then he had by no means anticipated that Sandy would fly 
 into a rage and bolt with a small portmanteau into space, 
 leaving^no clue as to his whereabouts ; nor that May would 
 become silent, oppressively dutiful and submissive, melan- 
 choly and sometimes snappish, the whole culminating in 
 a bilious attack, with headaches, tea and dry toast in her 
 room at odd times, and a tendency to read sombre poetry and 
 satirical novels, causing Mrs. Eaynham to observe that she 
 had no patience with her, and Kate and Ethel to be deco- 
 rously surprised, pubKcly compassionate, and privately trium- 
 phant. They confided to one another that May had really 
 been allowed to get .a great deal too silly, to have her own 
 way too much, and to over-read herself. 
 
 Then, again, John Eaynham was really fond of Sandy, and 
 felt extremely anxious to know what had become of him. 
 
 He was such an impulsive fellow ! Why couldn’t he have 
 stayed quietly and talked things over a bit ? There’s no 
 saying now what absurdity he may commit, and set people 
 talking, too.” John Eaynham was kind and easygoing 
 usually, but had a strong sense of duty combined with a very 
 far from keen insight into human nature, the result of which 
 was that he occasionally got a little muddled, with a tendency 
 
216 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 to make mistakes and pitck into tke wrong people or say the 
 right thing the wrong way, all recoiling ultimately in the 
 form of remorse and distress on himself. 
 
 Anybody but John Eaynham would have recognised the 
 absurdity of Sandy’s ‘^staying quietly to talk over” anything, 
 more especially when he had been told he was a failure, that 
 he had spent money without getting any return for it, and 
 that he was Allowed the Ordinary Degree,” and had better 
 become apprentice to some respectable firm — say of brewers. 
 Anybody else would have known that wholesome and merited 
 as these revelations were, they were not calculated to soothe 
 Sandy or make him particularly prudent, he being just one 
 of those people who jump over (and incidentally into) six 
 ditches rather than walk along one road. 
 
 And then the poor old boy puzzled his head to ^^make it up 
 somehow ” to May, who was evidently far more irritated and 
 sorrow-stricken than he thought she would be, or than she 
 thought anybody could discern. He felt that he had injured 
 her in some way, though he certainly had intended to act for 
 her good, and she acted the exasperating part of an injured 
 person who i§ of a forgiving disposition. And then she was 
 unwell, and John Eaynham got alarmed. At last he felt that 
 he must have committed some crime, and that it was really 
 very kind of everybody to forgive him and tolerate his 
 society — that perhaps it might be as well to give Sandy an 
 allowance out of his own pocket and implore him to return. 
 He ventured to hint something of this, in the watches of the 
 night, to his wife, who said, Eubbish ! ” very decidedly. 
 
 Then he began to wonder what made that fellow Shute take 
 such an interest in the matter ; whether there had not been 
 some symptoms of a growing intimacy between Shute and 
 May, and what he ought to think about that. And he said 
 one day, during the family dinner, wonder who this 
 Colonel Shute really is ? He’s an odd fellow.” 
 
 He is very quaint and amusing,” said May, but I should 
 think his private record was very curious. I rather like 
 him really, though he does suggest revolvers, whisky, and 
 euchre, yrhatever that is.” 
 
 I am sure he is very nice and kind,” said Kate. This 
 meant that she had read in some paragraph-paper that he 
 had twenty thousand a year.” 
 
OR, LOVE A^D LUCRE. 
 
 217 
 
 And so American/’ said Ethel, it’s quite funny.” 
 ^‘Wouldn’t it be rather funny if he wasn’t?” said May, 
 seeing that he is, and always was, an American.” 
 
 At the same time,” said John Eaynham, we know very 
 little about him.” 
 
 ^‘Waller is very enthusiastic about him,” said Mrs. Eayn- 
 ham. 
 
 Oh, AValler ! Yes. But you see he knows no more about 
 him than I do. At least, ! don’t think he does. He didn’t a 
 short time ago. Hang it all, when you come to think of it, 
 the fellow’s been in and out here like one of the family 
 almost — and a very pleasant, downright, plainspoken, honest 
 fellow he seems to be, I will say that — but without our really 
 knowing him from Adam.” 
 
 AVell, we know him now, at any rate,” said Mrs. Eaynham. 
 
 Do you?” said May. don’t.” 
 
 AVell, it’s a pity then,” said her mother, for he seldom 
 had a word for any one else when you were there. It was 
 always a bouquet, or a fan, or something for ^Miss May,’ 
 as he would call you. I’m not blaming you. You’ll probably 
 learn a great deal more sense from Colonel Shiite than that 
 wretched wicked boy Sandy.” 
 
 Here May became rather red, and calm ^ith suppressed 
 wrath. She felt pale, proud and patient. She looTced rather 
 sulky, but none the less'^retty for that — ^though it is no use 
 being pretty to one’s mother and sisters, who call exerting 
 the power of beauty on a suitable and pleasant man — or two 
 — being really silly with Mr. So-and-So. I couldn’t help 
 wondering what he’d think of the way you must have been 
 brought up.” (As if any Mr. So-and-So cared twopence how 
 a girl had been ‘^brought up” as long as she was good to 
 look at and nice ” to talk to !) 
 
 I fail to perceive the wickedness,” replied May, in what 
 she hoped was a chill, calm, and cutting manner, ‘^unless it’s 
 wicked to have good taste and to be too poor to gratify it.” 
 (Oh, oh! My poor dear special-pleading May, what on 
 earth do you know about his tastes? Would you like to 
 know how he is gratifying them just now ?) 
 
 Don’t be silly,” said Mrs. Eaynham. ‘‘I’m not'going to 
 argue that "all over again. . Besides, don’t you see how it 
 annoys your father ? Let’s change the subject.” 
 
 p 
 
218 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 Certainly/’ said May, I am not aware that I introduced 
 the subject.” 
 
 Mrs. Eaynham’s position of course was that Sandy’s wicked- 
 ness consisted in having no money, though she could scarcely 
 say so in so many words. And as this kind of suppressed 
 skirmish, with hints, innuendoes, open rebuke, affectionate 
 but exasperating harangues, cool and cutting retorts, and all 
 the thousand and one pernicious arts of a feminine civil war, 
 arose now nearly every day, John Eaynham’s life slowly 
 became a burden to him, and he felt like the tyrant father 
 of the old comedy. ^^I’m afraid I’m an old fool,” he con- 
 cluded, but I don’t see yet where I was wrong.” 
 
 And one evening, after dinner, when May had gone to her 
 own apartment to confide the hollowness of things and other 
 original discoveries to Peter and the piano, when Kate and 
 Ethel had gone out for what they called a ^^turn” in the 
 grounds, John Paynham said — 
 
 How would you like it if he were to ” 
 
 What, dear ? ” said his wife, looking up suddenly froih a 
 doze over a society paper, ‘‘I didn’t know you were speak- 
 ing.” 
 
 I say, how would you like it if he were to want to marry 
 one of the children ?” 
 
 Who, dear?” 
 
 Of course it is very absurd to suppose people can know 
 what we have been thinking about for the last ten minutes, 
 though we often act on such a supposition, and make speeches 
 which are, like this, simply the direct continuation of our own 
 train of thought to people who are thinking of something 
 totally different, and expect them to understand. 
 
 Who ? Why Shute, of course.” 
 
 Don’t you think, on the whole, it might be rather a 
 good thing? There seems to be no doubt that he is very 
 weU off.” 
 
 Well but, taking that for granted, do you think it would 
 otherwise be a good thing? It is true we know nothing 
 against him.” 
 
 ^‘Gracious, how you talk! One would think he was a 
 thief, to hear you go on against him 1 ” 
 
 I am not ^ going on against him.’ I like him*” 
 
 <Wery well then! ” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 219 
 
 Mrs. Ea3mliam, good, innocent woman, could not conceive 
 a person credited (by society) with twenty thousand a year to 
 be capable of any but venial sins. That is a very common- 
 place prejudice, it may be said. So it is. Very. And as 
 common as it is commonplace. So much the worse. And as 
 long as English parents regard their children’s marriage as a 
 matter of business and bargaining, so long will it be a com- 
 monplace matter to see girls disposed of to highest bidders 
 of antecedents unknown and unenquired into. Moral and 
 physical antecedents I mean. The beautiful maternal crTopyrf 
 is sharp enough about the pecuniary antecedents, goodness — 
 or rather badness — knows. 
 
 Which possibly accounts for the fact that in this highly 
 moral, respectable, and Christian country there have been in 
 one short session lately about as many divorce cases as there 
 are days in leap-year, nearly two hundred of the same being 
 undefended. Do you know what undefended generally 
 means, mesdames the mothers of marketable daughters ? It 
 means not only inability, but, as often as not, unwillingness 
 to defend — a silent acknowledgment that they cannot help it. 
 And then you know what becomes of them — or perhaps you 
 do not ; you are too pure-minded to know anything of the 
 sort. 
 
 You keep your daughters from reading the cases in the 
 papers ; don’t you think you might keep them a little more 
 from figuring in them, if you tried ? 
 
 I tell you what I was thinking of doing,” went on John 
 Eaynham, I think I’ll just run up to town to-morrow.” 
 
 ^‘What for?” 
 
 Oh, several things. I’ll see Waller, for one, and find out 
 what there is to be found out about Shute. Then I’m rather 
 anxious to know what Master Sandy’s doing.” 
 
 Oh he’ll turn up fast enough, when he wants some more 
 money.” 
 
 '' I don’t know so much about that.” 
 
 The upshot was that Mr. Eaynham did run up to town, but 
 not the next day. He wrote first to Carl Corsar, addressing 
 the letter to Fenchester, asking for an interview. He did not 
 suppose that Carl was at Fenchester, and wrote, TcJ^ be for- 
 warded on the letter. His object was twofold. In the first 
 place, this Carl Corsar was Sandy’s intimate friend, and would 
 
220 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 be very likely to know something about his whereabouts. In 
 the second, Carl was the son of the man who had been Colonel 
 Shute’s social sponsor, and might possibly know something 
 about him. 
 
 Carl was in London, and replied that he would be happy to 
 see Mr. Eaynham, at any time and place the latter might 
 appoint. So the latter appointed a time and said he would 
 call. 
 
 The day before this appointment, Mr. Eaynham met his 
 brother Waller at the House of Commons, after vainly chasing 
 him through his clubs, chambers, and other haunts, and 
 Waller promptly asked him to dinner. Waller thoroughly 
 enjoyed asking people to dinner. There was a solidity, an 
 antiquity about it which pleased him, and he would sit a long 
 time afterwards drinking port, and talking, which he liked, 
 but could scarcely do after lunch. 
 
 You will join us at dinner? ’’ therefore said Waller. 
 Who’s us?’’ 
 
 ^^Well, there’s your friend Shute,” (^^Oh, he’s my friend 
 Shute now, is he ? ” thought John) ^^and Mackinnon. You 
 know Mackinnon, son of the late General Sir George Mac- 
 kiniion, who was up with the Wurree-gur expedition ? ” 
 
 I have heard of him. I don’t think I know him.” 
 
 ‘^Fact is, he wanted to know Shute. He’d heard about 
 him a good bit, and as he was out in the States in the civil 
 war, fighting on the same side, he thought it might turn out 
 to be some one he knew. Mackinnon’ s been everywhere, and 
 generally knows everybody. So I asked ’em to meet one 
 another. I didn’t tell Shute about Mackinnon’ s experiences, 
 so it will be a little surprise for him. Be great fun to see two 
 old campaigners draw each other out.” 
 
 I shouldn’t wonder,” said John Eaynham, quite without 
 malice. ‘^Yes, I’ll come, Waller. Much obliged. What 
 time ? ” 
 
 Eight. It’s a Wednesday night, and there’s nothing to 
 keep me at the House. Not at the club, at my chambers.” 
 All right.” 
 
 And Mr. Eaynham strolled away, thinking what a lucky 
 opportunity this would be of picking up some real informa- 
 tion. Then he began to ask himself what would the effect of 
 his finding that Shute was all he represented himself to be — 
 
OK, LOVE AND LUCKE. 
 
 221 
 
 a ricli man, of an adventurous past, a mixture of that keen 
 honour, rough pathos, and dry humour with which a certain 
 late development of American romantic literature has made us 
 very familiar. Supposing all this to be real — and John Eayn- 
 ham did not see why it should not be — and supposing in plain 
 English this man wanted to marry May — as it seemed not 
 improbable that he did — what was to be said and done ? The 
 man was a good deal older than May, for one thing, yet not 
 so very much older. He could scarcely be forty yet, more 
 like eight-and-thirty or so. Well, no harm in that. Has had 
 time to sow his wild oats. He seemed a shrewd, thoughtful, 
 kind-hearted fellow. Of course, if May didn’t want him, 
 that settled the matter. She shouldn’t have him. iS’obody 
 wanted to force her. Pity, though, to miss such a chance if 
 the fellow really were so well off after all. But then again 
 about those mining shares. These things generally had such 
 a bad name. Still, of course, there are such things in the 
 world as real mines with real gold coming out of them. Hadn’t 
 he seen a model of a nugget at the Great Exhibition as big as 
 two men’s heads, round Which stood always an admiring and 
 reverent crowd ? And so John Eaynham walked along the 
 sunny Victoria Embankment, wavering and hovering. 
 
 In due time the dinner hour arrived, and with it Waller’s 
 guests at his extremely luxurious flat in Victoria Street, which 
 he apologetically called a bachelor den. Major Mackinnon 
 was a tall, thin, handsome, long-faced Scotchman, with close- 
 cropped fair hair, grizzling and thin at the top, a leathery 
 skin, thick eyebrows, an eyeglass, and an accent. He was 
 evidently a gentleman, and had steadfast blue eyes which 
 looked calmly and straightly in the face of any one who spoke 
 to him, as they had once or twice, maybe thrice, looked at 
 cannon’s mouths. He might have been about fifty. Major 
 Mackinnon had been in more than one military service, and 
 I believe had held higher ranks in some foreign armies, but 
 in the English Army List he figured as major, retired on cap- 
 tain’s pension. Cyrus was resplendent with the white waist- 
 coat, the pink coral buttons, the crimson kerchief, and the 
 blazing bosom- jewel.” 
 
 After introduction, the weather, thin turtle, and sherry, 
 Major Mackinnon remarked courteously, and in all good 
 faith— 
 
222 
 
 THE CORSAKS; 
 
 understand you were in the Confederate army, Cornel 
 Shute?^» 
 
 ‘ ‘ I was so. Fourth Virginia Cavalry, under General Eobert 
 Lee.» 
 
 Ah, well, you would recollect that affair at Gaines’ Mills?” 
 was there.” 
 
 So was I.” 
 
 ^^Oh!” 
 
 I was there with Stuart. Did you know poor Wheat, who 
 was killed there?” 
 
 ^^Know him? You bet. Were you present at his death, 
 Major ? ” 
 
 “No. I was galloping all the time backwards and for- 
 wards between Stuart and Wilcox.” 
 
 “ He died in my arms.” 
 
 “Indeed ! Then you had got mixed up with the Tigers, I 
 suppose ? ” 
 
 “ The which ? ” 
 
 “The Louisiania Tigers — Wheat’s regiment,” explained 
 Major Mackinnon, putting up his eyeglass and contemplating 
 Cyrus curiously. 
 
 “Yes, indeed. I lost my horse and chummed in with the 
 first crowd I could find.” 
 
 “Eough business that day altogether. Still we gave ’em 
 their kail through the reek, didn’t we ? ” 
 
 “ Knocked spots out of ’em.” 
 
 “ Pity you fellows let McClellan sneak off from that nest of 
 his on the Chickahominy. Still, MacGruder and ‘ Stone- 
 wall ’ took it out of him afterwards.” 
 
 This kind of conversation went on for some time, consisting 
 of reminiscences on the part of Major Mackinnon and a good 
 deal of listening and experimental replying on the part of 
 Cjrrus. As the latter had never been in any of the situations 
 mentioned, had never figured in the war at all except in the 
 character of a deserter to the other side, in which capacity he 
 assisted in the sack of Peterborough when the fighting was 
 over and the plundering begun, and had picked up his infor- 
 mation from conversation and newspapers, he was exquisitely 
 uncomfortable for most of the evening, and changed the con- 
 versation whenever he could. Still, when absolutely com- 
 pelled to join in sympathetic reminiscences, he was ingenious 
 
223 
 
 OR^ LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 and audacious, and got througli the ordeal at first pretty well, 
 as Major Mackinnon was not naturally inclined to be sus- 
 picious of a feUow-guest. 
 
 But it was fated that Cyrus should put his foot in it. It is 
 difficult to converse successfully for a whole evening on the 
 details of a subject you know next to nothing about with 
 another person who does, who has ‘^been there,’’ and is afflicted 
 with an accurate memory for details. Cyrus once got hold of 
 a general’s name which he ascribed to the wrong side. It 
 was a pardonable error for a person in his position, for there 
 is no internal indication in such names as Whiting, Ewell, 
 Wilcox, Blenker, Winder, Pope, Banks, Longstreet, and D. H. 
 Holls, of what side in the struggle they belonged to. If Russians, 
 or Prussians, or French are fighting, the names speak for them- 
 selves ; but Winder, Blenker, Euger, MacGruder & Co. are 
 hopelessly perplexing, unless, like Major Mackinnon, you 
 were there,” and knew them all intimately, as he appeared to. 
 
 And Major Mackinnon, being a Highlander, was peppery, 
 and took several glasses of hot whisky after dinner. And 
 Colonel Shute, being an American and nervous, took several 
 glasses of cold whisky after dinner, while AValler prattled over 
 the price of his port, and John looked on and listened, with a 
 choice cigar. 
 
 For a man who has fought for the ^ Glorious Old Cause,’ 
 said Major Mackinnon— himself, perhaps, now a little ashamed 
 of having fought for such a very inglorious old cause — ^^ye 
 have but a short memory. Cornel.” 
 
 Haow?” 
 
 ^ ^ I say, ye’ve a shorrter memory than any man I know who 
 lias been through such things.” 
 
 ^‘Well, I allow that’s a p’lite way of saying you don’t 
 believe it.” 
 
 Cyrus was getting, not peppery, but into a quiet, ^ ^ nasty ” 
 temper. 
 
 Surr ! ” said Major Mackinnon, I do not as a rule make 
 use of circuitous phrases to convey that impression, and I 
 regret to convey it at all.” 
 
 Cyrus thought the Major was caving in,” so assumed an 
 injured tone. 
 
 I regret. Major, that you did convey it,” he said. I am 
 sorry. I never doubted your word.” 
 
THE CORSARS; 
 
 22 i 
 
 I don’t remember any one who ever did,” quietly responded 
 the real old soldier to the sham one, whose experiences with 
 regard to his word had frequently been otherwise. 
 
 I have seen men shot for less — down Leadville,” pursued 
 Shute, tenaciously. 
 
 ‘‘Grood deal of that sort of thing out West, I suppose, 
 still ? ” said Waller, cheerily, waking up to the fact that if 
 some one did not change the subject, ‘^something” would 
 happen. 
 
 Pretty free,” said Shute. 
 
 And after a little desultory conversation Colonel Shute took 
 his leave, feeling that that was the thinnest ice he’d skated 
 on for quite a while,” and that he ‘^must read up that blame 
 war a bit before he met that dash dashed old plank-headed 
 son of a howitzer again.” He was unwilling to go first, 
 thinking that Major Mackinnon would take advantage of his 
 absence to criticise him freely and unfavourably to his host, 
 but thought that problematic evil better than the present 
 certain one, of either making some fatal mistake or having 
 a quarrel. As a matter of fact. Major Mackinnon, being a 
 gentleman, did nothing of the sort, but talked about Glad- 
 stone and the short service system, and then went away. 
 
 John Paynham was ^^put up ” by Waller, and went to bed 
 more puzzle-headed than ever about Colonel Cyrus Shute, and 
 faintly conscious that he had been made a tool of by that 
 warrior with regard to Sandy, and perhaps otherwise. Waller, 
 of course, never conceived himself capable of being made a 
 tool of by anybody, and dreamed that he was offered a peerage. 
 John dreamed about General MacGruder, who wanted to marry 
 May, and led about a Louisiana tiger, which said its name 
 w^s Sandy Mackinnon, and they all underwent complicated 
 journeys together in mid air across St. James’s Park, to find 
 somebody who kept a green plush canary which had the Vic- 
 toria Cross. Which shows that John Eaynham’s mind was 
 much disturbed, and that he had had curried prawns. 
 
 Cyrus Shute looked in at one of the American Exchanges 
 at Charing Cross before he disappeared for the night from 
 fashion’s giddy maze, and glanced at the latest American 
 papers; and in one of them — I think it was the Ohio State 
 Mail — he saw a paragraph which made him sit suddenly down 
 and mutter in profound amazement, Hell alive ! ” He then 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 226 
 
 took a cab hastily to the Langham and asked for letters. 
 There was one from America. He pocketed it and walked 
 away down to the Criterion. He there drank a pint of cham- 
 pagne and smoked a big cigar at the expense of the latest 
 purchaser of Anna Maria” scrip, and read his letter. He 
 looked at its date. He compared that date with one he had 
 seen on the newspaper. Then he thought silently, with a 
 scowling eye and protruding chin, still gazing at the open 
 letter, which was dated from Smyrna, Ohio, so that the man 
 di’inking at the bar behind him could easily see it, as Cyrus 
 was sitting down. 
 
 And the letter said, — Played out. Sell all scrip you can 
 at any price, and disappear.” And Cyrus pondered and 
 chewed his cigar. And the man leaning on the bar behind 
 him chatted pleasantly with the man who prepared Bourbon 
 noggs and rye cocktails. And Cyrus produced a note-book, 
 an envelope, and a stylographic pen, and wrote : Dear 
 
 Smithers, please buy for me all the ^ Anna Maria ’ scrip that 
 you can get to-morrow. Bear it down as cheap as you can. 
 C.S.” And he underlined the word ^^buy.” Then he ad- 
 dressed the envelope to C. Smithers, broker.” 
 
 When the man who was pleasantly chatting to the bar- 
 keeper had got all this by heart, he left, and the dusk of 
 Coventry Street received him. He liked the dusk of Coventry 
 Street, and the stiU duskier neighbourhood to the north of it, 
 for he knew how teeming with human curiosities of all kinds 
 that neighbourhood was. And when he had got as far as the 
 brilliant row of white lamps round the door of the Cafe de 
 TEtoile, he paused, took out a note-book, and made memo- 
 randa. Another addition to a very curious and highly in- 
 teresting series of epitomised, scandalous chronicles which 
 filled the note-book of Mr. George Clinch, late of the Crim. 
 Inv. Dep. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 THE CANDOUR OF CARL CORSAR. 
 
 Oarl was sitting in his lodging in Somerset Street, Strand, in 
 a folding wicker chair which he had dragged as near the 
 open ground-floor window as possible this fine July day, 
 reading a letter from Mr. Clinch. Somerset Street is one of 
 those streets which slope down toward the Embankment, or 
 rather end suddenly and precipitously above that ruinous 
 waste which stretches along immediately behind the Embank- 
 ment from the Savoy Hill to the Adelphi, and is approached 
 from the Strand by forbidding-looking sooty passages and 
 dismal flights of damp steps. Somerset Street is above these 
 catacombs of tin-pot and old-boot-land, and its windows 
 look out on a cheerful, sunlit fragment of Thames southward, 
 and the changing, ceaseless stream of Strand circulation 
 northward. When Oarl came to London he always occupied 
 these ground-floor rooms at No. 8, Somerset Street, and found 
 them quite good enough. 
 
 Mr. Clinch’s letter was a neat report of the progress of his 
 investigations. And this was what he reported : — 
 
 1. Colonel Shute did not live at the Langham Hotel. 
 
 2. He was not known at all by any accidental American 
 Clinch had conversed with in various resorts. 
 
 3. He did live in a lodging — a bedroom, for which he 
 paid four shillings a week, in the Blackfriars Eoad, and 
 went by another name there. 
 
 4. The office” of the agency of the ^^Anna Maria Gold- 
 Mining Company,” in St. Mary Axe, was simply an address 
 for letters applying for information or shares, which Cyrus 
 Shute called for at intervals, there being no premises owned 
 or rented by the Company at all. And that was all at 
 present. 
 
THE CORSAKS; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 227 
 
 This looks rather squiffy for Shute, I think/’ murmured 
 Carl. And he looked out of window and watched a cab halt 
 at the door, from which John Eaynham emerged. It was 
 his appointed time, 11.30 a.m., the morning after the dinner 
 at Waller’s 
 
 Glad to see you, Mr. Eaynham. Sit down.” 
 
 I have one or two things I’d like to consult you about, 
 Corsar, which I could not very well put in a letter. I think 
 it was Inspector Bucket, wasn’t it, who said ‘ never write 
 letters ? ’ However, I don’t want to keep you long, so I’ll 
 come to the point at once. I don’t know whether you know 
 that Sandy Maxwell has left us rather suddenly about a fort- 
 night ago ? ” 
 
 I know that. But I understood that his departure was of 
 a more or less involuntary nature — in fact, a kind of ex- 
 pulsion.” 
 
 Quite a mistake, really, Corsar. He left of his own 
 accord, in a fit of temper, because I had been telling him, 
 perhaps in a rather injudicious manner, or in a badly chosen 
 moment, some things he didn’t like to hear.” 
 
 Carl thought this extremely probable from his own know- 
 ledge of Sandy’s temperament, and said — 
 
 ‘ ^ Of course all that is no business of mine ; still, being a 
 friend of his I was sorry to find there was a difficulty of some 
 kind.” 
 
 ‘‘Well, I want him to come back and talk sensibly and 
 quietly with us over his affairs, and if he will only put his 
 shoulder to the wheel, do something and stick to it, I’m per- 
 fectly prepared to help him. But I’ll have no more shilly- 
 shally and playing about and wasting time and money. He’s 
 not a boy any longer.” 
 
 “I should say what you propose was about the best thing — 
 if you can get him to see it. What do you want him to do ?” 
 “Well, now, there’s a shipping agency at Liverpool, in 
 the South American line of business. They’d take him on, I 
 know, for a few years, and then send him out to Valparaiso 
 or somewhere, with a salary. It would be an exciting life, I 
 should think, looking after all that copper and wheat and 
 Manchester goods.” 
 
 “I should think the words South America and Valparaiso 
 might fetch him. I should suggest it to him, Mr. Eaynham, 
 
228 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 without too much allusion to the Manchester goods. And I 
 shouldn’t lose much time about it, for he’s hard-up and 
 there’s no knowing what he mayn’t do in the meantime.” 
 How hard-up ? He has money enough for the present — 
 at least, he had when he left.” 
 
 Oh, I don’t know. But I should see him as soon as 
 I could, if I were you.” 
 
 ^ ^ Where is he ? ” 
 
 ^^Well, he was at Adelphi Terrace when I saw him 
 
 last, some days ago. He doesn’t come near me much for fear 
 I should think he wanted me to lend him money, or stand 
 him meals. Of course I shouldn’t think anything of the 
 sort, but a poor gentleman is the most ticklish and scrupulous 
 kind of creature to deal with.” 
 
 Well, well. We’ll see what is to be done. And now 
 for my next point. Do you know anything about this Colonel 
 Cyrus Shute ? ” 
 
 Carl bit his lip. 
 
 A little.” 
 
 Have you any doubt about his — er — genuineness? ” 
 
 I have no doubt on that subject at all.” 
 
 How do you mean ? We are speaking in confidence here, 
 of course.” 
 
 mean that I am perfectly convinced that Shute is a 
 fraud, and have always supposed so.” 
 
 The deuce you have ! Then I really must say you might 
 have — er— — ” 
 
 Told you before? Yes. But look here. He only 
 arrived at your place the evening I was fetched away by 
 telegram, or I wanted to warn you. At the same time, Mr.. 
 Eaynham, my position had difiiculties I can scarcely explain 
 to you. In the first place, I had only suspicion, no proof, 
 and the man was my fellow-guest.” 
 
 But if you had suspicion, you had grounds for it, I sup- 
 pose, and in a house where there are — er — ladies, and one 
 thing and another, it’s doosid awkward to have an unknown 
 black sheep in among them. You know this Shute has been 
 more or less intimate "at my place, a thing he would never 
 have been if I had heard a breath of suspicion about him. 
 In fact, when I tell you that he has actually been paying 
 attention to my youngest daughter ” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 229 
 
 his cheek exclaimed Carl, suddenly standing 
 
 up before the empty fireplace. 
 
 ‘^Yes. And it makes me feel IVe been made a fool of. 
 IVe been slowly waking up to that fact for the last day or 
 two, and I think IVe not been at all well treated. I think 
 you might have said something if you are so sure about the 
 matter, when you see a gentleman’s family becoming vic- 
 timised by an adventurer — as you make out this fellow to be.” 
 ^‘Listen, Mr. Eaynham,” said Carl, still standing up. A 
 good deal of what you say I hear for the first time. It was 
 only from Sandy the other day that I knew Shute was still 
 in your neighbourhood. Besides, I have more information 
 now than I had then about him. I hesitated to give you the 
 grounds of my suspicion from the nature of that ground, as I 
 think you will understand. It is my duty, I suppose, to tell 
 you, both to partly justify my own conduct, and to put you 
 on your guard. Do you remember who introduced Colonel 
 Shute to you ? ” 
 
 ^‘Of course. It was your father, at the ^Idlers,’ one 
 night.” 
 
 ‘‘That’s the ground of my suspicion.” 
 
 “I don’t understand.” 
 
 Carl bit his lip again. 
 
 “Well, then, in plain English, my father has spent his life 
 in living on human credulity and foUy, and is not ashamed of 
 it. He and Shute appear to have been what they call part- 
 ners years ago somewhere. Probably in New Orleans, or 
 some such place, where gambling can be carried on to a lucra- 
 tive extent.” 
 
 J ohn Eaynham was bewildered. 
 
 “ You amaze me ! Do you mean to say ? ” 
 
 “ I’ll let the old pump have it now,” Carl thought, “ as he’s 
 insisted on asking for it,” and he continued — 
 
 “I mean to say that Corsar, senior, probably knew your 
 brother’s weak points, and traded on them, and gave Shute 
 advice how to trade on yours ; that he got those paragraphs 
 about Shute’ s riches into the society papers as a leverage to 
 get Shute into society, knowing that people in society are 
 mostly fools enough to believe anything they read in a para- 
 graph, and sycophants enough to pardon any sin to a rich 
 sinner — to call his vulgarity eccentricity, his ignorance simple- 
 
230 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 mindedness, his blatant brazen cheek and impertinence, dry 
 humour, and his coarse dissipation the natural outcome of a 
 wild and roving existence, very pardonable as such. I really 
 think there is a good deal of raison-d"* etre for people like Shute 
 and my unhappy relative, as long as society ethics pave such 
 a broad road of temptation for them — as long as people will- 
 ingly dance round the brazen serpent, if a weekly anony- 
 muncle has described it as the golden calf.” 
 
 ^ ^ Dear me, dear me, Corsar. This is all very shocking. I 
 never should have conceived it possible. What’s to be done ?” 
 Well, I’ll tell you what Pve done, and you can decide for 
 yourself what’ll you’ll do. I’ve put a fellow on his track to 
 watch his goings-on, and report progress at intervals. He’s 
 a very smart fellow, and has told me a few things already 
 which are significant. Listen! ” And Carl read Mr. Clinch’s 
 letter. 
 
 Well, but it seems to me, Corsar, 3^ou are the only person 
 that’s done anything sensible and useful in this business at 
 all ! I am sure I’m sorry if I pitched into you, but I was 
 irritated at having been made such a fool of.” 
 
 right, Mr. Eaynham. Never mind the pitching in. 
 You got that back, I think. Now, what do you propose ?” 
 
 ^ ^ I tell you what. This following up of Shute by a detec- 
 tive must cost a lot of money.” 
 
 *^No, it doesn’t. Clinch and I are great friends by this 
 time, and he doesn’t take it out of me more than he can help.” 
 ^^Well, you’ll permit me, in my own interest, mind, and 
 for my own satisfaction, to join you in this investigation.” 
 
 ^^I see no reason why you shouldn’t. Of course you are 
 interested in the matter, no one more. But don’t talk about 
 all this to other people.” 
 
 Of course not.” 
 
 And, above all,, not to Shute at present.” 
 
 But what shall I do if he comes down to Watermouth ?” 
 He can’t come to stay at your place unless you ask him. 
 And you needn’t do that.” 
 
 ^^Of course I must give my family a hint. I’ll tell ’em 
 Shute is not so rich as he was supposed to be. I should think 
 that would do for a hint.” 
 
 That’s your business, of course. Excuse me, but I 
 wouldn’t tell Mr. Waller Eaynham at present anything. He 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 231 
 
 would be difficult to convince, and might possibly say some- 
 thing to Shute which would put him on his guard.’’ 
 
 say, Corsar, you’ve got an insight into humanity.” 
 ^^I’ve had to see a lot of the shady side of it.” 
 
 ^^And you’re a cool hand, you know. You don’t mince 
 matters when you do open your mouth.” 
 
 don’t wish to be offensive, but I must say what is 
 essential.” 
 
 My dear fellow, I respect you for it. Can I see this man, 
 what’s his name. Clinch? ” 
 
 Oh, of course. Go round with you now if you like.” 
 ^^Far from here?” 
 
 No. Five or seven minutes.” 
 
 Will you lunch with me afterwards ? ” 
 
 Thanks.” 
 
 And as they walked along the Strand J ohn Eaynham felt 
 that this keen-faced, good-looking man who was out of society, 
 in a way, and given over to beetles and botany, and micro- 
 scopes, and Darwin, had a different kind of mind to many he 
 was accustomed to ; that he had a direct plain-dealing way of 
 going to first principles which was very unlike the kind of 
 dealing John Eaynham was accustomed to meet with in his 
 circle of prosperous middle-class society. 
 
 At Charing Cross Mr. Eaynham and Carl observed a soldier 
 walking along in front of them, in a Highland dress, twirling 
 a light cane in the orthodox way, glancing at the women 
 right and left. 
 
 ^‘That’s a fine, broad, well set-up fellow,” said Mr. Eayn- 
 ham, casually. 
 
 Carl looked at him. 
 
 ^^Yes. So he is.” 
 
 Before they overtook him he had turned in at one of the 
 gates of the railway station and disappeared from view. 
 When they had gone by he re-emerged, saying to himself — 
 Ouf ! That was a near thing ! I can’t argue with him in 
 the street. I don’t want to cut him. I’m not ashamed of 
 myself now — but, d — n it, you know, those two together was 
 too much ! ” 
 
 It was Sandy. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIV. 
 
 THE ^‘ANNA MARIA,” AND WHAT CAME OUT OF HER 
 
 When tlie special train from Smyrna, bearing Mr. Paul 
 Stuart Potter, Mr. Joel Haycraft, Mr. Max Heintz, and 
 their English guest — or victim — Mr. James Corsar, reached 
 the farthest point it was capable of reaching ; after crossing 
 endless plains, frightening much cattle, crawling up inter- 
 minable slopes, and dashing down perilous zigzags, the 
 travellers were conveyed by the strange, reckless, strap- 
 slung, mule-drawn conveyance called a stage (meaning a 
 coach — a similar inversion of language to that which calls a 
 train frequently a railroad, in the land where English is 
 called an obsolescent patois ”) to Morgan Town, the nearest 
 place approaching the dignity of a city ” to the Anna 
 Maria.” And they all arrived one hot evening and slept at 
 Smith’s Spread Eagle Hotel — the only hotel, constructed of 
 wood, and decorated with whitewash as the ark was with 
 pitch. 
 
 When the two parties to the wager were discussing topics 
 of the day and place with several very formidable-looking, 
 partly-sober residents in the vicinity, in the bar of the Spread 
 Eagle, Mr. Max Heintz proposed to Mr. Corsar to take a 
 stroll in the cool — which was 90° in the shade — of the even- 
 ing. Mr. Corsar, who hated rowdies who maundered about 
 “placer” mining and quarrelled aimlessly in bars, accepted 
 promptly, and they started, he in a thin black frock coat 
 and a tall white hat, the other in a calico coat and a shady 
 panama. As soon as they got well out of sight, Mr. Corsar 
 said — 
 
 “Now then. How far is it ? ” 
 
 “ Two miles. I’ve seen one of the boys. He’U guide us.” 
 
THE CORSARS; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 233 
 
 Come on, then.’’ 
 
 See now, pard, my asking you to come out for a walk was 
 right enough. It’s a safe-conduct. I’m supposed to be look- 
 ing after you, to see you didn’t get foolin’ with ‘ Anna 
 Maria.’ Hello, there ! ” 
 
 Hello it is,” replied a tall, thin, handsome, dirty man 
 with a long fair moustache, dirty grey trousers, and striped 
 cotton shirt, an English single-breasted four-buttoned ^^patch”- 
 pocketed brown tweed jacket, very well cut, very discoloured, 
 and* with strips and curly strings of torn lining hanging out 
 here and there, and on his feet a pair of old buttoned boots, 
 with string put through the top buttonholes and coiled 
 round the ankle, and (last relic of degraded dandyism!), 
 drab cloth uppers.” 
 
 ‘ ^ How are you, Dillon ? ” he continued. Is this our learned 
 friend ?” 
 
 Yes. Mr. — Mackay,” said Jack Dillon in a hasty intro- 
 ductory tone to Mr. Corsar, who professed himself happy to 
 make Mr. Mackay’ s acquaintance. 
 
 Mr. Mackay bowed with an easy swagger. ^‘Will our 
 learned friend stand a drink ? ” he said. 
 
 '‘^Dry up, Willie,” said Jack Dillon, ^^and don’t make a 
 dam fool of yourself.” 
 
 Dried up is what I am, and therefore I want a drink. 
 My ancestors saved me the trouble of making a dam fool of 
 myself. I was born ready-made. But I want a drink.” 
 
 Perhaps it would be as well,” said Mr. Corsar, ^^that 
 Mr. Mackay should postpone his refreshments till after 
 business.” It was pretty evident that Mr. Mackay was 
 
 fresh.” 
 
 ^‘Perhaps it wouldn’t,” said Mr. Mackay, ^^with no dis- 
 paragement to our learned friend’s doubtless high, though 
 mistaken principle that business and pleasure should be kept 
 separate on a system of false precedence.” And Mr. Mackay 
 imperceptibly edged and shouldered the party in the direction 
 of a wood and whitewash structure [from which he had just 
 emerged. 
 
 Better give in,” said Dillon, in an undertone; he’ll have 
 his own way, but he’ll do our business.” 
 
 Well, Mr. Mackay,” said Mr. Corsar, pleasantly, ^Svhat 
 shall it be? Bye?” 
 
 Q 
 
234 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 It was what I was at when I saw you men coming,” said 
 Mr. Mackay. In fact, you may be said to have 
 
 * met a body 
 Going through the rye.’ 
 
 Come in. Here’s your other employe, gentlemen. You 
 will excuse his condition. You will excuse his nationality 
 and his resemblance to an elderly baboon in reduced circum- 
 stances. Sam, glasses round, please. This gentleman is 
 responsible.” 
 
 The other employe {i.e, the other person sufficiently un- 
 scrupulous to be selected by Jack DiUon the experienced) 
 was a Mexican — at least, his father was, his mother being a 
 Digger, and the resultant of these two forces being usually 
 called by the graceful humour of the West, a Greaser. He 
 reclined on the floor, pillowed on a spittoon, and snored. He 
 was like an ill-fed and sickly-looking baboon. And the bar- 
 keeper served out the glasses and handed the bottle across the 
 bar. ^ 
 
 Mr. Mackay filled for himself, and said, I look towards 
 our learned friend.” 
 
 His learned friend smiled and said, ^‘I likewise bow. 
 Mr. Mackay, I can’t help thinking you’re an Englishman.” 
 
 Well, who the h ever thought I was anything else ? 
 
 If you want to know, I’m an M.A. of Cambridge, with a right 
 to be placeted and non-placeted, and to proctorise errant 
 youth.” 
 
 It is always gratifying to meet an educated fellow-country- 
 man,” said Mr. Corsar. 
 
 ^ ^ Same here, ’ ’ said Mr. Mackay. ^ ^ Have another with me ? ’ ’ 
 Thanks.” 
 
 Mr. Corsar helped himself very gingerly to the yellow 
 rye whisky, and put a good deal of water in it. He was a 
 very temperate man. Mr. Mackay filled his two bits’ ” worth 
 pretty liberally, and remarked — 
 
 Let’s drink the health of the gold-mine ! Have a drink. 
 Jack Dillon?” 
 
 ^^See now, Willie,” said Mr. Jack Dillon, winking from 
 behind Mackay at Corsar, You mustn’t shout my name out 
 like that. And you mustn’t get drunk — not now, I mean. 
 You can drink till you burst yer skin to-morrow.” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 235 
 
 I never got drunk in my life,” said Mackay, sucking the 
 last glutinous drop from his glass, never. Here, gimme 
 summore. Will you oblige me with your name and college, 
 sir ? ” said he suddenly to Mr. Corsar. 
 
 Corsar, Audit.” 
 
 Fenchester, eh ? Came over to play you football once, I 
 think — or else it was something else. Have another ? ” 
 
 ^ ^ Don’t you think we’ve had enough, as a mere preliminary 
 to business?” 
 
 ^^Oh, get out! Who’s business? Who the blank blank 
 cares for him — it, I mean ? Look here, Corsar, you’re a gen- 
 tleman, ’Varsity man, temperate man, learned man, all that, 
 don’t you know. So’m I. Now you come out with me, and 
 we’ll have a walk. Here — you’re a little unsteady, de’f’ler ; 
 take my arm.” Here Mackay supported himself heavily on 
 Mr. Corsar. You’re not accustomed to gettin’ through the 
 rye, like me. I am. You lean on me — that’s it.” Here Mr. 
 Mackay (who had been ^ Agoing through the rye” all the 
 afternoon) nearly fell flat down. ^^Now you’re all right — 
 ain’tcher ? Eight’ ch ’are, then. Hold up ! ” 
 
 Mr. Jack Dillon witnessed the devious promenade of worthy^ 
 respectable, nicely dressed Mr. Corsar and this hopeless 
 rowdy with much amusement, and walked behind ^‘to pick 
 up the pieces,” as he remarked. 
 
 Look here, Corsar, you’re gentleman, ain’tcher?” 
 hope so.” 
 
 ’Varsity man — ole ’Varsity man, ain’tcher? ” 
 
 ^^Yes.” 
 
 All right. So’m I.” Then after a pause : — 
 
 Gentlemen, ole ’Varsity men, you and me, ain’ we ?” 
 
 Certainly,” said Mr. Corsar, with truly Christian patience. 
 Mackay came close to his ear and murmured — 
 
 ‘ ^ Then I’ll tell you something — these hobby-horses musn’t 
 hear. I don’ want any profits — I sh’d only lose ’em at euchre 
 and poker. But you own the ^ Anna M’ria ’ — more’less ? ” 
 
 Yes.” 
 
 Don’t you waste y’r money salting her. She’s all 
 right.” 
 
 Don’t speak loud, now. What do you mean ? ” 
 
 Don’cheu pay ertogive — wha’ she’ll letchy’ have f ’nothing. 
 There’s lot of goie, lot of gole, in that old mine — only nobody 
 
236 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 hit on the right place. Takes gentleman — ole ’Varsity man — to 
 do that. I tell you because — your propry, yoVe rightknow — 
 ’cos I’m a gentleman and you’re another, ain’tcher?” 
 
 Mr. Corsar turned deadly pale and thought silently for a 
 moment ; then he said — 
 
 <^This is true, on your honour?” (easily perceiving the 
 man’s weak point). 
 
 ^^Yes.” 
 
 Can you keep it to yourself ? ” 
 
 You bet — as these dam Yanks say— honour as a gentle- 
 man, as we say. Hold up ! You’re groggy, ole man, 
 ain’tcher ? ” 
 
 ^^ Look here, Heintz,” said Mr. Corsar, ^^need we go to 
 this beastly mine to-night ? Can’t Mackay do the — er — pick- 
 ling process early to-morrow ? ” 
 
 Don’t seem as if Mackay was likely to do much to-night, 
 certainly,” said Mr. Jack Dillon. Can you get up at dawn 
 or so, Willie, to-morrow, and look after things in a general 
 way?” 
 
 Yes, sir. I’ll go to bed as soon as you fellows have done 
 drinking and got safe home. Must see you safe as far as 
 your street.” 
 
 What hotel are you patronising, WiUie ? ” 
 
 ^^La belle etoile. I sleep up there — round the ^Anna 
 M’ria.’ Cold tub every morning in the stream. Goo’ 
 business. Gentlemen and Englishmen like coletubearly ; 
 not like you d d Yanks and Greasers. What ? ” 
 
 ^‘I’m not going to quarrel now, Willie. So don’t talk that 
 dam foolishness.” 
 
 ^^Qui’ right. I never quarrel with a man when he’s 
 drunk. Can’t control his feelings. Jack Dillon, you can’t 
 control your conversation. You’re drunk, but I bear no 
 malice. I’m goin’ to bed. Corsar, you’re a gentleman. 
 Gladder met you. See you to-morrow^; .goo’night ! ” 
 
 And poor Willie Mackay, M.A., lurched off to some un- 
 seen lair in the surrounding country, which was hilly and 
 well clothed with trees, and adapted for prompt disappear- 
 ance. 
 
 Mr. Corsar walked back with Jack DiUon to the hotel. 
 
 What sort of a fellow is that ? ” he said. 
 
 ^^Dam fool in some respects. Got maggot in his head 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 237 
 
 about bein’ a gentleman, but will do any d d thing for a 
 
 spree and whisky — except lie. He won’t do that. I don’t 
 know why, as he’ll do almost anything else in the guileful 
 and deceptive way. You see, he’ll salt that mine of ours 
 lovely.” 
 
 Mr. Corsar smiled a rather nasty smile as he heard the 
 word our.” 
 
 ^^But I wish to h he wouldn’t keep slinging Jack 
 
 Dillon” at me. I’m supposed to be dead long ago. Every 
 one thought your friend Shute had put me out of my pain 
 for ever, way down to Leadville. If they didn’t think so I 
 should have Smjrrna city arising in the darkness and hoisting 
 me on to a rope, and then practising with repeaters at my 
 carcase. Yes. That’s why I’m Max Heintz.” 
 
 Oh,” said Mr. Corsar drily, as he looked at the mild fair 
 little man, whose life had been a series of sportive and homi- 
 cidal crimes. Then he added, ‘^I see.” 
 
 There’s no one I trust with my name — ’cept, of course, the 
 shaloots I’ve known in the old days. They’ve got to know 
 me, whether I like it or not.” 
 
 ‘^Do I count as one of the shaloots?” asked Mr. Corsar, 
 pleasantly. 
 
 ^^Well, yes. I should allow you did. But I told you 
 my name because I could get something out of you, because I 
 •admired at your pluck, and because — well, one old sport can 
 generally trust another. Each knows too much about the 
 other.” 
 
 ^^Oh. So they’d lynch you if they knew who you really 
 were?” 
 
 Why, yes. In most places.” 
 
 Dear me. Well, let us be getting home. It is late.” 
 
 And Mr. Corsar reflected, ^‘Now, should you become a 
 nuisance, my dear friend, they shall lynch you.” 
 
 % iC- n. 
 
 The next day the deputation met round the Anna Maria,” 
 and were welcomed by Mr. William Mackay, now sober and 
 subdued, and inclined to use rough and coercive language to 
 the abandoned and castdown-looMng Greaser, who could not 
 take alcohol with the same cheerful impunity as the Cam- 
 bridge Master of Arts, who stood swearing, gently and sadly, 
 at his work. When Mr. Joel Haycraft saw the cheap, rusty, 
 
238 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 and obsolete-looking devices for crushing and washing, and 
 the general aspect of desertion and despair which the Anna 
 Maria’’ (Ariadne of mines) bore, he sniffed scornfully, but 
 made no remark. 
 
 Mr. Corsar was calm, pallid, and gentlemanly as ever. 
 
 The old stamp-miU was at work, and a stream had been 
 diverted into a sort of trough, from which it gushed away, 
 opaque, like many a Western stream, with the mud of man’s 
 greed, with sometimes the stain of his blood, and wandered 
 away to where the great shimmering Pacific accepted mud 
 and blood and gold and quartz, and was unchanged by them, 
 like Time swallowing Life and Death and Hate and Love. In 
 due time Willie Mackay showed Mr. Corsar something in his 
 wet hands. 
 
 Look here ! ” he said. 
 
 Observe, gentlemen,” said Mr. Corsar. asked you to 
 come here and see whether facts bore out my words. Here is 
 a small but perceptible quantity of yellow fact.” 
 
 All looked into the palm of Mackay’ s hand. 
 
 “ What’s that ? ” Mackay said. 
 
 Gold, as I’m a sinner ! ” said Mr. Potter. 
 
 Gold, as he’s a salter ! ” remarked Joel Haycraft, pointing 
 at Mackay. 
 
 What did you say ? ” said Mackay, coolly. 
 
 *^I said you salted that mine,” said Haycraft, equally 
 coolly. 
 
 Very good. I say you lie. Now, before you shoot, listen. 
 I never salted a mine in my life, and I never will. I never 
 lied. I defy any one to prove that I did. I get drunk and 
 wear rags and make a fool of myself and get in rows — but 
 I’m an English gentleman. Now I don’t know what you 
 are, but I ask you to come and personally and minutely 
 inspect this crushing and washing, and if you find salt — 
 shoot ! ” 
 
 Sir, I will,” said Joel. And he watched intently for an 
 hour and a half. At the end of that time he stood up, held 
 out his hand to Mackay, and said, Sir, you are a square 
 man. Shake hands.” Then he walked over to Potter and 
 said, Mr. Potter, I owe you a thousand dollars.” 
 
 I wonder if he knows he is parodying Falstaff?” said 
 Mackay to Corsar in an undertone. 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 239 
 
 No, of course not. I say, there’s no mistake about this 
 gold?” 
 
 Not a bit.” 
 
 ‘‘Because that infernal sbaloot, Jack Dillon,” continued 
 Mr. Corsar in a louder undertone, “ tried to induce me to salt 
 it, and share proceeds with him.” 
 
 “ Oh ! ” said Mackay. (“ Good ! He doesn’t remember last 
 night’s conversation a bit,” thought Mr. Corsar.) “ Look out, 
 they’ll hear,” continued Mackay. ^And he looked curiously at 
 Mr. Corsar. 
 
 “ There, gentlemen,” said Mr. Corsar, “ are you satisfied? ” 
 
 “ Sir, we are,” said Joel Haycraft. 
 
 Mr. Corsar smiled, and felt that he was a man of destiny. 
 “What an awful fiuke!” he thought. And Mr. Corsar did 
 several things. He wrote a short letter to Cyrus Shute, and he 
 found some men whose relatives had been shot by J ack Dillon. 
 To them he denounced Jack Dillon, and they did thereupon 
 visit, capture, and presently hang Jack Dillon. And that was 
 his end. And “Anna Maria” shares went up on “ the Street.” 
 
CHAPTEE XXV. 
 
 OUTSIDE THE ACADEMY. 
 
 Mr. John Eaynham and Carl Corsar presented themselves at 
 the little oj0S.ce in Craven Yard, and the former was duly 
 introduced to Mr. Clinch by the latter. Mr. Clinch was more 
 inclined to unbend’’ to Carl now — more familiar, less pro- 
 fessional, though still very cautious not to put names to any 
 of the heroes of his scandalous chronicles of London town. 
 It being made clear to him that John Eaynham was 
 thoroughly in Carl’s confidence, as well as the person perhaps, 
 on the whole, most interested in the investigation of Colonel 
 Cyrus Shute, he said to both the visitors, looking at Carl for 
 hints as to procedure — 
 
 Then p’raps I’d better report progress to both you gentle- 
 men ? ” Carl nodded. 
 
 Mr. Clinch began by hospitably placing a bottle of whisky 
 (from the green safe) and some cigars (from the same) before 
 the party — including himself— which proceeding made John 
 Eaynham open his eyes to a view of confidential agents” 
 entirely opposed to the one he had learned by tradition, books, 
 and gossip, as persons who find mysterious and useless 
 ‘^clues’’ in pursuit of which they drink gin in taverns and 
 take frequent cheques for equally mysterious and useless 
 expenses.” However, it is quite possible,” thought he, 
 ^Hhat the traditional view is, nine cases out of ten, right, 
 and that his is the lucky exception.” 
 
 ^^I’ve read Mr. Eaynham your letter of yesterday,” said 
 Carl. 
 
 Mr. Clinch’s eyes twinkled. ^‘That’s all right. But I’ve 
 found out one or two more things since I wrote that letter. 
 After Shute had done dining with you, sir ” — John Eaynham 
 stared — an’ Mr. Waller Eaynham and Major Mackinnon ” — 
 
• THE CORSARS ; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 241 
 
 {John Eaynham thought, I suppose he knows that I have got 
 an ivory-handled penknife in one waistcoat pocket, and a 
 watch with a broken mainspring in the other, and how many 
 vaccination marks I have”) ^^he went to Smith’s American 
 Reading Rooms, near Charing Cross. A lot of Americans 
 goes there to read the papers, and get letters and such. 
 Anybody almost can go in there. Well, he read something 
 there that regular fetched him, made him sit up and swear. 
 I hadn’t time to do more than catch the name of the paper as 
 he put it down and left it on the table before he went out, 
 and me after him. He took a cab to the Langham, and I 
 took another. Went in to ask for letters. Walked down 
 Regent Street, looking at the gells, passin’ a remark here 
 and there, until he got to Piccadilly Circus, Walked down 
 Waterloo Place as far as first to the left past pit door of 
 Criterion, up Haymarket, which we call Round the island, 
 sir,” (aside to Mr. Raynham) Rogue’s Walk some call it, 
 and then went into the American bar and Cafe at the 
 Criterion. There he read his letter, which was from a 
 gentleman you know, sir,” to Carl, who said — 
 
 ^^My father, I suppose ? ” 
 
 ^^Just so. From America, telling him things had gone 
 wrong, and he’d better sell all that mine scrip he held at any 
 price. Well, that ain’t all. He writes a note with one of 
 those stylograph pens — very useful things they are, too — 
 to a broker in the city, to buy as much as ever he 
 can. Well, thinks I, this is funny. What’s he heard or seen 
 to make him disbelieve that letter ? Think his pal’s lyin’ to 
 him? (Begging your pardon, Mr. Corsar, for the allusion 
 — but business.) That newspaper. Right. Well, I went 
 round this morning, as it was too late last night, I saw that 
 American paper, and I found in it a paragraph, quoted 
 from another paper, that gold had really been found in 
 the ^Anna Maria’ mine. Well, now, sir, that’s funny, 
 isn’t it ? ” 
 
 <<Yery,” said Carl, grimly. 
 
 I’m hanged if I quite see the drift of this yet,” said Mr. 
 Raynham. 
 
 Don’t you, sir?” said Mr. Clinch, with beaming bene- 
 volence, and a happy smile in each eye. Letter dated later 
 than newspaper.” 
 
2^2 
 
 THE COESARS; 
 
 ^‘Well, I do,” said Carl, ^^and it’s no use mincing the 
 matter. It means that my venerable parent has beaten his 
 own record in general sinfulness, for he is trying to swindle 
 his own partner, his old friend of many years past, if people 
 like Shute can be described as friends.” 
 
 Mr. Eaynham could find nothing better to say than Dear 
 me ! ” in a distressed tone. 
 
 Carl laughed grimly and said — 
 
 What do you think Shute’s next move will be. Clinch 
 He’ll buy up all the shares he can get first. Then he’ll 
 publish a copy of this paragraph from America in all the 
 papers he can get to put it in ; perhaps he’ll pay for space 
 and put it in as an advertisement in the rest, though adver- 
 tisements don’t pay like paragraphs. People believe a para- 
 graph much sooner than an advertisement, though both 
 might be done at the expense of the same party, with the 
 same object; but people don’t know that. That’ll make the 
 price of shares go up. Then he’ll sell ’em. Done every 
 day, that kind of thing.” 
 
 “That’s about it, I suppose,” said Carl. “Well, now 
 you see, Mr. Eaynham, that unforeseen accident, in all prob- 
 ability, has put the element of genuineness into this intended 
 plant, and Colonel Shute and another have acquired unex- 
 pectedly the right to call themselves honest men, after a 
 fashion ; a prospect which has so appalled them that they 
 are going to do their best to swindle each other, as the oppor- 
 tunity of swindling the public to mutual advantage i^ gone. 
 Pleasant family, aren’t we?” 
 
 “ Well, I am sure I am much obliged to you, Corsar, 
 and to Mr. Clinch too, for saving my family from the designs 
 of an unscrupulous sharper like this Shute. I think you 
 must allow me, Mr. Clinch, to share with Mr. Corsar the con- 
 tingent expense of this inquiry. I have been very much 
 astonished at the things you have discovered, as well as at 
 the way you have discovered them, and am more than 
 grateful.” 
 
 Shuffling with pocket-book, hurried transfer of £5 note to 
 Mr. Clinch, signs, winks, low- voiced gratitude, Carl delicately 
 looking out of window, well aware of it all, after which Mr. 
 Clinch said — 
 
 “ I suppose I’d better go on keeping an eye on him ? ” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 24a 
 
 I suppose so/’ said Carl, vaguely. 
 
 ‘^Yes, certainly,” said John Eaynham. ^‘It’s only right 
 to follow it out. It’s one’s duty to the public, to one’s family, 
 and everything. It’s my duty to the people I may have intro- 
 duced this fellow to, in my stupid' carelessness, to follow it out 
 and expose him if possible.” 
 
 All right, sir. I’ve got a fellow sweeping a crossing out- 
 side the place where he lives in Blackfriars Eoad. He fetches 
 cabs for him, and hears where he wants to drive to and tells 
 the cabman. He posts his letters, too, very often t’other 
 side of the street, .and takes notes of all the addresses. I 
 could put a man with a hansom to hang about opposite him 
 and drive him about, but I don’t think that’s worth while. It’s 
 very easy to watch Colonel Shute, ’cos he don’t know it or 
 expect it. It’s your respondents and co-respondents among 
 the upper classes that are difficult to watch. They are artful. 
 Give me a lot of trouble sometimes. It’s no good, of course 
 — only a question of time and money, but some of ’em are 
 artful. Good morning, sir ; good morning, Mr. Corsar.” And 
 Mr. Clinch was left to finish his cigar in solitude, at the Pem- 
 broke desk, until the green baize door admitted more clients 
 with scandalous chronicles from the waiting-room. 
 
 Mr. Eaynham and Carl had lunch at the Grand Hotel grill- 
 room, after which the former went back to his brother’s to 
 collect a portmanteau and hat-box and drive to Waterloo- 
 en route for Watermouth, while the latter mounted a ’bus 
 which took him up Chancery Lane to Holborn, where he got 
 down and walked into Bloomsbury. 
 
 Some time afterwards, when John Eaynham was safely 
 seated in his train, with an afternoon paper in which he read 
 exciting and warlike headings over meagre and peaceful para- 
 graphs, Carl Corsar might have been seen meandering about 
 the rooms of the Eoyal Academy, accompanied by a very 
 pretty and cheerful-looking young lady, whom he addressed 
 as Jenny, to whom he made original criticisms of the pictures, 
 which did not that year fall short or exceed by much the usual 
 level of depressing mediocrity, aimless cleverness of mani- 
 pulation, and hopeless barrenness of idea. There were all 
 the usual sketches from the East and from Venice, the inevit- 
 able buff-coated, curly- wigged skainsmates standing up amid 
 much studio and Wardour Street rubbish to light pipes, to 
 
244 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 drink beer, to empty pipes, to look into empty beer-cans, to 
 read letters, &c. (It never occurred to any one to paint one of 
 these worthies getting some one else to read a letter for him 
 — that were far too original, not to say realistic.’’) 
 
 There were deadly portraits of unknown but inconceivably 
 ugly people — men, women, and sticky, jam-complexioned 
 infants. There was a glaring Cabinet Minister with a swelled 
 face, and a surprised-looking bishop, ^^with,” as Carl plea- 
 santly remarked, every one of ’em on.” 
 
 There were more classic people doing nothing particular, 
 among marbles, bronze, and leopard- skins, by various artists, 
 than Carl or J enny could count. There was a picture all fire 
 and smoke, with several red coats and pith helmets fighting 
 valourously with countless natives” of somewhere. Neat, 
 elean, dead man in foreground. Centre, wounded man being 
 attended to by bearded, spectacled potato -bogle. Eight, 
 wounded man carried on stretcher by distressed red- coats and 
 pith helmets. Left, whole thing apparently cribbed” from 
 CTieehy a short-titled, long-winded warlike melodrama, then 
 very popular on account of the real Martini’s and real Gat- 
 ling’s used on the stage. 
 
 There were several pictures of tall, slim gentlemen and ladies, 
 in vaguely ^^eighteenth-century” costumes, doing nothing, or 
 perhaps bowing, at vast distances from one another, in long 
 passages, or large gardens. Also several old men in kilts, in 
 fishermen’s Guernseys, in ragged fiddlers’ costume, in old 
 sailors’ and soldiers’ ditto (labelled The Old Story,” Fight- 
 ing out old Battles,” Grandfather’s Medal,” How Uncle 
 Joe got his Wooden Leg,” How Father lost his Left Eye,” 
 &c.). It was generally the same old man, a very popular but 
 intemperate old model, called George Blammock, who did the 
 rounds as apostle, statesman, fiddler, and bufi oon. But the public 
 did not know that, and said, Isn’t that a dear old man ! ” 
 
 And there were some four dozen pictures of taste and feeling, 
 or sentiment, labelled, ^‘Interrupted,” “The Old Ivy Gate,” 
 “ Through the Eye,” “ Through the Wheat,” “ Through the 
 Poppies,” “ Through the Vetches ” (oats, maize, hemp, sweet- 
 peas, nettles, potatoes, tomatoes, &c.), “Listening to the MiU- 
 Wheel,” “Parted,” “ Eeconciled, ” “Under the Beeches,” 
 “Over the Cottage Gate,” “Under the Cottage Door,” 
 “ Down the Cottage Chimney,” &c. 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCR_E. 
 
 245 
 
 So Carl and Jenny spent a very instructive hour and a 
 half, and came out very hungry, into Piccadilly, to hear the 
 newspaper man shouting hoarsely, ‘‘Pipor: Slaughter: 
 BataU : Orrible Batall : pipor : Speshall ! ” in monotonous, 
 punctuated shouts, on each side of the street. Carl bought 
 a paper. 
 
 What’s it all about ? ” said Jenny. 
 
 Wait a minute. Oh, I see. Very poor thing in telegrams 
 this. Seems we haven’t sent half enough men somewhere or 
 other, and they’ve been rather cut up. Now we’re going to 
 send some more, in driblets, to be served likewise. The — th 
 Highlanders has been told to get ready, at Watermouth, for 
 immediate embarcation. Let’s see. I knew two men in that a 
 little, Holroyd and Cameron.” 
 
 That’s the place where you were staying, wasn’t it ? ” 
 
 Yes. Look, that’s one of the — th Highlanders in the 
 distance, coming. At least it’s the same striped stuff. I 
 don’t know. Yes.” 
 
 Pine man, isn’t he ? ” The Highlander approached. 
 
 Yes. Hullo ! Well, Pm ” 
 
 Here we are,” remarked Sandy, cheerfully; looks like 
 business, doesn’t it? I’m off directly to join at Watermouth. 
 I’m messing about on a few hours’ leave. How are you, Miss 
 Jenny?” 
 
 Quite well, thank you, Mr. Maxwell.” 
 
 Going to stick to this, Sandy? ” said Carl. 
 
 ‘^Eather. Going to come back a Major-General. I’ve 
 enlisted in my own name, too, by Jove. Don’t see why not. 
 Can’t stay now. Good-bye, old man.” They looked at each 
 other and shook hands. 
 
 ‘‘Good-bye, Sandy.” Sandy saluted Jenny gravely, and 
 passed on. 
 
 “ What do you think about this, Carl? ” 
 
 “ I think he’s done the best thing he ever did in his life.” 
 
 “ WTiy ? ” 
 
 “ Because it is a walk of life in which he will delight, and 
 in which he will do his duty — a thing he never did before, 
 but I believe will do now. That’s why.” 
 
CHAPTEE XXVI. 
 
 THE GIEL I LEFT BEHIND ME. 
 
 Now it happened at this period that Britain was blessed with 
 a highly conscientious administration, who never took any 
 course which political morality did not dictate. Morality was 
 the platform on which they had gone into office and the lever 
 they had used to turn their predecessors out. And a majority, 
 highly moral collectively, very independent, not to say fac- 
 tiously faddish individually, backed them up. This was a 
 truly delightful state of things. Only one or two highly eccen- 
 tric members of the Opposition dared say that this morality 
 was not a good thing in itself, and did not lead to the pleasure, 
 security, or comfort, of anybody ; and they were smiled on as 
 privileged paradox-mongers, or railed on as obstructors. And 
 whenever anything went wrong, we were told either that it 
 was a legacy from the late Government, or that it would be 
 immoral for it to go right. And all private liberty was in- 
 terfered with on the same moral ground which dictated non- 
 interference with public aggression. 
 
 The Government, backed by the faddists, fanatics, and 
 Anti-Everything-Pleasant-League, became quite paternal — 
 almost grand-maternal — in its care for the public, and dis- 
 covered that no one was capable of taking care of himself, and 
 that everything anyone had been in the habit of doing was all 
 wrong. People who were capable of earning money had to 
 give it up to support people who were not, and everybody’s 
 property was to belong to somebody else — principally because 
 it did not belong to somebody else, and because somebody else 
 belonged to the A. E. P. League (as above) and said it did. 
 Everybody seemed to exchange his functions with somebody 
 else. Bachelors had to pay for the education of their married 
 neighbours’ children, while steady -going, hard-working 
 
THE CORSAKS ; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 247 
 
 parents had to nourish unknown someone else’s bastards on 
 rates. Sober people were not allowed to buy a glass of beer, 
 because drunken people bought too many. The masses, to 
 their extreme disgust, were educated, the result being that 
 they learned to read the accidents and police-reports of the 
 week on Simday mornings and to pronounce such words as 
 Southwark, Greenwich, Berwick, as spelt. The poor were 
 found to live in overcrowded and beastly dwellings (naturally 
 because they were poor), so they were turned out, their 
 rookeries razed, and they driven to more overcrowding and 
 filthier dwellings in other already occupied rookeries, while 
 expensive dwellings were erected in which they could not 
 live, but in which a small number of comparatively well- 
 to-do people did live ; all this, probably, on the moral ground 
 of giving to those who have and taking away from those who 
 had not, which principle ran parallel in the highly conscien- 
 tious administrative mind with that of taking from those who 
 have (because they have it), and giving it to those who have not 
 (because they haven’t), only they did the one in the towns and 
 the other in the country, and so became deservedly popular 
 in both. 
 
 Things abroad were in an equally pleasant state. It was 
 immoral to have wars, therefore undesirable to have an army, 
 because an army tempted and tended to war, while at the same 
 time it was absolutely necessary to have one, if only to keep 
 the peace. So they split the difference and had an army in- 
 sufficient to make war, and inefficient to keep peace. This 
 pleased the patriotic tax-payer, who liked to see red coats and 
 liked to read about them being killed in distant lands in the 
 evening papers, but disliked paying for them, and was so 
 highly moral that he could not supply them with trusses of 
 hay that were not weighted with brickbats, and externally 
 stinking, and that at a high contract price. 
 
 And when we did have a war we were so anxious not to 
 kill the enemy (on moral grounds) that we let them kill our 
 poor red-coated boys instead. And this brings us to the state 
 of things with which we are in this chapter concerned. 
 
 Through some ^ legacy of the late government,” or some 
 covenant we were morally bound to carry out, and morally 
 certain to play the fool over, and ultimately withdraw from, it 
 had been deemed necessary to dispatch a small expedition to a 
 
248 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 distant land with, the object of relieving the moribund remains 
 of another small expedition, which had been sent by the late 
 government to gather prestige, and had stayed there gathering 
 ithnd becoming decimated in the process, while the succeeding 
 government were deliberating what to do for them. So they 
 (the administration) got a vote of credit, for which nearly 
 every one voted, except a few ministerialists who said the 
 soldiers out there deserved no help or thanks, because the 
 late administration had been immoral. The Opposition voted 
 for it because they found it pleasanter to criticize some one 
 else’s mess than make themselves responsible for one of their 
 own. The Irish abstained, because some papers about Bally- 
 bucket National School had been (or had not been, I forget 
 which,) laid on the table. 
 
 The result, as described in John Eaynham’s afternoon 
 paper, as he ^^ran down” from Waterloo in the 4.10 was 
 that England ‘^resounded with the din of preparation,” and 
 10,000 men worked extra time at all the dockyards, by 
 electric light, while about seventeen regiments contributed all 
 their ethcient men to make up five other regiments to a 
 decent strength, and a large white ship was being laden with 
 adulterated medicines and poisonous tinned provisions in 
 Watermouth Harbour. In the dear dirty old streets of Water- 
 mouth itself, much ^^Allonging and marshonging” was going 
 on, and everybody was a trifle drunker than usual this hot 
 July weather. (The Government had waited till the climate 
 had reached its lethal maximum in the Distant Land before 
 they made up their minds to despatch the expedition, and 
 then folded their hands and put their faith in pith helmets, 
 chlorodyne and their own integrity.) 
 
 The British Lion ramped, and went about perspiring in 
 scarlet clothes. The British Lion was patriotic and courageous 
 but abnormally thirsty, and followed up the fine old pre- 
 cedent of getting drunk on the eve of important achievements. 
 The B. L. also borrowed money with more than ordinary 
 enthusiasm, and less than ordinary apology, from tearful 
 maidservants, leaving them pledges of afiection in return. 
 On the parade-ground of the — th Highlanders, recruits in 
 white jackets and tartan trews were being made to Shutterr — 
 rup!” Orrd—errup ! ” by great, gaunt, red-moustached 
 Celtic-tempered Sergeant Maclean, with his kilt and cane. 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 249 
 
 Private Alexander Maxwell very soon got through, this pro- 
 cess, as he knew it already, and spent much of his time in 
 marching up and down at the barrack-gate in full uniform, 
 with feather bonnet and fixed bayonet, on sentry-go. It was 
 in this capacity that he was observed by Messrs. Holroyd and 
 Cameron one day, as they walked out (Sandy coming smartly 
 to a standstill at his box) with the view of calling on the 
 Paynhams to say good-bye. 
 
 ^‘What’ll that mean ? ” said Cameron. 
 
 Hard up, I suppose. We better not seem to recognise 
 him. He^d like it better if we didn^t, I fancy, and he was 
 not a bad sort.’’ 
 
 All right. Isay, Hollybush, he hasn’t much chance of 
 cutting you out now.” 
 
 Think not ? I don’t know.” And they walked on. 
 
 I say, Cameron.” 
 
 Well?” 
 
 Don’l; mention this — there.” 
 
 No fear.” 
 
 And they went to the Paynhams, and found Mrs. Paynham 
 and her eldest daughter walking about in the garden with 
 sunshades. Cameron talked to the girl and Holroyd to the 
 mother, and they fell into a procession of two and two, which 
 was great fun for Holroyd, of course, whose heart was shak- 
 ing him all over with big throbs of anxiety to see May, so that 
 he was only just capable of taking an intelligible share in 
 Mrs. Paynham’s conversation. He would probably have been 
 still more stricken if he knew that May was that moment in 
 her own room, occupied in kissing a note which the postman 
 had brought from Sandy, asking her to meet him in a secluded 
 part of the grounds that evening, at such time as the exi- 
 gencies of his profession set him free. He did not tell her he 
 was a soldier. He wished that fact to break on her as a cowp 
 de theatre, that he might thereby gauge the depth of her 
 affection. Perhaps Sandy’s true field was that of diplomacy 
 rather than war. At all events, the result was that May 
 never came downstairs at all, till the visitors were gone, 
 though they stayed an unconscionable time, and was not visible 
 when Mrs. Paynham sent a servant for her. So poor Holroyd 
 had to console himself with the promise that the whole family 
 would witness the departurei of the regiment, from a con- 
 
 li 
 
 
250 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 venient position wliicli Holroyd had provided for them in the 
 town. 
 
 Mrs. E-aynham agreed to this, but did not encourage Hol- 
 royd and Cameron too much. They were accustomed to be 
 very much encouraged by her, and could not, of course, guess 
 that her demeanour towards them could be altered by the 
 presence in her mind’s eye of avisionary American millionaire, 
 who might propose to one of the girls, who must therefore be 
 kept free of inferior entanglements. So Mrs. Eaynham, 
 being really fond of her children, and desirous of promoting 
 their welfare, did not hold out too many hopes to Holroyd 
 and Cameron, either of whom was worth, morally and pecu- 
 niarily, though not a man of exceptional endowments, count- 
 less Cyrus Shutes. 
 
 Later in the afternoon, in fact, just before dinner, Mr. 
 Eaynham came home, and was uncommunicative. Mrs. 
 Eaynham hovered round him and looked expectant, and he 
 talked about the news in the paper. She asked fishing ques- 
 tions, and he feigned deafness, and went to get ready for 
 dinner. In fact, he was thinking over what he had better 
 say about Cyrus. There was no particular hurry at present, 
 and he was hot and tired, and wanted to avoid a long and 
 wearisome discussion, in which everything would be repeated 
 over and over again by the two participants. 
 
 At dinner May was rather talkative, and seemed illuminated 
 from within by some secret and sudden source of delight. 
 So she was, and the source was Sandy’s letter, in her pocket. 
 She thought he had ^^come back,” and that simple expression 
 settled everything in her mind for the future. After dinner 
 she put on a sailor’s hat and threw a cloud ” round her 
 neck, and disappeared (avoiding with dexterity the eyes of 
 her relations, who were proceeding to take a leisurely ^^turn” 
 in the avenue) into a piece of wood which led to a back 
 entrance of the place from a not-much-used and narrow road. 
 It was about as solitary a place as coidd have been chosen 
 for an assignation, and May waited about, trembling with 
 excitement, and thinking what a shame it was of Sandy to be 
 so late — forgetting she was about ten minutes too soon — 
 listening if any one else should be coming through the 
 copse, and looking extremely pretty in a pale crisp summer 
 dress. 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 251 
 
 And impatience led her to look over the five-bar gate on to 
 the road, to see if any one was there. So she peeped slowly, 
 like a cautious squirrel, round the corner of the tall hedge, 
 and quickly drew back, having detected a soldier — a kilted 
 soldier in a white jacket — approaching along the road. Oh, 
 dear,’^ she thought, ^^how dreadful if he has arranged to 
 meet one of the maids here, and all four meet at the sam« 
 time!” But no maid came, and May hid behind the hedge 
 to let the soldier pass ; and she heard a voice, that made her 
 pulse jump, say, May, is that you ? ” 
 
 Then she went to the gate and gave a little cry of Oh I ” 
 as she saw that Sandy was the soldier. And while she was 
 still under the paralysing influence of the coup de theatre^ the 
 soldier had vaulted over the gate and held her in his arms. 
 And she made no protest, even though her hat gently dropped 
 back to the ground as her face turned up to look into his, 
 with helpless and utter surrender in her eyes, as he bent his 
 head down to kiss her. 
 
 Sandy !” she murmured, and buried her face in the white 
 jacket. 
 
 And he held her up with one strong arm round her waist 
 and the other round her neck. And then he spoke : — 
 
 Here I am again, you see, like the bad shilling of popular 
 conversation.” 
 
 May smiled sadly and replied — 
 
 Yes, but why is it the Queen’s shilling, Sandy ?” 
 
 ^^They don’t give a shilling now. The authorities are 
 much too economical. But are you glad to see me, my 
 May?” 
 
 “ Oh, Sandy! I’ve been wanting you so,” (More kissing.) 
 
 ^‘Well, I wanted you, too, and I determined to see you 
 somehow, and chance it.” (Kissing as before.) 
 
 Will you get in a scrape if you’re found ? ” asked May 
 (thinking of him), after a silent interval. 
 
 ^^Not a bit if I’m in at the proper time. I can stay here 
 till 8*30. Then I must bolt,” replied Sandy (thinking of 
 himself). 
 
 Tell me all about yourself, Sandy ; come and walk away 
 here in the wood, where no one can see us if they come along 
 the road.” 
 
 Why ? You’re not ashamed of my uniform ?” 
 
252 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 '^No, of course not. Wliy should I ? But don’t you see 
 I’ll get in an awful row if I’m seen and talked about?” 
 
 ‘‘I beg your pardon, darling, I should have thought of 
 that myself. Come along, we will be like the people in As 
 You Lileltr 
 
 And the two figures — of the girl in her summer dress, and 
 the soldier in his dark kilt, and white jacket, and Glengarry — 
 walked together under the trees, looking through the branches 
 at the far-off fragments of sea and sky, still glowing yellow 
 in the late summer light. 
 
 Well,” said Sandy, ‘‘I’m a soldier because I’ve got no more 
 money, and want a profession where a poor man can remain 
 a gentleman. It’s suited to me in every way. I’m familiar 
 with weapons and drill, I’m active and strong, I like a wander- 
 ing life and hard exercise, and by-and-by I’ll be a sergeant 
 — won’t take me long — and, perhaps, some day I’ll have a 
 commission. Lots of men do. At present I have to salute 
 your friends, Holroyd and Cameron, which is rather fun.” 
 
 “ They might have told us. They were both here this after- 
 noon. But Sandy, the Highlanders are going, some of them, 
 to this war in Africa, or India, or wherever it is. I know, 
 because they have to say good-bye, and we are to see them go.” 
 “Yes, I know.” 
 
 “ But you won’t have to go too ? ” And May stopped and 
 clung to him, and looked up in his face. 
 
 “ Of course I shall go too. It’s my best chance of getting 
 promotion, even if I had any choice. Well, it won’t last long, 
 and if I get a chance I’ll do something or other to get up in 
 the service, I promise you.” 
 
 ‘ ‘ Oh, but Sandy, I can’t bear it ! I can’t bear it ! To lose 
 you again so soon, when I have just got you back. Must 
 you go?” 
 
 “You wouldn’t like me to shirk it ? ” 
 
 Tears, and kisses, and utter woe ; then a sudden recovery : 
 “No, Sandy, I would not like you to shirk it. But if you 
 never come back — oh ! what shall I do ? ” 
 
 “ Don’t think of unpleasant things like that. I shall come 
 back all right, and have a medal or two pinned on for you to 
 make brooches of.” Silence. 
 
 “ How I shall pray for you, and read the papers.” 
 
 Touching, but grotesque, combination! Sandy looked at 
 
OR, LOVE AND LL'CRE. 
 
 253 
 
 this loving girl, who suspected nothing, trusted everything, 
 and knew not, and dreamed not, of the orange-haired harlot, 
 whose memory he cursed with all the bitterness of repentance; 
 and all his intellectual swagger fell from him, as scales from 
 life-blind eyes, and he saw himseK at last as he really had 
 been, and he said in a low, hoarse voice — 
 
 May, my little girl, you love me more than I ever did or 
 ever can deserve. You don’t know — I can’t tell you — what a 
 worthless brute I’ve been.” 
 
 I don’t care. And I don’t believe it. Oh, my own soldier, 
 I shall always love you, whether you live or die, and always 
 trust you.” 
 
 will try to deserve it.” And this time it was a real 
 resolution, not written in water or sand. May, look at that 
 big, bright star, high up in the west, between those branches. 
 We will make that our own star, and whenever I see it I shall 
 give it a message for you, and you will know at night that I 
 am on slpp or on shore looking at it.” 
 
 The word ^^ship” brought May back to immediate facts. 
 
 When do you go ? ” she said. 
 
 Day after to-morrow. You will see me with the rest of 
 the regiment. We will say good-bye this evening. That’s 
 what I came for. What time is it ? ” 
 
 May looked at her watch. It’s twenty past eight. Shall I 
 tell them up at the house about your being in the regiment ?” 
 No good. They’d only make a fruitless fuss, and I’ve 
 given Mr. Eaynham quite trouble enough already. May, I 
 must cut away to Watermouth directly, or I shall be late in 
 barracks.” 
 
 And May clung to him, and gave him one long kiss that 
 neither he nor she ever will forget all their lives long, and 
 said, ^^Oh, my love, my love ! ” in a low choked voice, Good 
 bye ! ” 
 
 And then he vaulted the gate again, and quickly walked 
 away. And May stood watching him till he vanished. 
 
 A day or two later she saw him once again, when she and 
 the rest of the family were standing in a first-floor bow- 
 window in King Street, Watermouth, when the fifes came 
 down the steep old street, playing ‘‘The Girl I Left Behind 
 Me,” and the July sun shone on the long procession, rows on 
 rows of sunburnt Scotsmen in heavy marching order, — Hoi- 
 
254 
 
 THE CORSARS ; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 royd, and Cameron, and all — they looking stiff and grave, with 
 their bright scarlet and steel-hilted broadswords catching the 
 sunshine. And then, a little way off now, there came a sud- 
 den skirl, the march became slower, and behold pipers 
 and drums had burst into Auld Langsyne,” and the crowd 
 in the street begin to sing in rough, half-crying, half-cheering 
 tones, and the pipes skirled far above all the other sounds, 
 and Sandy passed underneath in a row of four, with his 
 haversack and overcoat, and multitudinous packages, and his 
 Martini in his hand. And their eyes met. And then he was 
 gone. May did not cry till she got home. 
 
CHAPTEE XXVII. 
 
 COLOI^EL SHUTE EEELS XJGLY. 
 
 Colonel Cyrus Shute sat in his shirtsleeves on his bed, think- 
 ing. He was in his room in the Blackfriars Eoad, for which 
 he paid four shillings and sixpence a-week, and where he was 
 known as Mr. Anderson. On the table stood a bottle of 
 whisky and a glass. And Cyrus cut a nice knobby ‘^plug ’’ 
 from a hard Mack rock of tobacco, rather like a piece of 
 asphalt, which he put in his mouth, and spat, after awhile, 
 freely about the floor. And Cyrus moralised beautifully on* 
 the villany of one James Corsar, and decided that breach of 
 contract between business partners was the prelude to com- 
 mercial and general chaos. Cyrus took very strong views on 
 dishonesty and deception. 
 
 • I shouldn’ter done it to him,’’ he (rather rashly) asserted, 
 if I had bin there.” Then he added, Or if I^ad, I’der 
 done it better,” as a healthier afterthought. 
 
 Now, James Corsar, Esquire, friend and former pardner, 
 let’s see how you and me stand. You’ve got the mine, the 
 discovery, the American market, and the time ahead o’ me. 
 That’ll count as a four. Then I’ve written to Smithers to buy 
 every share in Great Britain, your letter, that cutting from 
 the Hio State Maily Eaynham prospective matrimonial alliance, 
 and your ignorance of my knowledge. That’s a flush sequence, 
 if you put it in the right order. Each of us knows something 
 too much about the other for convenience. Seems to me it’ll 
 be a deuce of a row when it comes.” 
 
 Then he thought out a programme, modifiable of course to 
 any alteration circumstances might suggest. 
 
 First of all, he made up his mind that Mr. Corsar would 
 want to buy up such English Anna Maria” scrip as might 
 be in existence, in order to sell it at a profit after due 
 trumpeting of the recent gold-find. Well,” said Cyrus, he 
 
256 
 
 THE CORSAKS ; 
 
 sliall buy in. From me. At such a price as I can run ^em 
 up to witb this bit o’ newspaper. Yes. There’s a kinder 
 justice about that. Now, he’ll sell all his Amer’can shares in 
 London, to make a fall to buy the English for next to nothing. 
 He shall not make that fall. I’ll buy every dam one, and sell 
 it to him back at a rise. And the holy and elevating part is, 
 that he wonH hnow who is selling them. Not till I tell him. 
 Guess stocks and shares is as easy to me as poker — and dam 
 sight more fun.” 
 
 Cyrus also determined to go down to Watermouth for the 
 benevolent purpose of inviting May Eaynham to become his 
 wife, a proceeding he determined on quite as calmly as he did 
 on having his hair cut. He was simply hedging ” against 
 possible failure in his contest with Corsar. 
 
 So he got up, laid his-plug of tobacco carefully on the man- 
 telshelf, emptied the glass of whisky, which formed his 
 simple breakfast, put his coat on, and hat, walked forth, 
 Lailed the first hansom, and drove to the Langham Hotel to 
 ask for letters. 
 
 He found a telegram from Smithers, to the purpose that he 
 had effected the desired transaction, but at a price that made 
 Shute open his eyes. 
 
 My stars ! Some sharp’s seen that Ohio paper] What a. 
 second-hajad, one-mule fool I’ve been not to take it right home 
 last night— and it wasn’t a fresh mailed paper either. How’ver, 
 Corsar ’ll have to give all the higher price.” 
 
 There was a letter for Cyrus, as well as the telegram, but 
 from a different person, was short and excited his curiosity 
 much. It ran thus : — 
 
 Smith’s Private Hotel, 
 
 ‘‘ Westminster Bridge Eoad. 
 
 ^^SiR, — I should like an interview with you on the subject of 
 the ‘ Anna Maria ’ mine and Mr. James Corsar. I have just 
 come from there. I shall stay in all to-day, in case you 
 should call. Yours faithfully, 
 
 William Mackay.” 
 
 ‘^Now who’s mine faithfully, William Mackay? I may 
 have known fifty different kinds of shaloots of that name. I 
 may have known him with some other name. But he knows 
 something, or he wouldn’t have talked about Corsar. I don’t 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 257 
 
 understand this. It gets me. But I don’t see that I’ll hurt 
 by going there. I’ll go.” 
 
 And he went, and found Smith’s private hotel to be a 
 peculiarly shady-looking coffee-tavern of the cheapest descrip- 
 tion. Cyrus went into the public room, which opened on the 
 street, where a few working men were dining, and reading 
 dirty, much- worn newspapers. 
 
 Party of the name of Mackay anywhere round ? ” he said 
 to the waiting-girl. 
 
 Here, Colonel! ” said a voice from one of the compart- 
 ments, and Mr. William Mackay, M.A., arose, very much 
 the same draggled specimen of humanity we last saw him, 
 but sober, painfully, sadly sober. 
 
 Where can we talk ? ” said Shute, who had seen too many 
 queer people to be surprised at the appearance of one more. 
 
 ^^Come to my room.” And Mackay led the way upstairs 
 into a close little bedroom looking out on some leads, and 
 adorned with ghastly coloured illustrations from one of the 
 papers. 
 
 You must excuse this shanty, but it’s the best I can afford. 
 I’ve got some whisky here of my own I brought from over 
 there. Nursed it like a baby all the way, and never drew the 
 cork once. Here it is. Help yourself. Now you want to know 
 who the devil I am, don’t you? ” 
 
 That is so.” 
 
 Well, you can see I’m not one of the brilliantly success- 
 ful. You can do without my general biography, I daresay, 
 us long as I begin where you can take an interest. Well, I’m 
 a sort of loafer, who’s tried mining, grazing, cards, and 
 whisky and most things, and stuck to none. I’m an English- 
 man by birth, and cursed with what people call a ^ ^ love of ad- 
 venture,” or roving instinct,” in my youth. I didn’t yearn 
 for a seafaring life, was not quite such an utter idiot as that, 
 but I read stories about Texas, and California, and Australia, 
 und the Spanish Main, and Timbuctoo, and the Devil’s Elbow, 
 and got to long to sport around in those earthly paradises. 
 Well, I did and have. I went there with a competence, out 
 West I mean, and have been a tattered scarecrow ever since. 
 And I think the roving instinct is the d — dest folly out, and 
 America (with the exception of England) the sickest country 
 inexistence. Take another whisky. Well, now, business. 
 
258 
 
 THE CORSARS; 
 
 I have been working, with my hands I mean, at that rotten 
 old fraud called the ‘ Anna Maria.’ ” 
 
 I find that you are sort of running that show over here, 
 never mind how, just at present. Well, one James Corsar 
 was running it over there, anyhow, and he got into a scrape. 
 Some one wanted to see mine at work. Didn’t believe in it. 
 Thought it and Corsar a fraud.” 
 
 Smart man, that.” 
 
 Corsar didn’t know what on earth to do. Cheeked it out, 
 of course, as he would do. Then he got up a partnership with 
 my old acquaintance. Jack Dillon.” 
 
 ‘‘Now, steady! Jack Dillon went to claim that golden 
 harp they were keeping ready for him a whole year back. I 
 have special reasons for knowing that. He is bluffing to a 
 select circle of angels about now.” 
 
 “Yes. You thought you shot him dead in Leadville, I 
 know. But you didn’t.” 
 
 “ He was buried.” 
 
 “ Yes. But he rose again, and took a German name, and 
 kept a store at Carmel, near Smyrna City, 0. You see the 
 place was too hot to hold him in the genuine Jack Dillon 
 form. There were too’many vengeful brothers and husbands, 
 and fathers and other relatives, of the numerous victims of 
 his playful disposition.” 
 
 “ Great the mortality incident on that lightness and free- 
 dom.” 
 
 “So he changed his identity. Well, he and Corsar ar- 
 ranged to split profits and salt the ‘Anna Maria,’ and Jack, 
 knowing I was a poor devil in rags, who’d do most things 
 for whisky, engaged me, as an act of kindness to an old pal, 
 and I engaged a Greaser to assist. What we were to do was 
 to get something resembling externally a working and work- 
 able mine under way, before the crowd came, at Corsar’ s 
 request, to inspect it. Well, we took a jolly lot of trouble, 
 J ack and I, and did arrange a rotten old stamp affair, and 
 a wash, somehow. I didn’t mind. Jack promised me a 
 decent share, and I knew I could trust him.” 
 
 “And of course you both put a childlike faith in Corsar? 
 Well, I don’t blame you. I did it too. Go on. Eeel out 
 the story.” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 259 
 
 To my immense astonisliment I found gold.’’ 
 
 The devil you say ! ” 
 
 ‘‘I did. And knowing that they meant salting, a thing 
 I dislike doing, having some remnants of a conscience, 
 I told Corsar of my discovery, in all good faith, to save 
 salting.” 
 
 You told him? My stars, you were right in saying Pro- 
 vidence never intended you for a success in life. Why didn’t 
 you let Corsar salt and pocket the gold yourself ? ” asked 
 Shute,'^with the most natural surprise. 
 
 Because, Colonel Shute, although I’m a ragged black- 
 guard in your eyes, I’m an English gentleman in my own.” 
 And there was a dignity about this man, as he stood up, 
 dirty, unshaven, underfed and gaunt, to say that, which made 
 Cyrus nod silently, and say — ‘^AU right, sir. No offence. 
 Drive ahead. The next thing that happened was that Corsar 
 gave you both away ? ” 
 
 The idea was that Jack Dillon was to take an equal share 
 of the profits with him, and both were to contribute a fair 
 wage to me. Corsar thought, from a conversation with me, 
 that I was too drunk to remember things he had said already, 
 and came the honourable and gentlemanly game with me, and 
 said (after the gold-find) that Jack had tried to induce him to 
 salt, dealing with the unfamiliar expression in a playful out- 
 sider’s way, as if he hardly appreciated the full enormity of 
 the transaction it implied. Lord! It’s hot to-day, and its- 
 ten days since I touched real Bourbon. Here’s your health, 
 Colonel.” 
 
 Sir, to you.” 
 
 When Corsar began to empty that sort of hogwash into 
 my simple ear, I assumed a Brutus-like stupidity.” 
 
 ‘‘Who’s he?” 
 
 “Ancient party — classic. It’s a long thing to go into 
 as a mere parenthesis ; but he pretended to be stupid and 
 wasn’t.” 
 
 “All right. Eipple along with the story.” 
 
 ‘ ‘ I felt moderately sure that Corsar was up to some sinful 
 game, and I talked to Jack about it, who allowed — ^that is to 
 say, asserted — that I was right, and we agreed that I should 
 keep up the drunk stupid swaggering style, and watch our 
 gentleman. I drank pretty, free, but always went on as if I 
 
260 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 was several times drunker than I really was, as long as he 
 stayed at Morgan Town.’’ 
 
 Yes, I know Morgan Town.’^ 
 
 ^^But before I knew what he was up to, except that he 
 
 had a partner in England, which was you ” 
 
 Did he tell you that ? ” 
 
 No fear. He wrote a letter to you. I read the blotting- 
 paper in a looking-glass. These clever men always forget 
 some silly detail like that. Well, before I knew he’d gone 
 and done about the snipiest thing a man could, he found out 
 some people who had a grudge against Jack — he’d killed their 
 relations or something, at a previous period, and these people 
 went out riding on horses one night and just hung up Jack 
 Dillon. Well, I don’t say he hadn’t deserved it, but he was 
 a good friend of mine, and it was a mean way of getting rid 
 of him. He might have had a quarrel and shot him, only he 
 knew precious well that Jack would have had something to 
 say there too. Then I lay low, thinking he’d knife me in the 
 dark or something, as his only object was to get rid of people 
 who knew too much. He tried one day to shove me down an 
 -elevator-shaft at Smyrna when he thought I was drunk, but 
 finding it didn’t come off he held me up, and pretended to 
 save my life. Well, I’ve clung to that man like a barnacle 
 since then, and knowing he was swindling you, to say nothing 
 of me, as he expressed ignorance of your whereabouts and 
 wrote you letters in the course of the same week, I wanted to 
 talk to you. He’s a little too sharp at present for me by myself, 
 and I thought you might put in to the same pool with me. I 
 have heard a good bit about you in one place and another, 
 though I’ve never seen you before, and I thought you were a 
 competent man to deal with this affair in many respects. I 
 don’t care much how far I go in this particular case. See ?” 
 Shake hands, sir!” said Cyrus. ^^Mr. Mackay, you’ve 
 been in my country enough to know things. You can guess 
 what sort of a chap I am pretty well, I take it ? ” 
 
 You bet.” 
 
 Well, you’ve .done the square thing by me. I’m a sport, 
 and a rowdy, and all that, and live freely on the immortal 
 verdure with which Great Britain is clad, and so I tell you^ 
 
 But before I did a thing such as lie\ done, by G , I’d turn 
 
 respectable 1 Now, will you shake hands ? ” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 261 
 
 Now, I’ll tell you. I have begun the war. I have bought 
 all the shares in England nearly in that d — d mine.” 
 
 Didn’t you have to give higher cover than you expected ?” 
 ^^How?” 
 
 Weren’t they gone up ? ” 
 
 ^^Some.” 
 
 Do you know who sold ’em^to you ? ” Shute started. 
 
 Who, anyway ? ” 
 
 ‘‘James Corsar.” Colonel Shute was eloquently silent for 
 a few minutes, and his eyes looked wicked and his chin went 
 forward. “ Oh, damnation ! ” he observed at length. “Where 
 is he?” 
 
 “That’s the worst of it. I came in the steerage of his 
 ship, but in London I lost him through not having money 
 enough to pay for conveyances.” 
 
 “ Oh, we’ll find -him ! There’ll be trouble about this.” 
 “Miching Mallecho all round.” 
 
 “I don’t know him.” 
 
 “Never mind. Have some more whisky.” 
 
 “No, I thank you. Here, pard, you’ll want some grub, 
 and some clothes and some drink, won’t you ? ” 
 
 “ Look as if I did, don’t I ? ” said the graduate gloomily. 
 
 “ Here ! ” 
 
 “ Thanks. I’ll pay you when I can.” 
 
 “ All right. It ain’t got by the sweat of my brow, so you 
 needn’t mind takin’ it. Poor world if one old sport coiddn’t 
 help another. Besides, I’ll want you most likely, later, to 
 help this business through.” 
 
 “ We’ve got a man against us who’s got his wits about him, 
 who doesn’t draw the line at anything — anything, mind, — 
 whose accumulated a lot of money, by this time, and who 
 lives we don’t know where.” 
 
 “ Oh, yes we do. Leastways, it won’t be difiicult to find 
 him. He won’t hide. He don’t know you’re in England ? ” 
 “ No, I’m pretty sure of that.” 
 
 “ But he knows I am, though he don’t know that I have 
 any reason for making a fuss. He’ll meet me in the cordial, 
 old friend style, and be forthcoming when looked for, you 
 bet. I know him. Now let’s see what there is against him, 
 and if we can prove it. No good going into a row with an 
 
232 THE CORSARS; 
 
 empty pistol. How about his intention of fraud in that 
 * Anna Maria ’ ? ” 
 
 ^‘Not good enough. Hearsay evidence, real gold found 
 there, and so on. Other man dead, and bore bad character, 
 therefore likely to lie. That’s the defence he’d make.” 
 
 How about attempt to murder you ? ” 
 
 No motive for jury. Law bless you, I know juries! I 
 seen ’em in America, and flummoxed ’em in England. They 
 wouldn’t believe it. Much more likely to believe I tried to 
 murder him. Besides, my character, in cross-examination, 
 oh my ! I wish I had the cross-examination of myself. I’d 
 amuse the jury.” 
 
 ‘‘Seems to me that James Corsar’s going to turn out 
 without a stain upon his character ! Let’s think it over.” 
 And Cyrus Shute pondered silently, in great wrath at having 
 been “given away,” but with his brains working at higher 
 speed in consequence, even as an engine may when the Are is 
 poked. Suddenly he made an exclamation, — “Sakesalive! 
 And I nearly forgot that ! ” 
 
 “ WeU?” 
 
 “ Look here, that ‘ Anna Maria’s ’ mine.” 
 
 “ What about that ‘ Anna Maria’ mine ? ” 
 
 “I say its mine. It belongs to me, and to no other 
 person.” 
 
 “How about the company and the shares, and the pro- 
 spectus ? ” 
 
 “Company be d — d and shares, too! There isn’t a com- 
 pany, and never was. I bought the ground myself, and can 
 prove it, and I never gave it or sold it to anybody. Can he 
 see me ? ” 
 
 “You’ve been publicly recognising the existence of this 
 company, haven’t you ? He sees you there.” 
 
 “ I go one hundred better. I’ve always depreciated that 
 company, and pointed the Anger of suspicion at it. That 
 made people think it was a snug thing I was keeping to 
 myself. So they bought shares. But it ain’t my fault what 
 they think. I say there never was any straight company 
 with a straight title to that mine, and I produce my proof 
 that I bought that bit of ground, claim, or what you like to 
 caU it.” 
 
 “ That’s better. Well ? ” 
 
oil, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 263 
 
 Then I call him.’’ 
 
 Cyrus commenced operations. First he wrote a calm, bene- 
 volent, and rather patronizing letter to John Eaynham, 
 offering to marry May. This he received back by return of 
 post, torn in two. This, as he remarked to Mr. Mackay, in 
 a public bar, made him feel ugly.” It certainly did not 
 make him look pretty. 
 
CHAPTEE XXVIII. 
 
 ME. COESAE SETTLES DOWN AND TAKES A EEST. 
 
 Me. Coesae sat in his old Jermyn Street lodging, much as he 
 had sat some six or eight weeks before, in the swivel chair. 
 But he looked out on the sunshine now instead of the fog. 
 He had come back there quite naturally, to the great delight 
 of the proprietors, who were really very fond of him, and had 
 kept his two rooms carefully dusted and empty for his return. 
 He was expected back, of course. He had left books, and 
 clothes, and other odds and ends of his own there, and had 
 merely stated that he was going abroad for a time. So that 
 when he came back, sunburnt and smiling, radiating benevo- 
 lence from a hansom cab, with a portmanteau, a great coat, 
 and umbrella and stick strapped together, they were pleased, 
 but not at all surprised to see him. He greeted his landlady 
 very kindly, asked after everybody and everything in the 
 house, gave her a little present — a stalactite, or a photo of a 
 waterfall, or something for herself — one or two very fine 
 cigars for her husband, who acted as a waiter, and a bit of 
 real gold ore for the children to play with.’^ Of course, the 
 children were not allowed to touch it, and it was put on a 
 mantelpiece, on a little mat ; but that Mr. Corsar did not know. 
 
 Good morning, Mrs. Whebling,” he said. You see IVe 
 come back.’’ 
 
 Here he descended and carried in the portmanteau. 
 
 And- heartily welcome, and not a minute too soon, sir, I’m 
 sure. The place ’ave looked quite empty without you. It’s 
 only yesterday Whebling was saying he wondered wherever 
 you’d a got to. So you’ve been in foreign parts, sir ? ” 
 
 Mr. Corsar paid the cabman. 
 
 ‘^Yes, Mrs. Whebling, I’ve been a long way this time. 
 IVe been to America.” 
 
THE COllSAllS ; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 285 
 
 ’Ave you noTv, sir? Well, I ’ope you’ve kep’ your ’ealth, 
 sir, wkicli is the thing after all, ain’t it, now ? ” 
 
 ^Wes. Health is a great blessing.” 
 
 But you’re looking as well as can be.” 
 
 Thank you, yes. I’m very well, very well indeed.” 
 went out and got a nice couple a chops, sir, the very 
 minute I got your letter this morning. I shall ’ave ’em 
 ready as soon as ever Whebling ’ave laid the cloth, and 
 you’ve just made yourself atomagen, as it were. Yes, sir. Not 
 knowing exactly when to expect you, I thought I’d better 
 not put ’em on, not till you come. Chops hotted up is poor 
 sort of stuff. Yes, sir.” 
 
 Mr. Corsar went up to his sitting-room. Everything was 
 in beautiful order, just as he had left it, from his writing- 
 table, with the fossil ammonite, split and polished, for a 
 j)aper-weight, to the grisly old portraits of Nobody, which 
 Whebling had picked up at auctions, to make the room look 
 respectable and suggestive of baronial halls. ^‘Now I think 
 I shall settle down,” he mused, and take a rest.” You see 
 he was now very comfortably off. He had done a good deal 
 of venturesome gaming, both in AVall Street and in London, 
 and had the luck on his side, as usual. He no longer held 
 any shares at all in the Anna Maria.” He had done better : 
 he had sold them at a large profit, and since that doubled the 
 money. Now he proposed investing in something safe and 
 permanent, and taking a rest. 
 
 In other words, the fitful fever of his life was beginning to 
 tire Mr. Corsar. He felt that he had gone through a good 
 deal, that he was no longer as young as he was, and that he 
 was now sufficiently well-off to make honesty — what it had 
 hitherto not been for him — the best policy. Eespectable, in 
 the highest degree, he had always been. So, after a few 
 days, he sat at home reading the paper, quite oblivious of 
 any incidents in his life which some in his place might have 
 been ashamed of, and rapidly transforming himself into the 
 leisurely and excellent old gentleman he had planned to 
 become — a gentleman of the old school. He drank port in 
 moderation, after dinner at the club, was benign to every one, 
 as usual, and liked and respected by all who knew him. 
 
 One trace of the old life and nature remained. He never 
 subscribed to anything, and he never gave to any form of 
 
 s 
 
26C 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 charity.” That was a depth of folly to which he could not 
 descend. He had not made money with great labour and risk 
 at his time of life to waste it on other people. He put in an 
 occasional appearance at some highly respectable church in 
 the vicinity on a Sunday morning, giving the preference to 
 the Chapels Royal. He made a highly orthodox will, leaving 
 all the property of which he might be, or become, possessed 
 to his beloved only son, Carl. 
 
 It can’t matter to me who gets it when I’m gone, but it’s 
 the regular thing to do, and that solicitor, and Whebling who 
 witnessed, will go and gossip about it. And I don’t know 
 any one I’d like better to have it than Carl. He used to be a 
 jolly little boy — and she was a pretty woman too — and such a 
 fool ! I wonder if I ever was considered a j oily little boy ? 
 Dear me, what a biography I could write ! I’ve a good mind 
 to write it, and bequeath it to the nation for some fellow to 
 edit when I’m dead, and then they’ll find out, as they always 
 do when a man’s private papers are published, how entirely 
 wrong their opinions of me were. I might write two, of 
 totally different kinds — >no, it’s fatiguing to invent, especially 
 when the reality might be made so interesting. What a beau- 
 tiful day ! I think I’ll go and potter in the park a little before 
 lunch. Come in. Well, Whebling, what is it?” 
 
 Gentleman for you, sir. Colonel Shute.” 
 
 Oh, show him in. How do, Shute ? Thought you’d turn 
 up sooner or later.” 
 
 ^^Did you, now? Well, I’m here. I’ve come to talk 
 business.” 
 
 ^ Wery well. Won’t you sit down ? ” 
 
 Well, no, I thank you. I will stand.” 
 
 Will you have a drink ? ” 
 
 Well, no, I thank you. I will not.” 
 
 And what’s your news ? ” 
 
 It’s yours I want.” 
 
 Oh, ah ! about that mine? Well, yes. I don’t think I 
 can add much to what I said in my note to you. I ascertained 
 that it was no good, and devoted my attention to other specu- 
 lations. I told you that sort of thing would never do nowa- 
 days. People are sick of throwing money down mines.” 
 
 Yes. But are they sick of takin’ gold out of ’em? ” 
 
 ^‘Well, scarcely. I -don’t suppose they ever will be till 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 267 
 
 some alchemist upsets the market by transmuting metals. 
 Why?’’ 
 
 ^‘Oh, nothin’. Only I heard a rumour— at least, I read 
 in a paper — that gold had been got at last out of the ^ Anna 
 Maria.’ In an American paper.” 
 
 ^ ‘ Indeed ! What paper ? ” 
 
 Clipping from Morgan Town Argus , arriving per Smyrna 
 Democrat into the Ohio State Mail, read by me at the American 
 Exchange — shortly before the receipt of your note.” 
 
 Of course you didn’t believe it ? ” 
 
 Of course not. I thought you’d put it in, till I got your 
 letter. Then I found it was true. And I found my partner 
 was layin’ out to cheat me out of my property.” 
 
 ^‘Well, but that’s nonsense, Shute. There isn’t any pro- 
 perty worth cheating anybody out of.” 
 
 ^^No. And there ain’t any shares in the mine. And you 
 didn’t buy ’em over there, and over here, and sell ’em at a 
 rise. And I didn’t buy the claim myself ’fore I came over to 
 Europe, and I didn’t write you to go shares. And you and 
 Jack Dillon didn’t arrange to salt the mine, and a deputation 
 from Smyrna city didn’t go over to see it work, and you didn’t 
 give up Jack to a vigilance committee, or sheriff, or somethin’. 
 And maybe you didn’t try to shove Willie Mackay down an 
 elevator. Corsar, this is all too thin,” went on Cyrus, chang- 
 ing his facetious drawl for a more direct and energetic tone. 
 
 I don’t care a curse what you did to shaloots like Dillon and 
 so on, but it’s a steep thing to try and go back on me. I want 
 ha’f profits. I might claim the lot, because the thing’s mine 
 after all. But I want ha’f, and I’ll have it. Do^you see me ?” 
 ^‘I see you and go better,” said Mr. Corsar, all the old 
 rogue’s power and spirit re-arisen. You won’t get it. Not a 
 quarter. Not a penny. And if you annoy me about it. I’ll 
 publish your real character, and simply shut the door of this 
 house hnd of English society in your face. Do you think I 
 spare one man who stands in my way more than another ? Or 
 that I care for threats ? My dear sir, I totally deny all your 
 story. There never was any such person as Jack Dillon or 
 Mackay to my knowledge. Your paragraph from an obscure 
 journal in a western mining camp is worthless, or talked of 
 some person with the same name, a mere coincidence. I have 
 been taken in by you and lost money over your bogus mine, 
 
268 
 
 THE CORSARS; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 your pathetic and plausible stories imposing on my good feel- 
 ings, and so on. Begret that I introduced you to friends of 
 mine. All this only if you prove a nuisance. So you’d better 
 disappear. There’s plenty of greenhorns left for you to work 
 on, but I’m not one of them. Do you see me?” 
 go better. Mackay is here in London.” 
 
 If you have a friend called Mackay who has a grievance 
 against me, pray put him in the witness-box. Take care he’s 
 sober at the time. I think there would be rather an amusing 
 scene. Especially when I put you in the witness-box, as of 
 course I should. Hadn’t you better throw up your hand ?” 
 
 Cyrus Shute’s eyes blazed, and the long and marvellously 
 suppressed real wrath of the man came out. 
 
 ^^I CALL YOU !” he said, and fired his Deringer straight 
 into James Corsar’s brain. And James Corsar said no word, 
 but collapsed in the swivel-chair. 
 
 Cyrus Shute re-pocketed the pistol, walked calmly down- 
 stairs and out of the house, turned down the Haymarket, and 
 walked towards Westminster. When he reached the bridge, 
 he leaned on the parapet to look at the view. When he ob- 
 served no one passing, he dropped the little pistol into the 
 Thames. 
 
 And so Mr. Corsar settled down to take a rest. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIX. 
 
 MY POOR dad! 
 
 Carl Cqrsar and Jenny were sitting after tea in a quiet and 
 highly domestic way, in that cheerful ground-floor sitting- 
 room of his in the quiet no-thoroughfare which led towards the 
 Thames, on the evening of this eventful day, and had decided, 
 as usual, not to encourage the hoarse bawlers of MurdOE ! 
 Pypor! Orruble Mur — DOE!’’ by buying an evening paper. 
 If they had, Carl would have learned a little sooner what had 
 happened that afternoon in Jermyn Street. As it was, he 
 lounged very comfortably in a big basket chair, with a pipe in 
 his mouth, and talked lazily, while Jenny made alterations 
 and repairs in her hat. 
 
 Jenny often dropped in to tea in this way, there usually 
 occurring some amusing or instructive evening afterwards. 
 Perhaps Carl read aloud to her, a thing they both enjoyed, 
 maddening as it is to some people, or explained things.” 
 Perhaps they might go to a theatre, or for a walk by the 
 Serpentine, if it were a fine evening, and finally Jenny 
 would be put into a ’bus and sent to her own abode — a place 
 Carl had discovered, where was a very exceptional and highly 
 .desirable old landlady, who had been housekeeper to a family 
 in Scotland, and had a granddaughter who played the harmo- 
 nium at the Presbyterian conventicle frequented by her grand- 
 mother. What was more important was that the grand- 
 mother was an honest, kindhearted, cleanly old Scotch gentle- 
 woman, with beautiful white hair and a handsome face, a 
 rare kind of landlady to find in London. And she had a cottage 
 piano her granddaughter practised on, and while the girl was 
 out of an afternoon on messages or shopping, Jenny played 
 Scotch tunes to the grandmother, and sang ‘‘Annie Laurie” 
 
270 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 and Jolin Anderson ’’ to her, so that the old lady loved her, 
 and said she made the dark days bright. 
 
 So you see, Carl, I’m some use after all.” 
 
 That’s very gratifying. But don’t get the impression that 
 you have been otherwise than useful. The state of thorough 
 reform you have inaugurated in my wardrobe, the presence 
 of an abnormal growth of buttons on my various articles of 
 underclothing, the flowers in that jug on the mantelpiece, the 
 highly aesthetic kettle-holder, supplying the place of a crum- 
 pled bit of brown paper, all bear silent testimony.” 
 
 Do you know, Carl, I’ve found out a curious thing. Old 
 Mrs. Maclean ” (said landlady) has a son who is a sergeant 
 in the — th Highlanders, the regiment Sandy Maxwell’s in, 
 that went to this war, you know.” 
 
 Has she, by Jove ! That’s funny.” 
 
 ‘ ^ And I read the papers to her to see if there is anything 
 about him. But there isn’t yet.” 
 
 No news is the best news in such a case.” 
 
 And Carl, when they come back, where will they land? ” 
 At Watermouth, I should think.” 
 
 Oh. Well, if it is all right, if nothing happens to him, 
 you know, I want you to take her and me there to see them 
 come back. I know she would like it better than anything in 
 the world, but I haven’t said anything to her on the subject. 
 I thought I’d ask you first. Can we do it ? ” 
 
 All right. I don’t see why we shouldn’t. It’s a Very good 
 idea of yours, Jenny.” 
 
 May I tell her ? ” 
 
 ^ ^ By all means. Hope Sergeant Maclean will come back 
 a major-general at least. Poor old Sandy, I wonder how he 
 likes it ! ” Here there came a ring and knock at the front 
 door. Carl darted his head out. of the open window. It’s 
 Clinch,” he said. I’ll go and let him in.” And he went to 
 the door. ‘ ^ Come in, ' Clinch. ’ ’ 
 
 Mr. Clinch looked unusually grave. ‘^Good evening, 
 missy,” he said to Jenny. Have you heard, sir ? ” 
 
 Heard ? No, nothing particular.” 
 
 Then I’d like to speak to you for a minute, outside.” 
 They went out into the passage. Well ? ” said Carl. 
 
 Mr. Corsar has been back in London a few days.” 
 
 ‘^Has he, indeed! ” exclaimed Carl. 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 271 
 
 And Colonel Shute went to see him to-day. And they had 
 a row. And it seems Colonel Shute shot him.^’ 
 
 Carl looked grave and turned rather pale. 
 
 “Is he dead? 
 
 “Yes, sir.’’ 
 
 “.Where? ” 
 
 “ His old lodgings in Jermyn Street.” 
 
 “ Where’s Shute ? ” 
 
 “ My man’s watching him, and won’t let him leave the 
 country.” 
 
 “ Come. I’ll go there— to Jermyn .Street, and you can tell 
 me as we go along. Wait a minute.” And Carl went hack 
 to get his hat and said, “Wait here, please, Jenny, till I 
 come back or send a message. I sha’n’t be long.” 
 
 “ Oh, Carl, what is the matter? ” 
 
 “ My father is dead.” 
 
 The two men got into a hansom and drove away. 
 
 “It’s this way, sir,” said Mr. Clinch. “ My man generally 
 watches Shute in the day-time, while I’m at the office, and I 
 do the night-work myself. A day or two ago a chap called 
 Mackay came over from America, who seemed to have had 
 something to do with the deceased over there, and to have a 
 grudge against him. And Shute got to know this chap, and 
 they used to meet at Mackay’ s place, a coffee-house in the 
 Westminster Bridge Eoad. Mackay might have told him 
 one or two things he — Shute — didn’t know, which might 
 have increased his feeling against the deceased.” 
 
 “Yes, yes ; I understand.” (Mr. Clinch always said “ the 
 deceased,” “the prisoner,” “the witness,” in the regular 
 police court and inquest style.) 
 
 ^ ^ So this morning Shute goes round to J ermyn Street to see 
 the deceased. My man followed him, and waited about for 
 him to come out. When he came out he went down to West- 
 minster, and on the Bridge he dro;^ed a pistol into the river, 
 he (witness) saw him do it. Then he went down Westminster 
 Bridge Eoad, and saw Mackay, and they went into a pub. 
 My man went in too, and listened. He didn’t hear every- 
 thing, but he heard Mackay say, “ Did he throw up his hand? ” 
 and the other said, “No. But he passed in his checks.” 
 Then Mackay made a face, and said, “ Where are you going? ” 
 Shute said he was going home, going to stay in London. And 
 
272 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 they had some more talk that don’t signify. Shute’s now at 
 his lodgings in Blackfriars Eoad. When I went to relieve 
 my man I’d read the murder in the afternoon paper, and saw 
 that it was attributed to Shute, because no one else was known 
 to have been there, and because the people in the house heard 
 the shot before Shute had been heard to shut the front-door 
 behind him. Of course they hadn’t the wits to stop idm. 
 That is as well, as we’ve got more evidence by letting him 
 alone. Before I told the police anything I wanted to ask you 
 what you wished done ? Shute can get clear away, the chances 
 are, or get lagged, just as you and we choose.” 
 
 Mr. Clinch was a very cool customer, you see, and was 
 accustomed to family differences. 
 
 ^^I’ve left my man down there, and came as quick as I 
 could to let you know.” 
 
 You’ve done very well indeed. Clinch.” 
 
 And Carl thought it over. Should Shute be allowed to go, 
 and take his chance of escaping the law ? Or should he be 
 arrested ? It is embarrassing to have the power of life and 
 death placed suddenly in one’s hands. There could be no 
 doubt, Carl knew too well, that his father had behaved in 
 the most treacherous manner to Shute, and had probably 
 given great provocation, and that to a man who had been 
 trained in a rough school to regard homicide as a kind of 
 lawful retaliation. And the evidence would bring out many 
 painful facts about his father’s life. On the other hand, the 
 dead man was his father, who, although his life had been 
 what it was, had done him a kindness now and then, in ways 
 that are remembered best when the doer can do no more of 
 them, and he had been killed, either in a struggle or by direct 
 assassination. 
 
 Clinch, it’ll be a painful business, the clearing up of the 
 whole case. But we mmt arrest him. It’s not the square 
 thing to let him go.” 
 
 All right, sir.” 
 
 They found the body of James Corsar on his bed, dead- 
 white like marble ; all the lines and contractions wrought by 
 a life of cruel craft and ruthless wrong blotted out from a 
 face now beautiful and full of repose. It was a wonderfuF 
 change. Carl knew that it was simply due to the relaxed 
 tonicity of certain muscles, but it still struck him with wonder 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 273 
 
 and awe. No science, no mockery, no democracy, no unbe- 
 lief, no philosophy, can take away the majesty of king death, 
 whose right is eternally divine. 
 
 All the man’s life had been that of a wolf, whose trail was 
 strewn with the lambs he had torn, and the lesser wolves he 
 had fought with and overcome, till he fell in that track he had 
 made his own. 
 
 And yet Mrs. Whebling was sitting in a corner crying. 
 And yet Carl kissed that splendid calm marble face. 
 
 My poor dad ! ” he said. 
 
 it- is- is- 
 
 Mr. Clinch was in the sitting-room when Carl came back. 
 
 Better have a look at his papers, sir, hadn’t you ? ” 
 
 Carl looked. There was not a scrap, not a document, not 
 a letter except trivial invitations, bills, a newspaper or two 
 — and the Will. There was a memorandum of a solicitor’s 
 address, and a little loose money. Carl looked at the will, 
 and opened his eyes. 
 
 ^^Now, Clinch, I’m off. You go and do your work. You 
 know best what steps to take. You know where to find me.” 
 All right, sir.” 
 
 Carl drove back to Somerset Street. 
 
 ^^Is it true, Carl?” said Jenny, who had just read about 
 the murder in the evening paper. 
 
 Yes. And, Jenny — come and kiss me — I’m a rich man — 
 comparatively.” 
 
 Oh, Carl ! ” 
 
 And we must forget all that his life has been now, Jenny. 
 I remember long ago, when he once bought me a little wooden 
 horse on wheels, which I have somewhere still. And he has 
 left all he has to mo, his son — so that now, my Jenny, my 
 dear love, who have never forsaken or forgotten me in the 
 dark times — it is light now ! And he has done that great 
 thing for us. So we will remember him — kindly — whatever 
 people say, while we walk earth — ^you and I together.” 
 
 is- iS^ is is iS 
 
 Cyrus Shute had the pleasure of seeing a bill posted at all 
 the police stations announcing a reward for his apprehension ; 
 but that caused him little alarm. He knew that London was 
 the best place in the world to remain incognito in. He simply 
 ceased to visit the hotel for letters. He did not go about with 
 
274 
 
 THE CORSAKS ; OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 a burdened conscience, or see bloodstains in the sky, or hear 
 voices in the night, or pursuing steps behind him, or suffer 
 any of the orthodox haunting horrors of a murderer. He 
 simply felt placidly conscious of a virtuous action, and would 
 have been surprised if any one who knew the facts had taken 
 an opposite view. He took his meals, his whisky and tobacco, 
 regularly. The only thing that embarrassed him was his 
 inability to sell the mine shares he had bought. He knew 
 the prices were rising, the papers tantalized him with that 
 intelligence daily, but he could not give directions to sell 
 without giving an address, which might lead to his appre- 
 hension. 
 
 So he came to the conclusion that he had better go to 
 America while he had money enough to pay the passage, and 
 do his best to run ’’ the Anna Maria ” over there. And 
 then he received a note from Mackay, addressed to Mr. 
 Anderson, at the Blackfriars Eoad lodging, which accelerated 
 his departure. It was this — I have had a subpoena served 
 on me. Vamoose the ranch.’’ Cyrus went to Euston and 
 just managed to get the train to Liverpool. At Lime Street 
 Station in that city he was stopped and arrested on the charge 
 of murdering James Corsar. The detective-inspector who 
 was dashing to Euston after him in a cab had just missed the 
 train Cyrus caught, so he telegraphed to all the stations along 
 the line, as a matter of course, and the Liverpool police com- 
 pleted the affair. 
 
CHAPTEE XXX. 
 
 CARL THE SELF-CENTRED. 
 
 Several months passed. Mr. Corsar had been buried, and 
 Cyrus Shute likewise, and both forgotten by the public. 
 
 The military expedition to a distant land had performed 
 prodigies of valour, gone through great hardships, suffered 
 great mortality (principally through rashly eating the tinned 
 supplies of the commissariat), had occupied various places, 
 received orders to unoccupy and reoccupy them, and finally 
 received orders to come home again. What they exactly had 
 accomplished nobody exactly knew, but every one agreed that 
 their behaviour had been most creditable. The great thing 
 was to praise the army, as a flank attack way of blaming the 
 Government. Everybody who had roared patriotically for 
 war before it took place, now hooted the ministry for making 
 it, and cheered the soldiery for doing the same. 
 
 In Parliament, very much the same ignorant and contra- 
 dictory nonsense was talked, as was talked and sung and 
 written outside. Some said that the Government had no 
 business to go to war at all, but having done it, the only 
 atonement open to them was to snub the army and refuse a 
 vote of thanks. Others said they had not gone far enough, 
 that instead of annexing (as a matter of course) about half a 
 continent, which did not belong to them, they had patched 
 up a humiliating 'peace. Patched up’’ was the expres- 
 sion. Members of Parliament could not be expected to use 
 straightforward and brief phrases when they could use 
 long-winded bits of leading-article declamation. Then these 
 glorious old and new bulwarks of British eloquence became 
 conspicuous : — 
 
 The thin edge of the wedge. 
 
 Un-English. 
 
276 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 A red herring dragged across the scent. 
 
 Meddling and muddling. 
 
 “ Perhaps it was right to dissemble your love, 
 
 But why did you kick me down stairs ? ” 
 
 Within measurable distance of ’’ anything the speaker 
 
 thought proper. 
 
 Peace where there is no j)eace. 
 
 Peace at any price. 
 
 The great traditions of this vast empire. 
 
 A degraded and bombastic imperialism. 
 
 The dictates of the Caucus. 
 
 Jingoism, &c., &c. 
 
 And everybody found out what everybody else had said on 
 a totally different situation many years before, when most of 
 those now on the one side had been on the other ; and the 
 air was thick with hurtling quotations and glaring ’’ incon- 
 sistencies. In the meantime, the army — all that was left of it 
 — was expected home, and preparation and expectation filled 
 the hands and minds of Watermouth, where the troopships 
 were to disembark. 
 
 May Eaynham had passed a very anxious time — like a good 
 many other people, who had to scan the papers in daily dread 
 of meeting the name of one dear to them in some fatal list. 
 And the telegrams seemed framed for the express purpose of 
 causing suspense and terror to English families. For instance, 
 May read this one day; Wounded (severely) — th High- 
 landers, Private Martell (? Morwell), 10,341.” Now a thing 
 of this kind inflicts torture worse than actual bad news. And 
 a few days later the name became Mangle, 40,501 ; so that 
 another family was' placed,” as the papers say, ^4n a state 
 of suspense.” 
 
 At last, however, an item of news appeared which made 
 May’s pupils dilate, as she read the paper in the privacy of 
 her room before any one else could get hold of it. This was 
 to the effect that Sergeant Alexander Maxwell had been 
 recommended for the V.O., for conspicuous gallantry in carry- 
 ing Captain Holroyd when wounded into shelter, getting 
 wounded himself in the process, and that one Sergeant-Major 
 Maclean was recommended for the same honour for standing 
 over Captain Holroyd and Sergeant Maxwell when both were 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 277 
 
 disabled, and defending them against considerable odds till 
 assistance arrived. It was added that Sergeant Maxwell was 
 progressing favourably, while Captain Holroyd had since died. 
 
 Oh ! And how easily it might have been the other way,” 
 thought May. And she prayed God to send her Sandy safe 
 home. 
 
 At length the day arrived Vhen the troopship, bearing the 
 — th Highlanders, a portion of a cavalry regiment, and some 
 Engineers, was to disembark them at AVatermouth, and the 
 Haynhams were to have the same window from which they 
 had previously witnessed the departure one hot July after- 
 noon. It was now November — a still, cold, dull day, on which 
 people who had them went out in sealskins. In the morning, 
 Mr. John Raynham received a private and confidential visit 
 from Carl Corsar, for whom he had by this time conceived a 
 great respect. And Carl announced the following curious 
 project. 
 
 I suppose, Mr. Ea3mhan, that Sandy comes home about 
 as well off as he started? I mean that the pay, or pen- 
 sion, or whatever it is he’ll get, are worth nothing to 
 speak of ? ” 
 
 I’m afraid so.” 
 
 ^^Well, you know, it’s occurred to me that it isn’t quite on 
 the platform for me to keep and enjoy all the money my late 
 father made. I can’t help thinking of the way he made it, 
 and that somebody was made poor every time he became more 
 rich, and that by means other than fair competition. And it 
 seems only square that somebody who wants it worse than I 
 do should have some of it — as a sort of atonement, heave- 
 offering, or something. Do you take ? ” 
 
 ^^I don’t see why you should atone for some one else’s 
 wrongdoing.” 
 
 Don’t you? Thought you went in for vicarious atone- 
 ment. Perhaps only on Sundays, eh? Well, the long and 
 short of it is, that I want to convey, or settle, or whatever you 
 call it, a definite sum of money on Sandy Maxwell, on certain 
 conditions. I am a tolerably rich man now, with capacities 
 for becoming richer, and you may depend on it I’m a jolly 
 sight too egotistic to surrender a bit more than I can spare.” 
 
 ^ ^ Dear me ! I wish there were some more of your kind of 
 egotism going about. But you know we can’t accept that.” 
 
278 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 I’m not asking you to accept it. It’s for Sandy. I want 
 you to take it from me, put ik in your bank, or however 
 you do things, and give it him like an allowance, on certain 
 conditions. Let it come from yourself, or some newly-dis- 
 covered uncle of his in a foreign clime, or anything of that 
 kind.” 
 
 Well, I don’t know that I’nrjustified in refusing an offer 
 of this — er — unusual kind, made for the good of a third party. 
 But you know him, you have your eyes open, and you can do 
 what you please, I suppose. What are the conditions ? ” 
 ^‘One, that you don’t let him know, directly or indirectly, 
 
 the real source of this my late father, you know.” 
 
 ^^Yes.” 
 
 ‘^The other, that if he and your daughter May wish to 
 marry, you don’t put obstacles in the way. You may call 
 this cheek, but as you say, I’ve got my eyes open, and know 
 the man perhaps even better than you do. Give ’em a period 
 of probation if you like, and see if he isn’t a different man 
 now to what he was before. Work and sorrow came into his 
 programme. No man ever did big things in this world who 
 didn’t know work and sorrow. Ask all the big men dead and 
 alive.” 
 
 You know this is all very sudden.” 
 
 Not a bit. I’ve been thinking it all over long ago. I 
 always think things thoroughly over myself before I begin 
 talking about them to other people. Then I can depend upon 
 you to help me in carrying out this plan ? ” 
 
 WeU, I don’t know any absolute objection to the course 
 you describe, b\it I must be given plenty of time for con- 
 sideration.” 
 
 My dear sir, which is best, to give a cheerful consent to 
 things you can’t prevent, or to see them happen in spite of 
 your prohibitions ? ” 
 
 Well, well, I’U think it over.” 
 
 There isn’t much time. He’ll be back this afternoon. 
 You can’t find out by thinking it over anything I can’t tell 
 you now. I’m afraid I must ask you to say yes or no.” 
 
 Yes, then, Corsar. And I must say that I never heard 
 of such a proposition in my life before, and that I assent under 
 protest.” 
 
 Ail right. I will make a note of the protest.” 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 279 
 
 But there will be a good deal of necessary delay about 
 the mere formal part of this process.” 
 
 Will there ? Oh, I think not. What is your bank ? ” 
 London and County.” 
 
 Carl produced a cheque. 
 
 ^^Fill in London and County Bank in that cross. What 
 else is necessary? ” 
 
 ^^My dear Corsar, you are evidently not used to business 
 habits. This is absurdly precipitate and informal.” 
 
 My dear Mr. Eaynham, I have had one habit all my life, 
 and that is, when I want a thing done, to do it in the shortest 
 effective way. If I hadn’t confidence in your personal fitness 
 to accept this trust, conferences with forty solicitors couldn’t 
 give it to me.” 
 
 Oh, well, have your own way.” 
 
 ‘ ^ Certainly. I always do when I can. Thanks very much. 
 I must be off now. See you again by-and-bye.” 
 
 is. is- is- 
 
 In the afternoon a bow window in King Street, Water- 
 mouth, was again occupied by the expectant Eaynhams. Mrs. 
 Eaynham had sufficiently recovered from the awful shock she 
 had received (that of hearing the truth about Cyrus Shute) 
 to be able to say she never liked the man ” and always 
 said he was a horrid man,” at which her family smiled 
 covertly at each other. May was sorry for him — which no 
 other human being in the Eastern or Western Hemisphere in 
 all probability was. 
 
 In another window a different group were sitting, consist- 
 ing of Carl, and Jenny, and that splendid stern-faced, tender- 
 hearted old lady, Mrs. Maclean, and her granddaughter. Mrs. 
 Maclean sat upright with both hands resting on the handle of 
 her stick, and her keen, grey eyes, in their pale, wrinkled 
 sockets, wandered impatiently from the street to the clock, 
 and back to the street again. When will they get, were ye 
 sayin’, Mr. Corsar ? ” said she. 
 
 It’s uncertain for half an hour or so. It takes time and 
 caution to get into the harbour with a big ship.” 
 
 Will they play the pipes when the ship lands ? 
 
 Most likely.” 
 
 ^ ^ I shall hear that. I heard it last when my husband, 
 Kenneth Maclean, went to the Crimea, near thirty years ago. 
 
280 
 
 THE CORSARS ; 
 
 I wonder who will hear them first, Mr. Corsar, I or your young 
 leddy ye spoke of, who is waitin’ for her friend — the gentle- 
 man whose life ma boy Georgie saved ? ” 
 
 (‘^Ma boy Georgie” was Sergeant-Major Maclean, aged 
 forty-six.) 
 
 I almost wish you were a soldier, Carl,” said Jenny ; for 
 the coming back part only, I mean, not the going away.” 
 Going away is, unfortunately, an indispensable condition 
 to coming back ; though the reverse, more unfortunately, does 
 not hold.” 
 
 The crowd on the pavements below swayed and fidgeted, 
 and seemed permeated suddenly with some exciting know- 
 ledge. Then there was a pause of some minutes’ excited 
 silence. Then, in the dockyard, a great shout arose afar ofi, 
 and was transmitted in waves along the crowd. And above 
 that shout was heard the loud and joyous skirl of ^‘Bonnie 
 laddie, Hieland laddie,” coming nearer and nearer. And the 
 crowd shouted, and laughed, and cried, because their sons, 
 and lovers, and fathers were come back ; and some remem- 
 bered, with inexpressible bitterness, the farewell a few months 
 ago of those — too many — who had Not come back from the 
 Distant Land, but had won eternal quarters in the Farther 
 Land — called of the Leal. 
 
 For Valhalla was fuller by thirty-seven Scots mothers’ sons 
 in this regiment. 
 
 And they came on, shoulder to shoulder, changing the 
 tune to — 
 
 March, march ! Ettrick and Teviotdale, 
 
 Why the de’il canna ye march in order.*’ 
 
 And when the first swinging sporrans, discoloured tartans, 
 and pith helmets began to pass, Mrs. Maclean rose, and stood 
 up at the open window, and said, God bless ye ! ” And the 
 pipes played, and the men swung along, and the crowd shouted, 
 and clung to them, and shook hands with them, and cheered, ‘ 
 above all, the thin, bony old face, with the kind, sad, blue eyes 
 and the long, white moustache, of the colonel commanding — 
 who had been a well-known figure in "Watermouth for a long 
 time before — as he passed slowly along on his horse, with the 
 plaid blowing out like a jib behind him in the breeze. And 
 old soldiers pointed out to their friends that he had medals or 
 
OR, LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 2-81 
 
 clasps for Balaclava, Inkermann, and Lucknow, as well as a 
 certain bronze cross. 
 
 And the skirl of the pipes died away in the distance. Not 
 long afterwards Mrs. and Miss Maclean found a son and a 
 father, with a pale brown face and one arm, and then Carl 
 and Jenny left them, and joined the Raynhams. 
 
 ‘‘There^s that Mr. Corsar,” said Mrs. Eaynham, and a 
 young lady with him, coming this way.” 
 
 wouldn’t call him ^that’ Mr. Corsar, if I were you,” 
 said John Eaynham ; as he has been a better friend to all 
 of us than any human being I know.” 
 
 Oh, I daresay! he thought by being civil to you he 
 might get into society through us. But I don’t like him. 
 He is talked about. He gave evidence, or was mixed up 
 somehow with that awful murder trial, and they are evidently 
 very queer people.” 
 
 Oh, I daresay we shall hear he murdered somebody next. 
 Now look here, I generally take things pretty easy, and let 
 everybody have a loose rein, as you know, but I distinctly insist 
 that my friend, Carl Corsar, shall be treated with proper 
 consideration. I don’t mean monosyllabic civility, — which is 
 women’s way of being impertinent,— or any of the hundred 
 and one dodges for making people ^ feel their position ’ with 
 actual rudeness. Don’t sniff, or keep up idiotic society smiles, 
 and say that regiment looked ‘ very nice,’ with your heads on 
 one side, and that it must be ^ very nice ’ for the mothers 
 and fathers of sons to find them again, and be able to laugh 
 and cry on their necks. Be kind as well as civil to him. 
 You know well enough how, though you don’t know how 
 much he deserves it.” 
 
 Hear, hear!” said May. ^‘Well done, papa! Never 
 heard you come out so strongly before in your life. Oh! 
 here is Sandy ! ” 
 
 ^ it- it- it- it- it- 
 
 Mr. Eaynham,” said Carl Corsar, let me introduce my 
 wife.” 
 
 Sensation. Sandy grinning, in his discoloured and muddy 
 old uniform, as he sat in a chair murmuring to May. Mrs. 
 Eaynham of course offended because Sandy had been received 
 with general effusion, and because Sir Arthur Morris, the 
 military governor, had been civil to him, also because of Carl 
 
 T 
 
282 
 
 THE CORSARS; OR LOVE AND LUCRE. 
 
 Corsar, and because no one took much notice of anything she 
 said, and because she was not the principal person present, 
 and was generally, as May mischievously remarked to Sandy, 
 
 Eather out of it.’^ So she had put up glasses and looked 
 at Jenny. 
 
 However, May was everything in the way of kindness and 
 attention Jenny could desire, and so was her father. Ulti- 
 mately, they all went, at John Eaynham’s invitation, to dinner, 
 where Sandy was the hero, and told the story of his campaign ; 
 and May, listening, felt that at last Sandy really had Done 
 Something. 
 
 ii- - ^ -k- * k k 
 
 Some months later, Sandy to May, in a small house in 
 Kensington : — 
 
 '' I wonder why Carl doesn^t live in better style ? I’m sure 
 that deceased old scoundrel must have left him more than he 
 seems to live on. Why, he doesn’t seem a bit better off than 
 we are with our mysterious legacy.” 
 
 I don’t know, darling.” 
 
 Ah, well, Carl always was a self-centred chap. He has 
 grown stingier as he grew older, I suppose. I’ll chaff him 
 about it.” 
 
 And that was the thanks Carl Corsar, the self-centred, got. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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42, Catherine Street, Strand, 
 December, 1884. 
 
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 A JOURNEY DUE SOUTH; 
 
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 I.— A Few Hours in the Delightful City. 
 
 II. — Life at Marseilles. 
 
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 IV. — Nice and its Nefarious Neighbour. 
 
 V. — Quite Another Nice. 
 
 VI. — ;^om Nice to Bastia. 
 
 VII. — On Shore at Bastia. 
 
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 IX. — Sunday at Ajaccio. 
 
 X. — The Hotel too soon. 
 
 XL — The House in St. Charles Street, 
 Ajaccio. 
 
 XIT. —A Winter City. 
 
 XIII. — Genoa the Superb : the City of the 
 
 Leaning Tower. 
 
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 XV.— A Day of the Deagl. 
 
 XVI. — Venice Preserved. 
 
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 XVIII. — The Two Romes. II. The New. 
 
 XIX.— The Two Romes. II. TheNew(co?i^.)* 
 
 XX. — The Roman Season. 
 
 XXI. — In the Vatican : Mo.saics. 
 
 XXII. — With the Trappi^ts in the Cam- 
 pagna. 
 
 XXIII. — From Naples to Pompeii. 
 
 XXIV. — The Show of a Long-I3uried Past. 
 
 XXV. — The “ Movimento ” of Naples. 
 
 XXVI.— In the Shade. 
 
 XXVII. — Spring Time in Paris. 
 
 XXVIII. — “ To All the Glories of France.” 
 XXIX. — Le Roi Soleil and La Belle Bour- 
 bonnaise. 
 
 XXX.— A Queen’s Plaything. 
 
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 HIGH LIFE IN FRANCE UNDER 
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 SOCIAL AND SATIRICAL SKETCHES IN PARIS AND THE PROVINCES. 
 
 By E. C. GRENVILLE. MURRAY, 
 
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6 
 
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 ILLUSTRATED WITH NEARLY 300 CHARACTERISTIC ENGRAVINGS. 
 
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 I. PLIRTS : — Born Flirts — The Flirt who has Plain Sisters — The Flirt in the London 
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 and Country House Flirt — The Seaside Flirt — The Flirt on her Travels — The Sentimental Flirt — 
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 II. ON HER BRITANNIC MAJESTY’S SERVICE Ambassadors- 
 Envoys Extraordinary — Secretaries of Embassy — Secretaries of Legation — Attaches — Consuls- 
 General — Consuls — Vice-Consuls — Queen’s Messengers — Interpreters — Ambassadresses. 
 
 III. SEMI-DETACHED WIVES: — Authoresses and Actresses — Separated by 
 
 Mutual Consent — Candidates for a Decree Nisi — A very virtuous Semi-Detached Wife — Ulysses 
 and Penelope. n 
 
 IV. NOBLE LORDS : — The Millionnaire Duke — Political Peers — Noble Old Fogies — 
 Spiritual Peers — The Sabbatarian Peer — The Philanthropist Peer — Coaching Peers — Sporting 
 Peers — Spendthrift Peers — Peers without Rent-rolls— Virtuoso Lords — Mad and Miserly Peers 
 —Stock Exchange and Literary Lords. 
 
 V. YOUNG WIDOWS: — Interesting Widows — Gay Young Widows — Young Widows 
 of Good Estate — Young Widows who take Boarders— Young Widows who want Situations — 
 Great Men’s Young Widows— Widows under a Cloud. 
 
 VI. OUR SILVERED YOUTH, OR NOBLE OLD BOYS :— Political 
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 PEOPLE I HAVE MET. 
 
 By E. C. GRENVILLE-MURRAY. 
 
 Illustrated with 51 tinted Page Engravings, from Designs by Fred. Barnard. 
 
 CONTENTS : — 
 
 The Old Earl. 
 
 The Dowager. 
 
 The Family Solicitor. 
 
 The College Don. 
 
 The Rich Widow. 
 
 The Ornamental Director. 
 The Old Maid. 
 
 The Rector. 
 
 The Curate. 
 
 The Governess. 
 
 The Tutor. 
 
 The Promising Son. 
 
 The Doctor. 
 
 The Retired Colonel. 
 The Chaperon. 
 
 The Usurer. 
 
 The Spendthrift. 
 
 The Favourite Daughter. Le Nouveau Riche. 
 The Squire. The Maiden Aunt. 
 
 The Bachelor. 
 
 The Younger Son. 
 
 The Grandmother. 
 
 The Newspaper Editor. 
 The Butler. 
 
 The Devotee. 
 
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 AMERICA REVISITED, 
 
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12 
 
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 can doubt this. He makes us note the smell of vice, not its perfume ; his nude figures are those 
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 his books, not even the crudest, that does not leave behind it pure, firm, and unmistakable 
 aversion, or scorn, for the base passions of which he treats. Brutally, pitilessly, and without 
 hypocrisy he strips vice naked and holds it up to ridicule. Forced by his hand it is vice itself 
 that says, ‘ Detest me and pass by ! ’ His novels, as he himself says, are really ‘ morals 
 in action.’ ” — Signor de Amicis en the Assommoir." 
 
 All the above are published without the Illustrations, price 5s. 
 
VIZETRLLY (S- CO:S RECENT PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 13 
 
 THE AHRIYAL OF THE ELEVEN YOUNG MEN AT NANA’s EVENING PARTY. 
 
14 
 
 VIZETELLY 6- CO:.S RECENT PUBLICATIONS, 
 
 In Croivn Svo, handsomely hound and glU, lorlce fe., the Third and Completely 
 Revised Edition of 
 
 THE STORY OF 
 
 THE DIAMOND NECKLACE, 
 
 COMPRISING A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF THE COUNTESS HE LA MOTTE, PRE- 
 TENDED CONFIDANTE OF MARIE-ANTOINETTE, WITH PARTICULARS OF THE 
 CAREERS OF THE OTHER ACTORS IN THIS REMARKABLE DRAMA. 
 
 By henry VIZETELLY. 
 
 Author of “ Berlin Under The New Empire,” ‘‘ Paris in Peril,” &c. 
 
 Illustrated with an Exact Representation of the Diamond Necklace, from a contemporary 
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 Antoinette from any complicity whatever with the scandalous intrigue in which she was 
 represented as bearing a part, is admirable.”— -Saiwrday Kevieio. 
 
 “We can, without fear of contradiction, describe Mr. Henry Vizetelly’s ‘Story of the 
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 with skill and faithfulness, but also with tact and delicacy.” — Standard. 
 
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 probabilities as to be a positive insult to the common sense of the reader. Yet strange, startlinji, 
 incomprehensible as -is the narrative w^hich the author has here evolved, every word of it is true.” 
 — Notes and Queries. 
 
 In Large Croion 8vo, handsomely printed and hound, ptAce Gs, 
 
 THE AMUSING 
 
 ADVENTURES OF GUZMAN OF ALFARAQUE. 
 
 A Spanish Novel. Translated by EDWARD LOWDELL. 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH HIGHLY-FINISHED ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL FROM DESIGNS BY STAHL. 
 
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 In Post 8vo, price ^s. Od. 
 
 THE CHILDISHNESS AND BRUTALITY OF 
 THE TIME: 
 
 Some Plain Truths in Plain Language. 
 
 Supplemented hy sundry discursive Essays and Narratives. 
 
 By HARGRAVE JENNINGS, Author of “The Rosicrucians, ” &c 
 
 “ Mr. Jennings has a knack of writing in good, racy, trenchant stjde. His sketch of behind 
 the scenes of the Opera, and his story of a mutiny on board an Indiaman of the old time, arc 
 penned with surprising freshness and spirit.” — Daily News. 
 
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 THE RED CROSS, AND OTHER Stories. 
 
 By LUIGI. 
 
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i6 
 
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 In Demy Uo^ handsomely printed and hound, with gilt edges, price 125. 
 
 A HISTORY OF CHAMPAGNE; 
 
 WITH NOTES ON THE OTHER SPARKLING WINES OF FRANCE. 
 
 By henry VIZETELLY, 
 
 Chevalier of the Order of Franz-Josef. 
 
 WINE JUROR for GREAT BRITAIN AT THE VIENNA AND PARIS EXHIBITIONS OF 1873 AND 187S. 
 
 Illustrated with 350 Engravings, 
 
 FROM ORIGINAL SKETCHES AND PHOTOGRAPHS, ANCIENT MSS., EARLY PRINTED 
 BOOKS, RARE PRINTS, CARICATURES, ETC. 
 
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 — Saturday Review. 
 
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 which he has collected a large number of facts, many of them very curious and interesting. Many 
 of the woodcuts are excellent.” — Athenceum. 
 
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 LAYS OF THE SAINTLY; 
 
 OE, THE NEW GOLDEN LEGEND. 
 
 By the London Hermit (W. PARKE), 
 
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 WITH HUMOROUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. LHITCH. 
 
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 OUR GILDED YOUTH. By E. C. Grenville-Murray NICE GIRLS. By 
 
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 FLIRTS. By E. C. Grenville-Murray ^OUR SILVERED YOUTH. 
 
 By E. C. Grenville-Murray MILITARY MEN AS THEY WERE. 
 
 By E. Dyne Fenton. 
 
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 OTHER PEOPLE’S MONEY. 
 
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 deal of art.” — London Figaro. 
 
 LECOQ THE DETECTIVE. Two vok 
 
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 explicable until the last link is reached and the whole made clear, Mr. Wilkie Collins 
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 shown by both, as likewise the same ability to build up a superstructure of facts on a 
 foundation which, sound enough in appearance, is shattered when the long- concealed 
 touchstone of truth is at length applied to it.”— Brighton Herald. 
 
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 DOSSIER NO. 113. 
 
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 THE COUNT’S MILLIONS. Twovols. 
 
 INTRIGUES OF A FEMALE POISONER. 
 
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[8 
 
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 FROMONT THE YOUNGER & RISLER THE ELDER. By 
 
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 SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. By V. Cherbuliez. 
 
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VIZ E TELLY 
 
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 YWARD DOSIA, & THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 
 
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 NEW LEASE OF LIFE, & SAVING A DAUGHTER’S 
 
 DOWRY. By E. About. 
 
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 ^HE NOTARY’S NOSE, AND OTHER AMUSING STORIES. 
 
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 By H. Malot. Two vols. 
 
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 VENGEANCE. By P. E^val. 
 
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 . writers.”— Independent. 
 
20 VIZETELLY CO.’S RECENT PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 MR. HENRY VIZETELLY’8 POPULAR BOOKS ON WINE. 
 
 “Mr. Vizetelly discourses brightly and discriminatingly on crus and bouquets and the 
 different European vineyards, most of which he has evidently visited .” — The Times. 
 
 “Mr. Henry Vizetelly’s books about different wines have an importance and a value far 
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 Price Is. Qd. ornamental cover ; or 2s. Qd. in elegant cloth binding. 
 
 FACT’S ABOUT PORT AND MADEIRA, 
 
 GLEANED DURING A TOUR IN THE AUTUMN OF 1ST7. 
 
 By HENBY vizetelly, 
 
 Wine Juror for Great Britain at the Vienna and Paris Exhibitions of 1873 and 1878. 
 With 100 Illustrations from Original Sketches and Photographs. 
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOE. 
 
 Price Is. Qd. ornamental cover ; or 2s. 6d in elegant cloth binding. 
 
 FACTS ABOUT CHAMPAGNE 
 
 AND OTHER SPARKLING WINES, 
 
 Collected during numepdus Visits to the Champagne and other Viticultural Districts 
 of France and the Principal remaining Wine- producing Countries. of Europe. 
 
 Illustrated with 112 Engravings from Sketches and Photographs. 
 
 Price l5. ornamental cover ; or Is. i5d. cloth gilt. 
 
 FACTS ABOUT SHERRY, 
 
 GLEANED IN THE VINEYARDS AND BODEGAS OF THE JEREZ, & OTHER DISTRICTS. 
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