■ n 
 
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 LI E> R.AR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVLRSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 8>25 
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 PAUL'S SISTEE 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 PRINTED BY 
 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE 
 
 LONDON
 
 PAUL'S SISTEE 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCES MARY PEARD 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'XEAB >TEIGHEOrP.S ' AXD 'THE COUNTRY COUSIN' 
 
 'flo eristence can be ma&e perfect ercept tbrougb restraint 
 an& sacrifice' J. H. Shobthouse 
 
 IN THEEE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON 
 BICHAIlD BENTLEY & SON, NEW BUELINGTON STREET 
 
 ^Jn Wishers in toinarg to ijer gtujcstn tht (Qiutn 
 1889 
 
 All rights reservei
 
 ?;3 
 
 PAUL'S SISTEE. 
 
 
 A PROLOGUE. 
 
 I. 
 WO persons, a man and a woman, 
 gEi |jjj both young and botli beautiful, 
 S^JBa were wandering in one of the 
 
 rooms of the Roman Capitol. It was on the 
 picture side of the building, although only con- 
 taining sculpture ; it had not been very long 
 opened, and was a court rather than a room. 
 Perhaps from not having yet found a place in 
 the usual guide-books, or because its treasures, 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 B
 
 having been but lately excavated, may have 
 been considered by the world modern in com- 
 parison with its older favourites, few people 
 cared to linger there ; yet there was a de- 
 lightful touch of airy grace about this court 
 and its ornamentation, which at once distin- 
 guished it from the other rooms. The colour- 
 ing was extremely delicate, sun and air came 
 freely in, and the air brought with it that 
 splash of cool water which is one of the most 
 exquisite sounds of Eome. The girl, who 
 was a young wife, was evidently charmed 
 with what she saw and felt ; she flitted some- 
 what hastily from one object to another ; but 
 at last a slight expression of annoyance 
 crossed her face, and she went back to her 
 husband, who was leaning against a marble 
 pedestal. 
 
 4 You are disappointing, Paul,' she said ; 
 4 you look at nothing.' 
 
 ' I look at you,' he replied smiling.
 
 PAULS SISTER 6 
 
 ' You will soon tire of that,' she returned, 
 smiling, nevertheless, herself, both because 
 the words were sweet, and because she knew 
 they were true. She was of a wonderful fair- 
 ness, the face a perfect oval, the eyes a deep 
 grey, not often seen with such colouring as 
 hers, the hair brown. She was tall, and 
 moved with extraordinary grace ; it was no 
 wonder if her husband found nothing in all 
 the court so beautiful to look at. Just now, 
 as her eyes, swept with long lashes, rested 
 upon a small figure standing on a pedestal 
 near, a far-away look stole into them, and 
 they became inexpressibly soft and lovely, but 
 the next moment the dissatisfied look touched 
 them again. ' Paul,' she said anxiously, ' tell 
 me really, do you not care for these things ? * 
 
 ' Yes, dear one, because they are dear to 
 you.''. 
 
 She moved from him with a slightly im- 
 patient gesture, but instantly returned. 
 
 B 2
 
 4. TAULS SISTER 
 
 6 Come then,' she said kindly, ' and let us 
 look at them together. Perhaps it is that 
 you have never opened your heart to them, 
 and that you must see them first with my 
 eyes. Then I am sure you will love them.' 
 
 ' It is very possible,' he answered cordially; 
 ' but you should remember that I am a thick- 
 headed fellow.' 
 
 She led him round with a pretty air of 
 explanation which he found charming. She 
 reflected that, being a man, his sleeping enthu- 
 siasm might be awakened by the representa- 
 tion of Meleager's hunt on the great Esquiline 
 sarcophagus ; she showed him the so-called 
 Nymph of the Capitol, who is, rather, Ehodope, 
 with her Egyptian vases and asphodels ; and 
 Hope, always daintily holding out her dress 
 with her left hand, and the rare and beautiful 
 little figure of Mother Earth in her square 
 stone chamber. She had a vast deal to say 
 about them all, and she said it very prettily;
 
 PAULS SISTER 5 
 
 but by -and -by her words flagged, as she 
 became conscious that Paul's attention was 
 forced, and that although he liked listening 
 to her, he cared nothing at all about the sub- 
 ject- In the end, they both were silent ; he, 
 to tell the truth, scarcely noticing the silence, 
 for his thoughts had leapt away to a letter 
 which had been put into his hands as he left 
 the hotel — the first letter which he had ever 
 concealed from her. And yet it concerned 
 her at least as much as himself. It was 
 certain, then, that if he had concealed it, it 
 was from fear of giving her pain. 
 
 Whatever, however, led to his keeping it 
 back, the act caused the first slight restraint 
 to spring up between them. Why this should 
 have been it is difficult to say, since only Paul 
 knew of it, and he had no reason to vex his 
 head with questions as to his motives. It may 
 have been that the subtle influence of love, 
 reaching from soul to soul, becomes conscious
 
 Paul's sister 
 
 to its farthest end of the lightest jar which 
 troubles the string. In the midst of one of 
 her most charming descriptions the young 
 wife looked at her husband, and sighed im- 
 patiently. His thoughts were far away. 
 
 They went out presently, silent, as they 
 often were. But now the silence, to her at 
 least, appeared to be weighted with quite a 
 new sense of heaviness, and she walked list- 
 lessly, without letting loose the enthusiasms 
 which generally broke from her as joyously 
 as song from a bird. She began to wonder 
 whether Paul had really nothing in common 
 with what she called the higher part of her 
 nature, and, if so, what she should do. 
 
 Their steps had turned, almost mechanic- 
 ally, to that broad flight of stairs which leads 
 from the Capitol to the Forum. No one who 
 loves Eome can stand there quite unmoved, 
 and on this day the contrast — which has much 
 to do with the thrill — the contrast between
 
 TAULS SISTER 7 
 
 ruined centuries and the ever young blue of 
 the sky was more than usually remarkable. 
 Beyond the Arch of Severus, columns and 
 pedestals seem to form a stately march, the 
 great stones of the Sacred Way lead up to 
 Titus' Arch, the beautiful brick campanile 
 of Santa Francesca has for its background 
 nothing less than the mighty Coliseum itself. 
 The delight of the view insensibly affected the 
 young wife, her eyes shone with tears, and 
 she clasped Paul's arm with both hands as 
 they went down together, their figures fling- 
 ing one bold shadow against the clear sun- 
 shine on the old wall. 
 
 This little action of hers aroused him, and 
 he looked at her with a smile. 
 
 ; You are very happy here, Xorma P ' he 
 asked, his lips lingering slightly on his wife's 
 unusual name. 
 
 1 It has been my dream all my life,' she 
 whispered.
 
 8 taul's sister 
 
 c And you would not care to go back to 
 England a little sooner than we intended ? ' lie 
 added, after a pause. 
 
 6 Oh, Paul, it would break rny heart ! ' 
 
 Break her heart ! And yet they would be 
 together. She did not see the spasm of pain 
 which crossed his face at her words. There 
 were many things in him which she did not 
 see. As he was silent, she went on — 
 
 ' Xo, dear Paul, pray do not think of such 
 a thing. Perhaps you do not feel it quite as 
 I do, but everything here is so beautiful land 
 so full of interest, that I have an impression 
 that I never really lived before, and I could 
 not bear to leave it. Look a}, the lovely weeds 
 springing out of that bit of brickwork, and 
 the sunlight upon them — did you ever see 
 anything so perfect ? ' 
 
 ; Well, dear, we will stay,' he said in rather 
 a dull voice, which disappointed her again. 
 6 Where are we going now ? '
 
 PAUL'S SISTER U 
 
 Just as he asked the question, three per- 
 sons came out of the gloom of the Mamertine 
 prison, and stood on the rough pavement as 
 if dazzled by the strong throb of sunshine in 
 which they found themselves. 
 
 ' There are the Hamiltons, and Mr. Law- 
 rence !' said Xorma joyously. 'Let us join 
 them.' 
 
 And leaving her husband, she ran quickly 
 down. 
 
 He followed more slowly, with a touch 
 of reluctance for which he reproached him- 
 self. 
 
 'How selfish I am,' he said, ' to wish that 
 even the least shadow of anxiety should cloud 
 her happy life ! It is a poor way, indeed, of 
 trying to keep sorrow from my darling, when 
 I feel myself longing that she should know 
 just a little. As if just a little were not 
 enough to mar all her delight! I hardly 
 thought I had been so weak, and it shows me
 
 10 Paul's sister 
 
 what a curb I must keep upon myself. God 
 help me and her ! ' 
 
 He went slowly down : Mr. Lawrence, who 
 was his friend, and a year or two older, came 
 forward to meet him. He had lived a great 
 deal abroad, and talked well, and with a touch 
 of satire which women found attractive. 
 
 ' Come with us to the Palatine, Winyeatt,' 
 he said. ' They have unearthed the hand of 
 a Venus, and all the world is swearing there 
 was never such another. Mrs. Winyeatt is 
 already persuaded of it by previous convic- 
 tion. Come!' 
 
 Paul shook his head. ' I must go back 
 and write a letter.' 
 
 ' Paul ! ' said his wife reproachfully. 
 
 ' Go without me, then. Our friends will 
 take good care of you,' he said in a cheery 
 tone, yet with a pang, because, although slight, 
 it was a separation, and because, on this day 
 of all days, it seemed hard. ' But how should
 
 PAUL'S SISTER 11 
 
 she know ! ' he repeated as he turned down 
 the deeply-shadowed street, and they passed 
 along the sunlit Forum. As soon as they 
 were out of sight, he took a carriage and drove 
 to the hotel. Once there, he had not many 
 stairs to mount before reaching his room, but 
 he went up slowly, and there must have been 
 something amiss with his face, to make Angelo, 
 the facchina, inquire whether the signore were, 
 perhaps, ailing ? Paul put the man off kindly 
 — he was always, indeed, kindly-mannered — 
 and as soon as he arrived in his room, began 
 to write his letter. It took him time, and he 
 occasionally referred to the one which he 
 had that day received, yet it was not long. 
 Having finished at last, and addressed it to his 
 wife's father, a clergyman in England, he went 
 again downstairs, and instead of giving it to 
 the porter, as usual, took it himself to the 
 post.
 
 12 paul's sister 
 
 II. 
 
 The days that followed this day were, to all 
 appearance, as beautiful as it had been. The 
 exquisite feeling of spring in the air became, 
 perhaps, intensified. Rome was full of violets, 
 and it was delicious to wander along the 
 paths, set with pale statues, in the gardens 
 of some villa where the dark ilexes stood 
 gravely against a sky of unfathomable blue. 
 Yet, ever since that day in the Capitol, Paul 
 was conscious of a change ; his wife and he 
 had moved a little apart. It was so difficult 
 to say how this was, or how it had come 
 about, that he sometimes accused himself 
 of yielding to impressions rather than facts. 
 Not a word had fallen from her lips which 
 was marred by a want of tenderness or 
 love ; everything about her breathed the same 
 delicate happiness, the same enthusiasm and
 
 13 
 
 elasticity, which he had felt to be charminc 
 even when he failed to share them ; he was 
 quite sure that she was not aware of a differ- 
 ence, and perhaps this very unconsciousness 
 brought his sharpest pain. But more than 
 once, since that day, Norma had been absent 
 for hours with the Hamiltons and Mr. Law- 
 rence. Paul had been asked, even pressed, to 
 join them ; but when he made a laughing 
 excuse against such active sight-seeing, he 
 perceived that his wife would have been dis- 
 appointed had he not immediately urged her 
 going without him. She yielded, sometimes 
 showing a little vexation at his obstinacv, 
 sometimes making a laughing excuse for 
 herself. 
 
 1 Otherwise, how am I to see anything ? 
 And Paul frightened me one day by threaten- 
 ing to leave Rome. Then what would become 
 of me F ' 
 
 When she returned to him she was always
 
 14 paul's sister 
 
 doubly affectionate, wanting to know how he 
 had amused himself, and whether he had 
 missed her ; but she rarely said much of what 
 she had herself seen, treating it, apparently, 
 as a subject which had no interest for him. 
 In this manner, and because it seemed to her 
 that the sensations daily excited were charged 
 with the fullest intellectual delight, she grew 
 slightly to look down upon her husband. 
 Paul detected this — there was little in her 
 which he did not detect ; he often pondered 
 upon it, and always with sadness, but it 
 seemed to him that, keeping her happiness as 
 his first object, he could do no better for her 
 than he was doing now. ' And if she learns 
 to live without me,' he reflected patiently, 
 ' surely I should not regret what will make it 
 all the easier for — for us both.' 
 
 One day when she had opened her letters, 
 she looked up with a cry. 
 
 < Paul ! '
 
 PAULS SISTER 15 
 
 ' Yes ? ' he asked quickly. 
 
 I The most extraordinary thing imaginable 
 is going to happen — you will never, never 
 guess ! My father — my father, of all people 
 in the world ! — is coming out, and is going to 
 bring Bessie. Actually, they were to start 
 yesterday ! I can't believe it. What can 
 have induced them to set off in such haste? 
 What can have induced him to come at 
 all ? ' 
 
 ' At any rate, it is a great happiness for 
 you," he said smiling. 
 
 She went to him and laid her head 
 against his shoulder. 
 
 I I do not know,' she murmured. ' We 
 are so happy together, you and I, in this 
 beautiful life, that I am afraid of the least 
 change.' 
 
 1 Do not be afraid, dear one,' he said, 
 with the smile still on his lips, which had 
 suddenly whitened. This beautiful life! She,
 
 16 Paul's sister 
 
 indeed, was basking so contentedly in the 
 sunshine, that she had not so much as 
 observed the shadow into which Paul had 
 entered. 
 
 4 Oh, I am not really afraid — of course ! ' 
 she answered lightly, leaning her head back- 
 ward so that her eyes looked into his. ' It 
 was only a foolish momentary dread. Bessie 
 will delight in going about with me, and my 
 father, who hates sight-seeing as much as 
 you, lazy Paul, will stay at home with you, 
 and read the " Times." Mr. Lawrence declares 
 that is how you amuse yourself. Will you 
 really not come to the Vatican to-morrow? 
 One would suppose you were growing old, 
 and afraid of the stairs ! ' 
 
 She laughed gaily at this ridiculous fancy 
 of hers, and moving about the room, began 
 idly to turn over some cards which lay on a 
 china plate. 
 
 ' Madame Fesca?— Oh, I had forgotten
 
 Paul's sister 17 
 
 Madame Fesca, she is so dull ! But I must 
 certainly return her visit at once. Dr. 
 Denman ? — Paul, who is Dr. Denman ? Did 
 you know that he had called ? Why should 
 he have come ? ' 
 
 ' 1 knew something of him from a friend 
 in England,' said her husband, with the 
 slightest possible hesitation. 
 
 She glanced at him, held the card for 
 a moment in her hand, then passed to 
 another. 
 
 When Mr. Charlton and his young 
 daughter arrived, it was evident that he was 
 nervously and fussily anxious for a conversa- 
 tion with Paul. Paul, on his part, took their 
 coming so easily, and showed himself so 
 much what he had always been, that his 
 father-in-law's ruddy face, which had lost a 
 good deal of colour, gradually regained its 
 usual florid vigour, and at the table d'hote he 
 
 vol. i. C 
 
 u
 
 18 Paul's sister 
 
 laid down the law almost as dogmatically as 
 ever. It was in the afternoon of the follow- 
 ing day that he saw Paul alone. The two 
 men drew chairs near the open window, and 
 sat down. Life was going on with happy 
 alacrity in the piazza hard by ; the fountain 
 splashed, the flower-sellers and the orange- 
 boys cried their little possessions, carriages 
 clattered over the stones, models basked on 
 the Trinita steps, the sun shone. 
 
 'Look here, Paul,' said the elder man, 
 laying his broad hand on the other's knee ; 
 1 I'm here, as you see. I lost no time, put 
 Marshall in charge, and brought Bessie, as 
 you suggested. Well. Now I look at you, 
 I tell you plainly, I believe you're frightening 
 yourself without reason. I dare say you're 
 out of sorts, that's common enough, and no 
 wonder, dining off kickshaws, and not a bit 
 of decent mutton to be had — but as for any- 
 thing so serious as you led me to suppose —
 
 PAULS SISTER 19 
 
 pooh ! I don't believe it, I don't believe it. 
 Why, to begin with, would Xorma be gohio- 
 off and leaving you like this, if you were 
 really ill ? ' 
 
 ' Xorma knows nothing,' replied Paul, a 
 slight red flushing his cheek. 
 
 1 Bless my soul, sir, but she would know ! 
 That's precisely what I say. When I've 
 got the gout, !Mrs. Charlton knows fast 
 enough.' 
 
 4 That is a different matter,' Paul said 
 gravely. ' At first I concealed the truth from 
 Xorma because I feared that — alone as she 
 was — she might be frightened at the chance 
 of something — sudden — happening to me. I 
 should have seen terror in her face when- 
 ever she looked at me,' he added in a voice 
 full of pain. ' I had thought,' he continued, 
 recovering himself, ' that on your coming 
 the truth might have been broken to her — 
 gently.' 
 
 c 2
 
 20 Paul's sister 
 
 ' Truth ! Nonsense — don't believe it's 
 truth at all,' muttered his father-in-law 
 uneasily. 
 
 Paul smiled. He knew this to be only 
 an ungracious fashion of expressing sincerest 
 concern. 
 
 ' G confirms Dr. Denman's opinion. 
 
 I wrote to G because I wished to have 
 
 the best advice ; he knows me, and I sent a 
 letter from Dr. Denman. Of course he can 
 only speak provisionally, but he says the 
 greatest care is necessary. You know what 
 that means.' 
 
 ' But you were well when you married ? ' 
 
 ' So I believed. Denman maintains that 
 it has long been coming on.' 
 
 Mr. Charlton got up and walked heavily 
 about the room. ' Good God ! ' he muttered, 
 looking askance at Paul. Then he sat down 
 again. 'You wish me to speak to my poor 
 girl?'
 
 21 
 
 ' No,' said Paul quietly. ' I have given 
 up that idea, and it is my most earnest desire 
 that she should be left in ignorance. She is 
 very happy here, and I have a fancy to be 
 thought of by-and-by as part of that happi- 
 ness. If this is selfish, I believe you will for- 
 give me. Our stay here will not be very long. 
 If I go home with her and you, the knowledge 
 when it reaches her will be less hard for her 
 to bear than if it came in the very heart of 
 her delight ; and if not — perhaps something 
 in the place will comfort her.' 
 
 ' And you — you have no wish to be 
 at home ? ' said the other, looking at 
 him. 
 
 ' I wish it to be as I have said,' Paul 
 answered, returning the look steadily. 
 
 They wandered about Eome, these five — 
 for Mr. Lawrence was generally with them, 
 — and learnt many secrets which the old city
 
 22 Paul's sister 
 
 only discloses to those who seek for them. 
 When the others went to galleries and 
 museums, Paul excused himself ; but he was 
 always ready to drive in the Campagna, or to 
 stroll about the paths of some villa garden, 
 breathing the violet-scented air. Yet the 
 beauty never really pleased him. It seemed 
 so crowded with association, that the past 
 became too heavy a thing to bear. All kinds 
 of discords trembled in his ears ; his longing 
 for something more artless, more simple, 
 more natural and less enchanting, grew 
 intense. The very amethyst of the mountains 
 looked to him unreal; he craved for a soberer 
 colouring, such as had bounded his life in 
 past years. Norma never knew half of what 
 he felt, but she pitied him sincerely for the 
 want of comprehension of the loveliness in 
 which she revelled, and always hoped that 
 he mi^ht in time be lifted into her own more 
 exquisite regions.
 
 Paul's sister 23 
 
 Mr. Lawrence made a pleasant element in 
 their life ; no one, indeed, could have suited 
 them better. He was on friendly terms with 
 the Charltons, and answered Xorrna's ques- 
 tions, which were many, with a delightful 
 readiness, which allowed her to endure slight 
 touches of raillery with the most admirable 
 patience. It was noticeable, however, that 
 when he had passed any time with Paul, a 
 certain uneasiness crept into his square-cut 
 face ; he often looked doubtfully at Xorma, as 
 if words trembled on his tongue ; and one day, 
 meeting Mr. Charlton in the Corso, he said 
 with some roughness — 
 
 ' Are you satisfied with Winyeatt's looks ? 
 What's the matter with him ? ' 
 
 The answer came in two words which 
 made Lawrence's face change. He turned 
 and walked silently by the side of the other 
 man for half the length of the Condotti. 
 Then he said —
 
 24 paul's sister 
 
 8 And Mrs. Winyeatt doesn't know ? ' 
 
 ' By his particular request. Misjudged, I 
 dare say, but one couldn't refuse a wish ex- 
 pressed so strongly.' 
 
 ' Of course not,' Lawrence agreed 
 slowly ; ' that is, unless she suspects some- 
 thing.' 
 
 6 Can't think what's come to Norma,' her 
 father broke out vehemently. ' Here's even 
 little Bessie asking if I don't think Paul 
 changed. She put me in a corner, I can tell 
 you, only yesterday. And the other so taken 
 up by her fallydiddles, she won't see. It's 
 monstrous ! Shall I give her a hint, in spite 
 of Paul?' 
 
 Mr. Lawrence did not apparently notice 
 the question. He must have been thinking 
 of it, however, for at the door of the hotel he 
 remarked — 
 
 ' He has the right to have his wishes 
 respected. Do not say anything.'
 
 Paul's sister 25 
 
 One day towards the end of March they 
 all went out to Frascati. Paul was ready, 
 almost eager, to go. It was as if he hoped, 
 in leaving behind him the wonderful old city, 
 to escape from its atmosphere, thick with 
 centuries of human life and struggle, into 
 something purer and clearer, where he could 
 breathe with less uneasiness. Of this lousing 
 he said nothing to Norma, who found it 
 difficult to tear herself even for one day from 
 Eome. She was as affectionate and charming 
 to her husband as ever, but the eagerness of 
 her interests absorbed her so completely, that 
 she scarcely felt the loss of the sensitive 
 sympathy which had once thrilled their 
 hearts. It is true that every now and then 
 she mourned it ; when this happened her 
 reflections left no room for doubt that it was 
 due to a certain want in Paul, for which he 
 was no more to be blamed than a scentless 
 flower for lack of perfume. He gave her all
 
 26 paul's sister 
 
 he could, though he failed to discern the 
 higher beauty. 
 
 From the inn in the little piazza of 
 Frascati, a narrow and steep path leads for 
 some distance between the walls of the great 
 villa lands to Tusculum. Much to Norma's 
 amusement, Mr. Lawrence, who was the 
 arranger of all their expeditions, had pro- 
 vided a small troop of donkeys, on which he 
 insisted that the whole party should mount. 
 By this means Paul was able to go with them 
 without fatigue ; and even when they reached 
 the amphitheatre, Mr. Lawrence took care 
 that some one should always be riding, so that 
 he might walk as much or as little as he liked 
 without observation. 
 
 Once, indeed, a shadow of alarm seemed 
 to have touched the young wife. The ancient 
 gate of the city lies enshrouded and half con- 
 cealed by shrubs, a spring of clear water issues 
 from the rock hard by, and in front spreads
 
 paul"s sister 27 
 
 a soft carpet of grass. A delicious perfume 
 greeted them before they reached the spot, 
 and on riding up the reason was explained. 
 A number of the men who sell flowers in 
 Piome had come here in search of the famous 
 Tusculum violets, darker and sweeter than 
 all others. Baskets upon baskets of the sweet 
 flowers lay upon the grass, sprinkled by 
 water from the spring, while the men had 
 stretched themselves around for a mid-day 
 rest. The extraordinary fragrance of the 
 violets was so powerful, that Paul, at all 
 times quickly affected by scents, changed 
 colour, and Xorma, turning to point out an 
 especially picturesque group, was struck by 
 his pallor. 
 
 • Are you ill, Paul F ' she asked anxiously. 
 
 ' Tired,' he said smiling. ' Tired of the 
 heat and the violets.' 
 
 ' How strangely different we are ! ' ex- 
 claimed Xorma, looking at him thoughtfully.
 
 28 PAULS SISTER 
 
 ' To Hie the heat and the scent seem to bring 
 new life.' 
 
 George Lawrence, who closely watched 
 this husband and wife, noticed that after this 
 she often glanced at Paul, and that her manner 
 was graver than it had been during the past 
 weeks. ' Once induce her to forget herself 
 and to find out a little what he is, and she 
 will soon be quickened into a sense of the 
 position,' he reflected. 'But I begin to believe 
 that he is right, and that unless it comes that 
 way, it will do him no good. Meanwhile — is 
 there time ? ' 
 
 When the descent began they walked more 
 than they rode, along the narrow flower- 
 bordered roads. The day was calm and the 
 sky softly blue, here and there whitened by 
 some filmy cloud, while a faint haze added its 
 mysterious beauty to the delicate colouring 
 of the mountains. Often, as they passed along 
 the flank of the hill, some opening disclosed
 
 Paul's sister 29 
 
 the lovely sweep of the Campagna, with Eome 
 and her great church lying in purple shadows. 
 At these Paul did not much look ; the little 
 flowers springing in the banks, the song of 
 larks overhead, attracted him more. There 
 was a rivalry between the sisters as to who 
 should find the greatest variety of flowers, 
 and Xorma and Bessie hastened on in front, 
 while Mr. Charlton rode slowly behind them, 
 and Paul and his friend lingered in the rear. 
 George Lawrence, who wanted to set Paul to 
 talk, made a suggestion of the possibility of 
 leaving Eome for a week, and comma to this 
 higher level. 
 
 4 It would be a relief from the eternal 
 paving-stones,' he said. 
 
 For an instant Paul's eye brightened, 
 then the light faded, and he shook his 
 head. 
 
 1 Xorma loves the paving-stones,' he 
 returned. ; Besides, though vou will not
 
 30 paul's sister 
 
 understand my whim, I am not sure that this 
 is the beauty which refreshes. Through it 
 all there is something which I find languorous 
 and exhausting. It must be because I am 
 a barbarian from the North that my nature 
 cries out for less loveliness, less culture, and 
 more vigour.' 
 
 ' Your own country would suit you 
 better.' 
 
 ' If you knew how I dream of it ! ' Paul 
 broke out almost passionately, and drawing a 
 deep breath. ' A rush of wet wind over a 
 moor, for instance ! ' 
 
 ' Go back, man ! ' said the other bluntly. 
 * Go back ! You are ill, and have a right to 
 your fancies.' 
 
 Paul looked at him. ' Who told you that 
 I was ill, George ? ' 
 
 ' My own senses. Do you think I'm blind ? 
 Then I asked old Charlton, and he told me.' 
 He dropped his voice as he spoke, and the
 
 Paul's sister 31 
 
 other stretched out his hand without any 
 change of manner. 
 
 6 Thank you. On the whole, I believe it's 
 a relief. One feels the loneliness sometimes — 
 not often. And I know the position is safe 
 with you.' 
 
 1 Oh, I'll follow your lead,' said Lawrence, 
 with a good deal more feeling in his tone 
 than in his words. ' You prefer to keep the 
 knowledge to yourself ? ' 
 
 'Yes,' replied Paul meditatively. 'If — 
 any one finds it out, as you did, well and good. 
 Otherwise, I prefer that the memory of this 
 time should remain unclouded.' Possibly 
 reading some blame in the other man's eves, 
 he added more quickly — ' My dear wife is 
 quite unlearned in the signs of sickness, and 
 perhaps I understand her better than any of 
 you.' 
 
 He said this in a tone which forbade 
 argument ; indeed Lawrence had little to urge,
 
 32 PAULS SISTER 
 
 for he felt himself that the knowledge should 
 have already come to Norma through her own 
 heart. 
 
 Walking silently on, they saw presently 
 that the sisters had paused and were waiting 
 for them. Mr. Charlton jogged sleepily on, 
 looking neither to the right nor to the left, 
 but the two girls were engaged in a laughing 
 dispute. 
 
 c Mr. Lawrence — Paul ! ' cried Norma, 
 ' Bessie must not be allowed to carry home 
 this branch of blackthorn. Forbid it, some- 
 body ! ' 
 
 ' What does it portend ? ' asked Paul. 
 
 'Death,' said his wife. ' Don't you know 
 
 ' She looked at the two men, and her 
 
 voice, which had suddenly faltered, rose again 
 with a note in it which to Lawrence sounded 
 like defiance. ' Ah, you are laughing at me ' 
 — though indeed they were both grave — * you 
 think I am superstitious. Well, I am not,
 
 Paul's sister 33 
 
 and to prove it ' She sprang lightly on 
 
 the bank, and gathering a second and larger 
 branch of the snow-white flowers, leapt down 
 with it in her hand, and stood before them 
 smiling and a picture of triumphant grace. 
 
 Paul soon mounted again, and rode all the 
 way back to Frascati. Xorina, who looked 
 for no more flowers, fell behind and walked 
 with Mr. Lawrence. 
 
 ' What have you and Paul been chatting 
 about ? ' she demanded. ' Have you been 
 pouring out your latest views upon the history 
 of Tusculum ? ' 
 
 1 Xot I ! ' he said lightly. ; Depend upon 
 it, I know better than to attempt the rdle 
 of instructor with him. It is all the other 
 way.' 
 
 She coloured and looked displeased. 
 
 c I don't understand you. I will not have 
 you laugh at my husband.' 
 
 ' Heaven forbid ! ' he exclaimed, with 
 
 vol. i. D
 
 34 Paul's sister 
 
 great earnestness. 'I laugh at him? You 
 must be dreaming ! ' 
 
 ' Then what can you have learnt ? ' she 
 asked with evident unbelief, looking down at 
 the blackthorn which she carried. 
 
 He did not immediately answer her ques- 
 tion. ' You, his wife,' he said slowly at last, 
 ' must know much better than I. I think he 
 showed me, for one thing, where to find the 
 highest beauty.' 
 
 1 Paul ! My husband ! But that is what 
 he fails to see himself ! ' she cried in amaze- 
 ment. - He is very good in listening to my 
 enjoyment of it, but — he takes no real interest. 
 Surely you must be mistaken. The highest 
 beauty ! ' 
 
 ' Xo, I am not mistaken,' he said quietly. 
 ' Where do you put it ? ' 
 
 ' In art — in art as it interprets Nature 
 truly,' she answered at once. ' And so do 
 you — you have often told me so.'
 
 PAULS SISTER 35 
 
 ' If I told you so I was a fool, as I have 
 often suspected,' lie said impatiently, ' Go 
 and ask your husband to teach you something 
 wiser. Then you will know.' 
 
 She gave him a startled look, which he 
 remembered afterwards, and her beautiful 
 eyes filled with tears. He knew that he had 
 been rough, but for this he cared little, if by 
 any means he could awaken her. He thought 
 Paul weak in his excuse for her, and it some- 
 times appeared to him, so sharply did he now 
 accuse her, that she was wilfully shutting her 
 eyes, because she feared to be taken away 
 from her delights. In his own judgment he 
 spared her very little — perhaps was the harder 
 judge because he could not but feel something 
 of the fascination of her great beauty. 
 
 They went home in the early evening ; the 
 aqueducts, stretching across the Campagna 
 gleamed like tawny gold, rosy Judas-trees 
 added their warm tints to the glow, and here 
 
 D 2
 
 36 
 
 and there a sullen Cyprus by its sombre con- 
 trast intensified the delicate colouring. Norma 
 was very quiet and kept close to her husband. 
 Lawrence did not know whether she were 
 angry with him or not, for she had said 
 nothing more. But when they were again in 
 Borne, and he prepared to leave them, Paul 
 stopped him with the proposal that he should 
 dine with them in their own rooms. Through 
 the dinner Paul chatted cheerfully, almost 
 gaily ; it seemed as if the air of Frascati had 
 revived him, while it depressed Norma ; after- 
 wards he slipped out of the room, and Law- 
 rence suspected he had gone to rest for a 
 while. Presently Norma and Bessie went 
 away together. He never knew very clearly 
 what followed — there was a cry, a call, and 
 many people came running ; all the truth 
 seemed to flash upon him in a moment, even 
 before he saw Paul's face.
 
 Paul's sister 37 
 
 He did not meet Xorma again until the 
 morning that her father and sister took her 
 away from Borne, a month later. She had 
 been very ill, and it had been impossible to 
 move her before. It must be owned that 
 George Lawrence exceedingly dreaded this 
 interview — for pity for the dead, if it does 
 not pass away, soon ceases to become an 
 active principle ; we feel as if now they 
 know all, and need no poor compassion of 
 ours, it is the living who stretch out im- 
 ploring hands — and he was very sorry 
 for Xorma, and remembered with compunc- 
 tion that he had tried to hurt her. He 
 wondered how deep the pain had struck, 
 and whether the sight of him would not be 
 unbearable, since his words, emphasized so 
 tragically as they had been, could hardly 
 have failed to reach their full significance. 
 After all the wretchedness of his expectation, 
 she came in so quietly that he heard nothing
 
 38 Paul's sister 
 
 until lie looked up and saw her standing 
 before him, greatly changed. 
 
 6 Ah, Mr. Lawrence,' she said, stretching 
 out her hand, ' you should not have let us 
 pick the blackthorn ! ' The words were so 
 unexpected that they dumbfounded him, he 
 did not know what to answer ; and she went 
 on slowly, ; I was not well treated ; I should 
 have been told ; then we might have gone 
 home.' 
 
 It seemed to him that he, her father, her 
 husband were all arraigned, for her voice had 
 a hard ring in it, and her face showed no signs 
 of emotion. Mr. Charlton spoke in a depre- 
 cating manner, as if he, too, felt the same ; he 
 talked of their journey, of the weather, while 
 Norma stood by, a beautiful statue. But when 
 the parting was over, at the door she broke 
 from her father, and came hurriedly back. 
 
 ' You were right ! ' she cried passionately. 
 1 It has all been a mistake, and now I know,
 
 PAUL'S SISTER o'J 
 
 now I know ! But another time do not be so 
 cruel ! ' 
 
 Lawrence remained in the middle of the 
 room looking after her, and speechless. Had 
 he indeed been cruel ? Had she not tried to 
 blind herself? Did she know now, and — at 
 what cost ? 
 
 ^s>
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 There's the face coming on here of one 
 Who knows me. — Tennyson. 
 
 jjTDKE tli an nine years had passed 
 between that tragic episode and the 
 time when we meet some of the same 
 people again : nine years, so broad a stretch 
 to look forward upon, so narrow a strip when 
 once it lies behind, so full of seeming change, 
 yet more often in truth bringing only the 
 development of the flower from the bud, the 
 fruit from the flower ! 
 
 Changes there had been, of course. Norma. 
 Winyeatt, for instance, would have said, that 
 ever since that ^reat shock of her life, things
 
 Paul's sister 41 
 
 had seemed to totter around her, and that all 
 was touched with the general impression of 
 instability. But Lucy Winyeatt, her sister-in- 
 law, who, after the death of her mother, had 
 lived with Paul's wife, was always crying out 
 for something winch should break the mono- 
 tony. To please her, and as a compromise 
 between the country, to which Norma clung, 
 and London, which Lucy loved, but which 
 was not desirable for Agnes — Xorma's child, 
 they had moved to Dover, where Lucy might 
 taste something of the joys of society. 
 
 The house — one of a lar^e row — faced the 
 sea, a strip of garden dividing it from the 
 broad road, sea-wall, and shingle beyond. 
 On this hot midsummer day it was closed by 
 means of shutters, blinds, and striped awnings 
 against the twinkling sunshine outside, and 
 was so still, that it was almost startling when 
 a voice, young and impatient, called through 
 its silence, ' Norma, Norma ! '
 
 42 Paul's sister 
 
 The call proved unproductive, and the 
 caller ran upstairs and into the drawing-room, 
 where a child of about nine years old was 
 curled in an arm-chair, reading. 
 
 6 Where's your mother, Agnes ? ' 
 
 fc Don't know,' said the child, without 
 looking up. 
 
 ' You never do know ! ' returned the 
 questioner sharply. 
 
 No answer either by word or look. It 
 was easy to see that the two were antagonistic. 
 Lucy Winyeatt moved hastily about the 
 room, putting an adorning touch here and 
 there, rather, apparently, as an expression of 
 impatience than from an impulse of taste. 
 ' Perhaps,' she said suddenly at last, ' perhaps 
 she has gone out ? ' 
 
 'Yes, she has.' 
 
 6 Why didn't you say so ? ' 
 
 'You didn't ask me,' returned Agnes 
 calmlv.
 
 Paul's sistepw 43 
 
 'I asked you where she was.' 
 
 1 And I don't know. If I haven't learned 
 this French verb, Aunt Lucy, it will be your 
 fault.' 
 
 She shifted her position, and stopped both 
 ears, as a broad hint that the conversation 
 had finished. Lucy flung an angry look 
 at her, perhaps would have said something 
 sufficiently stinging to reach even stopped 
 ears, but that at this moment she caught the 
 sound of a step on the stairs, and Xorma 
 came in. She said at once in an injured 
 tone — 
 
 ' Where on earth have you been, Xorma ? 
 Oh, you needn't tell me ; I am sure the 
 streets in this weather must be odious ! How 
 hot you look ! ' 
 
 1 How hot I feel ! Still I think there is 
 more shade in the streets than elsewhere.' 
 
 1 Oh no, there isn't,' asserted Lucy. ' At 
 least, if there is, it's hot shade, which is worse
 
 44 faul's sister 
 
 than anything. On the pier there's a delicious 
 breeze.' 
 
 'This is the nicest of all,' said Norma, 
 dropping into a chair with a smile. 
 
 She was as beautiful as ever ; the nine years 
 and the sadness of her loss not having dimmed 
 the beauty as they might have a little later on. 
 Just now they seemed to have done no more 
 than add a touch of completeness ; the eyes 
 were as clear but softer, and the grace of her 
 movements was not the less noticeable because 
 it had gained something of stateliness. She 
 had worn mourning for many years, now had 
 nominally left it off, but was more often seen 
 in black than in colours. She was a strong 
 and noble woman, whose will was crossed by 
 passionate impulses, and who, in spite of the 
 nine years, still carried at her heart a weight 
 of remorse. When old Mrs. Winyeatt died, 
 the pressure of this weight impelling her, as 
 always, towards whatever seemed like atone-
 
 45 
 
 ment, forced her to offer a home to Lucy ; 
 not that she found her sympathetic, but that 
 she was Paul's sister, and that — she could not 
 do enough for Paul. She had never allowed 
 herself to regret this step, though it is true 
 that she drew a long breath of relief when 
 Lucy went off to stay with friends, but she 
 laid this down to the fact that Agnes and 
 her aunt did not get on, and Agnes had no 
 scruple in announcing her delight. Life, 
 perhaps owing to this constant warfare, of 
 which she made the central figure, was not 
 restful, although now uneventful. Looking 
 back, it seemed to her that it had been a fair, 
 bright, short — how short ! — summer's day, 
 ending in the crash of storm. The shadow of 
 the storm had brooded ever since. 
 
 It used to- vex Lucy sometimes that this 
 was so, not because Norma ever could be 
 said to flaunt her trouble before any one, but 
 because Lucy's was a curiously self-absorbing
 
 46 PAULS SISTER 
 
 nature. She liked to claim every tiling which 
 could create interest, and to hear her speak 
 you would imagine that Paul's loss was much 
 more to her than to his wife. This did not 
 prevent her from feeling annoyed if the ex- 
 pression in Norma's face told where her 
 thoughts had strayed, since it was every one's 
 duty, she considered — at least, it was the duty 
 of her companions — to take the complexion 
 of their thoughts from her own. Her will 
 was as strong as Norma's own, but it was not 
 nearly so abrupt in its working ; she preferred 
 to advance it, so to speak, behind cover ; 
 masked batteries were her delight, and she 
 was never wanting in an infinite number of 
 excellent reasons, which trooped gaily up, 
 while the actual motive remained out of sight. 
 
 ' Dear Norma,' she said, drawing a stool to 
 her sister-in-law's side, ' you really ought not 
 to overheat yourself in such a manner ! ' 
 
 1 It is nothing,' answered Norma shortly.
 
 Paul's sister 47 
 
 She knew what was coming, and then her 
 heart smote her for knowing. ; Do you want 
 to go out on the pier ? ' she asked gently. 
 
 4 Oh, I don't care,' returned Lucy ; • but it 
 is your only chance of getting cool. If you 
 stay in this stuffy house you are sure to have 
 a headache.' 
 
 'Is the house stuffy? Well' — she stood 
 up rather wearily and looked round — * let us 
 go, then ; the boat will be in in a quarter of 
 an hour.' 
 
 ' Oh, the boat ! ' Lucy repeated carelessly, 
 with the air of one upon whom the recollection 
 had come for the first time. ' Imagine it beine 
 so late ! The afternoon has really galloped 
 away. Wait for me one moment, Xorma.' 
 
 She was alert and practical ; she ran out of 
 the room and upstairs, in search of another 
 pair of gloves. Agnes slipped down from 
 her chair and flung her arms round her 
 mother.
 
 48 paul's sister 
 
 6 Why do you let Aunt Lucy drag you out 
 again ? ' she said. c You are tired, you ought 
 to rest ; it is only that she may march about 
 and see all those stupid peo ' 
 
 ' Hush, hush,' said Norma gravely, laying 
 her hand on the child's mouth. ' You must 
 not talk like that, and you do not understand. 
 I am glad when I can do anything for your 
 Aunt Lucy. Always remember, dear, that 
 she is your father's sister.' 
 
 ' Oh, I know, but I don't like her ! ' said 
 Agnes mutinously, pushing away her mother's 
 hand. 
 
 6 Here I am ! ' said Lucy, appearing, but- 
 toning her new gloves. ' Are you coming too, 
 Agnes ? Is the French verb learnt ? It is too 
 hot for French verbs, isn't it ? ' she added 
 good-naturedly. 
 
 ' It's too hot to march about on the pier,' 
 returned Agnes crossly. 
 
 The girl only laughed. ' Sour grapes, my
 
 PAULS SISTEK 49 
 
 dear,' she nodded, as she shut the door, and 
 went singing down the stairs. 
 
 Outside, hot as it was, there was a charming 
 sparkle and radiance ; the blue of the sea, full 
 and fresh, softened delicately on the horizon 
 into the more tender blue of the sky ; there 
 was the flash of sunlight on the waters, on 
 the sails of the fishing-boats, on the wings of 
 the birds, on the white cliffs, which in the 
 distance looked cool and peaceful. The boats 
 drawn up on the beach, heaped with sails, 
 nets, rusty ropes, flung black patches of 
 shadow on the shingle, the waves rushed 
 up against the stonas and broke in white 
 foam. Outside, great ships on their way to 
 other countries, to other worlds, were slowly 
 moving down channel. There was something 
 solemn and stately in their movement; dreams 
 perhaps fly out to them, and hearts bid them 
 carry unuttered messages. 
 
 ' As you would like to see the steamer 
 vol. i. E
 
 50 Paul's sister 
 
 come in, we must go by the ferry,' said Lucy, 
 quickening her pace. Norma did not con- 
 tradict her, perhaps she scarcely heard. They 
 walked silently along ; the old ferryman was 
 waiting ; he pulled them across the mouth of 
 the harbour ; they went up the steps and 
 along the stones, where the sun beat down 
 with blinding glare. 'We will keep on the 
 lower level,' Lucy said hastily ; * you would 
 find it too glaring above.' 
 
 Norma did not much like this part of the 
 pier, where you were in the midst of the 
 throng of people who poured out from the 
 boat and into the train, and where indeed only 
 those who had come to meet friends had any 
 business ; but she allowed Lucy to sweep her 
 in the direction she liked, and owned that it 
 was pleasant to be under a covering, and to 
 hear the green water lapping against the wall. 
 
 Presently the trains crawled in, waiting 
 for their freights, officials sauntered down,
 
 Paul's sister 51 
 
 the usual crowd collected above, and now the 
 boat, with its awnings, and all passengers on 
 deck, glided alongside ; there was the usual 
 crowding and bustle and want of hands, and 
 then the people began to push up the gang- 
 way, and Norma kept as far back as Lucy 
 allowed, and felt shy and uncomfortable. 
 
 Shrink as she might, however, she was too 
 noticeable a figure to pass unseen even in a 
 crowd where all were bent on pressing out 
 of it. People glanced at her as they passed, 
 and at last some one, after a moment's hesi- 
 tation, walked quickly towards her and held 
 out his hand. 
 
 'Mrs. Winyeatt?' he said decidedly, 
 though the words were in the form of a 
 question. 
 
 It seemed for a moment as if Xorma could 
 not answer him. She turned white, and when 
 at last she put out her hand it was trembling. 
 
 1 Hr. Lawrence ! ' 
 
 AJflf 
 
 MWVEKSm 01 UMM
 
 52 Paul's sister 
 
 It only takes a moment, a word, to bring 
 back years. What past sorrows, what rush 
 of bitter remorse came flying in upon her with 
 the sight of this man — a man with a plain 
 ordinary face, a man dressed in the loosest 
 and lightest of clothing ! Everything round 
 her seemed to be swept away by his, not 
 unusual, personality ; she was back in the 
 amphitheatre of Tusculum, the smell of the 
 violets reached her, she was carrying a 
 branch of blackthorn, there was Paul's face — 
 changed, silent. She looked at him fearfully 
 — where were they ? 
 
 Lucy, who had of course seen the little 
 episode, was immensely interested, not under- 
 standing in the least what could so strangely 
 have moved Norma. The steamer always 
 brought with it hopes, possibilities, but it 
 was rarely indeed that anything effective 
 came of them, anything to excite either 
 curiosity or interest, while here were both
 
 Paul's sister 53 
 
 alive in a moment. There was a scarcely 
 perceptible pause before lie spoke again. 
 
 1 Imagine stumbling upon you in this odd 
 way ! You did not come by the boat ? But, 
 no, I need not ask,' he added with a laugh 
 which was not quite easy, ' as I see you are 
 free from bundles or parcels.' 
 
 6 No, we did not come by the boat,' 
 Norma repeated mechanically ; ' we live here.' 
 For the first time she lifted her pathetic eyes, 
 and looked at George Lawrence. How 
 strange it was that he should be standing 
 there, a piece of the past, and apparently un- 
 changed, when the past itself had crumbled 
 into ashes! It was like a resurrection. Natur- 
 ally he recovered himself sooner. 
 
 ' It is a place I rather fancy,' he said, c and 
 I thought of staying a few days. Now that I 
 have found an old friend, I am glad to have 
 had the idea. How many years is it since we 
 met, Mrs. Winyeatt ? '
 
 54 Paul's sister 
 
 'Nine.' She spoke the words faintly. 
 
 6 Nine ! Impossible ! And yet I suppose 
 you are right.' 
 
 ' Yes,' she said, ' I am right.' 
 
 She was conscious all the while of a dull 
 wonderment that she should be able to talk 
 calmly, to hold the thread of thought so far 
 as to answer his remarks. The meeting had 
 moved her so much that she felt as if she 
 could not be her ordinary self, and she 
 was in danger of losing her grasp upon the 
 present. It was perhaps fortunate that at 
 this point Lucy interposed. 
 
 4 Had we not better take ourselves out of 
 this crowd ? ' she inquired, with the calm of 
 admirable sense, and George Lawrence started 
 and laughed. 
 
 ' It certainly would be a good move. I 
 ought to apologise for having been the cause 
 of keeping you in it.' He looked at Lucy, 
 lifting his hat as he spoke, and she was quite
 
 PAUL'S SISTER 55 
 
 willing to engage in a little ripple of conver- 
 sation, as they -walked away. 
 
 ' Perhaps I had better introduce myself, as 
 Xornia has not yet awakened from the aston- 
 ishment of finding any one she knows coming 
 off the steamer. It really is a curious fact that 
 it so seldom happens ! I am Nbrma's sister-in- 
 law. I suppose you knew her abroad ? ' 
 
 1 Yes,' said Lawrence gravely. 
 
 She glanced quickly at him ; he was 
 looking at Norma. 
 
 1 I almost wonder you remembered each 
 other,' Lucy said lightly, ' after so many 
 years ! ' 
 
 He answered as if it had been Xorma who 
 had spoken. 
 
 4 1 think I should have known you any- 
 where.' 
 
 ; I should not have expected it,' she said, 
 speaking in her usual voice, ' for I must be 
 very much altered.'
 
 56 paul's sister 
 
 6 Are you altered ? ' 
 
 ' I hope so,' she said with a sudden im- 
 petuosity, in which she looked more like the 
 Norma of old than since their meeting. He 
 laughed. 
 
 'Well, I won't disappoint you. You are 
 altered. Yet, as you see, I knew you without 
 difficulty. If you will allow me, I will give 
 some directions to the man belonging to the 
 hotel, and will overtake you.' 
 
 6 Norma,' said Lucy, the instant they were 
 alone, ' who is he ? Where did you know 
 him ? ' 
 
 ' He is a Mr. Lawrence.' Norma made her 
 explanations with difficulty. 'Paul and I 
 knew him in Eome. He was with us at — at 
 that terrible time.' 
 
 ' Poor Norma ! ' returned Lucy sympa- 
 thetically ; ' of course it is dreadful to be 
 reminded of it. I am not quite sure that I 
 can bear to look at him. Still, I will do all I
 
 paul's sister 57 
 
 can. Of course you must ask him to dinner, 
 and I will take him off your hands as much as 
 I can.' 
 
 'Do you think that — or anything else, 
 matters ! ' said Norma sadly ; and then her 
 heart smote her, and she added very gently, 
 ' Thank you, Lucy ; I know you will do all 
 you can to help me.' 
 
 George Lawrence, marching behind them, 
 thought what a noble figure Norma looked 
 as she walked on with her sister. It was 
 true that she was changed from the girl of 
 twenty-four, but she was a person with a 
 very distinct individuality, and had always re- 
 mained an impression on his memory. The 
 years that had passed had softened his judg- 
 ment of her ; he had blamed her a good deal 
 at the time, but now recollected little beyond 
 a feeling that she had been so much taken up 
 by the attractions of Eome, as to shut her 
 eyes to her husband's illness. Xow, better
 
 58 Paul's sister 
 
 than then, he could make so many excuses 
 on account of her youth, that the offence no 
 longer seemed so heinous, and he reflected 
 that he had judged her with undue harshness. 
 The shock to herself had been terrible, and 
 he had never shaken off the feeling that he 
 and her father had been to blame, which had 
 swept over him when first he saw her after 
 Paul's death. The sight of her now somehow 
 strengthened this feeling. He was sure that 
 they had been unjust towards her, that they 
 had throughout been influenced by a know- 
 ledge which had been carefully held back from 
 her, yet which she was blamed for not acting 
 upon. He had been much attracted by Paul, 
 for whom he felt a cordial pity ; but our feel- 
 ings towards the dead, if they do not change, 
 fade, and lose their sharpness of outline, the 
 insistency of their colouring. He had no 
 conception of the storm which shook Norma's 
 soul when she saw him ; he would, probably,
 
 Paul's sister 59 
 
 have smiled at the remorse she felt, and 
 would certainly have considered it dispropor- 
 tionate. 
 
 Norma was a person who would always 
 have taken life seriously ; she was apt to 
 throw her whole self into whatever occupied 
 her, to attack even trifles with an earnestness 
 for which she was often vexed with herself. 
 She used to envy Lucy her easy lightness of 
 touch, her power of taking up something, 
 and laying it down without a pang. Norma 
 could not find it in her heart to leave it half 
 done, though it might not be worth the 
 labour she bestowed upon it. And therefore, 
 it may be guessed that such a shock, such 
 an awakening, such a burden on her con- 
 science, had very powerfully affected her life. 
 Her conviction was that she had been so 
 swept away, so influenced by the pursuit of 
 certain things very pleasant to her nature, 
 that duty, love, even, she was ready to de-
 
 60 Paul's sister 
 
 clare, common humanity had been sacrificed ; 
 it was not only grief for her husband which 
 seized her, but dismay — horror, that such 
 conduct should have been possible. With a 
 nature such as hers, such a conviction could 
 not come and go, it had struck its roots too 
 deeply ; it formed a sort of tribunal to which 
 she brought her acts for judgment, and to 
 satisfy which she shrank from many an 
 innocent relaxation. The sight of George 
 Lawrence had stirred all these pangs, these 
 self-reproaches, into keener action, and she 
 not only judged herself afresh, but felt her- 
 self to be condemned by him. 
 
 'Tell me quickly,' said Lucy, 'before he 
 comes up. Who is he ? What is he ? What 
 can one talk about ? ' 
 
 Norma looked up quickly. 
 
 4 1 think with him it is pleasanter to listen, 
 he knows so much.' 
 
 Lucy made a face.
 
 Paul's sister 61 
 
 ' Oh, thank you, my dear ; but that strikes 
 me as dull, for him as well as for myself. 
 You may sit and be reverential, if you like : 
 but I shall show my appreciation, if I am 
 appreciative, in a very different fashion. I 
 suppose he has been about in the world a 
 good deal, and probably for the next fort- 
 night he will bestow a few crumbs of praise 
 upon his native land. This, not overdone, 
 will do to start with.' 
 
 If Xorma meditated an answer, she was 
 prevented from making it by the subject of 
 their conversation overtaking them. 
 
 ' That mighty affair being disposed of,' he 
 said, ' if you will allow me I will walk with 
 you to the door of your house, and then I 
 shall know how to find my way to it when I 
 come in state to call.' 
 
 There was a short pause, of which Lucy 
 was impatiently conscious, before Xorma 
 said —
 
 62 
 
 ' I hope you will postpone the state, and 
 dine with us quietly to-night.' 
 
 ' May I ? ' he said eagerly. ' I am half 
 ashamed to trespass so soon upon your kind- 
 ness, and yet I haven't the resolution to 
 say no.' 
 
 ' Don't say no,' said Norma hurriedly. 
 
 But after this she was very silent, it was 
 Lucy who flung herself into the breach, and 
 talked with immense animation. Perhaps the 
 meeting had exhilarated him, or perhaps 
 Lawrence had resolved to see everything from 
 the best point of view, for he, in his turn, 
 was unusually gay. The heat had lessened, 
 a fresh breeze had sprung up, there was a 
 delightful freshness about the mass of spark- 
 ling water, the boats, even the houses, with 
 their striped awnings, and gardens brilliant 
 with roses. Lawrence carried out Lucy's 
 prognostication. 
 
 ' You have no idea how charming this is,'
 
 Paul's sister 03 
 
 lie said, ' after the baking heat and the dust 
 abroad. Even you. Mrs. Winyeatt, must 
 acknowledge it.' 
 
 Lucy looked at him in astonishment. 
 • Even you. Xorrna r ' she repeated. 
 
 She hesitated again — slightly, then — • Yes, 
 I quite acknowledge it,' she said. -Here is 
 our house, Mr. Lawrence, will you come in ? ' 
 
 1 Xo, thank you. Happily for you. I have 
 a few scruples still clinging about me, and 
 one consists in not inflicting myself where I 
 am 2oingr to dine.' 
 
 He held the gate open for them as they 
 passed in. and then lifted his hat and walked 
 back to his quarters in an unusually satisfied 
 state of mind. 

 
 U^l|^^[^^i^ii!j^iHJjEJj[HJjE!i'[HJJ[HJiilJJ(lJJiH]Ji 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 I have a room whereinto no one enters, 
 
 Save I myself alone : 
 There sits a blessed memory on a throne, 
 
 There my life centres. — Christina Rossetti. 
 
 EORGE LAWRENCE himself might 
 have found some difficulty in an- 
 swering Lucy's questions if they 
 had been put directly to him. What was he ? 
 What did he do ? There are men who take a 
 profession merely as a name, an excuse, a peg 
 to hang idleness upon ; but Lawrence had not 
 even gone so far. He had passed his University 
 course with distinction, and had had vague 
 ideas afterwards of finding an occupation —
 
 Paul's sister 65 
 
 of becoming a secretary, for instance. Some 
 instinct of repugnance, which seemed tem- 
 porary, but remained permanent, had always 
 withheld him from taking practical steps in 
 this direction, but it continued to be a vision 
 of the future, jleanwhile an aunt had left 
 him money : he still held a possible occupa- 
 tion dangling before himself, and as a salve to 
 his conscience employed himself at intervals 
 upon literature. He had written occasional 
 articles of which no one suspected the author- 
 ship, he having kept his own counsels more 
 closely than such counsels are often kept, and 
 he had ideas of a future and longer work. 
 Xot infrequently the conviction of uselessness 
 depressed him ; at thirty-eight the persuasion 
 that life lies before one has received a shock, 
 the horizon contracts, and choice no longer 
 seems so free. As he went towards A Irs. 
 \Yinyeatt's house that fair summer evening, 
 he felt more than usually worthless. Xine 
 vol. i. F
 
 66 Paul's sister 
 
 years were many to have brought a man only 
 — what? An added experience, a more re- 
 fined, taste. ' If I had been making money all 
 this while, I suppose the world would have 
 been satisfied,' he retorted upon himself ; but 
 it was not a new thought, and it did not pro- 
 duce much effect. The sight of Paul's wife 
 had awakened old memories of Paul ; it struck 
 him more than ever that he had been heroic 
 in his single-minded unselfishness. If Paul 
 had lived he would have passed a practical 
 useful ]ife, doing more good in his generation 
 in a month than he, George Lawrence, in a 
 year — in a dozen years. 
 
 4 What a fool I am ! ' was his unsatis- 
 factory conclusion, as he stood at the door of 
 Mrs. Winyeatt's house. 
 
 As he went upstairs he found himself 
 expecting to be ushered into an unusually 
 charming room. Her taste had been not 
 only admirable but enthusiastic ; he could
 
 Paul's sister 67 
 
 imagine how she would revel in its free dis- 
 play, how all she touched would take its 
 impress. To a certain extent it had been 
 uncultivated when first she appeared in Eome, 
 but she had shown marvellous quickness in 
 assimilation, and he had never known any 
 one seize so rapidly upon what may be called 
 the appreciation of beauty. She had very 
 strong artistic instincts. 
 
 The moment the door opened, he felt a 
 chill of disappointment. 
 
 The room was not ugly. It had sunshine 
 and flowers, and was like a hundred others. 
 It was the distinctive character, the origin- 
 ality which he had expected, that was want- 
 ing — wanting so completely that he was at 
 once disposed to blame Xorma for having 
 fallen so short of his ideal. She was not 
 there, however ; it was Lucy Winyeatt, in a 
 white dress, who greeted him with cordiality. 
 
 4 Xorma will be down directly. Xorma ?
 
 68 paul's sister 
 
 — witli a little laugh — ' is apt to have hazy- 
 notions about time. I dare say you remember 
 that of old ? I was only a child, but I recol- 
 lect so well, that very last time they started, 
 dear Paul fearing that they might miss the 
 train. We never saw him again.' 
 
 Lawrence murmured something sympa- 
 thetic. 
 
 'You may conceive what a shock it was 
 to us — he was my only brother ! ' 
 
 1 He was an excellent fellow,' said Lawrence 
 warmly. ' I think all Eome was stirred to its 
 depths with pity for Mrs. Winyeatt. The 
 whole thing was so sudden, and so — so 
 terrible.' 
 
 ' Ah, yes,' replied Lucy ; ' but I have always 
 envied Norma. She at least was there, and 
 she must have had some preparation ; it is 
 impossible but that he must have looked ill, 
 or — oh, there is sure to have been a change ! ' 
 
 ' She was very young.'
 
 PAULS SISTER 69 
 
 1 My age exactly,' said the girl with a 
 smile. 
 
 8 Eeally ! Well, I hope I am not going to 
 make an unpardonable remark, when I say 
 that you give me the idea of being an older 
 person than Mrs. Winyeatt was at that time.' 
 
 Lucy glanced quickly at him with a 
 curious expression in her eyes. But she at 
 once accepted the position. 
 
 8 I think you must be right,' she said re- 
 flectively ; ' Xorma had seen very little of the 
 world when Paul married her. I dare say you 
 soon found out how little P ' 
 
 8 Very soon,' he said smiling. ' I think it 
 was that very ignorance which made her so 
 attractive — that and, of course, her great 
 beauty.' 
 
 4 Ah ! she was very beautiful, was she 
 not ? ' inquired Lucy innocently. 
 
 8 Was — is. She has not lost any of the 
 charm, has she? She struck me to-day, as
 
 70 paul's sister 
 
 she struck me those years ago, as one of the 
 most beautiful women I ever saw.' 
 
 ' Yet you thought her changed,' said Lucy 
 with a touch of sharpness, which, however, 
 he did not notice. He was thinking of Norma. 
 
 ' But change does not always mean loss. 
 There is something in her which, it is true, 
 was not there before — a touch of stateli- 
 aess, perhaps. And — and the sorrow she has 
 suffered, that, no doubt, has deepened the 
 expression. Yes — she is changed.' 
 
 ' She was looking very well to-day,' re- 
 marked Lucy. 'Ah, here she is. Norma, 
 dear, we were talking about you.' 
 
 6 About me ? ' She repeated the words 
 in a startled voice, and stood still for a 
 moment, with Agnes clinging to her, just 
 within the door. Lawrence was pained by 
 the look, which seemed to imply probable 
 blame. 
 
 6 No treason, believe me,' he said quickly.
 
 71 
 
 ' Is that your little girl ? How amazing it 
 seems ! She is wonderfully like her father.' 
 
 He had already become aware by some 
 subtle touch of sympathy that she was 
 burdened by what he felt to be a morbid 
 remorse for the past, and he thought it best 
 to allude to it so freely and openly, even at 
 the cost of a little pain, that she should at any 
 rate be convinced that nothing in his mind 
 answered to her view of her own shortcom- 
 ings. It was very evident that she shrank 
 from the touch, but she said in a low voice — 
 
 1 Yes, we think so, we hope so. I am very 
 glad you see the resemblance.' 
 
 ; I think she is more like Xorma — Norma 
 half fledged,' said Lucy. 
 
 Lawrence found an unusual charm and 
 pleasantness about that evening. There was 
 a broad balcony, with flowers and an awning, 
 and here by-and-by they sat and watched the 
 moon creep up, and far away the lights of
 
 72 Paul's sister 
 
 France twinkling in and out. People were 
 about in numbers, strolling along; sounds of 
 gay laughter mingled with the soft rush of 
 the waves on the shingle, the sunset lights 
 still lingered on the sea, and the fresh light 
 air swept away the languor of the day's heat. 
 Presently two girls came into the garden and 
 looked up. 
 
 ' Lucy,' one of them called, ' aren't you 
 coming out ? ' 
 
 She leant over the balcony. ' Not to-night.' 
 
 1 Then come down. I want to speak to 
 you particularly.' 
 
 She went unwillingly. She found the 
 evening interesting. George Lawrence could 
 talk well when it pleased him, and it had 
 pleased him that evening. He was glad to 
 meet Mrs. Winyeatt again, and he w T as very 
 well disposed to be cordial with Paul's sister. 
 But, without putting the feeling into shape, 
 he was glad that she should have been called
 
 i6 
 
 away, since it seemed to place him on a more 
 friendly footing with Mrs. Winyeatt. It was 
 easier, too, to allude to the past, and, as he 
 hoped, to let in a little wholesome air upon 
 her self-accusations, when Lucy was not pre- 
 sent. He said at once — 
 
 1 This is very unlike Borne.' 
 
 ' Very,' she said quietly. 
 
 ' And,' he said boldly, ; I don't know how 
 it is — it is all very charming and home-like, 
 but, if you won't think the remark imper- 
 tinent, altogether different from what I should 
 have expected to find your house.' He paused, 
 but as she said nothing, went on — ' I should 
 have supposed that you would have sur- 
 rounded yourself with beautiful tilings, brought 
 from all parts of the world. You were, you 
 know, the most enthusiastic follower of art I 
 ever came across. Have you lost your liking ? " 
 
 'No,' said Norma almost harshly. She 
 sat leaning forward, her hands clasped on her
 
 74 paul's sister 
 
 knee, her eyes fixed on the moonlit sea. He 
 glanced at her, and went on. 
 
 ' Let me show you a few things which I 
 am bringing home, and which I picked up in 
 Greece. It isn't often that one gets hold of 
 anything unique, but I had the luck to find 
 myself in some places a little off the line, and 
 where I was the first spoiler. Have you read 
 B 's book on Greek Art ? ' 
 
 < No.' 
 
 ' Then you must. I can lend it to you, 
 and my subjects won't make bad illustrations, 
 on the whole.' 
 
 ' Thank you — I don't think ' 
 
 Lucy's voice interrupted them. 
 
 ' What are you talking about ? What is 
 Mr. Lawrence offering to lend? For pity's 
 sake, don't refuse anything, Norma, consider- 
 ing that here we live in a sort of intellectual 
 desert ! Even if you are happy with your old 
 women, and your parish meetings, remember
 
 Paul's sister 75 
 
 that I am not blest with the same content- 
 ment.' 
 
 ' You can have what you like,' said Norma 
 gravely, ' but I am afraid that my old women, 
 as you call them, don't get all you imply.' 
 
 'Is that your new development, Mrs. 
 Winyeattr' asked Lawrence, interested. 'It 
 is really the very last I should have expected.' 
 
 She flushed, and Lucy laughed. 
 
 ' How little you know Xorma ! She does 
 the work of two curates, dragging about in 
 the heat and the cold ; and even when she is 
 in the house, there isn't a moment's peace, 
 somebody is always wanting to speak to her. 
 She thinks me a very useless person, Mr. 
 Lawrence, but believe me, we useless people 
 do a great deal towards keeping things to- 
 gether. Xot being an old woman, it is possible 
 that but for me you might have come off very 
 badly at your dinner to-day. I hope you are 
 grateful ? '
 
 76 Paul's sister 
 
 ' Oh, I am very grateful ! ' he said gaily. 
 'Mrs. Winyeatt, if this is the case, I under- 
 stand why you have sacrificed art.' 
 
 Lucy opened her eyes. 
 
 6 Art ! Norma never cared about art — 
 never ! If it was anything about art you were 
 offering, you had better lend it to me ; I am 
 sure Norma never ' 
 
 She was interrupted. 
 
 ' You are mistaken,' Norma said in a low 
 clear voice; 'I cared very much, too much 
 about it once, and I am afraid of it now. I 
 don't like saying so much about myself, but it 
 would not be honest to let you suppose I didn't 
 care. Thank you for your offer,' she said to 
 Lawrence with a smile ; ' now you understand 
 why I was ungracious.' 
 
 ' I don't think you were ungracious,' said 
 Lawrence very kindly. ' One might be sorry 
 to see you make such a sacrifice, but no one 
 has a right to judge, much less misjudge you.'
 
 Paul's sister 77 
 
 He was touched by the straightforward 
 manner in which she had made her little ex- 
 planation, though it seemed to him helplessly 
 inadequate. If he stayed on, as he almost 
 thought he would stay, for a few days, he 
 resolved to devote himself to shaking Xorma 
 out of these petty and narrowing trammels ; he 
 could not but remember how in old days she 
 had turned to him very eagerly, and lie told 
 himself that he was now more fitted than then 
 to be a guide. But for the present he let the 
 matter drop, in spite of one or two sarcastic 
 remarks from Lucy upon her sister-in-law's un- 
 expected disclosure. He was careful to keep 
 the conversation after this upon common 
 ground, and to let Xorma feel at her ease. 
 When he went away Lucy drew a deep breath. 
 
 ' What a mercy it is,' she said, ' to find a 
 man who can talk ! I like him.' 
 
 1 Do you ? ' said Xorma eagerly. ' I am 
 
 glad.'
 
 78 • Paul's sister 
 
 They parted without arrangements for 
 meeting, but the meetings followed, neverthe- 
 less. Followed the more quickly, perhaps, be- 
 cause they were so spontaneous as to be almost 
 inevitable, each leading to the next in the most 
 natural manner imaginable, so that though 
 Lawrence was unused to finding himself so 
 frequently in a house which was not his own, it 
 caused him not so much as the least feeling of 
 surprise. He enjoyed it. He was grateful to 
 Lucy for an extraordinary facility for making 
 plans which fitted in with the need of the 
 hour. Her easy suggestiveness was never- 
 failing, and had nothing forced about it ; so 
 that although it sometimes caused her sleep- 
 less hours, to Lawrence it gave no more than 
 the impression that he was being admitted, by 
 right of old friendship, into their daily life and 
 daily pleasures. The only thing remarkable, 
 and this it is true sometimes caused him a pass- 
 ing thrill of amazement, was that he should have
 
 Paul's sister 79 
 
 liked it so well. He was not a man to be 
 easily pleased, and his pleasures often required 
 delicate adjustment of, at any rate, the means 
 of escape. His nature was one which dis- 
 posed him to reserve, and perhaps solitude. 
 Until now he had never realized how very 
 solitary his life had, in its deepest sense, 
 become. It appeared to him as if lie had 
 grown ten years younger in the few days that 
 had passed since landing that hot afternoon ; 
 but what had worked this spell, or wherein 
 lay the charm, he did not attempt to analyse. 
 In a few days his circle of acquaintances 
 had considerably enlarged, and everywhere 
 he was received with marked cordiality. 
 There was nothing noteworthy in the people 
 to make Lawrence so grateful as he felt for 
 this expression of kindness towards him ; at 
 another time it is more than likely that many 
 of them would have afforded him no more 
 than an opportunity to show his cleverness in
 
 80 Paul's sister 
 
 escape, but now he was — distinctly — grateful. 
 A small network of insignificant engagements 
 had somehow the effect of excusing his stay, 
 which otherwise could scarcely have been 
 accounted for. 
 
 He did not as yet acknowledge to himself 
 that his chief attraction lay in Norma 
 Winyeatt, though he admitted that the 
 renewal of his old acquaintance had induced 
 him to make the spot where she lived a 
 halting-place. The contrast, the change, and 
 yet the subtle likeness between her present 
 and her old self, interested him daily. The 
 bright impetuosity of the girl-wife had im- 
 pressed his memory more strongly than he 
 knew ; now it seemed as if she were bent upon 
 effacing this by another aspect of herself; he, 
 upon bringing back the old Norma. It always 
 pleased him when some chance allusion sur- 
 prised this last into being. 
 
 One evening, when he was dining out, the
 
 paul's sister 81 
 
 desire took such hold upon him that he could 
 not help alluding to it to his hostess. She 
 was a kindly-faced person, the wife of an 
 officer holding a military appointment, and 
 she was one of those who had been parti- 
 cularly cordial towards Lawrence. She found 
 her left-hand neighbour rather silent through 
 the dinner, and he roused himself at length to 
 apologise for the fact. 
 
 4 To tell you the truth,' she said smiling, 
 ' you have not been very brilliant. But I felt 
 that at any moment you might make amends. 
 That, you see, is the advantage of possessing 
 a reputation.' 
 
 * You cover me with confusion,' he said. 
 1 I had better make a clean breast of it, even 
 at the cost of my reputation. It is anything 
 but brilliant, and almost unpardonable, to 
 allow the Past to make one deaf and blind to 
 the Present.' 
 
 ' 1 hope,' she said, ; that at least it was 
 
 vol. i. G
 
 82 Paul's sister 
 
 a pleasant Past. You did not look un- 
 happy.' 
 
 6 It was not personal at all,' he answered 
 lightly, ' and it is at your service. Mrs. Win- 
 yeatt is the figure who has conjured it up.' 
 ' And how ? ' 
 
 ' Quite unconsciously, as I need not assure 
 you. I knew her once under such different 
 circumstances, that when I see her now I find 
 myself perpetually returning to my first 
 impressions.' 
 
 4 1 think,' she said, ' that I should like to 
 hear what they were.' 
 
 ' They were very marked. Perhaps I 
 recall most strongly a buoyant enthusiasm, a 
 really tremendous grasp at the ideal. She 
 used to lose herself in its pursuit, she wanted 
 to drag every one after her. One knew that 
 it was what the world would call useless, 
 that nothing would come of it — Pegasus, and 
 that sort of thing — but it was interesting, it
 
 PAULS SISTER S3 
 
 made one watch her and wonder. And 
 then ' 
 
 He paused. Just at that moment Norma 
 turned to answer something said to her by 
 her neighbour, and her face was suddenly 
 irradiated by a bright swift smile. 
 
 ' There, ' said Lawrence quickly, ' now 
 you see ! ' 
 
 'Yes,' Mrs. Carrington replied thought- 
 fully. 'Yes, I see. Pray go on. I, too, 
 am interested in Mrs. Winyeatt. You were 
 saying — And then ? ' 
 
 ' And then there came the great shock, 
 the tragedy of her life — her husband died 
 very suddenly. I dare say you know all 
 about it ? ' 
 
 'I know the facts — the bare facts. Don't 
 think me heartless if I say that many women 
 have had to endure that terrible sorrow, and 
 that many years have passed since. You 
 seem to imply that there were special circum-
 
 84 Paul's sister 
 
 stances in her case, and those I do not 
 know.' 
 
 ' Did I imply that ? I think,' he said, 
 looking again at Norma, ' that she has that 
 feeling more than any other person, more ' — 
 he hesitated — ' more than is justifiable. She 
 was very young, her whole being seemed for 
 a time to be absorbed by the delight of the 
 new worlds which Eome opened before her, 
 and she did not realise her husband's illness. 
 He was the most unselfish man I ever knew, 
 and he was anxious, perhaps mistakenly — I 
 think it was mistakenly — not to cloud her 
 happiness.' 
 
 4 Yes, it was a mistake,' said Mrs. Carring- 
 ton. ' It made the shock terrible.' 
 
 ' It made the shock terrible, and the 
 effects have lasted. At first I did not realise 
 how much. The circumstances had naturally 
 faded from my mind, especially as I had not 
 seen or heard of her from that time to this.
 
 Paul's sister 85 
 
 'Ah,' said his hostess, dismissing from her 
 mind certain vague suspicions which had 
 gathered there. 
 
 ' But I see daily more and more that she 
 has never ceased to accuse herself of heart- 
 lessness ; and this is the reason,' he added, 
 turning- to her with a smile, 'that I have 
 told you of the earlier days. You are her 
 friend, I have heard her speak of you very 
 kindly, and I think her friends may ' — he 
 hesitated again — ' may help her,' he ended 
 abruptly. 
 
 ' That is it, is it ? ' Mrs. Carrington an- 
 swered. ' Poor Norma ! ' 
 
 ' She has a strong and noble nature,' 
 Lawrence went on. ' It is this very strength 
 which is perhaps against her. She does not 
 forget, and she will allow no excuses. And 
 having resolved upon a course of conduct, 
 she holds on her way inexorably.' 
 
 ' And this course of conduct ? '
 
 86 Paul's sister 
 
 6 Oh, you can see, any one can see ! ' he 
 returned with some impatience. ' She is like 
 other women in letting her feelings get the 
 better of her judgment. She is bent upon 
 starving those tastes and impulses which she 
 thinks led her into failure. She is always on 
 guard, always checking herself.' 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 ' And you don't think she is happy ? You 
 don't think she is right ? ' asked Mrs. Car- 
 rington softly. 
 
 ' No, I don't ! ' he said, almost savagely. 
 * I don't think any one is right who cramps 
 nature in that fashion. You women have 
 different notions, I suppose. You would go 
 and gaze at St. Simon Stylites and think him 
 the finest fellow in the world. I shouldn't. 
 I should have more respect for the poorest 
 wretch who tried honestly to live out the life 
 which God had given him to live.' He had 
 spoken with fire, and the next moment
 
 Paul's sister 87 
 
 recovered himself. ' I beg your pardon,' he 
 said, in his ordinary voice ; c I ought not to 
 have talked like that — at a dinner-party. It 
 was very — what shall I call it ? — very inap- 
 propriate.' 
 
 ' Perhaps it was none the worse,' she 
 answered ; and then her other neighbour made 
 some remark to which she was obliged to pay 
 attention. She was a woman of so much 
 experience that she did not regard all interest 
 as necessarily culminating in love, yet she 
 could not but reflect that here were the 
 elements for its growth ; and it had been the 
 fate of so many to lose their hearts to Xorma 
 \Vinyeatt, that there would be nothing ex- 
 traordinary in George Lawrence carrying on 
 the tradition. Far more interest lay in the 
 question of Norma's attitude. Xo breath of 
 rumour had ever given her liking to one of 
 these many men whose names ]\Irs. Carrington 
 mentally ran over while she was discussing
 
 88 Paul's sister 
 
 the last military appointment with her neigh- 
 bour ; yet there had been those who had been 
 worthy of any woman's love, and whom her 
 friends had, among themselves, wished that 
 she might favour. Mrs. Carrington found 
 herself looking at her and wishing once 
 more. 
 
 When Lawrence went into the drawing- 
 room that night he made his way at once to 
 Norma, who was sitting in a deep window- 
 seat with two girls, who gazed at her with 
 deep helpless admiration. She had lost the 
 disturbance of manner which had been notice- 
 able during the first day or two of his 
 stay, and now turned to him with a visible 
 brightening. 
 
 ' I have come,' he said, ' for compen- 
 sation. At dinner you were quite out of 
 reach.' 
 
 ' Yes ; but I was glad you had Mrs. Car- 
 rington. She is my great friend.'
 
 Paul's sister 89 
 
 'That is saying a good deal,' remarked 
 Lawrence gravely. ' I wonder what qualities 
 you require for your friends ? ' 
 
 ; I think it is the disposition to like me,' 
 she said, with a laugh. ' Isn't that half the 
 battle ? But with Alary Carrington a deeper 
 gratitude is excited, because you feel as if her 
 liking must make you better than you were 
 before.' 
 
 ' You raised my spirits very much when 
 you began,' he said ; ' it sounded delightfully 
 easy. But that ending ! Still, forgive me for 
 saying, that your reasons have a spice of 
 selfishness wrapped in them. You want all 
 the good yourself. Why can't you be friends 
 with people because you feel you might make 
 them better ? ' 
 
 She shrank back. 
 
 'Oh, I couldn't ! ' she exclaimed. ' It 
 would be impossible. You don't know ' 
 
 The two girls, who had been murmuring
 
 90 paul's sister 
 
 together, at this point got up and went away. 
 Lawrence, with his eyes following them, 
 said — 
 
 ' If I am not mistaken, those young women 
 look upon you much as you look at Mrs. 
 Carrington.' 
 
 ' They are very young and ignorant,' said 
 Norma quickly. And then she went on in 
 an odd voice — ' Mr. Lawrence, don't say 
 things to me that are not true. If you only 
 knew how sickened one gets of the little com- 
 pliments people think themselves obliged to 
 make ! You never said those things in old 
 days ; I always felt that I could trust you — 
 that you would tell me the truth, even when 
 it meant blame.' 
 
 ' Did I blame you, then ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' she said steadily. ' Not in direct 
 words, because I would not have it; but I was 
 conscious of it all the while.' 
 
 ' I must have been an odious prig.'
 
 paul'.s sistek 91 
 
 She leaned forward and looked earnestly 
 at him, frowning slightly. 
 
 ' No,' she said ; ' only a real friend. I 
 hoped you would be my friend again.' 
 
 Lawrence moved uneasily. 
 
 ' I am not goin^r to undertake the role of 
 general fault-finder,' he flung out ; and then as 
 he saw a look of disappointment in her face, 
 went on desperately — ; Yes. I will, if that is 
 necessary to please you. I want to be friends, 
 Mrs. "Winyeatt, and am ready to promise all 
 things, possible and impossible, to gain my 
 end.' 
 
 4 Oh,' she said frankly, ' I have always 
 remembered you as a friend.' 
 
 • A very ' and then he pulled himself 
 
 up. ' Well,' he said, with a comical intona- 
 tion, ; I won't quarrel with the means, if we 
 reach the right result. But if I engage to 
 make myself disagreeable, you must engage 
 not to fly off at a tangent.'
 
 92 Paul's sister 
 
 ' I am thankful to hear the truth, do you 
 understand ? ' she said impetuously ; and as 
 usual, Lawrence was half provoked and wholly 
 charmed. She had always been unconven- 
 tional, and there was something unconven- 
 tional now in her remorse, a frank trust in 
 his desire to serve her, a curious carelessness 
 as to his wish to please — he reflected ruefully 
 that the idea of this had apparently not 
 crossed her mind ; he realised at the same 
 time, with some surprise, that it was exceed- 
 ingly strong in his own.
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 
 ' With ev'ry pleasing, ev*ry prudent part, 
 
 Say. what can Chloe want ? ' — ' She wants a heart : 
 
 She speaks, behaves, and acts j ust as she ought, 
 
 But never, never, reach'd one gen'rous thought." — Pope. 
 
 IT iUCY "WIXYEATT sat at the writing- 
 j^^ table in the little room which was 
 
 * M - aa3 her own, and where Norma scarcely 
 ever came. She had a pen in her hand, and 
 a sheet of paper before her, but she was not 
 writing. She must have been chinking 
 instead, for she did not hear a knock until it 
 was loudly repeated, and followed by a half- 
 opened door and a girl's voice — ' May we 
 come in ? '
 
 94 taul's sister 
 
 ' As you are here, there is no particular 
 use in my saying no,' said Lucy coolly. 
 'Well, what brings you so early?' 
 
 ' Oh, we came to tell you about last night. 
 It was a great success, and Janet's dress did 
 beautifully. It was such a pity you weren't 
 there ! ' 
 
 ' I assure you I felt thankful. I get enough 
 of Mrs. Carrington's dull parties,' said Lucy 
 spitefully. 
 
 'Oh, but this wasn't dull, was it, Isabel? 
 I don't think any one could have called it the 
 least dull. Did' — hesitatingly — 'did Mrs. 
 Winyeatt find it so ? ' 
 
 ' Norma ? She thrives in dulness — it's her 
 element. But she hasn't said anything at all 
 about it, so you may launch into whatever 
 brilliant reports you like. Who was there? 
 I can tell you, though, before you speak. 
 Colonel and Mrs. Xewton, Captain and Mrs. 
 Smith, Colonel and the two Miss Somervilles,
 
 Paul's sister 95 
 
 three or four subalterns to balance the Miss 
 Somervilles, Xorma ' 
 
 1 And Mr. Lawrence,' broke in Janet 
 Somerville eagerly. 
 
 1 And Mr. Lawrence,' repeated Lucy, with 
 a swift glance at the girl. 'And Mr. Lawrence. 
 He is becoming as much a matter of course 
 as any of the rest of you.' 
 
 ' I don't think I am a matter of course, as 
 it was my first dinner-party,' said Janet in a 
 slightly aggrieved voice. 
 
 'I see you so often that I can't think of you 
 as anything else,' returned Lucy carelessly ; 
 ' but it is possible that upon some people 
 you may produce a new effect. Well, and 
 how did the whirlpool of excitement strike 
 you when you were dashing about in it ? Did 
 people behave as you expected ? ' 
 
 ' Mrs. Winyeatt looked lovely.' Janet 
 gave the information enthusiastically. 
 
 'That goes without saying, in some people's
 
 96 Paul's sister 
 
 eyes, yours among the number,' remarked 
 Lucy in the same tone as before. 
 
 ' And in Mr. Lawrence's.' 
 
 ' Ah, in Mr. Lawrence's ! ' She hesitated. 
 'How do you know? Did he discourse to 
 you of her charms ? ' 
 
 'He was not likely to talk to me,' said 
 Janet simply. ' But I don't think it is difficult 
 to know when one person likes another ; you 
 can see when they look at them.' 
 
 6 And he went and sat by her,' put in her 
 sister. 
 
 4 Irresistible evidence! Well, my dear 
 Janet, I congratulate you. You seem to have 
 looked about you with great effect, and to 
 have made marvellous discoveries. I dare say 
 they would astonish no one so much as Mr. 
 Lawrence* himself.' 
 
 ' Lucy ! ' cried poor Janet, with agonised 
 emphasis, 'you wouldn't — you wouldn't tell 
 him ! '
 
 PAULS SISTER ( J < 
 
 ' Xot exactly. You see the next time you 
 were out your young observations might lead 
 you to altogether different conclusions. You 
 Avill have to get used to seeing one person 
 look at another.' 
 
 But when the girls had gone Lucy sat and 
 reflected with an intentness which their words 
 had not appeared to justify. She was far 
 more quick at noticing admiration for herself 
 than for other people, yet once or twice it 
 had struck her disagreeably that Lawrence 
 showed a preference for Xorma's society. 
 She wondered with great naivete why this 
 should be, for she was sincerely convinced 
 that she was far better company than Norma, 
 and it did not please her. Lucy Winyeatt 
 was not a bad or malicious sort of girl ; in her 
 own fashion and to her own degree she was 
 really fond of Xorma ; but she balanced both 
 people and tilings with a nice reference to 
 herself — the very weather was only approved 
 
 vol. I. II
 
 98 paul's sister 
 
 of if it fell in with her moods ; and she was 
 capable of finding reason in the broadest flat- 
 tery. She wished to marry ; the prospect of a 
 house and establishment of her own attracted 
 her, and she had decided that Mr. Lawrence 
 more nearly approached her ideal of the 
 person through whom they should come 
 than any one whom she had seen of late. 
 For Norma to stand in her way would be 
 really unparalleled selfishness. Norma never 
 would marry. In some manner — Lucy did 
 not understand how — she had neglected Paul ; 
 all she could do now was to remain faithful to 
 his memory. 
 
 Certainly she should not interfere with his 
 sister. 
 
 Lucy's busy brain began to revolve little 
 plans — she had always an infinity of little 
 plans — for checking this incipient and incon- 
 venient idea of his, if it existed, in the bud. 
 Were the worst to appear probable, she
 
 PAULS SISTER 99 
 
 would appeal to Norma herself, meanwhile 
 would act in less direct fashion. Skilful 
 strategy was her strong point. 
 
 The day never passed without their seeing 
 George Lawrence. At first this had been 
 owing to Lucy's clever suggestiveness, but 
 now it was a sufficiently established habit for 
 him to appear without thinking it necessary 
 to frame an excuse. Xorma always greeted 
 him with cordiality; he liked Lucy and Agnes, 
 he even liked the room, barren though it was 
 of any decorative art. But there were sun- 
 shine and flowers, and the signs of a sweet 
 womanly presence, and in some strange, 
 hitherto unknown way, these signs stirred 
 him. Lucy, having soon discovered that he 
 was a harmless maniac on the subjects of 
 Greek sculpture and coins, employed a deli- 
 cate cleverness in starting him upon one or 
 the other. He did not think so highly of her 
 interest as she imagined, but it amused him 
 
 H 2
 
 100 Paul's sister 
 
 to talk of tilings upon which he talked well, 
 and — much more — it afforded him an oppor- 
 tunity for spreading his nets before Norma. 
 She took no part in the discussion, generally 
 she worked at some austere garment, but he 
 was certain that she heard. Sometimes he 
 caught a swift, momentary, self- betraying 
 glance ; sometimes he saw her hand carrying 
 the needle, pause for an instant or two sus- 
 pended in the air ; sometimes he could have 
 sworn she held her breath till he had answered 
 one of Lucy's neat questions. It gave him 
 so much delight to strike out these sparks of 
 old times, that he became quite eager to 
 encourage Lucy in her investigations — her 
 lessons, as she chose to call them. 
 
 6 Mother,' said Agnes one day, ' does Aunt 
 Lucy really like doing lessons ? ' 
 
 1 1 think so ; don't you ? ' said her mother 
 gaily. 
 
 'Why?'
 
 Paul's sister 101 
 
 ' Perhaps she has a good teacher,' Norma 
 
 answered. 
 
 'Yes, I like Mr. Lawrence,' said Ague-. 
 drawing a deep breath. 
 
 It pleased Norma to hear her say this — it 
 
 always pleased her to hear him praised by 
 
 those about her. It had never entered her 
 
 head to conceive of him in any light than as 
 
 Paul's , friend, and one who, though in old 
 
 days he had so righteously blamed her. might 
 
 in time become as truly her own. It seemed 
 
 j 
 
 to her as if his approval were, in a certain 
 fashion, Paul's own. She was glad to feel that 
 he was in sympathy with Paid's sister, Paul's 
 child ; and Lucy's sharp eyes had never suc- 
 ceeded in detecting the shadow of an attempt 
 to draw him away from herself. Not by a 
 word did she divert his attention from these 
 incipient lectures of his, which he gave for 
 Lucy's edification ; only the mute signs which 
 he noticed and the girl did not, told that they
 
 102 PAUL'S SISTER 
 
 did not fall upon deaf ears. Not he, not Lucy, 
 however, knew what this restraint cost — 
 were aware what burning questions flew to 
 her tongue — what a sharp curb of remorse 
 held them back ! She had punished herself for 
 over-caring, by trying to kill her interest, and 
 now it had seemed to leap back to her heart, 
 not only alive but triumphant. She did not 
 guess that Lawrence, wholly impatient of 
 these scruples, was deliberately spreading 
 temptation before her — leaving photographs 
 in her way, talking at her ; that, had he 
 only dared, he would have liked to have swept 
 away her fancies by half a dozen rough 
 tender words. ' But, good Heavens ! ' he 
 said to himself, ' the only hold I have upon 
 her, is that she looks upon me as a sort of 
 Mentor. Because I found fault in old days, 
 I am tolerated now. Once forfeit that posi- 
 tion, and I become no more than one of those 
 other unfortunates who dangle about her, and
 
 PAULS SISTER 103 
 
 for whom she cares not a brass farthing/ 
 Once he had a brilliant idea. ' Suppose I tell 
 her that she's wrong now ? ' But he presently 
 shook his head. ' No,' he reflected ; c she 
 wouldn't believe me. She would think I was 
 only meanly pandering to her tastes, and all 
 her respect for me would be gone. I must 
 keep in her own lines or be nowhere.' 
 
 And, after all, he was for the present con- 
 tent with his position. After wandering half 
 over Europe there was a great delight and 
 refreshment in this breezy place, where all 
 the colours were at once clear and delicate, 
 where the sparkle and brightness never 
 became monotonous, for mists swept across 
 the sea, and along the white headlands, and 
 there were lovely harmonies of white and 
 grey, and soft shadows drifting. The boats 
 and the people kept it cheerful ; there was 
 always a coming and going, a stretching out 
 of hands to other lands : the nets were drawn
 
 104 Paul's sister 
 
 full of silvery leaping fish ; often at night 
 there was the drag of a keel on the shingle, 
 and looking out it was possible to distinguish 
 in the darkness the dark sails of a boat 
 putting forth for her nightly toil. George 
 Lawrence had been in many lands, and had 
 often found himself hard to please ; here, 
 however, very simple things were creating a 
 satisfaction which might have surprised some 
 of his most intimate friends. 
 
 One cool evening they went for a walk 
 along the cliffs. Agnes had begged for this 
 little expedition, but, as usual, it was Lucy 
 who knew when the right moment had 
 arrived, and brought it out as a pleasant 
 suggestion. On their way they passed in 
 front of a row of houses, and here Lucy 
 made a stand. 
 
 ' Norma,' she said, ' would not Miss Ellison 
 enjoy a walk ? ' 
 
 Norma looked a little surprised. Miss
 
 Paul's sister 105 
 
 Ellison was one of the few people who did 
 not like Lucy. The girl herself said so to 
 Lawrence, with a laugh, as she rang the 
 bell. 
 
 ; This is rather kind of me, if you only 
 knew it,' she said. • Miss Ellison worships 
 Norma, and thinks me a frivolous and unde- 
 sirable being. Still, poor old thing, she is 
 dreadfully lonely here, and I do think it would 
 be a charity to take her out. Promise not to 
 believe all she says ! ' 
 
 She ran lightly upstairs before he had time 
 to answer, and Lawrence turned with a smile 
 to Norma. 
 
 4 She is very good-natured,' he said. 
 
 4 Yes,' said Xorma, frowning slightly. She 
 had often to restrain some short quick com- 
 ment upon Lucy's good-nature. Poor Xorma 
 was so true herself that Lucy's little round- 
 about ways were a perpetual fret, and yet it 
 seemed both suspicious and uncharitable to
 
 106 
 
 be aware of them. Why could she not do as 
 other people did ? 
 
 Here was Mr. Lawrence, who was quick - 
 
 sighted enough, he saw only the kindly out- 
 ward aspect of the little action ; why must 
 she be instantly touched with the conviction 
 that Lucy's real motive was unexpressed ? 
 She cried out with scorn at herself. It was 
 small-minded, it was contemptible. Once or 
 twice, when her indignation had found vent in 
 a look or word, Lucy had mildly hinted that 
 she was jealous. Never was an accusation 
 more unfounded, and yet the bare idea scathed 
 and humiliated Norma almost as if it had 
 been true. The truth was, that in her posi- 
 tion with Lucy she was unequally weighted ; 
 she could not judge her with the freedom of 
 thought she would have used towards another 
 person, and Lucy, who had an extraordinary 
 amount of thin cleverness, had found this 
 out. Norma felt like a monster of unchari-
 
 Paul's sister 107 
 
 tableness as she stood in the doorway with 
 Lawrence, and waited for Lucy's return from 
 her errand of kindness. 
 
 She came at last, bringing Miss Ellison, 
 a shrewd-looking, long-lipped woman, with a 
 very honest expression. 
 
 ' I have captured her, you see ! ' said the 
 girl, with an air of triumph. 
 
 ' It didn't require much skill,' said the 
 new-comer ; ' I was tired of my own company, 
 and very glad to be invited.' 
 
 8 It was Lucy's thought,' Xorma put in 
 quickly- 
 
 A narrow path climbed the white cliffs ; 
 down below the tide stole in over rocks and 
 sea-weed ; there was an inspiriting sparkle in 
 the water, a sense of vastness and freshness 
 in the broad expanse which melted away into 
 blue distance. The sails were white, like the 
 cliffs and the sea-birds ; there was a favourable 
 breeze, and the ships were coming up with
 
 108 Paul's sister 
 
 every stitch of canvas spread. When they 
 reached the top and walked along the short 
 turf they were conscious of a sense of ex- 
 hilaration. Lucy made no visible effort to 
 detach Lawrence, but she put forth all her 
 powers of entertainment. She seemed to be 
 largely mixed up with the pleasantness of 
 things. And, beyond a doubt, it was a very 
 delightful world up there to those who cared 
 for the song of larks, for the glitter of broad 
 waters, for a glorious depth of blue, with 
 delicate drifting clouds. Agnes ran and 
 danced over the grass ; until now Lawrence 
 had never known she could be so gay. Pre- 
 sently Miss Ellison dropped a little behind 
 with Norma. 
 
 ' I have just had a great surprise,' she 
 said. ' I have suddenly remembered that 
 I am fifty-five instead of twenty. Do you 
 know that the discovery has really given me 
 a shock? '
 
 Paul's sister 109 
 
 ; If I,' said Norma, ; found out the same 
 fact, I think I should be neither shocked nor 
 surprised.' 
 
 Miss Ellison shook her head. 
 
 ' That shows,' she answered, ; how foolish 
 you are, and how young ! You often strike 
 me as the youngest person of my acquaint- 
 ance.' 
 
 Mrs. Winy eat t flushed impatiently. 
 
 4 You have said something of the sort 
 before, and I cannot tell why ! It is not 
 like yon.' 
 
 ; Never mind, my dear. You must hear the 
 truth now and. then ; you must consent to an 
 occasional mockery from those who are ready 
 enough to pretend with you sometimes. We, 
 who are well down the hill, find it a pleasant 
 farce to listen to those just clambering up to 
 the top, when they call after us that they are 
 close on our heels. Only all the while they 
 know. and. we know, that it is a farce. You
 
 110 Paul's sister 
 
 are exactly twenty-two years younger than 
 I am.' 
 
 1 Oh, years ! ' 
 
 ' It's a stupid way of reckoning, I'll allow ; 
 but there it is, and I don't know that there is 
 anything so mathematical to be put in place 
 of it. And after all, it's well to have some- 
 thin^ fixed to balance our ideas ; otherwise, 
 between your feeling yourself so old, and my 
 feeling you so young, we should never know 
 where we were.' 
 
 ' It is absurd of you ! ' said Norma, still 
 impatiently. ' What do I say or do to give 
 an idea of youth ? ' 
 
 6 Why, that's the very point ! ' cried Miss 
 Ellison quaintly. She changed the subject in 
 a measure — or rather the object. 'There's 
 Lucy for another contradiction. I am sure 
 she would tell you she felt as young as Agnes, 
 and yet she's as old as Methusaleh. When 
 I'm listening to her with all the respect one
 
 Paul's sister 111 
 
 should pay to one's elders, I suddenly remem- 
 ber her years, and recover myself again.' 
 
 * I think you are rather unkind to Lucy,' 
 said Norma gravely. 
 
 1 Perhaps. Eecollect that I am often a 
 good deal overawed. But, indeed, I do not 
 think your accusation quite just. I don't 
 profess to like her, but I give you my word 
 that I admire her very much. Diplomacy 
 has always a fascination for me. Xow, why 
 was I brought with you to-day ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Winyeatt looked at her in dismay. 
 
 ' Why ? — what do you mean ? ' she 
 faltered. 
 
 1 Oh,' returned Miss Ellison laughing, 
 ' there's a reason somewhere, of course. 
 That's a part of the entertainment. I dare say 
 it's the most harmless of reasons — and, indeed, 
 I begin to think I know what it is — but I 
 don't see why we should be defrauded of the 
 amusement of seeing it at work. Do you P '
 
 112 PAULS SISTER 
 
 As Norma was silent, she went on questioning. 
 1 Mr. Lawrence is an old friend of yours, is 
 he not?' 
 
 ' He was an old friend of Paul's,' said Mrs. 
 Winyeatt, without lifting her eyes. 
 
 ' But a new one of Lucy's ? ' 
 
 'Yes, a new one of Lucy's,' Norma 
 assented, looking at her in surprise. Then a 
 light came into her eyes. ' Oh ! ' she cried, 
 ' do you think that would be possible ? ' 
 
 'I don't think about it. lam only won- 
 dering what Lucy thinks.' 
 
 ' Nothing, then ! ' 
 
 Miss Ellison shook her head. 
 
 ' My dear Norma, you are not a very 
 acute discerner. Or, if you are by nature, 
 you've learnt the lesson of persistently shut- 
 ting your eyes when you feel the impulse to 
 look. In this case I take the more delight in 
 forcing them open, because it is Lucy's care 
 which has provided me for your companion.
 
 Paul's sister 113 
 
 One doesn't mind being a passive instrument, 
 but it rather sets one on one's mettle, at the 
 same time, to prove that one might be some- 
 thing else.' 
 
 Norma did not appear to be listening to 
 this explanation. She walked silently on for 
 a while, then turned to her companion. 
 
 1 1 hope, I do hope, it may be as you 
 imagine,' she said very earnestly. 
 * You would like it ? ' 
 
 ' How could I help it ? And Paul would 
 have been so pleased ! ' 
 
 1 But, mind you, I am only regarding 
 it from one point of view. Mr. Lawrence 
 may be very well able to take care of him- 
 self.' 
 
 Xorma took no notice of this shaft ; she 
 was still considering. 
 
 ' I think I was rather stupid not to 
 suspect,' she said presently. ' When one 
 comes to consider it, why should he have 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 Paul's sister 
 
 stayed on here ? It isn't the sort of place he 
 would naturally like. And then Lucy is so 
 very popular and attractive ! ' 
 
 ' Well, what will you do ? ' 
 
 'Do? I shall do nothing. I can only be 
 Mad.' 
 
 6 Don't be too glad,' ventured Miss Ellison. 
 
 6 Why ? What do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' First, because there's no unmixed good ; 
 and secondly, because, after all, we haven't 
 an idea what are his feelings in the matter.' 
 
 'But you will admit that his staying 
 means something ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, his staying means that he wishes to 
 stay, no doubt.' 
 
 ' Well ? ' said Norma, turning upon her a 
 satisfied look. 
 
 Miss Ellison did not know what to say 
 next. She felt as if she would have been 
 more prudent if she had abstained from 
 saying so much.
 
 PAULS SISTER 115 
 
 4 Well,' she answered slowly. ' He pro- 
 bably liked meeting with an old friend.' 
 
 4 Yes,' Xorma allowed frankly, ' that was 
 no doubt his first inducement.' 
 
 Miss Ellison glanced at her. 
 
 4 Don't take my idle talk too seriously,' 
 she said, 4 or I shall feel that I may have done 
 a mischief.' 
 
 4 But you couldn't,' replied the other ; 
 4 you could only have done a mischief if I had 
 set myself against it ; and I am not likelv to 
 do that, am I?' 
 
 4 Xo,' said Miss Ellison slowly, 'no. You 
 are not likely to do that.' 
 
 4 Then there is no possible harm ! ' 
 
 To this, however, her companion made no 
 answer. She was looking before her at Lucy 
 and Mr. Lawrence, who had paused under a 
 low bank and were waiting for them. As they 
 came up Lucy was speaking with great anima- 
 tion, and Miss Ellison was obliged to confess 
 
 i 2
 
 116 Paul's sister 
 
 that she looked exceedingly pretty. Perhaps 
 it is a truism to remark that she always 
 looked prettiest when she was pleased ; but at 
 any rate there was now a considerable amount 
 of piquancy in her face, and her complexion 
 was as delicately fresh as a rose-leaf. Pretti- 
 ness is a charming sight, and it was a little 
 ungrateful of Miss Ellison to glance at Law- 
 rence with some displeasure. 
 
 4 1 suppose, because he is a man, and likes 
 to feel that it is put out for him,' she reflected 
 contemptuously, l that all this vivacity pleases 
 him. Well, let him marry her, and take her 
 away ! ' 
 
 6 Mr. Lawrence is a very obliging person/ 
 Lucy was saying. ' He does his best to re- 
 spond to our little efforts for his amusement 
 without fencing himself round with all the 
 better things he has seen. Aren't you grateful 
 to him, Norma ? I am.' 
 
 ' Of course she is,' interposed Lawrence.
 
 PAULS SISTER 117 
 
 ' Isn't it human nature to heap kindnesses 
 upon people, and then be eternally thankful 
 ever after? Miss Ellison, won't you let me 
 earn your gratitude in some such way ? ' 
 
 But though he spoke in this light fashion 
 to Miss Ellison, he looked at Norma, and 
 somehow there was that in his look which 
 startled the former lady. 
 
 ' I do believe,' she reflected, ' that he's a 
 wiser man than I thought, and that Lucy has 
 nothing to do with it, after all. And I'm 
 sorry I said that to Norma, because I may 
 have set her on an entirely wrong tack,' she 
 ended with a sigh. ' Well, he must get it 
 right again — he has no right to throw dust in 
 our eyes.' 

 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 And who could blame the generous weakness 
 
 Which, only to thyself unjust, 
 So overprized the worth of others, 
 
 And dwarfed thy own with self-distrust ? 
 
 Whither. 
 
 HEEE is no accounting for sensations, 
 especially for the sensations of a man 
 in love. In that walk over the hill- 
 top, Lawrence had apparently devoted him- 
 self to Lucy, yet he was under the unautho- 
 rised impression that he had somehow grown 
 nearer to Norma. The only way of account- 
 ing for this delusion is that his mind was 
 gradually more and more possessed by her 
 image ; it seemed a palpable fact which no
 
 Paul's sister 119 
 
 one could mistake, and he only thought of 
 Lucy as of some one. something, belonging 
 to Norma. Sometimes, indeed, a momentary 
 jar was produced, but he was not moody 
 enough himself to fasten upon trivialities ; and 
 if they thrust themselves upon him, he treated 
 them — in a woman — as a feminine peculiarity 
 which required forbearance, and in a man as 
 a reason for falling back from closer acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 He was, however, old enough to be aware 
 of and to value greatly his present feeling of 
 happy enjoyment. Xothing of late years had 
 seemed strono- enough to arouse it ; and when 
 such a feeling has become a memory, to find 
 it suddenly revivified, is to taste it with quite 
 an added delight. It had grown up, too, very 
 simply and unsought. Xothing had been 
 farther from his thoughts when he stepped up 
 the narrow gangway and on to the pier, than 
 that anything in the place could prove attrac-
 
 120 Paul's sister 
 
 tive. The instant lie saw Mrs. Winyeatt a 
 certain satisfaction seized him ; it seemed al- 
 most as if her figure had all these years lain 
 hidden in his heart, waiting to reveal itself, 
 and yet the notion was preposterous. So, too, 
 was the feeling that these summer days would 
 last for ever, each only growing fairer than 
 the last ; and yet, and yet again, that such a 
 feeling could exist was in itself an intoxica- 
 ting return of what had seemed no longer 
 possible. He had never felt old, or thought 
 of himself as verging upon middle age, but 
 now he was sure that he was still splendidly 
 young. Nor was he visited by many serious 
 misgivings as to Norma. Perhaps he had not 
 yet reached that stage, perhaps the evident 
 friendliness with which she had received him, 
 carried encouragement ; it is certain that he 
 did not lay his reception so completely as she 
 imagined to the fact of his having been Paul's 
 friend — he made it a much more personal
 
 faul's sister 121 
 
 affair ; and the remembrance that lie bad 
 ever blamed her, which she imagined to be 
 always present with him, now seemed to 
 him to belong to nothing except youthful 
 priggishness. 
 
 Miss Ellison's somewhat indiscreet re- 
 marks, if they did something towards injuring 
 George Lawrence's prospects, had at first the 
 effect of improving his position. Norma was 
 anxious, almost feverishly anxious, to do all 
 that she could for Lucy ; and she told herself 
 that as these art searchings of Lucy's, which 
 were the cause of much scrupulous upbraid- 
 ing of her own conscience, gave the requisite 
 opportunity, which otherwise might have been 
 lacking, it was her duty to second them by all 
 the encouragement in her power. Yielding 
 so far, it did not seem consistent to throw cold 
 water upon Lawrence's unblushing endeavours 
 to draw out her interest. She supposed that 
 he found it more easy and natural when she
 
 122 paul's sister 
 
 allowed herself to be included in the circle ; 
 she had been conscious before that her placing 
 herself so decidedly on the outside, created a 
 sort of stiffness, though perhaps she had felt 
 this more than the others. But at any rate, 
 the yielding, so far as it went, gave her in- 
 tense pleasure. The interests she had so long 
 crushed down, leapt triumphantly from their 
 prison ; and although she never made a remark 
 unless in answer to a direct question from 
 Lawrence, she no longer tried to prevent her- 
 self from listening, and her keen apprehension 
 responded to or combated his theories with a 
 new and delightful sense of freedom. 
 
 He was clever enough to place himself 
 always where he could see her. Besides her 
 beauty, she had that rare and irresistible 
 charm of fascination which cannot be de- 
 scribed by words, and he found an intense 
 pleasure in watching her movements, the 
 turn of her head, the light which stole into
 
 Paul's sister 12 8 
 
 her eyes. He did not allow himself to con- 
 fuse her by letting her see the object for 
 which he had chosen his position, and as 
 nothing was farther from her thoughts, she 
 made no discoveries ; but he cared not a 
 farthing how far Lucy penetrated ; he be- 
 lieved, indeed, that she could not be blind to 
 what .he felt so strongly, and he flattered 
 himself that he had her good wishes. One 
 day he ventured on what lie himself con- 
 sidered rather a bold step ; he produced a 
 very beautiful photograph which bore to him 
 such an unmistakable likeness to Norma, 
 that he had for days been longing to com- 
 pare it with her living self. Now that he 
 could do this, it seemed to him that the 
 resemblance was extraordinary. He laid it 
 before her. 
 
 • Who is this ? ' she asked, taking it up. 
 
 He named the painter, and added, ; It is 
 the most beautiful face I know.'
 
 124 Paul's sister 
 
 ' It is beautiful, I suppose,' she assented 
 slowly ; ' but I should like it better if it were 
 more restful, less impetuous. This poor 
 thing would always be making mistakes.' 
 
 ' Her mistakes would be enchanting,' said 
 Lawrence hardily. ' Do you see a likeness to 
 any one you know ? ' 
 
 Norma held it a little from her, and then 
 returned it to a nearer view. ' No,' she said 
 at last. 
 
 8 Let me look,' said Lucy, stretching over ; 
 ' I always see likenesses.' The next moment 
 her face changed. ' Likeness ? No,' she said 
 coldly. 
 
 Lawrence was disappointed. It was so 
 plain to him, that he never doubted that 
 Lucy would at once comprehend ; perhaps he 
 had a lurking desire that she should have 
 proclaimed aloud what he could scarcely 
 point out himself. 
 
 ' I see it strongly,' he remarked, ' but
 
 125 
 
 there's no accounting for the different manner 
 in which these things strike people.' 
 
 ' Then it is some one we all know ? ' said 
 Mrs. Winyeatt Cjiiestioningly. 
 
 1 Ah, I am not sure that you have ever 
 seen her,' answered Lawrence carelessly. He 
 possessed himself again of the photograph. 
 
 ' That explains it,' said Lucy, appropriat- 
 ing the remark. He did not contradict her, 
 and she went on — ; Otherwise I was just won- 
 dering if you could mean Janet Somerville.' 
 
 ■ Hardly.' 
 
 Something in the girl's manner provoked 
 Lawrence. It did not seem to him that any 
 one could fail to see the resemblance ; and to 
 suppose that he could have had Janet Somer- 
 ville in his mind was almost offensive. Lucy 
 gave him a quick look. ' Anyway, Mr. Law- 
 rence,' she said, ' I am glad to have seen 
 your ideal.' 
 
 1 Did I say so much as that ? '
 
 126 Paul's sister 
 
 ' You said it was the most beautiful face 
 you knew.' 
 
 ' And don't you say the same ? ' 
 
 ' No. You shouldn't accuse me of being so 
 absolutely devoid of every spark of originality. 
 Honestly, I don't call her very beautiful, and I 
 am convinced that she could be very obstinate.' 
 
 George Lawrence smiled. 
 
 ' Let her be what she likes,' he said 
 warmly, ' I stick to my opinion. There's 
 another type for you,' he added, putting 
 down a second picture before her. ' Does 
 that suit you better ? ' 
 
 The talk that day did not seem to run as 
 easily as usual. Lawrence was abstracted, 
 Lucy wore a somewhat injured look. Norma 
 noticed the constraint, and was sorry for it. 
 Presently she laid down her work. 
 
 ' To-morrow is Agnes' birthday,' she said ; 
 6 what shall we do with ourselves ? '
 
 127 
 
 1 Let us go to Calais,' returned Lucy, 
 throwing an air of resigned impossibility 
 about the suggestion. 
 
 Norma did not immediately answer. Then 
 she quietly said, ' Very well/ 
 
 1 Did you really mean it ? ' cried the girl, 
 jumping up and rushing at her. ' Xorma, 
 I never believed you would consent ! Oh, 
 this is charming, delightful ! ' 
 
 Lawrence began to lau^h. ' Has this 
 been the secret longing of your life, Miss 
 Winyeatt F ' 
 
 ' Yes ; you may laugh, but it has, and 
 Xorma would not go. I have been with 
 some people, but it is so difficult to find any 
 one who will take the trouble just to cross 
 and come back again. Don't, don't say any- 
 thing against it ! ' 
 
 1 Trust me. Xot if all possible pangs of 
 sea-sickness stood in the way.'
 
 128 paul's sister 
 
 ' They don't ! I am sure you are never 
 ill?' 
 
 He only laughed and glanced at Mrs. Win- 
 yeatt. Lucy's delight seemed so fresh and 
 unaffected that he found it very pleasant, but 
 something in Norma's face was unsympathetic ; 
 she seemed to be on the point of speaking, 
 and then to check herself. It did not affect 
 her sister-in-law. 
 
 6 You are our good genius, Mr. Lawrence ; ' 
 she exclaimed. 'I am sure that it is your 
 being here which has made Norma consent. 
 Agnes and I might have begged and prayed 
 in vain for anything so charming, though it 
 is her birthday.' 
 
 ' Ao-nes may not think it charming,' said 
 Norma quickly. 
 
 4 Oh, Norma, don't be depressing ! ' 
 
 'If you are afraid of the weather, Mrs. 
 Winyeatt,' put in Lawrence, ' I think the 
 chances are that the sea will be on the
 
 129 
 
 best of terms with everybody. Look at it 
 now.' 
 
 He could not understand this little want 
 of sympathy on her part ; but whatever it 
 was, she put it aside. 
 
 4 Well, we will go by the early boat.' 
 
 ' There is Agnes ; I must tell her ! ' cried 
 Lucy enthusiastically. 
 
 Agnes came in, grave and doubtful ; but 
 her eyes sparkled a little when she heard the 
 project. 
 
 ' Shall you like it P ' asked her mother. 
 
 8 We can buy chocolate caramels,' put in 
 Lucy under her breath. 
 
 1 Yes,' said the child after a moment's 
 deliberation. She went and stood by Law- 
 rence, who had his hand upon the photo- 
 graph, drew it from him, and looked from 
 it to her mother and back again. 
 
 ' Well ? ' he asked, enjoying her per- 
 plexity. 
 
 vol. i. K
 
 130 Paul's sister 
 
 1 Is it mamma ? ' she hesitated. 
 
 « Is it like her ? ' 
 
 * Yes, of course. Only it isn't her.' 
 
 ' She,' corrected Norma. ' Which has 
 Agnes picked out as my likeness ? Oh, 
 that ! ' She laughed with frank unconscious- 
 ness. 'You have wonderful ideas of your 
 mother, Agnes ! ' 
 
 ' She has good eyes,' said Lawrence 
 quietly. 
 
 'A good child's imagination, you should 
 say. All the people she loves, she idealises.' 
 
 Something perhaps in Lawrence's expres- 
 sion made her break off suddenly. She got 
 up and went to the window, and Lawrence 
 began to gather his possessions together. He 
 made some feeble jest about going out to 
 bespeak a fine crossing, but Mrs. Winyeatt 
 <?ave no sign of having heard, nor did she, 
 as he had hoped, volunteer an invitation for 
 that evening. He was seized with a misgiving
 
 Paul's sistek 131 
 
 that the photograph episode had offended her ; 
 at any rate, a barrier seemed to have sprung 
 up. Yet in spite of his fears he felt some- 
 thing approaching to triumph that she should 
 have been forced to understand ; and as 
 he walked down to the harbours, with their 
 picturesque crowd of shipping, he said to 
 himself that things had fallen out precisely as 
 he desired. 
 
 Left to themselves, the two women wer& 
 at first silent. Norma remained standing by 
 the window. Lucy sat clown again and took 
 up a book. As Agnes passed on her way to 
 the door, she put out her hand and stopped 
 her gaily. 
 
 ' You might say something to me, Agnes, 
 for getting you such a good birthday to- 
 morrow.' 
 
 'Did you do it for me? 7 demanded the 
 little girl, looking at her with her large grave 
 eyes.
 
 132 paul's sister 
 
 4 What a little unbeliever you are ! ' 
 laughed Lucy. ' I assure you everything 
 hinges on your birthday. Don't put it 
 off!' 
 
 As the child closed the door, Norma came 
 to the table and stood near her sister-in-law, 
 who kept her eyes on her book. 
 
 ' Why did you say that, Lucy? ' she asked 
 in a low voice. 
 
 The other looked up quickly. 
 
 ' My dear, you startle one with your 
 solemn questions ! Mayn't I tell Agnes not 
 to put off her birthday ? ' 
 
 ' You know it wasn't that.' 
 
 ' What was it, then?' 
 
 ' You made her think it was for her 
 pleasure you suggested going to-morrow.' 
 
 ' Well, and wasn't it ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' said Norma, impatiently turning 
 away. She came back again as if by an 
 effort. 'And you know you have been more
 
 Paul's sister 133 
 
 often than you allowed Mr. Lawrence to 
 believe.' 
 
 * Ah, now I know ! ' said the girl, with a 
 laugh. ' You are afraid lie will think you a 
 tyrant ! ' The next moment she sprang up 
 and kissed Norma. 'No, no!' she cried, 
 penitently, ' that isn't a bit true ; he never 
 can think you anything but what you are, the 
 
 dearest, best I hate myself! Only, you 
 
 see, Norma,' she went on, coaxingly — 'or if 
 you don't see, it is because you don't under- 
 stand these things — that when, when a girl 
 thinks a man likes her, it's a dreadful tempta- 
 tion to put forward the best side of oneself. 
 If I'm not so very unselfish, I should like him 
 to think me so. And a man — such a man as 
 Mr. Lawrence — is always delighted that a girl 
 should be easily pleased, particularly delighted 
 when he is not easily pleased himself. He 
 considers it a proof of amiability, of simpli- 
 city. Xow, Xorma, I have spoken quite
 
 134 PAUL'S SISTER 
 
 frankly. You may think it very shocking, 
 but I owe it to you.' 
 
 Lucy wore indeed an air of extremest 
 candour ; it was Mrs. Winyeatt who looked 
 troubled and doubtful. She even grew a 
 little pale, and her eyes sank before Lucy's 
 gaze. 
 
 'I did not know you felt like this,' she 
 said at last in a low voice. 
 
 ' My dear, you never did see very quickly.' 
 
 There was a touch of contempt in the tone, 
 but Norma did not heed it. 
 
 ' Has he said anything to make you think 
 he cares ? ' 
 
 1 Ah,' returned Lucy coolly, ' that's asking 
 me to confide a good deal.' 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Norma gravely ; ' but it seems 
 to me that a good deal hangs upon it.' 
 
 * Tell me first. Has the idea never pre- 
 sented itself to you before ? '
 
 Paul's sister 135 
 
 4 Yes.' 
 
 ' How long ago ? ' 
 
 ' That clay on the cliffs. Miss Ellison said 
 something — she said she thought it possible/ 
 Norma answered reluctantly. 
 
 Lucy's eyes brightened triumphantly. 
 
 ' There, then ! I'm sorry if you don't 
 like" it.' 
 
 Norma turned upon her with unmis- 
 takable amazement. 
 
 ' Not like it, Lucy ! You must know that 
 I should like anything which brought you 
 happiness.' 
 
 ' That's very nice of you,' said the girl 
 calmly ; ' you are very nice, Norma, as I 
 have always felt — but then, you must leave 
 me alone. You want to know whether he 
 has said anything ? Well, he hasn't — exactly. 
 If he had, I shouldn't require these prelimi- 
 naries. Only, 3 t ou see. there are ways of 
 letting one know without words.'
 
 136 Paul's sister 
 
 ' And,' said Mrs. Winyeatt slowly, ' you 
 are satisfied that — that -' 
 
 She paused, but Lucy answered as if the 
 question had been completed — 
 
 'Xo, I am not satisfied. I should think 
 you might understand so much from what I 
 have said. Of course, I should be extremely 
 glad if I could tell you that he had spoken 
 out clearly and unmistakably ; all that I can 
 say is that I think he will.' 
 
 Norma had moved restlessly away, now 
 she came back. 
 
 ' Lucy,' she said, laying her hand on the 
 girl's shoulder, ' at any rate you know your 
 own feelings — are you sure you love 
 him'? ' 
 
 6 1 shall wait to answer that question until 
 he has asked it,' answered the girl with a 
 light laugh. ' And I will give you another. 
 Is it judicious to waste one's feelings before 
 one is certain of his ? '
 
 PAULS SISTER 137 
 
 ' Oh — judicious ! ' cried Xorrna, staring at 
 her. 
 
 'Let me point out to you,' Lucy went 
 gravely on, ' that that is the sort of thing you 
 ought to be saying to me. You are dread- 
 fully particular and strait-laced about some 
 things, but, my dear, directly anything serious 
 presents itself, you are as wildly romantic as 
 — as l — she broke into a laugh — ' no, I don't 
 know any one with whom to compare you ; 
 you are the most romantic person of my 
 acquaintance/ 
 
 Xorma would not smile. 
 
 'If I could only be sure — ' she said. 
 
 'Of what?' 
 
 ' — Of your really caring. Let me say 
 something, Lucy.' 
 
 ' Something disagreeable, you should add. 
 That's what people always mean after such a 
 preamble. However — say on ! ' 
 
 ' I do not wish it to be disagreeable/
 
 138 Paul's sister 
 
 Norma answered quietly. ' I think you will 
 own yourself that you like to make -people 
 care about you — men and women, I mean. It 
 gives you a sense of power, which you enjoy.' 
 
 4 Perhaps,' returned Lucy, with an air of 
 extreme candour. 
 
 1 Is that what is urging }'Ou now ? Is it 
 only love of conquest? ' 
 
 'Would that be more shocking than 
 losing my heart before I know whether he 
 cares to have it ? ' 
 
 She had the advantage of being cool and 
 collected, while Norma was evidently stirred 
 by feeling. 
 
 4 Oh,' she cried passionately, 4 1 do not 
 believe you have a heart ! ' 
 
 4 You might leave that to him to deter- 
 mine,' retorted Lucy loftily. 4 My own im- 
 pression is that I have as much as other 
 people ; and if we married, I dare say we should 
 at least get on as well as you and Paul.'
 
 Paul's sister 139 
 
 There was a silence. When Norma broke 
 it, it was in a low changed voice. 
 
 ' You are right,' she said ; ' I had no right 
 to say what I did.' 
 
 4 Xo,' said Lucy emphatically. And by 
 way of improving her position she continued 
 — ' You often imply, Norma, that I don't offer 
 you confidences. I can't say that I think your 
 way of receiving them is very encouraging/ 
 
 ' I am sorry." said the elder woman with 
 an effort. ; I did not mean to be unsym- 
 pathetic, I don't think I should be if only I 
 — I really felt there was anything with which 
 to sympathise.' 
 
 I Well, that's what we both want ; that's 
 what I hope you will have by-and-by.' 
 
 I I wonder why you said anything to me ? ' 
 exclaimed Xorma suddenly. 
 
 For the first time Lucy showed a slight 
 embarrassment. Then she answered quickly 
 enough—
 
 140 Paul's sister 
 
 '• I don't want you to throw cold water or 
 to interfere with my little plans, that's all. 
 It is difficult enough to do everything for 
 oneself, without your sitting by with a dis- 
 approving face. He has a great respect for 
 you, and if he fancied you did not approve of 
 anything I said or did ' 
 
 ' Why should I disapprove ? ' 
 
 ' Why, indeed ! You ought to be very 
 glad to get rid of me.' 
 
 ' No, no — don't say that ! ' exclaimed 
 Norma with a rush of remorse. 
 
 ' Of course I've no claim on you,' Lucy 
 continued unheeding ; ' I'm only Paul's sister.' 
 
 8 Lucy ! ' 
 
 * Oh,' persisted the girl, ' it's much better 
 to look these things straight in the face. 
 You mean to be kind, Norma, but it's not 
 the same as a blood relationship. Your 
 feelings for me are not like your feelings 
 for Bessie, for instance ; it stands to nature
 
 Paul's sister 141 
 
 that they can't be ; and of course I know it, 
 and of course it is not very pleasant to me 
 to be dependent. I should be exceedingly 
 thankful to have a home of my own ; and 
 I tell you frankly that I hope you will not 
 stand in my way.' 
 
 Every word of this speech, which was 
 uttered slowly and clearly, seemed to cut 
 Norma with a lash. Only Paul's sister! 
 Only ! 
 
 ' Don't speak like that, Lucy — you will kill 
 me ! ' she cried impulsively. ' How can you 
 talk of being dependent, or as if you weren't 
 welcome ! Don't you know that my one wish 
 is that this should be your home — yours in 
 the fullest sense ? Can you suppose that I 
 grudge you anything ? ' 
 
 ; You mustn't grudge me Mr. Lawrence, 
 then,' said Lucy composedly. 
 
 Xorma drew back sharply, roused to re- 
 sentment.
 
 142 Paul's sister 
 
 6 You speak very strangely,' she said. 
 
 ' He isn't in love with me yet,' the girl 
 went on, unheeding, 'perhaps he is just as 
 nearly being in love with you.' She began to 
 laugh as Norma turned a startled face upon 
 her. ' My dear, that is not an impossibility, 
 whatever you may suppose. At the same 
 time, it would be a pity and a loss, because 
 you don't mean to marry again, and he would 
 have all his pains for nothing. Don't you 
 see ? It might be pleasant, but it would be a 
 real waste.' 
 
 Norma stood facing her. 
 
 ' Why do you say all this to me ? ' she 
 asked again coldly. 
 
 ' Simply because I think we had better 
 understand each other. You cannot com- 
 plain that I have not told you everything.' 
 
 6 Oh, I wish you hadn't, I wish you 
 hadn't ! ' cried Mrs. Winyeatt. Lucy looked 
 at her with a smile of compassion.
 
 Paul's sister 143 
 
 'It is not romantic enough to please you, 
 is it? Xever mind ; the romance may come 
 afterwards.' 
 
 ' You do not even pretend to like him ! ' 
 
 * Oh yes, I do. I like him better than 
 most people.' 
 
 'Ah, he is worth more than that!' 
 exclaimed Xorma impulsively, and Lucy's 
 smile changed a little curiously. 
 
 ' You take it very much to heart, Xorma ! 
 I wonder why ? ' 
 
 ' How can I help taking it to heart ? ' 
 
 ' On my account, or — his ? ' 
 
 But if she hoped to disconcert her sister- 
 in-law, she failed. Xorma answered her 
 frankly and at once. 
 
 ' On both. He was Paul's friend, and you 
 are Paul's sister ; and don't you suppose it 
 hurts me to think of your wishing to marry 
 him without love, and only because you don't 
 feel at home with me, and you talk of being
 
 144 Paul's sister 
 
 dependent ? Haven't I always treated you as 
 a sister ? ' 
 
 s You have tried, but — we are not sisters/ 
 said Lucy, with a hard little smile. Then she 
 suddenly jumped up. ' What geese we are 
 to talk like this ! Don't worry yourself, I'm 
 not pretending that you beat or ill-use me ; on 
 the contrary, you're as good as gold, and I'm 
 extremely fond of you. Only we can't go on 
 for ever as we are, and I must look out for 
 myself; moreover, you and I are different 
 natures. I have told you already that you 
 are far more romantic than I am, and that we 
 don't see things in the same light. All the 
 same, if it is any consolation to you, I promise 
 not to kidnap Mr. Lawrence. He will choose 
 for himself. Do tell me. Is that a consola- 
 tion to you ? Do you really feel called upon 
 to protect him ? ' 
 
 Norma's cheeks burned for an hour after 
 this interview; some of Lucy's small shafts had
 
 Paul's sister 145 
 
 struck home. What, indeed, had she to do 
 with George Lawrence ? She told herself 
 again and again that it was Lucy's conduct 
 which had disturbed her ; that it had shocked 
 her to find the girl deliberately trying to 
 enchain him, without even the excuse of 
 strong affection, and it was quite certain that 
 Xorma's proud spirit would at any time have 
 revolted against such a course. But, if she 
 were proud, she was also transparently true ; 
 she never tried to deceive herself, and when 
 she made discoveries they were faced without 
 flinching. Why, when the girl had spoken of 
 the possibilities of George Lawrence being in 
 love with her — Norma Winyeatt — had her 
 heart leapt up, and the blood tingled in her 
 veins ? It tingled now for shame when she 
 remembered it. What did it mean? She 
 had thought of herself as Paul's, entirely and 
 for ever ; she had welcomed Mr. Lawrence as 
 vol. i. L
 
 146 
 
 Paul's sister 
 
 his friend, if her own judge ; she had be- 
 lieved herself to have Lucy's welfare deeply 
 at heart, and this— this was the outcome of 
 it all !
 
 CHAPTER- V. 
 
 An open foe may prove a curse, 
 
 But a pretended friend is worse. — Gay. 
 
 HEX Lawrence strolled round to 
 Mrs. Winyeatt's house the next 
 morning, it was with the comfort- 
 able assurance that their crossing would have 
 all the advantages which weather could pro- 
 vide. The sea was of a fresh and exquisite 
 blue, and a favouring wind was bringing quite 
 a cloud of white canvas down channel. The 
 sun was hot, but there was no fierceness in 
 his rays. Altogether it was a cheering and 
 
 L 2
 
 148 paul's sister 
 
 inspiriting day, and in spite of a letter which 
 he carried in his pocket, and which was 
 not, it must be owned, of a cheerful nature, 
 Lawrence was conscious of the same access of 
 licrht-heartedness which had made itself felt 
 ever since the day he landed. It was too 
 agreeable to be analysed. He accepted it 
 with enough wonder to avoid digging at its 
 roots to discover the reason of its existence. 
 He was, however, conscious that it related to 
 Norma, and began, rash man, to desire that 
 it should be turned into a lasting possession. 
 The little incident of the photograph must, 
 lie felt sure, have opened her eyes to his 
 feelings, so that he might now advance more 
 freely; and he quickened his steps at the 
 thought, which carried with it an inward 
 prevision of triumph. He ran up the stairs 
 takino - two at a time, and almost falling over 
 Agnes, who rushed out of a room in an un- 
 usual condition of excitement.
 
 Paul's sister 149 
 
 'Oh,' she said, giving a jump of delight, 
 1 isn't it lovely ! Is it time to start ? ' 
 
 4 There's time enough for you to unfasten 
 this parcel, and see if it's the sort of thing 
 you care should give you good wishes,' said 
 Lawrence. He left her rapturously happy on 
 her knees before a settee, and was shown into 
 the drawing-room, which, to his disgust, 
 appeared full of people. Lucy disengaged 
 herself from the others, and Xorma, who 
 had her back turned and did not at once 
 move, hated herself for being irritably con- 
 scious of Lucy's little air of appropriation 
 with which she welcomed the new-comer. 
 She punished herself by resolutely talking to 
 Colonel Somerville, until Lawrence deliberately 
 made his way round to her. 
 
 4 I'm a little afraid of you, you're so 
 barricaded,' he said ; 4 in fact the room is 
 rather unexpectedly alarming. Are we all 
 going?'
 
 150 
 
 1 A good many, I think,' returned Mrs. 
 Winyeatt carelessly. 
 
 Colonel Somerville had moved away ; Lucy, 
 who had followed Lawrence, made a face of 
 disgust. 
 
 ' Do scold Norma ! It's her doing. I 
 wanted to have kept it to ourselves.' 
 
 < You ' began her sister-in-law, and 
 
 stopped abruptly. She had been going to 
 say that Lucy had asked Isabel Somerville. 
 6 1 thought we might have found it rather dull 
 if we had been quite alone. I am sorry if 
 you do not like it,' she added. 
 
 ' Oh, I — I like anything, so long as you 
 don't leave me behind ! ' said Lawrence cheer- 
 fully. 
 
 He had been momentarily vexed, but, 
 after all, it did not matter. He shook hands 
 with Miss Ellison, who, he found, was to be 
 one of the party, and a young Mr. Eose was 
 introduced to him, and then it was time to go
 
 Paul's sister 151 
 
 down to the pier. Xorma lingered for a 
 moment to call Agnes, and Lawrence lingered 
 too ; he intended on that day to seize or 
 make opportunities without hesitation. Agnes 
 threw him a grateful glance and caught her 
 mother's arm. 
 
 6 What do you think Mr. Lawrence has 
 brought me ? ' she demanded. 4 Guess. But 
 you'll never be right.' 
 
 4 Then I give up at once,' said Norma, 
 hurrying on. 
 
 4 1 wish you'd try, though. Well, it's the 
 most beautiful little musical-box ! ' 
 
 Lawrence glanced at Mrs. Winyeatt. He 
 had heard her say once that she was fond 
 of musical-boxes, and it must be owned his 
 present had had more to do with her than 
 with Agnes. She kept her head turned away, 
 and said coldly — 
 
 4 1 am sorry that Mr. Lawrence should 
 have given you such a valuable present.'
 
 152 paul's sister 
 
 He was chilled, more by the tone than the 
 words. 
 
 1 1 assure you, it's a very trifling affair,' he 
 said eagerly ; ' you don't really object, I hope, 
 to my trying to find something which should 
 please Agnes ? ' 
 
 She had walked so quickly that they had 
 overtaken the others ; some one made a re- 
 mark and she said no more. Colonel Somer- 
 ville and his eldest daughter were not to be 
 of the party, though they went down to see 
 them on board ; they had a choice of seats 
 before the London trains came in, and esta- 
 blished themselves comfortably. Lawrence 
 had resolved to get a seat next to Mrs. Win- 
 yeatt, and he was a man who generally carried 
 out his resolutions. This time, however, he 
 was baffled, for after he had, as he thought, 
 secured his point, Norma deliberately rose 
 and asked Lucy to change places with her, 
 as there was something she wanted to say to
 
 paul's sister 153 
 
 Miss Ellison. Lucy was unusually depre- 
 catory. 
 
 1 I'm very sorry you should have to put 
 up with me,' she remarked. 'It isn't my 
 fault.' 
 
 If Lawrence was offered an opportunity, 
 he did not take it ; he was decidedly in a bad 
 humour. 
 
 1 Why on earth are all these people here ? ' 
 he demanded. ' They make one feel quite 
 overgrown.' 
 
 6 It was a fancy of Norma's.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Winyeatt is not often unreasonable.' 
 Then he began to laugh — ' I expect it's I who 
 am unreasonable. The fact is, I wanted this 
 to be an especially nice day.' 
 
 'Why?' 
 
 ' Because I may not have many more.' 
 
 ' Are you going away ? ' 
 
 He caught Lucy's look, which was appeal- 
 ing, almost frightened, and it touched him,
 
 154 paul's sister 
 
 and made him more ashamed of his ill- 
 humour. 
 
 ' It will not be by my own will,' was his 
 answer ; ' I need hardly tell you that ; but it 
 is possible that I may have to leave.' 
 
 She made no comment, and only turned 
 away her head ; but though he was not a vain 
 man, it appeared to him that his words had 
 disturbed her a good deal. It swept over 
 him at the same moment that much of the 
 enjoyment of his stay had been owing to her, 
 and that he had been ungracious in allowing 
 her to see that the change of companionship 
 had vexed him. He would hardly have let 
 himself go so far, but that he was under the 
 impression that his feelings for Norma were 
 patent to all the world ; most patent of all, 
 perhaps, to Norma's sister. No one was 
 likely to hear a word that was said. The 
 boat was well on her way, groups of chairs 
 were disposed all about the deck, on which
 
 Paul's sister ]5a 
 
 sat people entrenched with bags and bundles. 
 Xext to Lucy was Mr. Eose, who had turned 
 his back and was talking with all his might to 
 Janet Somerville ; beyond them were Norma 
 and Miss Ellison. Lawrence leaned forward 
 and said earnestly — 
 
 4 Believe me, I sha'n't soon forget the ^ood 
 time you have given me here.' 
 
 4 You mean ' — she said, without turning — 
 4 that you are going to bring everything to an 
 end ? ' 
 
 Something in the words took him a little 
 by surprise. 
 
 4 Only myself, Pm afraid. I shall have 
 to put up with the knowledge that all this 
 pleasant life of yours is going cheerfully on, 
 while I have shut myself out from it.' 
 
 4 Don't go,' she said in a low voice. 
 
 His thoughts were filled with one subject. 
 
 4 You are very good to care,' he said 
 reflectively.
 
 156 Paul's sister 
 
 4 Don't go,' she repeated. ' These happy- 
 times never come a second time.' 
 
 ' Sometimes happier ones come in their 
 places,' said Lawrence, with a smile. He was 
 not really discouraged yet, though something 
 in the day had disappointed him. 
 
 c Sometimes. You cannot tell,' she said 
 eagerly. 'It is wiser not to part with what 
 we have.' 
 
 ' But philosophy seldom holds its own 
 against nature. Philosophy says " Be con- 
 tent " ; nature insists that there is something 
 better to be had.' 
 
 ' Well, for once be a philosopher.' 
 
 Before he answered he glanced round at 
 Mrs. Winyeatt. She was leaning forward 
 without speaking ; the soft shadow of her hat 
 rested upon her upturned face, all its delicate 
 yet spirited curves seemed to be thrown into 
 prominence ; there was a certain frank nobility 
 about her, a simple unconsciousness of self,
 
 Paul's sister 157 
 
 which often struck Lawrence, and at this 
 moment swept over him with a force which 
 almost made him giddy. 
 
 ' No,' he said, as much to himself as to 
 Lucy, 'no. Philosophy is not for me.' 
 
 ' Then,' she said with a ring of sharpness 
 in her tone, ' you mean to go ? ' 
 
 ' To go ? ' he repeated in some bewilder- 
 ment ; ' to go ? Oh, I beg your pardon, I 
 see ! I'm afraid my train of fancy had led 
 me off some way from where I began. My 
 going has nothing to do with that fine re- 
 nunciation of philosophy in which I have 
 iust indulged ; it's only likely to turn out a 
 matter of necessity, and a disagreeable matter, 
 too.' 
 
 ' You are tired of us all, that's the matter,' 
 returned the girl petulantly. 
 
 'That is it, of course,' he said, with an 
 easy smile. 
 
 ' And you will never come back ? ;
 
 158 Paul's sister 
 
 ' I sliall count the hours until I am here 
 again,' he replied with sudden vigour. 
 
 There was a pause. So calm was the sea 
 that scarcely any motion was perceptible on 
 board the boat ; people walked about, or 
 leaned over the side, looking at the clear 
 bottle-green waters. The steward came and 
 asked for their tickets. Janet Somerville and 
 Mr. Eose got up and went on the upper deck, 
 and the seats between Mrs. Winy eat t and 
 Lucy being empty, Lucy stretched herself 
 lazily back. 
 
 6 Norma,' she said gaily, ' come and be 
 sociable ! ' 
 
 Norma shook her head and smiled. 
 
 6 By-and-by,' she answered. ' Miss Ellison 
 and I have a great deal of business to get 
 through.' 
 
 Lawrence, who had leaned forward, 
 dropped back discontentedly. Lucy glanced 
 at him.
 
 Paul's sister 159 
 
 ' I want to ask you a question,' she said 
 quietly, and she managed as she spoke to lay 
 all her vivacity on one side. ' I want to 
 ask you a question about — Xorma.' 
 
 ' Well ? ' he said shortly. 
 
 1 When you knew her before, when Paul 
 was alive — you never say much about those 
 days — but was she the same person that she 
 is now ? ' 
 
 George Lawrence hesitated. 
 
 ' In what way ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' Well, was she so much taken up with 
 good works and things ? You can see for 
 yourself that she cares for nothing else now; if 
 she can talk to Miss Ellison — who is the best 
 creature in the world, though she doesn't 
 like me — she is perfectly content. You will 
 find that they are now full swing about the 
 Coal or the Blanket Club, or something of the 
 sort, and you see I can't pull Xorma out of 
 it. Was it the same then ? '
 
 160 paul's sister 
 
 ' Hardly — in Rome.' 
 
 1 All, and that is why I find it so difficult 
 to conceive of Norma in Rome. I never can 
 believe that she cared for the things she 
 found there.' 
 
 ' I should have said she cared more than 
 most people.' 
 
 ' It is perfectly amazing ! ' exclaimed Lucy 
 with a little incredulous air. ' She does not 
 take the smallest interest now. You must 
 have been mistaken.' 
 
 < I think not.' 
 
 ' Then what has changed her ? ' 
 
 'Might it not have been your brother's 
 death ? ' 
 
 ' Paul's death ? I wonder if that is really 
 the secret ? But why, I wonder, why should 
 her mourning for him make her give up 
 what she cared for before, as if it were 
 something wrong? It is very morbid of 
 Norma.'
 
 Paul's sister 161 
 
 ' Yes, it is morbid,' Lawrence assented 
 gravely. 
 
 ; Of course,' pursued Lucy calmly, ' the 
 shock was terrible, and for some reason or 
 other she always blames herself about that 
 time. I don't know why exactly, but one 
 can understand that, and one can also under- 
 stand that she has resolved never to marry 
 again, although no doubt it is a great pity.' 
 
 She spoke with regret, and as she said 
 the last word, stooped to pick up a pencil 
 she had dropped on the side farthest from 
 Lawrence. It was not a very long business, 
 yet it seemed to him that a length of time 
 had passed before she sat upright again, and 
 then what he said did not sound to him 
 exactly what he had intended to say. 
 
 ' Women often make those resolutions.' 
 His voice was steady, but slightly hoarse. 
 
 ' And break them ? I suppose they 
 do,' said Lucy meditatively. ' Xorma i> very 
 
 vol. i. M
 
 162 
 
 resolute, though — I don't know — perhaps I 
 may be mistaken.' 
 
 Something in this readiness to admit error 
 shook Lawrence more effectually than the 
 strongest assertions. He pulled himself to- 
 gether enough to answer — ' Who can tell ? 
 It's never safe to prognosticate what even 
 those one knows the best will do, life has such 
 startling opportunities for upsetting theories ; ' 
 but his heart sank with dismay. He had 
 been building very comfortably upon his own 
 theory, which was as hopeful as his nature ; 
 but he was subject to sudden revulsions, and 
 these words of Lucy's lie conceived were 
 uttered in kindly warning. Like other men, 
 he believed that women confided absolutely 
 in each other, and who should be so com- 
 pletely in Mrs. Winyeatt's confidence as the 
 sister who lived with her? He was staring 
 moodily before him when Lucy touched his 
 arm.
 
 Paul's sister ICo 
 
 1 Here is Calais,' she said timidly. 
 
 Lawrence started up. 
 
 ' Why we weren't near it a minute ago, I 
 vow ! ' he said with a laugh. ; Have those 
 young people of ours lost themselves ? I 
 must go and look them up.' 
 
 ' Don't speak too seriously,' said Lucy. 
 
 ' Oh, not I ! I'm not their chaperon. Mrs. 
 "Winyeatt has charge of all our manners.' 
 
 He went off, found the delinquents, and 
 brought them back with a jest. By this time 
 the greater part of the encumbered crowd had 
 struggled up the gangway and were hurrying 
 off to their trains or the buffet. Lucy and 
 Xorma had not been able to resist the fascina- 
 tion of pushing forward with the rest ; they 
 were now standing waiting on the pier. Lucy 
 began at once in a low voice — 
 
 4 Thank you, Xorma, for managing so 
 kindly. You gave me a charming opportu- 
 nity.' 
 
 .AT 2
 
 164 taul's sister 
 
 ' I had no thought of — managing,' said 
 Norma coldly. 
 
 ' Well, my dear, it was all I wanted ; please 
 go on in the same way, whatever you like to 
 call it.' 
 
 The other hesitated, looking down and 
 tracing the black timbers with her foot. 
 
 < Did — did your opportunity prove suc- 
 cessful, then? ' she asked indifferently at last. 
 
 8 Quite as much as I expected. It enabled 
 me to say one or two things. I told him,' she 
 went on with a smile, ' that I did not think 
 you would ever marry again.' 
 
 ' Why should you discuss me ? ' Norma's 
 voice had an angry ring in it. 
 
 4 Was it wrong ? ' inquired Lucy inno- 
 cently. ' Don't be angry ; I said I wasn't 
 sure ; and you see, I tell you at once what 
 I said, in ordei that you may repair any 
 mischief.' 
 
 ' What do you suppose I should do ?
 
 Paul's sister 165 
 
 Am I to enter on the subject with Mr. 
 Lawrence : ' 
 
 ' Oh, I could easily say I was mistaken. 
 Was it a mistake?' 
 
 4 Lucy ! ' cried Xorma vehemently. She felt 
 hot, ashamed, insulted. It was quite true that 
 she meant never to marry again, but to have 
 the matter discussed, to have her sister-in-law 
 calmly answering for her, that it should be 
 George Lawrence, George Lawrence of all 
 men, with whom such a conversation had been 
 held, was surely unbearable. For once, it ap- 
 peared as if she were really suffering from over- 
 frankness on Lucy's part — the knowing what 
 had been said seemed to inflict a double sting. 
 She was sure that she wished for Lucy's hap- 
 piness, that she would be glad to see her 
 Lawrence's wife, but the help which had been 
 extracted from her was palpably unfair, it 
 was almost indelicate ; it should never have 
 been said to him, and it should never have
 
 166 
 
 been repeated to her. But she could say no 
 more, for Miss Ellison and Agnes, who had 
 wandered away on the pier, rejoined them, and 
 the three others stepped off the gangway 
 at the same moment. Janet was beginning 
 apologies when Norma stopped her. 
 
 'Now that we are here, what are we to 
 do ? ' she demanded. 
 
 ' Get out of this, and go to a restaurant 
 for luncheon,' suggested Lawrence. ' One 
 can't achieve anything more original in the 
 high-road of civilisation. Afterwards we can 
 walk, drive — do what you like. That is 
 settled. Now let us enjoy ourselves. Mrs. 
 Winyeatt, let me point out to you these men 
 in blouses — there is an old house, with a 
 woman in a white cap looking out from be- 
 tween green shutters — there's a great splash of 
 red carnations hanging over a balcony ! Doesn't 
 everything stir your enthusiasm ? You may 
 laugh, you others, but Mrs. Winyeatt under-
 
 Paul's sister 167 
 
 stands. She is more sensitive to artistic semi- 
 tones.' 
 
 He was aware that his attempt to break 
 down the barrier which had just reared itself 
 was almost a burlesque, but he was desper- 
 ately indifferent. Some sort of indifference 
 had also seized Norma, she was unusually 
 pale, but she also laughed and jested. Be- 
 tween them they made a sort of comedy for 
 the others ; not a point in the old gabled pic- 
 turesque streets but was caught and brought 
 forward and made much of. Mr. Lawrence 
 insisted upon taking them to a cafe, instead 
 of an hotel ; he conducted them to one where 
 great pots of oleanders stood outside, and the 
 little marble-topped tables were shaded by a 
 large awning. The resources of the little 
 restaurant were not as ample as the waiter 
 would have made them believe ; but the 
 waiter himself made up for any deficiencies, 
 he was so sincerely interested in their well-
 
 168 paul's sister 
 
 being, he threw himself with such zeal into 
 the question of the dishes ! 
 
 Lawrence was doing his best to hold 
 Lucy's words at arm's length, but they caught 
 undefended moments and pressed upon him 
 with increasing force. They seemed the 
 sudden solution of certain withdrawals, on 
 Norma's part, which every now and then had 
 hurt him while he had refused to take in 
 their significance. He had never doubted 
 that Lucy read his secret — he had not, indeed, 
 cared to consider it a secret — but that convic- 
 tion also led him to believe that what she 
 said was meant to let him know that there 
 was no hope for him ; both women, it was 
 probable, wished to spare him the pain of a 
 refusal. As yet he had not reached the point 
 of giving up hope. Something more definite 
 was required for that ; what he did feel was 
 that it would be well for him to pause before
 
 Paul's sister 1G9 
 
 putting his fortune to the touch, and that if 
 he were to do it at once he would probably 
 be the loser. 
 
 As it happened, none of the party had 
 ever stayed at Calais, or knew more of it than 
 the little space between the steamer and the 
 trains, except Lucy, and she had only a 
 general impression. The young waiter, how- 
 ever, gave them intelligent directions, which 
 appeared to be based on an intimate acquaint- 
 anceship with the tastes of each member 
 of the party, and Miss Ellison wished him 
 good day with profound respect. She said it 
 was very remarkable to reflect how impos- 
 sible it would be to find his like at so short 
 a distance as was implied by one hour's 
 journey. 
 
 Xorma had kept obstinately close to her 
 friend, in spite of Lawrence's endeavours to 
 draw her away. They wandered through
 
 170 paul's sister 
 
 narrow streets in which the bright sunshine 
 and the deep shadows made effective pictures, 
 and the charm of colour stole out in all 
 manner of unexpected places. At a moment 
 when Agnes had run on and joined the others, 
 who were in front, in order to call their atten- 
 tion to a much-befrilled poodle, Miss Ellison 
 remarked — 
 
 ' My dear, I believe that the other day I 
 was a fool ! ' 
 
 ' When, and why ? ' 
 
 'When I told you that Mr. Lawrence 
 liked Lucy. I am by no means so sure of 
 it now.' 
 
 4 Oh, but you were right — you are sure 
 to have been right,' said Norma feverishly. 
 'Indeed, I have had more reason to think so 
 since you spoke.' 
 
 ' What reason ? ' 
 
 1 Lucy has said something.' 
 
 ' Oh, Lucy ! Lucy would be prepared to
 
 Paul's sister 171 
 
 believe that our friend the waiter had lost his 
 heart to her.' 
 
 ' You are not just to Lucy. She is very 
 attractive.' 
 
 1 On the contrary, I am quite disposed to 
 admit it, and — to wonder. And so Lucy has 
 for once chosen to confide in you. I should 
 like to know why.' 
 
 ' Am I such an unlikely person ? ' 
 'Well, I don't think she often does it.' 
 ' Don't ! ' cried Norma imperiously. 'What 
 does it matter whether she talks to me or 
 not ? I have told you that if Mr. Law- 
 rence chooses Lucy for his wife, I shall be 
 glad.' 
 
 1 Well,' repeated Miss Ellison coolly, ' be 
 glad, by all means. I rather like Mr. Law- 
 rence, and so I was only trying to put myself 
 on his side. After all, it is his own concern ; 
 he must be left to manage his affairs for him- 
 self ; and the best thing I can wish him is that
 
 172 
 
 Paul's sister 
 
 no officious or quixotic person may be drawn 
 on to meddle or to mar.' 
 
 If Norma took this hint to herself, she 
 gave no sign.
 
 
 ^ R^^.>^^^V^^^^.>^v >)■>V ^ -^^^ >v^^v^^> ^ > >^ >>v>^^» >>>^ »^>.^^^ v>^.V>^>Vvv>^^Vl.^ ^.>^.^^>> ^^ ^ ^J y^f 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Oh, tell me less or tell me more, 
 Soft eyes with mystery at the core, 
 That always seem to meet my own 
 Frankly as pansies fully blown, 
 Yet waver still twixt ' no ' and 'yes.' 
 
 James R. Lowell. 
 
 EOEGE LAWEEXCE had no inten- 
 tion of accepting a second-hand 
 sentence where so much was con- 
 cerned, and lie was resolved to make at any 
 rate a tentative experiment upon Norma her- 
 self. If lie did no more than this, it was not 
 pride which held him back ; for though he 
 might not like rejection better than other men, 
 he would have faced it without hesitation if he
 
 174 Paul's sister 
 
 had believed the moment to have come in 
 which to put it to the touch. But he had 
 a fear that Lucy might have been am accre- 
 dited agent. He had not a suspicion of any- 
 motive which might have drawn her further 
 than she had a right to go ; all that he sup- 
 posed was, that, after the fashion of women, 
 they had talked together, and that Lucy, in 
 her friendliness, had given him the result of 
 their talk. It was against him — there was 
 no doubt of it. 
 
 But that did not mean that he should 
 give up — nothing could be further from his 
 thoughts. What it did mean, he reflected, 
 was that if Norma were just now in this 
 frame of mind, it would be prudent to pause, 
 not in loving her, for that was impossible, but 
 in proclaiming his love. Lucy had not ex- 
 ceeded the truth when she had said that her 
 sister-in-law was resolute, and Lawrence had 
 not failed, in his study of Norma, to disinter
 
 Paul's sister 175 
 
 the deep feeling of her life — the remorse 
 which mingled with her memories of Paul ; 
 even if she loved him, she was a woman 
 capable of sacrificing her love to that re- 
 morse. 
 
 He did not know that Lucy had evoked a 
 more dangerous and less shadowy means of 
 self-sacrifice. Give him time, he thought, and 
 he might meet the other, beat it down with 
 the strong passion of his love, show her the 
 folly, the wickedness of her resolve, appeal to 
 her woman's heart not to condemn him to 
 a life-long misery — oh, the words which should 
 convince her came rushing to his lips without 
 hesitation ! But the real obstacle he did not 
 know. 
 
 However, he made up his mind — in the 
 intervals of such desultory conversation as 
 was carried on in the streets, where there 
 were frequent demands to look at this or 
 that, or to stare into shop windows, the
 
 176 PAUL'S SISTER 
 
 shabbier the better — he made up his mind 
 to avoid rashness, and not to frighten Norma 
 into clinging more desperately to the resolve 
 which she had apparently just put forward. 
 Why he imagined that it was only just 
 announced it is hard to say ; perhaps the idea 
 fitted tractably with his conviction that she 
 and Lucy had discussed his suit. But this 
 did not alter his determination to have it out 
 with her to a certain extent. 
 
 As every one knows, or should know, 
 such a determination is the worst preparation 
 possible for a momentous interview. It hedges 
 it round with stiffness, and the plunge is a 
 hundred times more difficult than when it is 
 faced without premeditation. Norma imme- 
 diately became conscious that Lawrence was 
 on the look-out for an opportunity, and was 
 on the watch herself to avoid it. All his 
 little devices struck him as clumsy from the 
 very fact that they were such absolute failures.
 
 Paul's sister 177 
 
 He began to think that he was to be baffled 
 throughout the day, when by an audacious 
 stroke he carried out his purpose. Norma 
 and Miss Ellison had erone into a small 
 curiosity shop, the others were strolling on, 
 when Lawrence paused. 
 
 ' I am going to send out Miss Ellison,' he 
 announced. ' I want to speak to your sister.'* 
 He was not looking at Lucy, and therefore 
 did not perceive her change of countenance. 
 But the next moment she recovered herself 
 Let him ! It was, perhaps, for her, the best 
 instant that could have been chosen. It may 
 be said that she had no thought of the 
 possibility of Xorma's feelings coinciding with 
 his, nor did she credit him with much beyond 
 a passing attraction ; whether this failure of 
 hers to estimate his attitude was owing to a 
 wilful blindness, or whether she really found 
 it impossible to understand that she herself 
 could be looked at as a secondary personage, 
 vol. i. X
 
 178 paul's sister 
 
 it is hard to say. Meanwhile she judged 
 it best to avoid all interference with his 
 present purpose, whatever it was — even to 
 assist it. 
 
 c Tell Miss Ellison that I have found one 
 of the baskets she wanted,' she called out. 
 Norma was in the midst of paying for her 
 purchase. 
 
 ' You're badly wanted out there, Miss 
 Ellison,' said Lawrence boldly. 
 
 ' Wait for me a minute,' suggested Norma. 
 
 6 It's something pressing,' urged Lawrence 
 with a laugh ; ' I should only be in the way, 
 and I'll look after Mrs. Winyeatt.' As Miss 
 Ellison hurried out of the shop, Mrs. Winyeatt 
 made an uncertain step to follow, then she 
 turned back and stood waiting for her pur- 
 chase. Lawrence blessed the man for being 
 slow, and giving the others time to get out of 
 the way. He left her alone, and sauntered 
 about the shop, keeping, however, between
 
 179 
 
 her and the door. He was determined that 
 she should not elude him. 
 
 Apparently she gave up any intention 
 of attempting it, for having received her 
 little purchase, she came to his side and said 
 gravely that she was ready. He saw, how- 
 ever, that when she reached the door she 
 cast an anxious glance up and down the 
 street. Xo one was in sight. Still she would 
 not show any perturbation ; she clung so 
 effectively to her dignity that he could not 
 help being amused, in spite of his own troubled 
 doubts. 
 
 ' Have you any idea in which direction 
 they are gone ? ' she demanded. 
 
 ' Oh, they cannot be far — shall we try 
 this street ? ' 
 
 She silently accepted his decision, if she 
 had any suspicion of his guidance, showing it 
 by no more than a refusal to loiter. 
 
 4 If they are not to be seen at the next 
 
 N -J
 
 180 PAUL'S SISTER 
 
 turning,' she said, ' we must go back and try 
 the other.' 
 
 ' Very well,' said Lawrence. ' At the 
 same time, let me remark that I cannot tell in 
 what manner I have offended you.' 
 
 ' Offended me ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; you are no longer what you were. 
 You avoid having anything to say to me, you 
 won't so much as throw me a crumb. What 
 have I done? ' 
 
 ' Oh,' she faltered, ' this is ridiculous ! ' 
 
 8 You're not the sort of woman to act so 
 without a reason, and there lies the sting. 
 I assure you I've cudgelled my brains, in 
 vain. I think you owe it to me to tell me 
 what it is.' 
 
 1 1 repeat,' she said impatiently, ' that the 
 whole idea is absurd — imaginary ! ' 
 
 He went on as if she had not spoken. 
 
 ' It is not impossible that you may consider 
 that I have presumed on your kindness by
 
 Paul's sistek 181 
 
 staying so long in the same place. If so, I 
 wish you'd tell me. I'd a hundred times 
 sooner have a good straightforward blow 
 than feel as uncomfortable as I do now. I 
 own that I have been very happy, and that 
 may have made me seem inconsiderate.' 
 
 Lawrence did not stay to choose his words, 
 nor did he in the least care what they might 
 be held to imply — they might, indeed, imply 
 all that anybody could find to read in them. 
 
 'You have never seemed inconsiderate,' 
 said Norma in a low voice. 
 
 4 Then it is only that you are tired of me?' 
 returned Lawrence rashly. 
 
 To this she made no answer. Her head 
 was thrown slightly back, and she kept her 
 eyes fixed straight before her. 
 
 'Well,' he went on, piqued, 'that will 
 soon be remedied. I am going away.' 
 
 ' Are you ? ' she said coldly. 
 
 ' I am. Don't you think I am wise ? '
 
 182 Paul's sister 
 
 There was a momentary pause. 
 
 6 How can I judge of what is wise for 
 you ? ' she replied. c If I were a man, I don't 
 imagine I should have stayed so long. But 
 I know nothing about the circumstances.' 
 
 ' Of my staying ? Well, I suppose I stayed 
 because I thought I was well off.' 
 
 To this she made no answer, and as he was 
 bent upon forcing something from her, he 
 went on — ' Is that what you mean ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said Norma indifferently, ' I must 
 have meant the circumstances of your going.' 
 
 6 Oh, well,' he returned more happily, 
 4 that is just the matter about which I want 
 to ask your advice ' 
 
 ' I can give no advice,' she interrupted. 
 
 ' Why not? ' persisted Lawrence. ' You've 
 asked me for it before now, why on earth 
 should I be debarred from benefiting in the 
 same manner? It's no use, Mrs. Winyeatt. 
 It's plain enough that you've determined to
 
 paul ? s sister 18° 
 
 o 
 
 give me the cold shoulder, otherwise you'd 
 certainly listen to what I have to say without 
 cutting me short at the very beginning.' 
 
 He said this in a jesting manner, but there 
 was an evident purpose hidden under the 
 jest. Norma quickened her pace a little. 
 
 1 We have lost the others, I believe ! ' she 
 said hurriedly. 
 
 ' Do you refuse to listen P ' 
 
 6 Eefuse P Certainly not. All that I said 
 was that I could give no advice.' 
 
 ' Hear me first before you decide so abso- 
 lutely. My father, as you know, is a clergy- 
 man in Devonshire.' 
 
 She bent her head. 
 
 'His brother-in-law — his first wife's 
 brother — is very much with us. I don't 
 believe I can ever make you understand what 
 a capital fellow he is — how much liked — and 
 yet the most incapable, the most idiotic fellow 
 about money matters ! He has ruined himself,
 
 184 PAULS SISTER 
 
 and is always getting my father into trouble. 
 A person who didn't know him would find it 
 very hard to believe that he did it all inno- 
 cently.' 
 
 Norma ventured to slacken her pace. It 
 did not appear that this relation would contain 
 anything personal. 
 
 4 If he has squandered his own money,' 
 she said, ' that ought to acquit him of any- 
 thing worse than folly.' 
 
 ' Then he can certainly fall back upon that 
 defence. But you will understand that his 
 proceedings, however caused, are apt to pro- 
 duce uneasiness in the family when I tell 
 you that he has immense influence with my 
 father.' 
 
 6 He is evidently a very attractive man,' 
 said Norma smiling. 
 
 'Oh, exceedingly — more's the pity! It's 
 that very point which keeps us all in hot 
 water, and perhaps makes us over-ready to
 
 Paul's sister 185 
 
 take alarm. I had a letter from my mother 
 this morning; ; she doesn't sav much, but I 
 can read between the lines that she's un- 
 comfortable, haunted by fears which may 
 have no foundation whatever. My father 
 isn't what he was in business matters, and 
 yet he's awfully obstinate, and won't take 
 advice.' 
 
 Xorma had forgotten her alarm, she 
 looked at him frankly and fearlessly. 
 
 1 I can understand that you must be 
 anxious,' she said. 
 
 ' Well, I am, and I'm not. Sometimes it 
 looks a little imposing, but I forget it a good 
 deal, I assure you — I've other things to think 
 about, and when you give me the counsel you've 
 engaged to bestow, don't over-estimate the im- 
 portance of all this, for I assure you what I've 
 not mentioned is of far more consequence in 
 my eyes. Eemember when the question is 
 put that you have only heard the arguments
 
 186 Paul's sister 
 
 on one side, and if you ask me how you're 
 to judge, you must appeal to your womanly 
 intuition.' 
 
 Norma stopped. 
 
 8 1 am sure we are wrong,' she said de- 
 cidedly. ' We must go back.' Lawrence 
 turned without a word, but he went on with 
 his talk. 
 
 ' I must have your advice, remember ' 
 
 She interrupted him almost vehemently. 
 'I told you I would give no advice.' 
 ' Oh, but after you have understood how 
 much I require it, how greatly you may assist 
 me, I feel sure you'll not be so obdurate ! I 
 really am in grave doubt. My mother seems 
 to imply that there's mischief brewing, and 
 she has a ridiculous idea that I might do 
 something to prevent it. Perhaps I can, but, 
 honestly, I believe a strong letter to be my 
 best weapon. You can keep your temper in 
 a letter '
 
 PAUL'S SISTER 187 
 
 She broke in quickly — 
 
 ' You ought to go, of course ! How can 
 you doubt ? ' 
 
 There was a pause. Then he said in an 
 altered voice, with a laugh — 
 
 'But I do doubt— I wish to doubt! I 
 have no desire to be disposed of in that sum- 
 mary fashion.' 
 
 'Why,' she said, with the same rapidity, 
 ' there can be no question about it ! Your father 
 may be led into most serious imprudences, 
 just because you're not there to counsel him. 
 You don't know what mischief your absence 
 may do ; and when it is too late you will 
 never forgive yourself.' 
 
 'Oh, I assure you that need not be taken 
 into consideration. It's a process I find 
 amazingly easy. So you think I should go ? 
 But, Mrs. Winyeatt, you're forgetting all that 
 appeal I made to you a minute ago ; you're 
 looking at my going altogether from one side.
 
 188 Paul's sister 
 
 You think only of what I may gain ; I'm 
 horribly afraid of losing something — some- 
 thing which I value more, and which a voice 
 within me tells me I may jeopardise. Don't 
 you believe in inner voices ? ' 
 
 ' Not when they contradict one's duty/ 
 said Norma in a low voice. 
 
 He appeared to ponder her answer, then — 
 
 ' You're a hard taskmaster. Do you mean 
 you see no possible hope — good — for me in 
 staying ? ' 
 
 ' None.' 
 
 ' You bid me go ? ' 
 
 ■ Yes.' 
 
 She did not look at him, and her voice 
 was hopelessly cold, yet at that moment he 
 flung prudence to the winds, he felt a de- 
 sperate passionate resolve to win her. 
 
 4 By Heavens, but you shall say more ! ' he 
 burst out roughly, and as she turned her white 
 startled face upon him, he felt an angry shame
 
 Paul's sister ISO 
 
 and yet triumph in having forced a look at 
 whatever cost. But he had no opportunity 
 for another word. From a chemist's shop in 
 front of them, round the door of which a 
 little crowd was clustering, Lucy ran out, 
 evidently to look for them, for the instant 
 she caught sight of the two she rushed 
 towards them. 
 
 6 I am more thankful to see you than I 
 can say ! ' she exclaimed. ' Poor Janet has 
 met with an accident ; we have taken her into 
 that shop, Mr. Eose has gone for a doctor. I 
 am afraid she is really hurt.' 
 
 4 An accident ! ' Norma asked no ques- 
 tions, she walked swiftly towards the shop, 
 through the curious crowd, and vanished. 
 Lucy was greatly upset, and Lawrence pulled 
 himself together with an effort. 
 
 4 What was it ? What can I do ? ' he 
 asked. 
 
 'I can hardly tell — everything passed so
 
 190 Paul's sister 
 
 quickly. We were in that cross street in the 
 road, Miss Ellison and I in front, and the 
 others behind. Then we heard a shout and 
 a cry — it was some boy on a tricycle, and I 
 suppose poor Janet did not hear him coming, 
 or he was awkward, for she was knocked 
 down. It was horrid ! She moaned so when 
 they carried her into the shop ! ' 
 
 ' Can't I be of any use ? ' asked Lawrence 
 anxiously. 
 
 But at this moment appeared Mr. Eose 
 round a corner, conducting a little man whom 
 they felt to be the doctor, and escorted by 
 half a dozen eagerly-gesticulating boys. Janet 
 had been moved into an inner room ; Law- 
 rence, Lucy, and Mr. Eose — who was miser- 
 ably persuaded that it was all his fault, that 
 he ought to have kept a better look-out. have 
 warned her — waited in the shop. Some one 
 in authority cleared off the crowd, people 
 came and went on their errands, the lon^
 
 Paul's sister 191 
 
 pale assistant looked curiously at the English 
 people, and decided they had no heart, every- 
 thing began to seem as if it had been going 
 on and would go on for ever, when Miss Ellison 
 came out of the inner room and the three 
 watchers jumped up. She was quite cheerful, 
 and the assistant set her down as another 
 unfeeling Englishwoman. 
 
 6 She has broken her arm, poor child ! ' 
 she announced ; ' but it is only a simple frac- 
 ture, and has been set very comfortably, so 
 that we may hope the worst is over. Of 
 course she can't return with us, and Mrs. 
 Winyeatt has kindly insisted upon remaining 
 with her ; the doctor has told us of some 
 small pleasant lodgings, and perhaps you'll 
 walk there with me and arrange matters ? ' 
 
 Lawrence went with them gloomily, be- 
 cause there was nothing else he could do. 
 He knew very well that Norma would not see 
 him again, for, as he thought bitterly, it had
 
 192 Paul's sister 
 
 been hard enough to get hold of the opportu- 
 nity which this accident had interrupted. As 
 he went, it must be said, he reflected more on 
 the situation than on poor Janet's arm, and 
 there were not many crumbs of comfort to be 
 extracted from his consideration. Norma had 
 been unmistakably anxious to get rid of him, 
 it might be said almost feverishly so ; he 
 realised blankly that Lucy's warning had been 
 apparently justified, and if he had been 
 spared the exact position of a rejected man, 
 there wasn't very much to choose between 
 them.
 
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 71 s -" 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 With her lips apart, 
 And all her thoughts as fair within her eyes, 
 As bottom agates seen to wave and float 
 In crystal currents of clear morning s;as. 
 
 Texxtsox. 
 
 <^^!OOR Janet's hurt, however incon- 
 " iBJI venient, was not of an alarming 
 
 nature, and the doctor had no worse 
 injunctions to lay upon her nurse than to 
 keep her quiet and not allow her to excite 
 herself by talking. Finding this to be diffi- 
 cult, for Janet had a hundred things she 
 wanted to pour out to her dear Mrs. Win- 
 yeatt, Norma sternly refused to listen, and at 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 Paul's sister 
 
 last left the room for the small one which 
 opened out of it, and where she could hear a 
 call if she was wanted. 
 
 She was a woman of an active mind, and 
 seldom allowed herself to remain idle, but 
 here idleness was forced upon her. The 
 daughter of the house had undertaken to buy 
 what was needed for the night, but of occu- 
 pation there was none ; she had neither books 
 nor work, and was driven to sit at the window 
 with her hands before her, and her thoughts 
 left to fasten themselves where they would. 
 She let them go without even a protest ; 
 it seemed to her that this much liberty 
 she might at least allow herself, and they 
 went straight to her conversation with" Law- 
 rence. 
 
 What had it all meant? Well, it was 
 easy enough to answer that question if she 
 were straightforward with herself, and she 
 was always straightforward. And it came to
 
 paul's sister 195 
 
 this, that something which had been knocking 
 tremulously at the door of her heart, and 
 which she had imagined need advance no 
 farther, had suddenly presented itself en- 
 sconced safely within. That he loved her, 
 she had feared before ; that she loved him, 
 she now knew, and for a few brief delicious 
 moments exulted in the knowledge, which 
 filled her with an intoxicating delight. How 
 manly he had looked, how well she had read 
 what he wanted to say, what in another 
 moment he would have said ! How sweet 
 it was to feel that she had gained not 
 only his friendship, but his love ! He loved 
 her. 
 
 But if happiness comes sometimes with an 
 intensity which shows of what we are capable, 
 it is not often that it lasts longer than is just 
 sufficient for the peep ; up goes the barrier for 
 a moment, but the next moment it is down 
 again, baffling and forbidding, and we besnn 
 
 o 2
 
 196 PAUL'S SISTER 
 
 to beat against it in vain. Norma had had 
 her moment, her dream, and then there closed 
 upon her all that had gone before. 
 
 It was not Paul's image which stood 
 between them. It is true that she had never 
 believed that another could take its place, 
 but since that was so, her very honesty for- 
 bade a pretence at a constancy which would 
 only be a false seeming, and she would not 
 so much as feel ashamed that it should be so. 
 No. It was not Paul who stood between 
 them, but Paul's sister. As she sat there 
 staring out at the green-shuttered houses 
 opposite, and seeing nothing, a flush of hot 
 colour crept slowly up to her face, and burnt 
 there, she found her position so intolerable ! 
 There was no use in protesting her own inno- 
 cence, she knew that she was innocent, but 
 she knew also that Lucy would maintain that 
 she had acted traitorously towards her. The 
 more she thought of it, the more she tossed
 
 PAULS SISTER 197 
 
 and turned the matter over, the more persis- 
 tently this accusation faced her. She had not 
 sought her sister-in-law's confidence, that was 
 true, it had been forced upon her. But this 
 did not alter the fact that she had received it, 
 and had listened passively, or that Lucy had 
 implored her not to interfere. Xot to inter- 
 fere ! Xorma almost laughed at the perversity 
 of it all. The way in which Lucy, having no 
 claim at all, had seemed to establish a prior 
 claim, was more than clever — it was a stroke 
 of genius. She knew very well with whom 
 she had to do. 
 
 So well, that Xorma, with the feeling of 
 some wild animal trapped and tied with cords, 
 sprang from her chair and began to pace the 
 little room impatiently, her hands clenched, 
 her head bent. All through her talk that 
 afternoon with Lawrence, she had kept Lucy, 
 as it were, between them ; she had been cold 
 to him, untrue, as she felt, to herself. Was
 
 198 paul's sister 
 
 she to go on with this farce ? How could 
 she ? How dared she ? 
 
 Lucy's appeal had been made, and effec- 
 tively made, to the self-sacrificing impulses of 
 her sister-in-law's nature ; she had, however, left 
 out of her calculations another side which per- 
 sisted in having something to say, for Norma 
 possessed a fund of common sense and a sense 
 of justice, in which it is the fashion to consider 
 women deficient. She could not but acknow- 
 ledge that Lawrence counted for something ; 
 that it was not possible to give him up to 
 Lucy when he showed no desire to be re- 
 signed. 
 
 As this came upon her, she gave a little 
 laugh, and sat down again by the window, 
 losing thought of Lucy in dreaming of him. 
 Presently she heard a call from Janet. 
 
 ' Do you mind coming in ? ' said the girl. 
 ' It seems such a waste to have you in the 
 next room.'
 
 Paul's sister 199 
 
 ' I stayed there because the doctor did 
 not wish you to excite yourself with talking.' 
 
 4 Yes, I know that. I know you were 
 only doing it out of kindness, but it was a 
 great deal more exciting to feel that you were 
 there, and to'wish to have you here.' 
 
 c You will have enough of rne,' said Xorma 
 smiling. 
 
 ' Xo, I can't. If it wasn't so dreadfully 
 selfish that I'm ashamed to own it, I should 
 tell you that I can't help rejoicing to have 
 got you here all to myself. At home 
 there are always crowds of people wanting 
 you.' 
 
 1 Well, I am very glad to be taken in 
 the light of a small compensation,' Xorma 
 answered, drawing a chair to the bed. 
 
 ' I don't think I want any compensation,' 
 returned Janet contentedly. ' It isn't like a 
 bad illness, when one would have to be shut 
 up for ever so long, and see nobody ; it's only
 
 200 faul's sister 
 
 a little pain which nobody need mind. And 
 it has been such a delightful day ! ' 
 
 ' Yes ? ' said the other doubtfully. 
 
 ' I did not know one could be quite so 
 happy,' said the girl simply. 
 
 Norma turned towards her quickly. 
 
 'Is there anything particular to make you 
 feel in that way, Janet ? ' 
 
 ' Isn't it wonderful ? ' asked the girl, as if 
 no direct answer were needed. ' If it had 
 been Isabel, no one would have been in the 
 least surprised ; but he says that he has liked 
 me from the first moment he saw me. I am 
 sure that I liked him, but it would have been 
 very odd if I hadn't, and I was never certain 
 that it wasn't Isabel. She would have made 
 him a much better wife,' she added falter- 
 ingly. 
 
 Norma bent over her and laid her soft 
 cheek against Janet's. 
 
 'He likes you so much,' said the girl
 
 Paul's sister 201 
 
 eagerly ; ' lie quite agrees with me that there's 
 nobody like you.' 
 
 6 1 don't think you should expect him to 
 go quite so far as that,' said Norma laughing. 
 Janet looked up at her in surprise. 
 
 ' You don't suppose any one would ever 
 dream of comparison ? Of course he knows, 
 we all know that you are first.' She lifted 
 her head and kissed Norma with enthusiasm. 
 
 ' My dear,' said Norma, laughing again, 
 4 you are overflowing with goodwill for every- 
 body, and are ready to whitewash us all.' 
 
 'I should like you to be as happy as I 
 am.' 
 
 1 I am very glad you are happy,' said the 
 elder woman gravely. ' But let me under- 
 stand a little. Is Mr. Eose going to speak to 
 Colonel Somerville ? ' 
 
 4 Oh, yes, he is in a great hurry, and papa 
 will be so surprised ! If he thought anything, 
 he is sure to have thought it was Isabel, and I
 
 202 Paul's sister 
 
 think that was perhaps the reason why he 
 would not allow her to come to-day.' 
 
 ' I hope not,' said Norma startled ; but the 
 girl went on placidly — 
 
 6 Mr. Eose is quite poor, I know, and papa 
 thinks a great deal about Isabel, she is so 
 handsome and clever — quite different from 
 me. It is very wonderful, but it really is 
 lucky it wasn't Isabel.' 
 
 ' Janet, dear, if he is too poor for her, I 
 am afraid he must be too poor for you ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, I think not, because she and I are 
 really not in the same position. But we 
 needn't worry about all that, need we ? It's 
 more than enough to be so supremely happy 
 now.' 
 
 8 Yes,' said Norma, with a slight catch in 
 her breath. After a moment she leant over 
 and kissed the girl again. ' That's quite 
 enough for to-day.' 
 
 ; More than enough. How strange it is
 
 Paul's sister 203 
 
 that it should take such a little time to alter 
 everything ! I couldn't have believed when 
 I got up this morning that a few hours 
 could have brought such a change. Doesn't 
 it strike you as surprising ? ' 
 
 Again Norma agreed. 
 
 8 And people know so little ! I dare say 
 they will all be pitying me, and supposing it 
 to be so very tiresome to have broken one's 
 arm, when really it does not seem worth 
 thinking about. I would break a hundred 
 arms just to have the delight of that moment 
 again. Does it tease vou to listen to me? 
 I should think it must — at least, it would 
 tease other people, who would not be so 
 patient.' 
 
 4 Patience comes as we get older,' said 
 Xorma, smiling faintly. Something in the 
 expression of her face startled Janet. 
 
 ' But I ought not to have talked to you in 
 such a way,' she exclaimed quickly ; ' I should
 
 204 Paul's sister 
 
 have remembered that it must bring back a 
 great deal that is painful. I never thought 
 about it so much before,' she added honestly, 
 4 but now when I know something of what it 
 must be to — to lose any one you love so much, 
 now I do feel how wonderfully good you are 
 to listen, and throw yourself into this sort of 
 thing. Isabel was saying only yesterday, 
 how kind you were to Lucy.' 
 
 ' Kind ? ' asked Norma, drawing herself 
 back a little coldly. 
 
 4 Yes,' said Janet unperceiving. ' You 
 don't mind my saying it, do you ? Lucy very 
 often talks to Isabel — I think she thinks Mr. 
 Lawrence likes her ; at least, she said you 
 fancied so, and she said you were very kind 
 about it. But I know I oughtn't to speak of 
 this. Please don't be vexed.' 
 
 After a moment's silence, Norma said 
 gravely, ' No — it is better not to talk of those 
 things beforehand. I don't believe any one
 
 Paul's sistee 205 
 
 can judge. You thought yourself that Mr. 
 Eose liked Isabel, and suppose — suppose you 
 had decided not to have anything to do with 
 him, because Isabel might have been disap- 
 pointed ? ' 
 
 Janet gave a sigh. < I don't think I could 
 have decided that.' 
 
 Norma pushed the question. ' If you had 
 really thought it serious : ' 
 
 This time the girl looked troubled. ; Do 
 you mean that I ought to have considered 
 Isabel more? But she never said — I don't 
 believe she ever had any fancies about it — it 
 was only papa and I myself — oh. I hope I 
 have not done wrong ! ' 
 
 Norma's hands, which had been nervously 
 locked together, fell listlessly apart. ' It is I 
 who have done wrong,' she said, trying to 
 smile. ' A pretty nurse I have proved my- 
 self, letting you chatter in this manner ! Go 
 to sleep this very moment, and dream of
 
 206 Paul's sister 
 
 your happiness. I shall be in the next room 
 if you should want anything.' 
 
 But Janet detained her. 
 
 8 Tell me first that you don't think that I 
 have been wrong ? ' 
 
 6 There is not the shadow of such a 
 thought in my mind — there could not be. 
 I was only out of curiosity putting the ques- 
 tion of how you would have acted, if things 
 had been different from what they are ; I don't, 
 myself think that even then you would have- 
 had the right to sacrifice Mr. Eose to — to an 
 idea of others, though if he were at all re- 
 sponsible for it, it might have been fair to wait 
 and put his feelings on trial. I am still, you 
 see, merely talking of an imaginary position. 
 You have nothing to do with the question.' 
 
 All this Xorma said in such a clear and 
 distinct voice that it might have been sup- 
 posed she was delivering a deliberate judg- 
 ment. Only in the last words her voice sank
 
 Paul's sister 207 
 
 slightly. The girl looked up at her and 
 smiled. 
 
 ' You have made me perfectly happy 
 acram,' she said. 'How bright your eves 
 are ! I wish you knew how very beautiful 
 your eyes can be ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, yes, I have told you already that we 
 are all transformed just at present," laughed 
 Xorma. ' But I am not going to be flattered 
 into allowing you to talk, and I warn you that 
 unless you are quiet you will have to be shut 
 up so closely to-morrow., that you will hear 
 nothing and see nobody.' 
 
 'Ah, but even then I can think,' sighed 
 Janet in full contentment. 
 
 Xorma went back to her station in the 
 other room, with a mind in which the turmoil 
 was somewhat quieted. It was a judgment 
 which she had delivered — a judgment on her 
 own problem. True, that Janet's position 
 was unlike her own, and the question she had
 
 208 Paul's sister 
 
 almost cruelly forced on her had not been 
 answered in any satisfactory fashion. True, 
 it was Lucy's confidence, the way in which 
 other people seemed to take the attachment 
 for granted, which was now embarrassing her. 
 But Norma's sense of justice came to her aid. 
 If all this was based on an imaginary founda- 
 tion, the happiness of two lives ought not to 
 be sacrificed to it. 
 
 Still, there was a drawback. Lawrence 
 mio-ht not have intended to produce a wrong 
 impression, but somehow or other he had 
 done so — not only with Lucy but with others. 
 And perhaps it was that strong impulse to 
 make atonement which here kept Norma 
 Winyeatt from yielding to the yearning of 
 her heart. If — if Lawrence really loved her 
 and her only, surely a little waiting would 
 not be too great a trial for him to bear. She 
 was o-lad, or she tried to tell herself that she 
 was glad, although she really felt miserable,
 
 Paul's sister 209 
 
 to remember that lie was going away, that 
 she had urged him to go away. This would 
 necessarily cause a little break. Owing to 
 Janet's accident, it was improbable that she 
 would see him before he started, and if he 
 went off without a word to Lucy, would not 
 her eyes be opened ? Then Xorma stirred 
 impatiently. If it had been any one else 
 the whole affair would have seemed absurd ; 
 hardly the most scrupulous person could 
 have been troubled by a girl's mistaken fancy 
 that she was the object of attraction. But 
 then, she was not only a girl, she was Paul's 
 sister, and, oh ! more than ever, Xorma felt 
 the longing to do something for Paul burn 
 within her. As his wife she had fallen so 
 short, had ^iven him so little ! — now that an 
 opportunity offered to efface herself was she 
 again thinking only of her own happiness ? 
 Lawrence would have certainly told her that 
 there was his as well, but as yet he had not 
 vol. i. P
 
 210 taul's sister 
 
 told her ; the opportunity had been snatched 
 from him before he could use it, and she had 
 not the strength of spoken words upon which 
 to fall back. Her heart was restless and un- 
 easy ; she constantly told herself that what she 
 wanted was time — time to judge, time to see, 
 time to balance.
 
 QMmmm 
 
 CHAPTER YUI. 
 
 Poor silly soul, whose hope and head lies low ; 
 Hark and beware, lest what you now do measure 
 And write for sweet, prove a most sour displeasure. 
 
 Geoege Heebeet. 
 
 IE IF so long a word for a small matter 
 |Hj is permitted, it may be said that 
 ^^ the four who returned that after- 
 noon to Dover were in a thorough state of 
 disintegration. Mr. Piose, who was a fair 
 young man, and shy, sought solitude, and 
 reflected desperately upon Janet's sufferings ; 
 Lawrence was unmistakably irritated ; Lucy 
 did not care to waste her conversation upon 
 Miss Ellison, and Miss Ellison felt the greatest 
 disinclination to talk to Lucy before it 
 
 p 2
 
 212 paul's sister 
 
 became necessary, which, as she had promised 
 Mrs. Winyeatt to go to her house during her 
 stay at Calais, it must soon be. Even Agnes, 
 who kept close to Miss Ellison, was disposed 
 to be tearful, and preferred silence. When 
 they had landed, Mr. Lawrence partly re- 
 covered himself, and offered to walk home 
 with Lucy and the little girl, while Miss 
 Ellison and Mr. Eose went off to the Somer- 
 ville's, to tell them what had happened. 
 
 ' I am very sorry,' said Lucy, in a voice as 
 subdued as if the accident had been one of 
 her own causing. 
 
 ' Yes. Things have fallen out very un- 
 fortunately,' said Lawrence moodily, and it 
 
 must at once be acknowledged that it was 
 
 «— > 
 
 not pity for Janet, but vexation that her mis- 
 fortunes should have arrived at such an 
 inconvenient moment, which produced the 
 remark. 
 
 ' Poor Janet ! ' said Lucy, still subdued.
 
 Paul's sister 213 
 
 1 Poor Mrs. Winyeatt too ! It must be a 
 horrid nuisance to be shut up in a hole like 
 that.' 
 
 Agnes, who had gone round to Ins side, 
 slipped her hand softly into his at this 
 remark. 
 
 ' It teas good of her to stay,' observed 
 Lucy ; ' I was surprised. Miss Ellison seemed 
 much more appropriate, and I know she 
 offered. I wonder Norma did not agree.' 
 
 To this he made no answer. 
 
 6 Perhaps she will be rewarded, after all. 
 I don't think it is quite such a hole as you 
 think, and she gets out of one or two stupid 
 engagements here, and I am sure she will be 
 the better for a holiday from some of her 
 many good works. I wish you would tell 
 her when you see her, Mr. Lawrence, that 
 she really ought not to work so hard. She 
 will get into a groove from which nothing 
 will move her.'
 
 214 
 
 ' I have no influence with Mrs. Winyeatt, 
 said Lawrence coldly. 
 
 1 But indeed you have,' Lucy returned 
 gravely. ' I know from what she has often 
 said to me that she values your advice and 
 judgment very highly ' — then, as he looked 
 gratefully and eagerly at her, she added 
 softly — ' for Paul's sake.' 
 
 He became silent again, then — 
 
 ' That seems to be the only side on which 
 one can approach Mrs. Winyeatt.' 
 
 ' Yes, it counts for a great deal,' said Lucy 
 with what he felt to be significance. ' I think 
 I have told you that before.' 
 
 ' And I doubted.' 
 
 ' Do you still doubt ? ' 
 
 ' It's unnatural,' he replied angrily. ' Life 
 goes on, and new interests might be permitted 
 to have their place.' 
 
 ' Well,' she said, shrugging her shoulders, 
 ' you may believe me or not, but — you will see.'
 
 215 
 
 And she knew very well that he was 
 already half-convinced. 
 
 When they reached the gate of the garden 
 in front of their house, Lawrence prepared to 
 take his leave. 
 
 1 Aren't you coming in ? ' said Agnes 
 mournfully. ' It's so horrid without mother 
 — you might just as well.' 
 
 1 Ah, Agnes, you and I will have to live 
 a life of seclusion until Miss Ellison comes 
 and mounts guard,' said the girl with a 
 laugh. 
 
 1 What shall you do to-morrow ? Shall 
 you go across in the steamer?' asked Mr. 
 Lawrence unheeding. Lucy opened her 
 eyes. 
 
 ' To-morrow ? Oh, no ! I dare say Colonel 
 Somerville or Isabel will go ; perhaps Isabel 
 may attempt to persuade Xorma to come back, 
 though I doubt her succeeding.' 
 
 ' Well,' he said, 'I think I shall run over
 
 216 paul's sister 
 
 by the first boat and see how they're getting 
 on.' Agnes was swinging open the gate, and 
 he added in a low voice : ' You think me a 
 fool, I see.' 
 
 ' No, no,' she returned, with a smile that 
 was a little forced. ' I only discover that 
 you are not one to be easily persuaded. But 
 if you do go, tell Norma not to worry herself 
 about us, that we shall do perfectly well, and — 
 I shall send her things across. Oh, I suppose 
 they will be in the boat with you ? ' 
 
 6 1 can take charge of them, of course,' he 
 said with prompt eagerness. 'If you will 
 allow it, I will drive here to-morrow morning, 
 and pick them up. Then if there is anything 
 you want to send which requires careful 
 handling, I'll undertake it. I dare say she'll 
 be glad of books and things.' 
 
 When he had left them, Lucy walked 
 slowly into the house, and sat down in her 
 own room without attempting to take off her
 
 Paul's sister 217 
 
 things. Much that she had gone through 
 that day she had found galling, but with it 
 all there was mingled a foretaste of coming 
 triumph. In her dealings with Mr. Lawrence 
 she had repressed much that she would have 
 liked to have said, or even hinted ; she was 
 very anxious that he should regard her as 
 Xorma's closest, most intimate friend, one 
 who would be completely in her confidence. 
 Xo doubt she had succeeded in producing 
 this impression, and it was not nearly so 
 difficult with a man as with a woman, who 
 would have read her as Xorina had. But, as 
 has been said, it had cost her something. 
 Sharp things often all but darted forth ; she 
 would have greatly enjoyed an occasional 
 stinging remark, and dared not utter it ; and, 
 above all, it was hateful to her to wait in 
 passive patience while George Lawrence was 
 alone with Xorma, as he had been that day, 
 as he would be to-morrow. Lucy, with her
 
 218 Paul's sister 
 
 elbows on the arms of the chair, laced her 
 white fingers across her forehead, and pondered 
 with all her might as to whether she could 
 have followed any other course. 'Norma,' 
 she thought, ' may after all take an unexpected 
 line — one is never certain with these impul- 
 sive people. If once he could impress upon 
 her the sense that he felt himself ill-used, that 
 he required compensation for something or 
 other, she would give in — I know she would. 
 And I cannot imagine a worse position for me 
 than to lose my home and everything. No, no, 
 my dear sister, I can't afford it, it's asking too 
 much ; you must wait until I am married 
 myself, and then — then I'll help you to the 
 utmost of my power ; I'll be ever so nice to 
 you ! And I don't see that I could have clone 
 better for my purpose. Something must be 
 risked ; so far he doesn't seem to have been 
 particularly successful. If lie could have gone 
 away without seeing her again, the chances
 
 Paul's sister 219 
 
 would have been better ; but as it is they are 
 not bad, and I believe Xorma will justify my 
 confidence.' She brought herself up with a 
 laugh. 
 
 Neither Miss Ellison nor Agnes had ever 
 found Lucy so agreeable as she made her- 
 self that evening. She was clever in house- 
 hold matters, cleverer than Mrs. Winyeatt, 
 although she hated trouble, and was glad that 
 other people should take it off her hands. But 
 she could give orders with excellent effect. 
 
 'I ought really to go home and explain 
 what has to be done,' said Miss Ellison sleepily, 
 ' but this chair, and the reading-lamp, and the 
 last magazine have demoralised me. I shall 
 stay here.' 
 
 ' Do,' said Lucy eagerly. ' You are a very 
 early person, and can start as soon as you like 
 in the morning.' 
 
 ' So I can,' murmured Miss Ellison, on 
 the very verge of a nap. There just flitted
 
 220 Paul's sister 
 
 through her brain the conviction that Lucy 
 would be late for breakfast the next morning, 
 and then she fell sound asleep. 
 
 But there was no lack of punctuality. At 
 half-past eight, the hour Miss Ellison loved, 
 and to which even Norma refused to conform, 
 here was Lucy, smiling ; here were steaming 
 coffee, and hot rolls, and brown-bread scones, 
 and fresh eggs, and all the alluring things 
 which her visitor could desire. Miss Ellison, 
 seized with the remorse for the previous 
 evening which an energetic person feels when 
 they have idled away an hour, jumped up 
 when she had breakfasted. 
 
 ' I must go at once ; I have a hundred and 
 fifty things to arrange, and I suppose you 
 will be sending off poor dear Norma's box ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I have settled all that.' 
 
 ' Already ? I shall begin to think I have 
 never done you justice ! ' said Miss Ellison 
 with a lauffh.
 
 Paul's sister 221 
 
 c Ah. I shall make you own it before I've 
 done with you,' Lucy returned immediately. 
 
 4 The box is go ' began Agnes in her 
 
 measured voice, but Lucy caught her up. 
 
 1 Don't let us keep Miss Ellison ; we will 
 explain it all by-and-by.' 
 
 When the other had gone, Lucy despatched 
 her niece to the schoolroom, to wait there for 
 the daily governess ; next she ran upstairs, 
 moved the flowers about, dragged out photo- 
 graphs, and hurriedly disposed a few draperies 
 which she brought from her own room. ' He 
 shall notice the difference,' she said. Then, as 
 she heard a carriage drive up, she caught up 
 a work upon art and seated herself in a low 
 chair by the window. The whole effect as he 
 came in was pleasant, and so he felt it. 
 
 ' Sit down, won't you ? ' she said, pointing 
 to another chair ; ' you have plenty of time.' 
 
 1 Yes,' he repeated, a little dully, ' I have 
 plenty of time. I thought I might venture to
 
 222 . 
 
 ask your servant to put Mrs. Winyeatt's things 
 in the fly, and my man will go with them to 
 the steamer.' 
 
 ' And you will walk ? That is a much 
 nicer plan.' 
 
 ' I am sorry to say I can't go at all. You 
 may remember that yesterday I spoke of the 
 possibility — the probability — of my having to 
 leave this place ? ' 
 
 'Yes, indeed I remember,' she returned 
 earnestly. 'You know that I begged you not 
 to put an end to — to our pleasant days.' 
 
 ' I know you said that,' he answered with 
 a touch of bitterness. He was not thinking 
 of Lucy, but of Norma, whose advice had been 
 
 so different. ' I know However, when I 
 
 spoke to you, I looked upon it as an open 
 question, a mere matter of chance. I am 
 sorry to say it has ceased to be only that ; it 
 has become a necessity.' 
 
 ' I am very sorry,' said Lucy in a low
 
 Paul's sister 22 
 
 _-j 
 
 voice. If he had looked at her he would have 
 seen a light in her eyes which was not sorrow. 
 She added immediately, ' I am half afraid it 
 may be a disagreeable necessity.' 
 
 ' Only too disagreeable.' 
 
 She hesitated. ; There is no use in my 
 saying anything against it, is there?' she then 
 demanded. ' You have got your most deter- 
 mined face on, and would pay no attention at 
 all to what I might sav.' 
 
 4 I am most grateful to you for wishing to 
 help me,' he returned, bringing his thoughts 
 back with an effort. ' Dout think me pig- 
 headed, because — well, I have no choice in 
 the matter ; simply I must go, and at once.' 
 
 ' Do you mean to-day P ' 
 
 8 Indeed I do : otherwise I could have run 
 across this morning, as we arranged last 
 evening, and have just satisfied myself that 
 Mrs. Winyeatt was well, and in need of 
 nothing. But I have to be off in an hour.'
 
 224 PAUL'S SISTER 
 
 She turned away her head. ' That is 
 dreadfully sudden.' 
 
 'Don't make it harder for me,' he said 
 with a smile, getting up and standing by the 
 window. ' You can't imagine what a wrench 
 I feel it to be. However, it is useless to talk 
 about one's feelings ; they interest no one but 
 oneself, but I wanted to ask you to say good-bye 
 to Mrs. Winyeatt for me, and to assure her ' — 
 he hesitated — ' that I shall not forget the kind- 
 ness she has shown to me since that lucky 
 afternoon when we met on the pier. It teas 
 a lucky afternoon, I hope ? ' he added with a 
 laugh. 
 
 ' Oh,' said Lucy cordially, c I think it was 
 exceedingly lucky. What good times we have 
 had ever since you came ! And how very 
 flat we shall be when you are gone ! ' 
 
 ' Are you going to send me off in good 
 spirits, after all ? ' he asked, still laughing. 
 ' I wish I could think I should be missed.'
 
 PAULS SISTER 225 
 
 ; I can answer for myself as to the missing.' 
 
 He looked as if he would have preferred 
 her answering for some one else, but Lucy had 
 a clever facility for avoiding looks which told 
 too plainly what she did not want to know. 
 
 'Well, good-bye,' he said, stretching out 
 his hand, ' good-bye ; I trust to you to make 
 my explanations to Mrs. Winyeatt. I suppose 
 it would be asking too much, but — it seems a 
 little hard to hear no more about poor Miss 
 Somerville or — any one.' 
 
 ' Oh, 111 write ; I'll certainly write,' pro- 
 mised Lucy. 
 
 • Will you ? ' he said gladly ; ' that will be 
 uncommonly good of you ; and you will 
 know exactly what I shall want to know. 
 I'll give you my address this moment.' 
 
 He wrote something on a card and save 
 it to her. 
 
 • Marlham,' she remarked, reading it. 
 ' Aren't you near King's Ferry ? ' 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 22G Paul's sister 
 
 6 Very near. Not four miles away.' 
 
 ' Perhaps I shall see you some day. I've 
 a friend living there.' 
 
 1 That's excellent news,' he said with 
 warmth. 'It's a part of the country you 
 ought to know. Pray look up your friend, 
 and then, either here or there, I hope we 
 may soon meet again. You'll remember my 
 message ? ' 
 
 He was gone without leaving Lucy much 
 to feed upon, catching Agnes on his way 
 downstairs, and breaking her heart with the 
 news of his departure. The child's grief 
 touched him greatly ; as he thought about it 
 on his way to London, it seemed the most 
 comforting reflection that he carried away 
 with him, for it was certain that Agnes loved 
 him very dearly, and to be loved by Agnes 
 seemed to bring him a step nearer to Xorma. 
 
 He had to cross London and to catch a 
 west country express, so that his journey
 
 Paul's sister 227 
 
 occupied many hours, and lie had ample time 
 to bestow upon two subjects which in dif- 
 ferent degrees engrossed him. One was 
 connected with the letter which he had that 
 morning received, the letter which was 
 calling him away. It was from his mother, 
 and he frequently took it out of his pocket, 
 and referred to it, each time with a growing 
 uneasiness. 
 
 This was what it said : 
 
 ' Dear George, — I do very much wish you 
 would come at once, for if you don't I am 
 quite certain your father will do something 
 outrageously silly ; indeed, I cannot be at all 
 sure that he hasn't done it already. He looks 
 thoroughly ashamed of himself; while as for 
 Tim, he puts on that deprecatory air of general 
 benevolence which always means that he is 
 making more of a fool of himself than usual. 
 If your father would only listen to me ! But, 
 
 Q2
 
 228 paul's sister 
 
 as I tell him, he is bent upon taking up his 
 abode in the poorhouse, and dragging us all 
 after him. Nelly would trot out the chestnut 
 mare, against my advice, before she was fit to 
 leave the stable ; consequently she is ill, and 
 as Tim is doctoring her, there is every 
 probability that she will die. I must urge 
 you once more to come, and come quickly, 
 and I only hope you may not already be too 
 late to save something out of the wreck. — 
 Your affectionate Mother.' 
 
 It was difficult to judge whether Mrs. 
 Lawrence had serious grounds for her alarm, 
 or whether it had grown out of various 
 minute failures on the part of her husband to 
 be guided implicitly by her advice. His son 
 knew that there were times when he appeared 
 to be goaded by a sudden impulse into in- 
 dependent action, when his whole nature 
 seemed to rise up in rebellion against the
 
 Paul's sister 229 
 
 common sense which she directed upon him 
 like a constant cold douche. It must be 
 owned that George Lawrence was not un- 
 sympathetic towards these outbreaks ; what 
 made them dangerous was the presence of 
 Major Macarthy, a sweet-tempered man whom 
 every one except Mrs. Lawrence loved, who had 
 thrown away one or two fortunes in the pursuit 
 of visionary schemes, without ever losing his 
 undaunted faith in each fresh idea ; and having 
 ruined his own fortune, was as desirous as 
 ever to make that of any one who would listen 
 to him. Mr. Lawrence listened too readily, 
 partly from love for Tim, partly from a secret 
 resemblance in character, and partly from a 
 burning desire to prove to Mrs. Lawrence 
 that she was not alwavs in the right. When, 
 as generally happened, she triumphantly 
 proved that she was, it appeared to have no 
 more useful effect — during these dangerous 
 times — than to give her husband a yet
 
 230 Paul's sister 
 
 stronger impetus to establish the contrary. 
 He struck out quite wildly on such occasions, 
 and the only person to restrain him was his 
 son. Unfortunately, his son was a good 
 deal away — it might be said was very little 
 at home. He was fond of the old rectory, 
 when at a distance from it he was really 
 very fond, but to live there seemed one 
 of those sheer impossibilities which he could 
 not be called upon to undertake — a buried 
 existence which was not to be contemplated 
 without a shudder. Just now, too, it appeared 
 to him to be farther away from everything 
 than ever ; his thoughts wandered back to the 
 place he had left, and to Norma, upon whom 
 they were accustomed to fasten themselves. 
 
 Somehow, now that he was away from 
 her, the very little characteristics at which he 
 had been disposed to be amused took a certain 
 tender dignity. He had smiled, at first, as he 
 noticed the determination with which she kept
 
 Paul's sister 231 
 
 under control those impulsive enthusiasms 
 of hers, which when he first knew her had 
 threatened to engross her life. That she 
 should refuse to surround herself with what 
 she most desired, resist the longing to live 
 abroad, choose hard yet commonplace work 
 such as she would once have shrunk from, 
 surely there was something more in this than 
 a woman's weakness ? In old days she had 
 been charming, but charming in spite of 
 wilfulness and self-pleasing, now — he began 
 to measure his own life by hers. It had been, 
 he knew, free from what others would blame, 
 and he had been a sufficiently good friend and 
 kind acquaintance to carry hia conscience 
 comfortably about with him ; but so far as 
 turning his back upon anything harmless 
 which he thought likely to conduce to his 
 ease or pleasure, or depriving himself of a 
 luxury for which he could honestly pay, the 
 idea would not have entered his head. He
 
 232 Paul's sister 
 
 could appreciate self-sacrifice in the larger 
 matters of life and death — in martyrdoms or 
 forlorn hopes, or such like ; self-denial he was 
 inclined to treat as something morbid or 
 feminine, and he would have liked gently to 
 draw Norma out of hers. 
 
 But it was the first time in which he had 
 ever contrasted their lives, and he certainly 
 could not be sure that his was the most heroic 
 figure. Looking round upon his first-class 
 carriage, and all the comforts which he had 
 taken some pains to enjoy alone — remembering 
 his man in another carriage, and the many 
 provisions that he should encounter no incon- 
 veniences which might be avoided — he began 
 to wonder whether, after all, such padding of 
 the roughnesses of life might not be even 
 somewhat despicable. It was not, of course, 
 that he would not have faced them had they 
 been inevitable, faced them, or worse, with the 
 unfailing pluck of his countrymen, but that
 
 PAULS SISTER loo 
 
 he had got into the way of treating himself as 
 a being to -whom was due whatever good 
 things life could provide for him ; whether he 
 should take them or not had not ever been 
 the question. Xow he began to feel that to 
 Norma they might look almost absurdly 
 superfluous ; that she might not improbably 
 feel contempt for them, and some sensation 
 of contempt awoke in his own mind with the 
 thought. He pooh-poohed it, but it returned. 
 One of his provisions had been to telegraph 
 his expected arrival, and to desire that the 
 dog-cart might meet him at the station. It 
 was not there, and he was turning in his mind 
 the other approach to his home, which was by 
 means of the steamer which would presently 
 go down the river, when he saw the dog-cart 
 coming at a rapid pace towards him, driven by 
 a young lady in whom he recognised his sister. 
 She waved her whip in token of greeting, and 
 pulled up the cob in very good style.
 
 234 Paul's sister 
 
 ' There ! ' she said, stretching out her hand 
 without leaving the cart, 4 that wasn't bad, 
 considering the state of the roads — four miles 
 in twenty-eight minutes. Uncle Tim offered 
 to bet a pair of gloves I shouldn't do it in the 
 half-hour. You can put in your portmanteau, 
 George, but if you have any more luggage it 
 must come in the carrier's cart.' 
 
 Lawrence had a sudden remembrance that 
 when he was a boy, and his sister a toddling 
 little creature of three or four, she used to go 
 by the name of Miss Masterful. He laughed. 
 
 ' I have got a few other things, and Bailey 
 shall take them out in a fly.' 
 
 Nelly lifted her eyebrows. 
 
 'As you like. But the other does just as 
 well, and costs heaps less. Well, jump in.' 
 
 ' Will you drive ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, I always drive,' she answered without 
 hesitation. And the next minute they were 
 spinning along towards the town.
 
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 -' V if if if if if >f if if if if if if if if if if if if iv if if if if if if if if if if if i-">^ 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 What a careless, even deportment bath your borrower ! 
 What contempt for money, accounting it (yours and mine 
 especially) no better than dross ! — Charles Lamb. 
 
 ^ffjE get along, don't we ? ' demanded 
 Miss Lawrence cheerfully. They 
 had, indeed, gone down the street 
 of the old town at a rattling pace, leaving the 
 Castle behind them, and soon finding them- 
 selves on the level of the river, having reached 
 which point they bore to the right, and imme- 
 diately plunged into such a labyrinth of green 
 lanes, running up and down in apparent sheer 
 wantonness of will, as might well have
 
 236 Paul's stster 
 
 appeared to a stranger hopeless. Lawrence, 
 however, had known them from childhood. 
 He was thoroughly familiar with their tangled 
 intricacy — knew the warm red of the banks ; 
 the over-arch of the trees ; the scattered 
 cottages, thatched, with great chimneys run- 
 ning up from the ground outside, and a 
 wealth of flowers in their gardens ; the break 
 in the hedges from gate or dip, over which 
 you might look at the beautiful river flow- 
 ing down to the sea between heron-haunted 
 sedges. The familiar points came back to 
 him with a newer and keener pleasure than 
 he had expected. He laid his hand on the 
 reins. 
 
 ' Hold hard, Nell, and give me time to 
 look round. There's no such tremendous 
 hurry, is there ? ' 
 
 ' I want to be back within the hour,' she 
 said, slackening the pace reluctantly. £ I 
 know there's more to be got out of the cob
 
 Paul's sister 237 
 
 than Uncle Tim admits. You see, since the 
 chestnut mare's been laid up, I've had to take 
 to him a good deal, and, I give you my word, 
 he's a different animal. He just wanted 
 waking up.' 
 
 1 He's had enough of it for to-day,' said 
 Lawrence coolly, ' and you can do what 
 you like with him to-morrow. I want to 
 hear something about home matters. My 
 mother's letter has brought me down ; she 
 seems to be afraid that my father may have 
 rushed again into some unfortunate specula- 
 tion?' 
 
 6 Yes, mother's in a way, but then she's 
 always in a way about Uncle Tim. I dare say 
 he is rather wild in his advice, still he's 
 always got a whole heap of good reasons for 
 what he does, and he's so jolly and good- 
 tempered. I know the house seems a 
 different place when he's here.' 
 
 'I suppose you do find it rather slow,'
 
 238 Paul's sister 
 
 answered Lawrence, conscious of a small pang 
 of remorse. 
 
 ' No, I don't.' 
 
 ' What do you do, then ? ' 
 
 ' There's heaps to do. Fish and ride, and 
 coach the boys in cricket.' 
 
 'What boys?' 
 
 ' Why the village boys, of course. Some 
 of them were the most awful duffers, but 
 Uncle Tim is licking them into shape.' 
 
 Lawrence did not look very sympathetic, 
 and Nelly relapsed into silence, and took off a 
 fly with her whip. 
 
 4 1 suppose there are people — neighbours 
 about ? ' he said presently. 
 
 ' Well, of course. And you must know 
 who they are.' 
 
 6 Do I ? ' he said, smiling at the severity of 
 her tone. ' I didn't know but that somebody 
 new might have turned up, Nell, since I was 
 here. Yes, I remember the Terrys and Hum-
 
 Paul's sister 239 
 
 phreys and Percivals and old Miss Cholniley 
 — is there any one else ? What of the King's 
 Ferry people ? Don't you get any going out ? ' 
 
 4 Who wants it ? ' returned the girl scorn- 
 fully. ' I'm not going to their stupid garden 
 parties, where a lot of women stand about, 
 looking like ' — she turned upon him with a 
 sudden frank smile which brightened her face 
 wonderfully — ' you don't know what fools 
 they look ! ' 
 
 ' That isn't a necessary part of the enter- 
 tainment, though, is it ? ' he inquired with a 
 laugh. 
 
 ' I don't see how they can do anything 
 else. I've tried it.' She spoke with the air 
 of one who had for ever disposed of the sub- 
 ject, and the next moment had pulled up the 
 cob, and was looking eagerly over a gap in the 
 hedge. The river here, green-grey in colour, 
 was on the point of making one of its most 
 beautiful curves, low richly wooded banks
 
 240 PAUL'S SISTER 
 
 stooped over it, three or four cottages, thatched 
 and bright with flowers like the others, nestled 
 close to the water's edge, and rich brown nets 
 were hanging high to dry. 
 
 6 Yes, that's worth looking at,' said 
 Lawrence. 
 
 She glanced at him impatiently. ' What ? 
 The view ? I didn't stop for that. Do you see 
 the salmon boats — a long line close in to the 
 shore ? I wish I was down there. They've 
 been having the most splendid catches. One 
 boat got thirty fish the other day. Wasn't 
 that something like ? ' 
 
 'Very good for the fishermen, but I 
 shouldn't care much about it myself, looked 
 at as sport.' 
 
 4 You must take what you can,' said the 
 girl gloomily. She whipped up the cob, and 
 sent him up and down hill at a pace which 
 allowed no more than rapid glances at the 
 smiling scenery. Lawrence put further ques-
 
 241 
 
 tions about his father, which she answered 
 curtly. He was well. He walked about as 
 usual. He had talked of a curate, but she 
 was thankful to say had given up the idea. 
 Uncle Tim had been there some time, had 
 tamed two robins, which followed him all 
 over the garden. Had promised to get her a 
 fox cub. Mother wasn't very strong. The 
 servants were the same — of course. Then 
 they came upon two boys carrying a salmon 
 between them. Nelly pulled up, questioned 
 them eagerly, and bought the salmon. She 
 looked at her brother, evidently expecting him 
 to carry it. He shook his head. 
 
 ; Thank you — no. Stuff it in behind.' 
 
 1 And let it knock about ? Xo, indeed. 
 Jack, gather some grass and leaves in the 
 hedge, and lay it here at our feet. I suppose 
 you can see to it ? ' to George. 
 
 ' I'll try. I'll answer for smelling it. 
 However, it isn't far from home.' 
 
 vol. i. E
 
 242 PAUL'S SISTER 
 
 ' Uncle Tim would have carried it,' 
 remarked Nelly promptly. 
 
 ' My stock of virtues is not the same as 
 his.' 
 
 ' No. I don't think you're likely to be so 
 nice.' 
 
 ' Won't you allow for a variety in species ? ' 
 asked Lawrence thoughtfully. ' There are 
 people who don't shine upon you all at once. 
 I'm one of them ; and you may find me 
 developing in all sorts of unexpected ways. 
 Own that it would be dull if I were Uncle 
 Tim's double.' 
 
 To this his sister deigned no reply. The 
 cottages thickened, and presently the dog- 
 cart climbed a steep street, surmounted by 
 a church of which the handsome tower had 
 for some time been visible. Here, at the 
 lych-gate, the road forked, and taking the 
 hill to the right, Nelly drove on until she 
 reached a shrubbery, of which the gate was
 
 PAUL'S SISTER 243 
 
 posted only half open. She immediately cried 
 out — 
 
 1 That's to delay me ! How wicked of 
 Uncle Tim ! ' 
 
 1 Let me get out,' said her brother. 
 
 1 No. I can do it — I will do it. Now that 
 we've lost all that time it doesn't really matter, 
 but I'm not going to let him think he has 
 succeeded. Quiet, old man ! There isn't 
 much room to spare. Through, without a 
 touch ! ' she cried triumphantly. ' Xot bad, 
 was it ? ' 
 
 She was too much absorbed in her own 
 glee to require the congratulations she asked 
 for, and Lawrence was not much disposed to 
 bestow them. They drove through a short 
 shrubbery towards the side of a low house, 
 built of grey stone, without more adornment 
 than that which freely bestowed itself in the 
 form of climbing plants. These, clambering 
 about it with the generous growth of many
 
 244 
 
 years, redeemed it from the absolute ugliness 
 which the square windows and dingy colour- 
 ing would otherwise have offered to the eye. 
 The beds in the grass-plot in front, though 
 not very carefully trimmed, were brilliant in 
 colouring, and in the gentleman who came 
 towards them, with a long hoe in his hands, 
 George Lawrence, though he had not seen him 
 for many years, had no difficulty in recog- 
 nising Major Macarthy. He was tall, slender, 
 slightly stooping and high- shouldered, with 
 light hair and blue eyes, and, what imme- 
 diately struck his nephew as something which 
 he remembered impressing him in old days, 
 when his impressions were less apt to clothe 
 themselves in definite words — the gayest smile 
 he had ever seen on a man's face. To have 
 kept such a smile through the wear and tear 
 of life seemed almost miraculous. 
 
 ' He will ruin us all, if he does it, with the 
 sweetest nature in the world,' said Lawrence
 
 PAULS SISTER 245 
 
 to himself as he found himself standing before 
 Major Macarthy, and greeted with a warmth 
 which was unmistakably genuine. 
 
 8 I began to think I was never to see you 
 again, my dear boy ! ' — wringing his hands. 
 8 It's lucky indeed that I hadn't taken myself 
 off last week, and so lost this look of you. 
 Your mother's got a cold, I'm sorry to say, but 
 the parson's about somewhere. Henry ! Hi ! 
 Henry ! — never mind, he'll be round in a 
 minute, he's sure to be on the look out, for 
 according to Xell, she was to have brought 
 you here ten minutes ago. Just ten minutes, 
 Nell. Come, out with the gloves ! ' 
 
 8 I didn't bet, as you know very well, and 
 I should have been here a quarter of an hour 
 ago — yes, in spite of your gate. I drove in, all 
 the same ! ' 
 
 8 You didn't ! ' 
 
 8 1 did. Go and look ; it hasn't been 
 moved a quarter of an inch.'
 
 246 paul's sister 
 
 8 Honour bright ? ' 
 
 ' Honour bright. Ask George.' 
 
 ' Upon my soul that's pretty driving, and 
 I'll forgive you the gloves this time.' 
 
 ' As I tell you, I should have been up to 
 time, only George would make me slacken the 
 pace. He wanted to stare over every stile,' 
 cried the girl impatiently. 
 
 'Well, take your wonderful beast round. 
 As I've told you already, you're forgiven. 
 And if you see your father, let him know 
 that George is here.' 
 
 ' My mother has a cold, you say ? I'll go 
 and find her,' said Lawrence, running up the 
 two or three steps to the front door. 
 
 ' In the study,' the major called after him. 
 4 I'll hunt up your father.' 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence, a thin woman, with a 
 sensible face and an anxious expression, 
 turned from the window as her son came in. 
 
 ' I heard the wheels, but I knew your
 
 PAULS ULSTER 247 
 
 uncle would get hold of you the first. I only 
 wonder you got away. My dear boy, I arn 
 so thankful you have come ! ' 
 
 ' 1 suspect I ought to have come before.' 
 
 1 Well, you were wanted, but of course 
 you could not be expected to bury yourself 
 in these solitudes. There are plenty of other 
 things for you to do ; 
 
 He stopped her with a gesture. 
 
 ' I have come to the conclusion that my 
 principal aim in life has been my own enter- 
 tainment. There really was no reason why I 
 should not have been here.' 
 
 His mother made no attempt to disprove 
 this assertion. She had kissed him, and was 
 now sitting in a round oak chair which stood 
 before her husband's writing-table. She was 
 looking down, and the side light striking 
 through a western window accentuated the 
 fine network of lines which seemed to have 
 taken possession of her pale face.
 
 248 paul's sister 
 
 4 1 have been very uneasy,' she said. 
 
 ; So I gathered. Still I can't think my 
 father would have done anything prodigiously 
 rash against your expressed wishes.' 
 
 ' You don't know, you don't know ! When 
 those two put their heads together, there's no 
 folly they'll not commit. The sight of your 
 uncle makes me shiver.' 
 
 6 And yet all the mischief he does is done 
 with the utmost innocence of heart, with the 
 good intentions of a delightful child,' Law- 
 rence hazarded. 
 
 ' Don't I know it ? ' said Mrs. Lawrence 
 bitterly. ' Don't I know too well the sort of 
 irresponsible way which people find charm- 
 ing ? There isn't a person in the house who 
 isn't ready to adore him. I stand absolutely 
 alone. Nelly — Nelly is a sensible girl, though 
 too independent, too much bent upon being 
 unconventional. Well, I assure you, that if I 
 were to tell Nelly to-morrow morning that we
 
 paul*s sister 219 
 
 were ruined, and that through her uncle's in- 
 strumentality, all she would say would be, 
 u Poor Uncle Tim ! I do hope hell never hear 
 of it." Xo one ever blames him. We all 
 suffer, but no one blames him.* 
 
 4 He suffers himself, though ' began 
 
 Lawrence, but his mother interrupted him. 
 
 1 He has lost his own money through his 
 insane love for speculation, and now his great 
 delight is to play with other people's. That 
 does just as well. Oh, it's madness, of course,' 
 she exclaimed impatiently, 'but it seems to 
 me that madness is just as dangerous as 
 wickedness.' 
 
 1 For other people I don't know but what 
 it is,' agreed her son, ' only it offers a saving 
 clause for one's own soul. Do you mean to 
 say that my father is swept away by this 
 benevolent whirlwind F ' 
 
 ' Your father is so obstinate, he will never 
 allow that he can be in the wronsr. I talk
 
 250 paul's sister 
 
 and talk — I may as well talk to a stone wall. 
 Your father is a perfect baby in money 
 matters. If I didn't keep tlie accounts, what 
 state do you think the parish would be in? 
 You must insist upon taking matters into your 
 own hands.' 
 
 ' How am I to do that if he will not allow 
 that he has made a mistake ?' 
 
 ' Oh, you must insist,' repeated Mrs. Law- 
 rence with ready inconsequence. 'I am sure 
 I don't know, but I suppose he will allow that 
 his only son should have something to say 
 to the matter. I am truly thankful, George, 
 that you have money of your own ; we may 
 all live to be thankful for it.' 
 
 ' Yes, it's a mercy I haven't a passion for 
 playing with ducks and drakes.' 
 
 4 You've had travel and outlets for your ener- 
 gies, while your father stays here from year's 
 end to year's end. A man requires some sort 
 of excitement in his life,' said Mrs. Lawrence,
 
 Paul's sister 251 
 
 quick to defend. But her son was not listen- 
 ing. 
 
 4 Do you think anything has actually been 
 done P ' he asked. 
 
 4 1 am afraid so. I can't get the money 
 that is wanted, and your father keeps on com- 
 plaining about bad times. Of course the 
 fields let badly, but that wouldn't be enough 
 to affect our living.' 
 
 'And what do you suspect has hap- 
 pened ? ' 
 
 Her fingers played nervously on the arm 
 of her chair. 
 
 4 1 am kept in ignorance. Your father 
 knows that I detest speculation ; indeed I think 
 for a poor man it is positively wicked. But 
 I greatly fear that, at your uncle's instigation, 
 he has removed a large sum of money which 
 was invested in Queensland bonds, and has 
 flung it into some harbour works. I remem- 
 ber, when your uncle was here six months
 
 252 paul's sister 
 
 ago, lie was raving about the advantages of 
 this harbour. It was to swallow up all the 
 trade in England, I know.' She added scorn- 
 fully, ' I don't doubt its capacities for swal- 
 lowing.' 
 
 'Not the Stenson harbour, was it?' 
 
 'Yes. That was the name. Is it very 
 bad?' 
 
 Lawrence was silent. ' I don't know much 
 about it,' he said at last. 
 
 ' You know enough, anyway,' said his 
 mother, who had been eyeing him. ' However, 
 I've never had any actual doubt. What we 
 have to light now is against more being flung 
 after this.' 
 
 ' I should think my father would have had 
 enough for one year,' said the young man 
 gravely. 
 
 ' Ah, you don't know your uncle,' she re- 
 turned ; ' he has never had enough ; loss and 
 failure have no more effect upon him than '
 
 PAULS SISTER 253 
 
 'Hilliho! Where's George? George! 
 Here you are, my boy ! Glad you're come at 
 last ; your mother's been fretting after you. 
 I told her you were safe to turn up by-and-bv, 
 but she's got a way of fussing herself — doesn't 
 take life easy, I tell her. Well, and how are 
 you ? ' 
 
 Mr. Lawrence was middle-sized, neither 
 tall nor short, neither stout nor thin, with a 
 complexion which was like one of the apples 
 of his orchard, bushy eyebrows, and a square 
 chin. His son thought there was something 
 of nervousness in his greeting ; but if this were 
 so, he tried to carry it off by a very good re- 
 presentation of cheerfulness, and as for Major 
 Macarthy, it was impossible to conceive that 
 he bore about a guilty conscience. He was 
 more like a mischievous, good-tempered, over- 
 grown boy than ever, ready to play with and 
 tease Nelly, equally ready to jump up and 
 there and then proceed to mend the blind,
 
 254 Paul's sistee 
 
 which by some disarrangement was allowing 
 the sun to pour in upon Mrs. Lawrence's head, 
 and evidently unaware that she did not even 
 thank him. She had, indeed, relapsed into 
 silence when the others came in, leaning 
 back in her chair with an air of weariness, 
 and taking no part in the different remarks 
 which were cheerfully poured forth. George 
 Lawrence, after his father's first hearty greet- 
 ing, found himself very much in the position 
 of an outsider. It did not appear to him that 
 he offered them any element of interest ; if he 
 had stepped in from the next parish there 
 mio-ht have been much to sav, but no one was 
 apparently curious as to his larger movements, 
 and no one even alluded to them, so when his 
 father had said — 
 
 'You seem to have been running about 
 pretty well these last two years, George. Glad 
 to get back into civilised parts, I should say ? ' 
 and he had replied —
 
 255 
 
 ' Glad at any rate to see you all again, sir/ 
 his travels received no more attention. 
 
 Nelly, who was dark, with well-formed 
 features, and who was dressed in a tight dark 
 serge dress, and a small felt hat, had gone to 
 the window, and leaned out of it with her 
 elbows on the sill. 
 
 ' Much good you have done to that bed, 
 Uncle Tim,' she scoffed. ' The idea of trans- 
 planting things at this time of year ! ' 
 
 ' You'll see ! You couldn't do it, of course, 
 any more than you could get nine miles an 
 hour out of that old cob, but I've got an idea 
 or two about it. It's worth the experiment. 
 Where have you been, Henry ? I hunted all 
 about the place, until Polly Medland told me 
 she believed you were gone down to the shore. 
 By the way, Polly in her pink sun-bonnet is a 
 picture, and I believe M would be un- 
 commonly glad to come down and paint her. 
 Shall I ask Harvey? Harvey would settle
 
 25<3 Paul's sister 
 
 it all. But where have you been ? — and, by 
 the way, have you seen Simcox? Poor old 
 Simcox, I promised I'd say a word for him.' 
 
 ' So he told me, but, upon my word, I 
 believe he could pay that rent.' 
 
 ' No, I don't think he can. He went into 
 it very fully with me, and you see, with hard 
 times, and such ill luck with his cows, he's in 
 a bad way, poor fellow ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence sat upright in her chair. 
 
 1 And pray is Simcox's rent to be lowered ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know, my dear ; I don't know,' 
 said the rector testily. ' You hear what Tim 
 says, but I have not yet decided.' 
 
 ' Simcox,' said his wife steadily, ' is a man 
 who has always grumbled, always demanded 
 reductions, and always shown the greatest 
 anxiety to remain your tenant, because he 
 knows you to be the easiest landlord in the 
 county. No one else would so much as listen 
 to his complaints. Tim judges, as usual,
 
 Paul's sister 257 
 
 without knowing any of the facts of the case, 
 and if our reduced income is to have further 
 claims made upon it, I think, Mr. Lawrence, 
 that the proper person from whom to take 
 advice is your own son.' 
 
 6 So do I, so do I,' said the major heartily. 
 1 You're quite right, Fanny, quite right. 
 Simcox shall go over his grievances with 
 George, but I'm certain you'll find George 
 will think as I do. I wish I could see it in 
 any other light, for Henry's sake, but I can't. 
 I told Simcox so.' 
 
 6 That you did,' said the rector, so ruefully 
 that his son suspected he had given way further 
 than he was willing to allow. 
 
 ' If you would only take advice ! ' continued 
 his wife despairingly. He immediately faced 
 round upon her. 
 
 ' Kindly allow me to think that I know 
 something of my own affairs, my dear Fanny. 
 I do not, I hope, meddle with your maids or 
 
 vol. i. S
 
 258 paul's sister 
 
 your orders, but I do consider that in the 
 matter of letting land my experience and 
 judgment may be of slightly more value than 
 your own, or even than that of George, who, 
 I should say, had given himself very little 
 opportunity indeed to become acquainted with 
 useful matters. I may be wrong, of course, 
 but that is my opinion.' 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence leaned back wearily, George 
 smiled. 
 
 4 1 expect my mother goes upon the old 
 proverb that two heads are better than 
 one.' 
 
 1 That depends upon the heads,' remarked 
 his father, still irately. 
 
 ' George has a capital head,' put in the 
 major simply. ' Perhaps you and I, Henry, 
 are not such good men of business as we fancy ; 
 at least I am sure I am not, and there are 
 several things I should be glad to talk over with 
 George. Fanny is right.'
 
 Paul's sister 259 
 
 ' Every one is right, it seems, except rne,' 
 grumbled the rector. 
 
 His brother-in-law had taken a case out of 
 his pocket, and was putting the final touches 
 to a fly with a woman's delicacy and deft- 
 handedness. 
 
 ' What did Jefferies say about his horse ? ' 
 he asked. 
 
 I Said he was all the better for the blister.' 
 
 I I should think he was glad that he lis- 
 tened to you, and not to Brown.' 
 
 ' I should think he was,' said Mr. Lawrence, 
 clearing up with a laugh. ' Brown is an old 
 donkey. What was it he wanted to do, Tim ? ' 
 
 4 Here is Jefferies, coming up the drive,' 
 said Nelly, without turning her head. 
 
 ' I'll go and see him,' said her father, 
 bustling out. ' George, you know your room — 
 the one you always have. Nelly, you'd better 
 see that your brother has all he wants. I can't 
 tell what he may be accustomed to.' 
 
 s 2
 
 2 GO taul's sister 
 
 1 1 don't either. Uncle Tim has been up,' 
 returned the girl, strolling over to watch the 
 fly-making. ' I say, that is a beauty ! Do 
 let me see how you do it.' 
 
 ' If no one else will go, I will,' said Mrs. 
 Lawrence, getting up from her chair and 
 coughing. 
 
 6 My dear Fanny ! ' cried her brother-in- 
 law, jumping up and cramming his fly into 
 the case, and the case into his pocket ; ' what 
 are you dreaming about ! We are all going. 
 No, George, you needn't protest. Nelly is 
 really dying to go, only she has been a little 
 put out by that failure of the cob, and doesn't 
 quite know where to vent her displeasure 
 Your mother will stay here and rest ; and the 
 women have by this time got over staring at 
 your man, and haven't yet begun to quarrel 
 about him. How could you venture to bring 
 him into such a feminine household ? Though 
 he looks a good sort of fellow.'
 
 paul ? s sister 261 
 
 ' What on earth do you want him for ? ' 
 added his sister, as they went upstairs. 
 
 Lawrence was not very well pleased with 
 the question, yet it forced itself upon him 
 when he was alone that night. Here was 
 certainly padding, and padding which ap- 
 peared incongruous in the somewhat rough 
 atmosphere of the rectory. The roughness 
 was not agreeable, but the amelioration was 
 so much out of place, and so entirely personal, 
 that he felt ashamed of it. His mother had 
 no maid, it was impossible for her son to 
 require a man. Bailey should not be dismissed, 
 but sent to his own home the very next day ; 
 and he must make up his mind to discomforts, 
 both physical and moral, for it was evident 
 that there was much daily bickering in the 
 rectory. Bickering, it is to be presumed, is 
 enjoyed by certain people, but to those who 
 are not of the number it is an undignified and 
 detestable thing. Then his thoughts travelled
 
 262 Paul's sister 
 
 back to those lie had left, to Lucy's kindly 
 sympathy, to Norma's fair and noble face, 
 which spoke of a character free from such 
 pettinesses as at this moment were vexing him. 
 ' She would pull up any man,' he said, l any 
 man whom she loved.' She seemed far above 
 him, and with the conviction there came an 
 overwhelming weight of doubt whether he 
 would ever be the man she loved.
 
 i>y^aa^^^ 
 
 :-*- 
 
 \/yvuvv\/v u vvvvvvvvNAnAA <VB 
 
 IglS^gS^SM^r^^r 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 To all these, his nearest and most dear, 
 It was no matter. And he heard them talk 
 Of timber felled, of certain fruitful fields 
 And profitable markets. — Jeax Ingelow. 
 
 Hope is not the man for your banker, though he may do for 
 your travelling companion. — Halibitrtox. 
 
 5g^wg;HEX a man has passed the age of 
 thirty, lias been for some years 
 ™™ practically his own master, and has 
 knocked about the world until he flatters 
 himself that his angles have been rubbed off, 
 so that wherever he found himself lie would 
 have little difficulty in adapting himself to his 
 circumstances, the place where in all proba- 
 bility that adaptation will be least successful 
 is his home. It is not as yet sufficiently
 
 264 paul's sister 
 
 removed by time to allow tlie full force of the 
 great tie of blood to make itself felt, still less 
 the more subtle but scarcely less strong 
 charm of association. He may be welcomed 
 with warm affection, but old familiarity im- 
 mediately asserts itself; there are those who 
 admire, others who criticise with that want of 
 reticence which goes by the name of speaking 
 one's mind. There are relations who consider 
 this their charter ; and the roughnesses of a life 
 of travel are infinitely less disturbing than the 
 pitiless exposure of weak points which society 
 has obligingly curtained. 
 
 In some such situation George Lawrence 
 found himself. He was an excellent fellow, 
 honest-hearted and kindly, with no more, 
 perhaps, than his inevitable share of vanity. 
 He had come home when to come cost him 
 no slight sacrifice, urged thereto by a re- 
 morseful consciousness that for want of him 
 his father had stumbled into many foolishnesses
 
 205 
 
 with regard to money matters, from which — 
 although, happily for himself, he was not 
 greatly affected by their probable disastrous 
 results — his father himself, his mother and his 
 sister, who should have been protected by his 
 foresight, were likely to suffer very severely. 
 In his world, which embraced a considerable 
 area, he was of some importance ; his judg- 
 ment was held as sound, his advice was con- 
 sequently not only often asked, which is 
 nothing, but occasionally taken, which is very 
 rare. He had had a large experience, and 
 though at times blunt, was not cynical ; with- 
 out the disposition to argue, which indeed 
 bored him, his opinions were incisively logical 
 and carried unusual weight. 
 
 A man cannot possess these qualities, these 
 gifts — call them what you will — and remain 
 unconscious that he possesses them. He may 
 rate them moderately, but he knows well 
 enough that they are his, and that they are
 
 266 paul's sister 
 
 valued by those about him. He becomes 
 accustomed to the conviction — which may by 
 no means unduly exalt him — that he fills a 
 certain position in his world ; and the habit 
 of being deferred to as well as referred to, 
 leads him to expect it, however unconsciously. 
 But here, in this simple parsonage, among his 
 own people, George Lawrence was at once 
 confronted with the conviction that he was 
 regarded as a nonentity. His mother, it is 
 true, was anxious, feverishly anxious, that he 
 should counsel his father, but it was simply 
 to be as her mouthpiece. Her opinions, 
 through much iteration, had lost what 
 power of impression they might once have 
 possessed ; they now only served to irritate, 
 and she had a hope that, disguised in a new 
 and masculine form, they might gain fresh 
 force. And with her seemed to end all desire 
 to hear what he had to say. His father 
 received him — George laughed as he acknow-
 
 Paul's sister 267 
 
 ledged it — as a young fellow whose ideas were 
 necessarily crude, and whose experiences were 
 as nothing compared to his own. Uncle Tim 
 seemed to expect in him a playfellow ; he 
 treated him as one boy at home for the 
 holidays would treat another who had come 
 to stay with him. At another season of the 
 year he had the conviction that he would 
 have been invited to go out bird-nesting. As 
 for Nelly, her estimate of his powers was 
 unmistakably low ; he did not rank with her 
 on anything like the same level as her uncle, 
 and evidently she considered him inferior in 
 mental as well as physical capacities. 
 
 Further than this. They had seen little of 
 him for years, and might need time to recon- 
 struct their notions and to dismiss from their 
 minds the idea of an unfledged youth. What 
 more astonished George was the total absence 
 of interest in his travels, which had been un- 
 usually extensive. Xo one seemed to care to
 
 268 Paul's sister 
 
 hear, much less to question him. A casual 
 mention of places which few have seen 
 brought no response, when something which 
 had been noticed within a quarter of a mile of 
 the rectory afforded food for remark for a 
 whole evening. It might have been supposed 
 that their minds refused to move outside a 
 certain radius. Beyond this nothing appeared 
 to interest them. 
 
 At the end of a few days he had not 
 gained any information from his father. Mr. 
 Lawrence showed, indeed, an extraordinary in- 
 genuity in evading private conversation with 
 his son, and this ingenuity looked too like 
 a guilty conscience not to add to George's 
 uneasiness. He had wished to avoid forcing 
 an explanation from his father ; it would have 
 been more seemly and less embarrassing if the 
 rector would have turned to him in confidence, 
 and opened upon the subject of his difficulties. 
 Since he would not do this, his son felt that
 
 269 
 
 it was necessary to press the matter, and to 
 come to some definite understanding, if only 
 for his mother's sake. She, indeed, was in- 
 dignant with him for having paused so long. 
 
 ' Unless I know where we stand, and ex- 
 actly how much there is left to live upon, I 
 believe I shall go mad,' she said one day. 
 
 She was sitting in a wicker chair in the 
 garden when she said this, and George, 
 stretched on a ru? on the turf, was leaning on 
 his elbow, smoking a cigarette, and idly prod- 
 ding at a daisy root. 
 
 6 You feel certain that the thing is done ? ' 
 he remarked. 
 
 c Absolutely certain. Do you think I don't 
 know your father ? He is dreadfully ashamed 
 of himself, and will not own it — he will never 
 own it.' 
 
 ; I wonder he can keep it from you.' 
 
 'He can, because of his extreme obstinacy. 
 He is quite aware of the folly he has com-
 
 270 paul's sister 
 
 mitted, and he knows that I warned him 
 against it with all my strength. I suppose 
 that if I had said less, my words might have 
 had a better effect,' she added bitterly, her thin 
 fingers working on the arms of the chair. 
 
 This was so plain to George's mind that 
 he could say nothing against it. 
 
 ' I do think that my father is like other men, 
 better led than driven,' he answered quietly. 
 
 ' You need not tell me that,' she retorted. 
 ' If I could bring ni} T self to flatter his vanity, 
 to appeal to his weak points, as your uncle 
 does ' 
 
 ' Not consciously,' interrupted Lawrence. 
 
 4 Well, unconsciously, then. The effect is 
 the same. If I could do this, I suppose I 
 might influence him. But I couldn't. With 
 me, at any rate, it would be conscious — con- 
 scious humbug. I can't lose my self-respect, 
 even to keep our fortune. I am obliged to 
 tell him the truth, and he does not like it ; and
 
 Paul's sister 271 
 
 then — I believe he really runs into these hate- 
 ful speculations with the hope of getting a 
 triumph over me. It is not the desire of gain- 
 ing money ; no one in the world ever cared 
 less about money than your father. He is a 
 perfect baby on the subject. It is that he is 
 so anxious to prove himself for once in the 
 right. However, never mind the why ; the 
 question is whether anything can be done.' 
 
 ' I intend to have it out to-day, but my 
 father has a wonderful knack of avoiding un- 
 pleasant subjects,' Lawrence said with a laugh. 
 
 4 He has never had strength to face the 
 disagreeable. He always leaves it for others. 
 But you must show him that you will not be 
 put off, you must insist upon a clear state- 
 ment, and you must urge upon him the folly, 
 the inconceivable folly, of allowing your uncle 
 to be his adviser.' 
 
 She was very much agitated, and her son 
 was too well convinced of the justness of her
 
 272 taul's sister 
 
 misgivings to be able to treat them as un- 
 reasonable. But he tried to comfort her. 
 
 8 It may not be so bad as you think ' 
 
 ' That is what you must find out.' 
 'Yes, I will find out. But what I was 
 going to say was that, anyhow, we must take 
 care that you are not deprived of any com- 
 forts.' 
 
 1 My comforts ! Do you think I care for 
 them ? I could live in a cottage, and ask for 
 nothing better. I don't fear poverty ; what I 
 dread is committing the horrible injustice to 
 others of running into debt, a thing from 
 which I have kept myself clear all my life. 
 Your uncle cares nothing about it ; he will 
 come, and bring me presents — this, that, and 
 the other, for which he has never paid, never 
 will pay. Can't you conceive what it is to me 
 to have this done ? ' 
 
 ' We must stop it,' said Lawrence gravely. 
 ' Yes, when you can stop the tide. By-
 
 Paul's sister 273 
 
 and-by these debts will grow into size, and 
 then your father will feel the disgrace dread- 
 fully. He will feel it all,' she added, leaning 
 back in her chair, and staring into vacancy, 
 ' most of all the knowledge that Xelly's money 
 has been squandered. You talk of me, George. 
 Don't, don't think about me. My life will not 
 be long, and I am thoroughly convinced that 
 I shall not survive your father. I have never 
 known the least fear of being poor, and the 
 comforts you speak of I could part with to- 
 morrow. But with your father it is different.' 
 She paused, and George was silent. His 
 thoughts had indeed leaped away to another 
 place and another woman, and he brought 
 them back with an effort. He was beginning, 
 
 'Well, mother ' when a clear, light-hearted 
 
 whistle broke upon his ears, and the next 
 moment Major Macarthy came briskly across 
 the grass, carrying a paper bag in his hand. 
 4 Oh. I say, George, you are the laziest 
 vol. i. T
 
 274 paul's sister 
 
 fellow I ever came across ! There's no getting 
 you out of the place. Nelly and I rowed 
 down to King's Ferry and back, and a pretty 
 fever she got herself into, because coming 
 home she would take both oars. You've no 
 idea, though, how she can pull ! I wish we 
 could get you down to the river, Fanny. It 
 would do you all the good in the world, and 
 I believe I could manage it too ; you and I, 
 George, could rig up some sort of chair — oh, 
 we could, and it wouldn't be a bit of trouble.' 
 
 4 1 prefer the garden,' said Mrs. Lawrence 
 quickly. 
 
 ' Yes, you say that just because you fancy 
 it would be a bother, whereas, now I come to 
 think of it, it would be the easiest thing in the 
 world. Here, Nelly — never mind the blisters 
 on your hands ; I'll give you something to set 
 them to rights — just tell me why we've all 
 been such idiots as not to think of having 
 your mother carried down to the boat ? Of
 
 Paul's sister 275 
 
 course, it would be new life to her. I'll go 
 round to the carpenter at once.' 
 
 ' Tim, I insist upon your doing nothing of 
 the sort.' 
 
 ' Now, Fanny, upon my soul it would be 
 no trouble ! Just a chair with a couple of 
 poles fastened to it — the simplest thing ! 
 John Jefferies would turn it out in no time — 
 eh, Nelly?' 
 
 ' You won't get George to carry it.' 
 ' Why not ? ' 
 
 ' Ask him. Because he would think it 
 derogatory.' 
 
 i Nonsense, Nelly, nonsense ! She doesn't 
 mean it, George. She has a very good heart, 
 but a tongue which runs away with her now 
 and then.' 
 
 He appeared genuinely distressed, and 
 relieved when his nephew laughed. No 
 one could look at George Lawrence, and feel 
 that he was a man likely to stand priggishly 
 
 T 2
 
 276 taul's sister 
 
 on his dignity, so that Nelly's remark carried 
 no sting, though it might have some rudeness 
 in its brusquerie. Her brother judged rightly, 
 however, that she conscientiously believed in 
 the virtues of rudeness, not having as yet 
 learned to distinguish between that and the 
 perfect frankness which she placed before 
 herself as an ideal. George looked at her 
 critically as she stood in the flickering sun- 
 shine under the beech-tree, and saw that her 
 features were handsome, though the face, like 
 his own, was square. Her figure was strong, 
 not graceful, but in no wise clumsy. Her 
 Iress was extremely plain, and disdainfully 
 devoid of adornment. Altogether she would 
 probably prove attractive to few persons, but, 
 where she cared, might show herself in the 
 light of a devoted friend, as true as steel, and 
 almost inconveniently affectionate. 
 
 ' You don't really mean, Fanny, that you 
 wouldn't use the chair, if T got JefFeries to
 
 Paul's sister 277 
 
 make it?' demanded Major Macartliy anxi- 
 ously. ' "Wouldn't you just try it ? ' 
 
 ' I would not try it on any account,' said 
 Mrs. Lawrence with serious decision. ' You 
 seem to forget that all these things cost 
 money, and it appears to me that we are very 
 much pressed for money at present.' 
 
 She said this very slowly, without glancing 
 at her brother-in-law. She was so much more 
 sensitive than her daughter that it was posi- 
 tive pain to her to utter a truth which she 
 felt to be full of reproach, and she could not 
 do it indifferently, nor without a severe in- 
 tention that it should reach home. Major 
 Macartliy, however, only nodded and smiled. 
 
 6 We are, aren't we ? Tight times,' he re- 
 sponded, ' tight times, George ! But Jefferies 
 is a capital fellow, never presses for money ; 
 knows I'd do the same for him any day/ 
 
 ' He knows what you did for his old 
 father,' put in Nelly, clasping both hands
 
 278 paul's sister 
 
 round her uncle's arm. He stared in undis- 
 guised amazement. 
 
 'What on earth did I do? Oh— that!' 
 raising his eyebrows. ' Wrote half a dozen 
 letters, and spent sixpence on postage! I'd 
 do more than that for him any day. Oh, 
 look here, Fanny, what a fool I am ! I've 
 never given you these grapes. I got them 
 at King's Ferry. Bartlett said they were a 
 particularly fine lot, and I knew they were 
 the best things in the world for your 
 cough.' 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence almost groaned. 
 
 ' Thank you,' said George, stretching out 
 his hand. ' Now that I am here you must 
 let me undertake these sort of things for my 
 mother. What did you pay for them ? ' 
 
 ' I don't think I did pay,' returned the 
 major cheerily. ' Did I, Nell ? Oh, by the 
 way, you weren't there. No, I remember, I 
 had nothing in my pocket. Bartlett said it
 
 PAUL'S SISTER 279 
 
 could wait, and it would have been a pity to 
 let such fine grapes slip. I knew you'd 
 have pitched into ine, Fanny, if I had 
 brought you peaches. Your mother thinks 
 me extravagant,' he went on, addressing 
 Lawrence with a laugh. ' Upon my soul, I'm 
 not, I've the simplest tastes in the world, and ' 
 — here he looked down upon himself, and 
 laughed more heartily — ; my worst foe, bless 
 him, couldn't accuse me of making my tailor's 
 fortune ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence laid her thin hand hastily 
 upon her son's arm. 
 
 ' George, your father is just turning into 
 the house.' 
 
 4 Henry ? ' cried the major eagerly ; ' oh, 
 I must talk to him about getting the post- 
 office made bigger! It's the most short- 
 sighted folly in the world, it's ' 
 
 He was rushing off, when Lawrence, who 
 had risen to his feet, held him back.
 
 280 paul's sister 
 
 4 Wait a bit,' he said. 'I want a word 
 with my father, and I'm going to take it 
 now.' 
 
 " All right ! ' exclaimed the major. ' Come 
 out here afterwards, and I'll show you the 
 post-office ; and see if you don't agree with 
 me. These people are the most awful stick- 
 in-the-muds ! They haven't an idea of pro- 
 gression, of intelligent expansion ; they're 
 content to go on just as their forefathers 
 lived — lived ? Pigged is the better word ' 
 
 George Lawrence glanced with some 
 anxiety at his mother, who was leaning back 
 wearily in her chair, but she signed to him to 
 leave her, and he walked off, with the major's 
 cheerful anathemas becoming more and more 
 vigorous. On the steps of the house he met 
 his father, whose face changed on seeing him 
 alone. 
 
 * Coming in, my boy ? ' he said loudly. 
 6 Well, you're lucky, you've time to go where
 
 taul's sister 281 
 
 you like and do what you like. Here am I, 
 no sooner in than out.' 
 
 ' Anything wrong ? ' 
 
 ' Xo, not wrong, only the usual grind. 
 See you again by-and-by.' 
 
 But his son held his ground. 
 
 ' I must ask you to give me half an hour 
 first,' he said. ' I would go with you, but 
 that I am anxious to speak on business 
 matters without interruption. Shall we go 
 into the study P ' 
 
 Mr. Lawrence made one feeble protest — 
 
 6 Another time, George, another time. 
 I haven't a spare moment now, I assure 
 you ' 
 
 George Lawrence had a stubborn look on 
 his face, which his father had not seen there 
 before, but he said very quietly — 
 
 ' I think we had better run through this 
 matter first.' 
 
 The rector resigned himself with a sigh,
 
 282 Paul's sister 
 
 only retorting pettishly as be sat down in an 
 old leathern arm-chair — 
 
 8 Oh, by all means, by all means ; though 
 I can't conceive what there is to talk about ! 
 Your aunt provided for you, at all events.' 
 
 There was a good deal implied in this 
 answer, as his son perceived. 
 
 8 Yes, she did,' he assented ; 8 but my 
 mother wants to know how things stand, and 
 I am sure, my clear father, you will see the 
 reasonableness of her wish.' 
 
 8 A woman can't understand, and your 
 mother is a very prejudiced woman,' mut- 
 tered Mr. Lawrence uneasily. 8 She has the 
 most absurd prejudices against your uncle.' 
 
 8 Well, I haven't. I think him a delight- 
 ful being,' returned the younger man, with a 
 laugh. 8 Whether he is a good business man 
 is another matter. Do you consider him so ? ' 
 
 8 He may make mistakes,' replied the rector, 
 with an air of generous admission ; 8 we are
 
 Paul's sister 283 
 
 all, I presume, liable to make mistakes, even 
 you, George, though I dare say you consider 
 yourself a very smart young fellow.' 
 
 4 Heaven forbid, sir ! My estimate of my- 
 self is far more modest.' 
 
 4 Glad to hear it — glad to hear it,' chuckled 
 his father, pleased with having made what at 
 any rate looked like a point. 4 To tell you 
 the truth, you haven't done any thing very 
 great since you've been about in the world. 
 Boiling stones — eh, George? Better have 
 stuck to your own country.' 
 
 ' Perhaps,' said his son good-humouredly. 
 4 But to come back to these money matters. 
 Hy mother fears ' 
 
 4 1 tell you your mother knows nothing 
 about it,' broke out Mr. Lawrence irritably, 
 getting up from his chair, and marching up 
 and down the room. 
 
 4 1 don't think she will rest until she does 
 know something, and in her state of health '
 
 284 Paul's sister 
 
 8 Her state of health ? She isn't worse ? 
 You don't perceive cause for anxiety ? ' said his 
 father, stopping before him, and pouring out 
 his questions anxiously. 
 
 8 1 hope not. I don't know of any- 
 thing special ; but any one must see that 
 she is blessed, or cursed, with a highly 
 nervous organisation. Anxiety tells more 
 on such natures than any definite misfor- 
 tune.' 
 
 8 She will fret herself to fiddle -strings over 
 a trifle,' growled Mr. Lawrence, irritable again, 
 and resuming his march. 8 Well, what do you 
 want to know ? ' 
 
 8 About those Queensland bonds. Have 
 you parted with them ? ' 
 
 4 Yes, I have. And I suppose, being, so far 
 as I can judge, though you and your mother 
 may be of a different opinion, in possession of 
 my faculties, that I have the right to change 
 an investment ? '
 
 Paul's sister 285 
 
 George left the question unanswered. 
 
 c The sum was. I think, three thousand ? 
 May I ask what investment you chose ? ' 
 
 For a few moments his father did not speak. 
 Then he sat down suddenly in his chair, and 
 blew his nose. 
 
 4 Well, George,' he said at last in a changed 
 voice, ' I defy anything to have looked more 
 promising. Capital men on the board — one of 
 them a personal friend of your uncle Tim's. 
 And debentures, too — nothing would induce 
 me to invest in ordinary shares. It's ridi- 
 culous. The thing must improve. Tim 
 swears it will : and though perhaps he is dis- 
 posed to take a sanguine view of matters. I'm 
 convinced he's right here, quite convinced. 
 It stands to reason that the harbour must 
 improve.' 
 
 ' You did not mention the name ? ' 
 
 'Didn't I? Yes, I did. You weren't 
 attending. Stenson — Stenson Harbour. You
 
 286 Paul's sister 
 
 don't know anything about it, I presume ? ' 
 he added anxiously. 
 
 ' Oh, it's well enough known,' said his son 
 quietly. 
 
 The remark seemed to make Mr. Lawrence 
 more uncomfortable ; he stared at the other. 
 Then he said quickly — 
 
 6 I dare say, I dare say ! Such a failure 
 of a first-class investment must have pro- 
 duced a sensation. What — what is said 
 about it ? ' 
 
 < Nothing hopeful.' 
 
 Mr. Lawrence's apple-red cheeks had 
 grown duller in colour. But now he shook 
 himself, and affected a confident air. 
 
 6 My dear boy, that's ridiculous ; excuse me, 
 but it really is ridiculous. Of course, you 
 can't be expected to know. Tim has made 
 heaps of inquiries — there never was such a 
 fellow for taking any amount of trouble, he 
 doesn't seem to know what it means — and he
 
 Paul's sister 287 
 
 is very sanguine, very sanguine indeed. Of 
 course, it's a bad time now^ a very bad time ; 
 you know that I'm a poor man, and a small 
 cutting down, as it doubtless would seem to 
 any one else, means a great deal to me. But 
 that I don't mind, I don't indeed. What 
 troubles me,' he went on, laying his broad 
 hand on his son's knee, ■ is the thought of how 
 your mother and Nelly may be situated when 
 I'm gone. You're a young fellow, George, 
 and such thoughts wouldn't affect you, but 
 when you come to my years, they stick to vou 
 like your shadow.' 
 
 If there was anything ludicrous in this 
 comparison of the two men, the younger one 
 did not see it. He was filled with an extreme 
 pity for the father who was fighting against 
 his own convictions, and who had to reproach 
 himself for the position in which he had 
 plunged those he loved. 
 
 ' I quite understand,' he said briefly.
 
 288 Paul's sister 
 
 ' Has the harbour stopped payment al- 
 together ? ' 
 
 'Altogether — for the present,' said Mr. 
 Lawrence, carefully advancing this reserva- 
 tion. 
 
 6 And the principal cannot be realised, 
 even at a loss ? ' 
 
 ' It was a loan for so many years, and 
 there are three yet to run. Besides ' 
 
 'Yes?' 
 
 But his father had changed his mind. 
 ' Nothing, nothing,' he said hastily. ' No 
 doubt it is a very serious temporary inconve- 
 nience, but in time, in time matters must look 
 up, trade will doubtless improve ; Tim is 
 quite confident that if we can manage to tide 
 
 over this present depression ' He spoke 
 
 in a high cheerful tone, but suddenly faltered 
 and paused abruptly. Then he got up, and 
 tried to be cheery again. ' Well, now you've 
 heard, and perhaps you can satisfy your mother,
 
 Paul's sister 289 
 
 perhaps she'll have more confidence in you. 
 Bather absurd, when one comes to think of it, 
 that a young fellow like you, always running 
 about over the country, should know any- 
 thing of business matters ! But there's no 
 reasoning with a woman, and your mother 
 always thinks poor Tim is to blame.' 
 
 George Lawrence got up, thrust his hands 
 into his pockets, and lounged to the window. 
 
 ' The value of the living is about three 
 hundred, if I remember rightly,' he said, 
 without noticing these disparaging allusions 
 to his age. 
 
 'Not that, not that, at present, with the 
 glebe so lowered in value.' 
 
 1 And all the parish machinery comes out 
 of your pocket ? ' 
 
 'All.' 
 
 ' I don't know how on earth you get on,' 
 said the younger man, facing round upon his 
 father, ' but I am certain that my mother 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 taul's sister 
 
 would be happier if she thoroughly under- 
 stood what she has to spend. She has a 
 lively horror of anything like debt.' 
 
 ' Naturally, naturally,' said the rector 
 hastily. 
 
 6 But it doesn't appear to me that the 
 horror is shared by Tim Macarthy. Oh, I'm 
 not saying anything against him,' he added, 
 seeing his father about to speak ; ' merely 
 suggesting that I don't think economy can be 
 called his strong point.' 
 
 ' He,' returned Mr. Lawrence with warmth, 
 1 he has the most generous soul alive.' 
 
 'Ah, that's a dangerous possession,' said 
 his son coolly. c I really think that you must 
 talk to him — or shall I? — and point out the 
 inconveniences of generosity when there's 
 nothing to back it up. Which shall it be, 
 you or I ? ' 
 
 Mr. Lawrence looked almost bewildered. 
 
 ' Upon my word,' he said at last, ' you
 
 Paul's sister 291 
 
 young men are ready to believe that all the 
 wisdom of the world is centred in yourselves. 
 You have no reverence, no ' 
 
 George interrupted him with a laugh. 
 
 'My dear father,' he said, 'I am not so 
 young or inexperienced as you imagine, nor 
 has Tim Macarthy many claims upon my re- 
 verence. He is not even mv uncle, and though 
 he may be the best fellow in the world, I never 
 can take him quite seriously. As for business, 
 I should think he knew about as much about 
 it as that chair.' 
 
 6 Oh, very well, very well,' returned the 
 rector in a choleric tone ; ' you have all your 
 mother's obstinacy ! Tim Macarthy's advice 
 is good enough for me, but my opinion counts 
 for nothing. One of these clays perhaps you 
 may change your mind — when you have lived 
 a little longer,' he added with emphasis. 
 
 1 That's quite possible ; I'm always chang- 
 ing my mind,' said George good-humouredly.
 
 292 Paul's sister 
 
 'And may I inquire whether my exami- 
 nation is at an end ? ' demanded his father in 
 the same tone of irritation. ' Perhaps I may 
 be permitted to remark that it seems to me 
 that it would be more seemly were I to ques- 
 tion you upon your investments.' 
 
 ' I'll tell you all about them with pleasure, 
 if you care to hear. I've been fairly lucky 
 on the whole. And, by the way,' added the 
 young man carelessly, ' I've got a few hun- 
 dreds lying idle at the bank. If you approve, 
 I think they had better be made over to my 
 mother and Nelly.' 
 
 Mr. Lawrence's face changed and worked. 
 ' George,' he began hoarsely, then he covered 
 his face with one hand, and stretched out 
 the other. ' My dear boy — your mother — 
 God bless you ! That takes a load off my 
 mind.' 
 
 ' Don't think too much about it, for it will 
 not amount to much, I'm sorry to say. But
 
 Paul's sister 293 
 
 it may pay for Tim's presents,' added the 
 young man with a smile. 
 
 ' I'll speak to Tim at once,' said the rector 
 hurriedly. 
 
 That evening as George Lawrence paced 
 up and down the shrubbery smoking, with a 
 fox-terrier at his heels which had attached 
 itself to him, Major Macarthy came up to 
 him. 
 
 1 George,' he said heartily, ' your father 
 says you are the best son in the world.' 
 
 ' Now I wonder how long he will keep that 
 opinion?' returned the young man medita- 
 tively. ' I give him till to-morrow morning, 
 if all goes well.' 
 
 4 No, he means it. It was really fine of 
 you. But, my dear fellow, I wanted just to 
 say ' 
 
 ' Out with it ! ' 
 
 ' You spoke of the money being in the 
 bank. Now if you wished for a first-rate, a
 
 294 Paul's sister 
 
 really first-r^te investment, high interest, and 
 as safe as consols, I can give you the tip.' 
 
 ' Can you ? ' said Lawrence, with a laugh. 
 ' Tim, do you know, I think we had better 
 talk of something else.' 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 G. 
 PRINTED BY 
 SPOTTIS WOODS AND CO., NEW-STBEET SQUABE 
 LONDON
 
 THE NEW 3/6 EDITION. 
 
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 1888. 
 
 rjlHE following Volumes appeared in 1888 in the NEW EDITION, 
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 Two Hundredth Thousand. 
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 Eightieth Thousand. 
 
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 LORD OAKBURN'S DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Twentieth Edition. 
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 Thirtieth Edition. 
 ROLAND YORKE. 
 
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 JOHNNY LUDLOW (1st Series). 
 MILDRED ARKELL. 
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 GEORGE CANTERBURY'S WILL. 
 
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 MRS. HENRY WOOD'S NOVELS 
 
 1889. 
 
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