DOCTOR CLAUDIUS

A True Story

BY F. MARION CRAWFORD

Author OF "MR. ISAACS"

London

MACMILLAN AND CO. 

1883

Dedicated

TO

MY DEAR FRIENDS

THE COUNTESS MARGARET AND

CLAUDIUS, PH. D. 

DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 

CHAPTER I. 

"I believe I am old, " said the Doctor, pushing his straight-backedwooden chair from the table, and turning from his books to look out ofhis small window. "Yes, I am certainly very old, " he said again, rappingabsently on the arm of the chair with the pen he held. But the fingersthat held the instrument were neither thin nor withered, and there wasno trembling in the careless motion of the hand. The flaxen hair, longand tangled, was thick on the massive head, and the broad shoulders wereflat and square across. Whatever Dr. Claudius might say of himself, hecertainly did not look old. 

And yet he said to himself that he was, and he probably knew. He said tohimself, as he had said every day for many long months, that this wasthe secret of the difference he felt between his life and the life ofhis companions--such companions as he had, between his thoughts andtheir thoughts, between his ways and their ways. Of late the fancy hadgained a stronger hold on his imagination, excited by solitude and anundue consumption of the midnight oil, and as he turned his face to theevening light, an observer, had there been one, might have felt halfinclined to agree with him. His face was pale, and the high aquilinenose looked drawn. Moreover, the tangled hair and beard contrastedstrangely with his broad, spotless collar, and his dressing-gown ofsober black. The long habit of neatness in dress survived any smallvanity of personal looks. 

He rose, and throwing the pen impatiently on the table, went to thelittle window and looked out. His shoulders overlapped the opening onboth sides as he thrust his yellow head out into the evening sunshine, and Master Simpelmayer, the shoemaker down in the street, glanced up, and seeing that the Herr Doctor was taking his evening sniff of theNeckar breeze, laid down his awl and went to "vespers, "--a "maas" ofcool beer and a "pretzel. " For the Herr Doctor was a regular man, andalways appeared at his window at the same hour, rain or shine. And whenSimpelmayer mended the well-worn shoes that came to him periodicallyfrom across the way, he was sure that the flaxen-haired student wouldnot call over to know if they were finished until the sun was well downand the day far spent. On this particular evening, however, there was nomending in hand for the Herr Doctor, and so the crooked little shoemakerfilled himself a pipe, and twisted his apron round his waist, andstumped leisurely down the street to the beer-shop at the corner, wherehe and his fellows took their pots and their pipes, undisturbed by theplayful pranks of the students. 

But the Doctor remained at his window, and neither vouchsafed look norgreeting to Master Simpelmayer. He was not thinking of shoes orshoemakers just then, though, to judge by his face, he was thinking veryintently of something. And well he might, for he had been readingserious stuff. The walls of his little chamber were lined with books, and there was a small sliding-rack on the table, presumably for thosevolumes he immediately required for his work. A rare copy of _SextusEmpiricus_, with the Greek and Latin side by side, lay open on aninclined desk at one end, and the table was strewn with papers, on whichwere roughly drawn a variety of mathematical figures, margined allaround with odd-looking equations and algebraically-expressed formulæ. Well-thumbed volumes of mathematical works in English, German, andFrench, lay about, opened in various places, and there was a cracked oldplate, half full of tobacco ashes and the ends of cigarettes. Theremaining furniture of the room was simple and poor: a neat campbedstead, a boot-jack, and a round mirror, not more than four inches indiameter; a tin tub and an iron washing-stand; a much battered old"schläger, " with the colours at the hilt all in rags, hung over the ironstove; and that was all the room contained besides books and theworking-table and chair. It would be impossible to live more simply, andyet everything was neat and clean, and stamped, too, with a certain_cachet_ of individuality. There were probably hundreds of student-roomsin the town of Heidelberg which boasted no more adornment or luxury thanthis, and yet there was not one that looked like it. A student's room, as he grows up, is a reflection of himself; it is a kind of dissolvingview, in which the one set of objects and books fades gradually away ashis opinions form themselves, and as he collects about him the worksthat are really of interest to him, as distinguished from those withwhich he has been obliged to occupy himself prior to taking hisacademic steps. Then, as in the human frame every particle of bone andsinew is said to change in seven years, the student one day looks abouthim and recognises that hardly a book or a paper is there of all thestore over which he was busied in those months before he took hisdegree, or sustained his disputation. When a man has entered on hiscareer, if he enters on it with a will, he soon finds that all books andobjects not essential as tools for his work creep stealthily into thedusty corner, or to the inaccessible top shelf of the bookcase, --or ifhe is very poor, to the second-hand bookshop. He cannot afford to behampered by any dead weight. 

Now Dr. Claudius had gone through many changes of thought and habitsince he came to Heidelberg ten years ago. But he had never changed hisquarters; for he loved the garret window and the isolation from visitsand companions that he gained by his three flights of stairs. Thecamp-bed in the corner was the same whereon he had lain after his firstduel, with a bag of ice on his head and his bosom friend by his side, with a long pipe. At that very table he had drawn his first caricatureof Herr Professor Winkelnase, which had been framed and hung up in the"Kneipe"--the drinking-hall of his corps; at the same board he hadwritten his thesis for his doctorate, and here again he had penned thenotes for his first lecture. Professor Winkelnase was dead; not one ofhis old corps-brothers remained in Heidelberg, but still he clung to theold room. The learned doctors with whom he drank his wine or his beer ofan evening, when he sallied forth from his solitude, wondered at his wayof living; for Dr. Claudius was not poor, as incomes go in SouthGermany. He had a modest competence of his own to begin with, and hislectures brought him in something, so that he might have had a couple ofrooms "_parterre_"--as the Germans call the _rez-de-chaussée_--and couldhave been as comfortable as he pleased. But no one ever attempted toaccount for Dr. Claudius at all. He was a credit to the University, where first-rate men are scarce, --for Heidelberg is not a seat of verygreat learning; and no one troubled to inquire why he did not return tohis native country when he had obtained his "Phil. D. " Only, if he meantto spend the rest of his life in Heidelberg, it was high time he marriedand settled down to genuine "Philisterleben"--at least so Dr. Wiener hadsaid to Dr. Wurst over the second "schoppen" every night for a yearpast. 

But Claudius did not marry, nor did he even allow his blue eyes to restcontemplatively on black-eyed Fräulein Wiener, or red-cheeked FräuleinWurst. He would indeed occasionally accept an invitation to drink coffeeat his colleagues' houses, but his talk was little and his manner aplacid blank. He had been wild enough ten years before, when his yellowhair and tall straight presence were the admiration of every burgher'sdaughter in the Hirschgasse or the Langestrasse; but years and study hadbrought out the broad traits of his character, his uniformly quietmanner, his habits of regularity, and a certain deliberateness of gaitand gesture which well became his towering figure and massive strength. He was utterly independent in all his ways, without the least trace ofthe arrogance that hangs about people whose independence is put on, andconstantly asserted, in order to be beforehand with the expectedopposition of their fellow-men. 

Dr. Claudius was a Swede by birth and early education, and findinghimself at twenty free to go where he would, he had wandered toHeidelberg in pursuit of the ideal student-life he had read so much ofin his Northern home. Full of talent, independent and young, he caredlittle for the national enmities of Scandinavians and Germans, and, likeall foreigners who behave sensibly, he was received with open arms bythe enthusiastic students, who looked upon him as a sort of typicalGoth, the prototype of the Teutonic races. And when they found howreadily he learned to handle schläger and sabre, and that, like a trueson of Odin, he could drain the great horn of brown ale at a draught, and laugh through the foam on his yellow beard, he became to them theembodiment of the student as he should be. But there was little of allthat left now, and though the stalwart frame was stronger and tougher inits manly proportions, and the yellow beard grown long and curly, andthe hair as thick as ever, the flush of youth was gone; and Dr. Claudiusleaned out of his high window and smelled the river breeze, and said tohimself it was not so sweet as it used to be, and that, for all he onlyhad thirty summers behind him, he was growing old--very old; and thatwas why he did not care to spend more than half-an-hour of an eveningwith Dr. Wiener and Dr. Wurst. 

In truth it was an unnatural life for a man just reaching his prime, andfull of imagination and talent and love for the beautiful. But he hadfallen into the philosophical groove of study which sooner or laterseems to absorb so many gifted minds, only to lay them waste in ninecases out of ten. A brilliant mathematician, he had taken his doctoratewithout difficulty, and his thesis had even attracted some attention. From the higher speculations of modern mathematics to the study ofphilosophy is but a step, and Claudius had plunged into the vast sea ofKant, Spinoza, and Hegel, without, perhaps, having any very definiteidea of what he was doing, until he found himself forced to go forwardor to acknowledge himself baffled and beaten. This he was not willing todo, and so he had gone on and on, until one day, some six months ago, hehad asked himself what it all led to? why he had laboured so hard foryears over such things? whether the old free life and ready enjoymentwere not better than this midnight prowling among other people'sthoughts, which, whatever they might have been when spoken, never seemedquite clear on paper? Or would it not be better to leave the whole thingand go back to his Northern home? He might find plenty of adventurethere, and breathe in fresh youth and vitality in the cold bright lifeof the Norwegian fisheries or of some outlying Swedish farm. And yet hecould not make up his mind to move, or to acknowledge that he hadlaboured in vain. It was in vain, though, he said, as he looked out atthe flowing river. Had he gained a single advantage either for histhoughts or his deeds by all his study of philosophy? In his wearinesshe said to himself that he had not; that he had been far better able todeal with questions of life, so long as he had only handled the exactsciences, than he was now, through all this uncertain saturation offoggy visions and contradictory speculations. Questions of life--but didquestions of life ever arise for him? He had reduced it all to itssimplest expression. His little store of money was safely invested, andhe drew the income four times a year. He possessed no goods or chattelsnot stowed away in his garret chamber. He owed no man anything; he wasnot even a regular professor, tied to his University by a fixedengagement. In a word, he was perfectly free and untrammelled. To whatend? He worked on from force of habit; but work had long ceased to amusehim. When had he laughed last? Probably not since his trip on foot tothe Bavarian Highlands, where he had met a witty journalist from Berlin, with whom he had walked for a couple of days. 

This evening he was more weary than usual. He almost thought he would goaway if he could think of any place to go to where life might be moreinteresting. He had no relations excepting an uncle, who had emigratedto America when Claudius was a baby, and who wrote twice a year, withthat regular determination to keep up his family ties whichcharacterises the true Northman. To this uncle he also wrote regularlyat stated intervals, telling of his quiet student-life. He knew thatthis solitary relation was in business in New York, and he inferred fromthe regular offers of assistance which came in every letter that he wasin good circumstances, --but that was all. This evening he fell tothinking about him. The firm was "Barker and Lindstrand, " he remembered. He wondered what Mr. Barker was like. By the by it would soon bemidsummer, and he might expect the half-yearly letter at any time. Notthat it would interest him in the least when it came, but yet he likedto feel that he was not utterly alone in the world. There was thepostman coming down the street in his leisurely, old-fashioned way, chatting with the host at the corner and with the tinman two doors off, and then--yes, he was stopping at Dr. Claudius's door. 

The messenger looked up, and, seeing the Doctor at his window, held outa large envelope. 

"A letter for you, Herr Doctor, " he cried, and his red nose gleamed inthe evening glow, strongly foreshortened to the Doctor's eye. 

"Gleich, " replied Claudius, and the yellow head disappeared from thewindow, its owner descending to open the door. 

As he mounted the dingy staircase Claudius turned the great sealedenvelope over and over in his hand, wondering what could be thecontents. It was postmarked "New York, " but the hand was large and roundand flourished, not in the least like his uncle's sexagenariancrabbedness of hieroglyphic. In the corner was the name of a firm he didnot know, and the top of the letter was covered with a long row ofstamps, for it was very thick and heavy. So he went into his room, andsat down on the window-sill to see what Messrs. Screw and Scratch ofPine Street, New York, could possibly want of Claudius, Phil. D. OfHeidelberg. 

His curiosity soon gave way to very considerable surprise. The firstpart of the letter contained the formal announcement of the suddendecease of Gustavus Lindstrand, of the firm of Barker and Lindstrand ofNew York. Claudius laid down the letter and sighed. His one relation hadnot been much to him. He had no recollection even of the old gentleman'sappearance, but the regular correspondence had given him a feeling ofreliance, a sensation of not being absolutely alone. He was alone now. Not a relation of any description in the world. Well, he would read theremainder of the letter. He turned over the page. 

"We enclose a copy of the will, " the lawyer continued, "for yourinspection. You will see that Mr. Screw of our firm is appointed jointexecutor with Mr. Silas B. Barker, and we await your furtherinstructions. In view of the large fortune you inherit, " . . . 

Claudius looked up suddenly and gazed blankly out of the window; then hewent on--

. . . "by the aforesaid will of your uncle, the late Mr. GustavusLindstrand, it might be well if, at your convenience, you could pay avisit to this country. "

Here Claudius thought it was time to look at the will itself. Unfoldingthe document, which was very short, he acquainted himself with thecontents. There were a few legacies to old servants, and one or two topersons who were probably friends. Everything else was devised andbequeathed "to my nephew, the son of my sister, Claudius, _privat-docent_ in the University of Heidelberg, Grand Duchy of Baden, Germany. " And it appeared that the surplus, after deducting all legaciesand debts, amounted to about one million and a half of dollars. 

Claudius carefully reread the papers without betraying the smallestemotion. He then put them back in the envelope, and opening a small ironcash-box, which stood on a shelf of the book-case, locked up will, letter, power of attorney, and all. Then he shook his long limbs, with asigh, and having rolled a thick cigarette, lighted it, and sat down inhis chair to think. The shadows were deepening, and the smoke of histobacco showed white against the gloom in the room. The news he had justreceived would have driven some men crazy, and certainly most peoplewould experience some kind of vivid sensation at finding themselvessuddenly endowed with immense wealth from a quarter where they did noteven suspect it existed. Moreover, old Lindstrand's will was perfectlyunequivocal, and contained none of those ill-natured restrictions aboutmarrying or not marrying, or assuming the testator's name, or anythingwhich could put the legatee to the slightest inconvenience. But Claudiusexperienced no sensation of pleasure at finding himself sole master of amillion and a half. 

It was not that he was foolish enough to despise money, or even topretend to, as some people do. He would have felt keenly the loss of hisown little store, and would have hated to work for money instead ofworking for work's sake. But he had enough, and had always had enough, for his small wants. He loved beautiful things intensely, but he had nodesire to possess them; it was enough that he might see them, and carryaway the remembrance. He loved books, but he cared not a jot for rareeditions, so long as there were cheap ones published in Leipzic. Thatold copy of _Sextus Empiricus_, on the desk there, he had bought becausehe could not get an ordinary edition; and now that he had read it he didnot care to keep it. Of course it contained a great deal that was good, but he had extracted the best of it, and meant to sell the volume to thefirst bidder--not that he wanted the money, but because it was in theway; if he allowed things to accumulate, there would be no turning roundin his little den. So he leaned back in his straight-backed chair andwondered what in the world he should do with "all that money. " He mighttravel. Yes, but he preferred to travel with a view of seeing things, rather than of reaching places. He would rather walk most of the way. The only way in which he could possibly live up to such an income mustbe by changing his entire mode of life--a house, somewhere in a greatcity, horses, servants, and even a wife--Claudius laughed for the firsttime in many months, a deep Homeric laugh--they would all help him toget rid of his money. But then, a life like that--pshaw! impossible. Hewas sick of it before beginning, then what would he feel after a monthof it?

The problem faced him in the dark, like an unsolved equation, staringout black and white before his eyes, or like an unfinished game of chesswhen one goes to bed after five or six hours' play. Something he mustdecide, because it was his nature to decide always, before he left asubject, on some course of thought. Meanwhile he had been so littledisturbed by the whole business that, in spite of his uncle's death, anda million and a half of money, he was hungry and thirsty. So he struck amatch and lit his study-lamp, and found his coat and hat and stick. Thenhe paused. He did not want to meet Dr. Wiener and Dr. Wurst thatevening; he would fetch himself something to eat and drink, and bequiet. So he slung a heavy stone jug on his arm, and, turning his lampdown to save the oil, trudged down the stairs and out into the street. He made for the little inn at the corner, and while the fat old landlordfilled his jug with the best Markgräfler, he himself picked out a coupleof smoked sausages from the great pile on the counter, and wrapping themup with half a dozen pretzels, transferred the package to his capaciouspocket. Then he took the jug from the innkeeper, and having paid half agulden for the whole supply of eatables and wine, he departed to consumethem in solitude. It was his usual supper. He had done the same thingfor ten years, off and on, whenever he was not inclined for company. 

"But I suppose it is incongruous, " he soliloquised, "that, being amillionaire, I should fetch my own supper. " Once more he laughed aloudin the crowded street, for it was warm and the people were sitting infront of their houses, Simpelmayer the shoemaker, and Blech the tinman, and all the rest, each with his children and his pot of beer. As theDoctor laughed, the little boys laughed too, and Blech remarked toSimpelmayer that the Herr Doctor must have won the great prize in theHamburg lottery, for he had not heard him laugh like that in threeyears. 

"Freilich, " returned the crooked shoemaker, "but he was used to laughloud enough ten years ago. I can remember when he first moved in there, and his corps-fellows locked him in his room for a jest, and stoodmocking in the street. And he climbed right down the woodwork andstepped on the signboard of the baker and jumped into the street, laughing all the while, though they were holding in their breath forfear he should break his neck. Ja, he was a right student; but he ischanged now--the much reading, lieber Blech, the much reading. " And theold fellow looked after Claudius as he disappeared into the darkdoorway. 

The Doctor mounted his three flights with even tread, and, turning uphis light, proceeded leisurely to eat his twisted rolls and sausages. When he had done that, he took the great stone jug in his hand, as if ithad been a wine-glass, and set it to his lips and drank a long draught. 

The result of his cogitations, assisted by the soothing influence ofsupper, was to be foreseen. In the first place, he reflected that theproblem was itself a myth. No one could require of him that he shoulduse his money unless he liked. He might let it accumulate without anytrouble to himself; and then, why should he tell any one of hisinheritance? Surely he might go on living as he was living now for anindefinite period, and nobody would be the wiser. Besides, it would be anovel sensation to feel that while living like a simple student hepossessed a great power, put away, as it were, on the shelf, whereby hecould, if he liked, at any moment astonish the whole country. Verynovel, indeed, and considering the importance of the question of thedisposal of his income, he could well afford to give it six months'consideration. And he might move undisturbed about the University andeat his supper with Dr. Wiener and Dr. Wurst without being the object ofgeneral interest, which he would at once become if it were known thathe, a simple _privat-docent_, with his decent black coat and histwice-mended shoes, was the richest man in the Grand Duchy of Baden. 

These reflections of Dr. Claudius, strange as they must seem in the eyesof men of the world, were only what were to be expected from a man ofhis education and character. He had travelled after a fashion, it istrue, and had frequented society when he was younger; for the Heidelbergstudent is a lover of the dance, and many of the wild young _burschen_become the brilliant officers of the crack regiments of the first armyin the world. He had been in Paris and Vienna and Rome for a few weeks, and, being of a good family in the North, had received introductionsthrough the diplomatic representatives of his country. His strikingpersonality had always attracted attention, and he might have goneeverywhere had he chosen. But he had only cared enough for society andits life to wish to see it now and then, and he fancied that heunderstood it at a glance--that it was all a sham and a glamour andvanity of vanities. There was, of course, a potent reason for all this. In his short peregrinations into the world of decorations and blueribbons and cosmopolitan uniforms he had never come across a woman thatinterested him. He had a holy reverence for woman in the abstract, buthe had not met one to whom he could do homage as the type of the idealwomanhood he worshipped. Perhaps he expected too much, or perhaps hejudged too much by small and really insignificant signs. As no manliving or dead has ever understood any woman for five minutes at a time, he was not to be blamed. Women are very like religion--we must take themon faith, or go without. 

Moreover, Dr. Claudius had but an indifferent appreciation of the valueof money; partly because he had never cared for what it would buy, andhad therefore never examined its purchasing power, and partly because hehad never lived intimately with people who spent a great deal. He knewnothing of business, and had never gambled, and he did not conceive thatthe combination of the two could be of any interest. Compared with thequestions that had occupied his mind of late, it seemed to make no moredifference whether a man were rich or poor than whether he had lighthair or dark. And if he had seriously asked himself whether even thosegreat problems which had occupied the minds of the mightiest thinkersled to any result of importance, it was not likely that he would bestowa thought on such a trivial matter as the question of pounds, shillings, and pence. 

So, before he went to bed, he took out a sheet of paper and anenvelope--he never bought but one package of envelopes a year, when hesent his New Year's card to the other doctors of the University--andwrote a short letter to Messrs. Screw and Scratch of Pine Street, NewYork. He acknowledged the receipt of their communication, deplored thedeath of his only relation, and requested that they would look after hismoney for him, as he had no use whatever for it at present. He objected, he said, to signing a power of attorney as yet, for as there was nohurry they might consult him by letter or telegraph as often as theyliked. When Messrs. Screw and Scratch read this epistle they openedtheir eyes wide, wondering what manner of man Claudius, Phil. D. , mightbe. And it took them some time to find out. But Claudius put out hislight when he had signed and sealed the missive, and slept the sleep ofthe strong and the just, undisturbed by the possession of a fortune orby any more doubts as to the future. 

Before receiving this letter he had thought seriously of going away. Nowthat a move was almost thrust upon him, he found that he did not want tomake it. A professor he would live and die. What could be morecontemptible, he reflected, than to give up the march of thought and thestruggle for knowledge, in order to sit at ease, devising means ofgetting rid of so much cash? And he straightened his great limbs alongthe narrow camp-bed and was asleep in five minutes. 

CHAPTER II. 

When Claudius awoke at daybreak he had a strong impression that he hadbeen dreaming. His first action was to open his iron box and read thewill over again. That being done, he reflected that his determination tokeep his fortune a secret was a wise one, and that for the present hewould abide by it. So he went out and got a notary to attest hissignature to the letter, and posted it to Messrs. Screw and Scratch, andreturned to his books. But the weather was intensely hot, and the sunbeat down fiercely on the roof over his head, so that after two or threehours he gave it up and sallied forth to seek coolness abroad. His stepsturned naturally upwards towards the overhanging castle where he wassure of a breeze and plenty of shade; and as he passed the famous old"Wirthshaus zum faulen Pelz" on the ascent, he turned in and took adrink of the cool clear ale and a pretzel, an operation termed inGermany the "Frühschoppen, " or "early glass, " and as universal apractice as the early tea in the tropics before the sun is up, or the"vermouth" of the Italian before the evening meal. Having offered thiscustomary libation to the summer deities, the Doctor leisurely climbedthe hill and entered the precincts of the Schloss. Sure enough, therewas a breeze here among the ruins, and shade in abundance wherein tolie and read all through the summer day, with an occasional shift ofposition as the sun rose and sank in the blazing sky. 

Claudius stretched himself out near the great ruined tower under a bitof wall, and, pulling out a book, began to read. But the book did notinterest him, and before long he let it drop and fell to thinking. Thelight wind stirred the broad green foliage over him, and the sun struckfiercely down beyond the border of shade; but then, again, beyond therewere more trees and more shade. The nameless little crickets and fliesand all manner of humming things panted musically in the warm air; thesmall birds chirped lazily now and then in desultory conversation, toohot to hop or fly; and a small lizard lay along the wall dazed andstupid in the noontide heat. The _genius loci_ was doubtless coolinghimself in the retirement of some luxurious hole among the ruins, andthe dwarf Perkéo, famous in song and toast, had the best of it that daydown in the cellar by the great tun. 

But Claudius was of a tough nature, and minded neither heat nor cold;only when a large bluebottle fly buzzed round his nose he whisked hisbroad hat to drive the tormentor away, and said to himself that summerhad its drawbacks even in Germany, though there were certainly moreflies and mosquitoes and evil beasts on the wing in Sweden during thetwo months' heat there. On the whole, he was pretty comfortable amongthe ruins on this June day, though he ought to begin considering wherehis summer foot tour was to take him this year. It might be as well, certainly. Where could he go? There was the Black Forest, but he knewthat thoroughly; Bohemia--he had been there; Switzerland; theEngadine--yes, he would go back to Pontresina and see what it had growninto since he was there six years ago. It used to be a delightful placethen, as different from St. Moritz as anything could well be. Onlystudents and artists and an occasional sturdy English climber used to goto Pontresina, while all Europe congregated at St. Moritz half a dozenmiles away. He would go there as he went everywhere, with a knapsack anda thick stick and a few guldens in his pocket, and be happy, if so bethat he had any capacity for enjoyment left in him. 

"It is absurd, " said Claudius to himself, argumentatively. "I am barelythirty years old, as strong as an ox, and I have just inherited moremoney than I know what to do with, and I feel like an old cripple ofninety, who has nothing left to live for. It must be morbid imaginationor liver complaint, or something. "

But it was neither liver nor imagination, for it was perfectly genuine. Tired of writing, tired of reading, of seeing, of hearing, and speaking;and yet blessed with a constitution that bid fair to carry him throughanother sixty years of life. He tried to argue about it. Was it possiblethat it came of living in a foreign country with whose people he had buta fancied sympathy? There are no folk like our own folk, after all; andthere is truly a great gulf between Scandinavians and every other kindof people. But it seemed to Claudius that he loved the Germans and theirways--and indeed he did; but does not everyday experience show that thepeople we admire, and even love, the most are not necessarily those withwhom we are most in sympathy or with whom it is best for us to live? Hewould have been better among his own Northern people; but that did notstrike him, and he determined he would go to the Engadine to-morrow ornext day. 

The Doctor, having made up his mind, shifted his position and sat up, pulling a pipe from his pocket, which he proceeded to fill and to light. The flame of the match was white and transparent in the mid-day glare, and the smoke hung lazily about as he puffed at the ungainly instrumentof enjoyment. 

Before he had half finished his pipe he heard footsteps on the path. Helooked up idly and saw a lady--_two_ ladies--coming leisurely towardshim. Beyond the fact that it was an unusual hour for strangers to visitthe Schloss--and they evidently were strangers--there was nothingunusual in the apparition; and Claudius merely rose to his feet andmoved slowly on, not from any desire to get out of the way, but merelybecause he was too well bred to remain seated by the path while a ladypassed, and having risen, he could not very well stand still. So hemoved on till he stood by the broken tower, and seeing that by climbingdown he could reach a more secure resting-place, with the advantage of aview, he let himself drop easily on to a projecting ledge of masonry andresumed his pipe with philosophic indifference. Before long he heardvoices above him, or more properly a voice, for one of the partiesconfined her conversation strictly to yea and nay, while the other spokeenthusiastically, and almost as if soliloquising, about the scene. 

It was a deep-strung voice, that would have been masculine if it hadbeen the least harsh; but it was not--it was only strong and large andsmooth, a woman's voice with the gift of resonance that lends interestwhere there might otherwise seem to be none. There is a certain kind ofvoice in woman that seems to vibrate in a way especially its own. Whether it be that under certain conditions of the vocal organsharmonic sounds are produced as they may be upon a stringed instrumentor upon an organ pipe; or whether, again, the secret lies deeper, depending on the subtile folding and unfolding of new-shaped waves ofsound to which our ordinary ears are not used--who can tell? And yetthere are voices that from the first produce upon us a strangeimpression unlike anything else in the world. Not that we necessarilybecome interested in the possessor of the voice, who may remain for everutterly indifferent to us, for the magic lies in the tone merely, whichseems to have a power of perpetuating itself and rebounding among theechoes of our recollections. Barely, very rarely, singers possess it, and even though their powers be limited there comes a strange thrillinto their singing which fixes it indelibly on the memory. 

Such a voice it was that Claudius heard as he lay on his ledge ofmasonry some ten feet below, and listened to the poetic flow of thestrange lady's thoughts on Heidelberg and the scene at her feet. He didnot move, for he was sure she had not seen him; and he supposed shewould go away in a few minutes. He was destined to be seen, however. Shestopped talking, and was apparently lost in thought; but in a momentthere was a small cry. 

"O mon Dieu!" and a dainty lace-covered parasol fell over the edge, and, striking the platform where Claudius was lying, went straight to thebottom of the ruin, some twenty feet farther. 

"What a nuisance, " said the thrilling voice from above, "I can never getit back now; and there are no gardeners or people about. "

"Permit me, Madam, " said Claudius, stepping as far out as he dared, andlooking up to catch a glimpse of a beautiful woman in black and whitestaring down at the unlucky parasol in a rather helpless fashion. "Donot be disturbed, Madam; I will get it for you in a moment. " And hebegan to descend. 

The fair unknown protested--Monsieur must not trouble himself; Monsieurwould certainly break his neck--_enfin_, it was very obliging on thepart of Monsieur to risk himself in such a terrible gulf, etc. Etc. But"Monsieur, " when once he had caught sight of those dark eyes, climbedsteadily down to the bottom, and had reached the lost parasol before thestring of polite protestations had ceased. The ascent was quicklyaccomplished, and he stood at the summit, hat in hand, to return theobject of his search to its rightful owner. There was not a trace ofembarrassment on his face; and he looked the foreign lady boldly in theeyes as he bowed. She could not express her thanks sufficiently, andwould probably have wished to continue expressing them for some timelonger to the handsome and herculean young man, who had apparentlystarted out of space to her assistance; but when Claudius had taken agood look he simply answered--

"Il n'y a pas de quoi, Madame, " and bowing low walked off. Perhaps theleast contraction of curiosity was in his eyes; and he would have likedto know who the lady was who had the crown and the large M carved in theivory of her parasol stick. But, after all, he came to the conclusionthat he did not care, and so went strolling down the path, wonderingwhere he could hide himself if visitors were to infest the Schloss atthis time of year, and in the hottest hours of the day. 

"I will leave here to-morrow, " he said, "and see if I cannot be morecomfortable in Pontresina. " He reached another part of the Schloss, andsitting down resumed his pipe, which seemed destined to interruptions. 

The lady of the parasol had made an impression on Dr. Claudius, for allhis apparent indifference. It was rarely, indeed, nowadays that helooked at a woman at all; and to-day he had not only looked, but heowned to himself, now it was past, that he would like to look again. Ifhe had had any principle in avoiding women during the last few years, hewould not have admitted now that he would like to see her again--justfor one moment. But he had no principle in the matter. It was choice, and there it ended; and whenever he should take it into his head toassociate with the fair sex again, he would consider it a sign that hisyouth had returned, and he would yield without the smallest struggle. But in this ease--"Pshaw!" thought the humble _privat-docent_, "she issome great lady, I suppose. How should I make her acquaintance? Oh! Iforgot--I am a millionaire to-day; I have only to ask and it shall beopened. " He smiled to himself, and, with the returning sense of thepower to do what he pleased, the little undefined longing for anotherglimpse of the fair stranger subsided for a time. 

Then he regretted it. He was sorry it was gone; for while it had beenthere he had felt a something telling him he was not old after all, butonly very young--so young that he had never been in love. As aconsequence of his wishing his little rag of sentiment back again, itcame; but artificially this time, and as if expecting to be criticised. He would contemplate for a space the fair picture that had the power torouse his weary soul, even for an instant, from the sea of indifferencein which it was plunged. 

Claudius lay back in the grass and crossed one leg over the other. Thenhe tried to recall the features of the woman who had begun to occupy histhoughts. She was certainly very beautiful. He could remember one or twopoints. Her skin was olive-tinted and dark about the eyes, and the eyesthemselves were like soft burning amber, and her hair was very black. That was all he could recollect of her--saving her voice. Ah yes! he hadseen beautiful women enough, even in his quiet life, but he had neverheard anything exactly like this woman's tones. There are some soundsone never forgets. For instance, the glorious cry of the trumpeter swansin Iceland when they pass in full flight overhead in the early morning;or the sweet musical ring of the fresh black ice on the river as itclangs again to sweep of the steel skate. Claudius tried to compare thesound of that voice to something he had heard, but with little success. 

Southern and Eastern born races fall in love at first sight in a waythat the soberer Northener cannot understand. A face in a crowd, aglance, a droop of the lashes, and all is said. The seed of passion issown and will grow in a day to all destroying proportions. But theNorthern heart is a very different affair. It will play with itsaffections as a cat plays with a mouse; only the difference is, that themouse grows larger and more formidable, like the one in the story of theEastern sage, which successively changed its shape until it became atiger, and the wise man was driven to take precautions for his ownsafety. There is never the least doubt in the mind of an Italian or anOriental when he is in love; but an Englishman will associate with awoman for ten years, and one day will wake up to the fact that he lovesher, and has loved her probably for some time past. And then his wholemanner changes immediately, and he is apt to make himself verydisagreeable unless indeed the lady loves him--and women are rarely indoubt in their inmost hearts as to whether they love or not. 

The heart of the cold northern-born man is a strange puzzle. It can onlybe compared in its first awakening to a very backward spring. In thefirst place, the previous absence of anything like love has bred a roughand somewhat coarse scepticism about the existence of passion at all. Young Boreas scoffs at the mere mention of a serious affection, andturns up his nose at a love-match. He thinks young women no end of fun;his vanity makes him fancy himself the heartless hero of many anadventure, and if, as frequently happens, he is but an imperfectgentleman, he will not scruple to devise, imagine, and recount (to hisbosom friend, of course, in strictest secrecy) some hairbreadth escapefrom an irate husband or an avenging father, where he has nearly losthis life, he says, in the pursuit of some woman, generally a lady ofspotless reputation whom he barely knows. But put him in her society foran hour, with every opportunity of pressing his suit, and the veriestlambkin could not be more harmless. He has not yet tasted blood, thoughhe will often smack his lips and talk as if he had. 

It is generally chance that makes him fall in love the first time. He isthrown together with his fate--tall or short, dark or fair, it makes nodifference--in some country house or on some journey. For a long timeher society only amuses him and helps to pass the hours, for Boreas iseasily bored and finds time a terrible adversary. Gradually heunderstands that she is a necessity to his comfort, and there is nothinghe will not do to secure her on every possible opportunity for himself. Then perhaps he allows to himself that he really does care a little, andhe loses some of his incrustation of vanity. He feels less sure ofhimself, and his companions observe that he ceases to talk of hisalleged good fortunes. Very, very slowly his real heart wakes up, andwhatever is manly and serious and gentle in his nature comesunconsciously to the surface. Henceforth he knows he loves, and becausehis love has been slow to develop itself it is not necessarily sluggishor deficient when once it is come. But Englishmen are rarely heroiclovers except in their novels. There is generally a little bypath ofcaution, a postern gate of mercantile foresight, by which they can slipquietly out at the right moment and forget all about the whole thing. 

Claudius was not an Englishman, but a Scandinavian, and he differed fromthe imaginary young man described above in that he had a great broadreverence of woman and for woman's love. But it was all a theory, ofwhich the practice to him was as yet unknown. He had soon wearied of theclass of women he had met in his student-life--chiefly the daughters ofrespectable Heidelberg Philistines, of various degrees of south Teutonicprettiness; and the beautiful women of the world, of whom he had caughta glimpse in his travels had never seemed real enough to him to be inany way approached. He never had realised that his own personality, combined with his faultless manners, would have soon made him afavourite in what is called society, had he chosen to court it. 

After all, it was very vague this passing fancy for the dark-eyed womanof the Schloss. Perhaps Dr. Claudius watched his symptoms too narrowly, and was overmuch pleased at finding that something could still rouse ayouthful thrill in him, after the sensation of old age that had of lateoppressed him. A man, he said to himself, is not old so long as he canlove--and be loved--well, so long as he can love, say, and let the resttake care of itself. And by and by the sun went westering down the hill, and he shook himself out of his dreams, and pocketed his book and turnedhomeward. His day, he thought, had not amounted to much after all, andhe would spend the evening in sober study, and not dream any more untilbedtime. But he would be sociable this evening and eat his supper--nowhe thought about it, it would be dinner and supper combined--in thecompany of his colleagues at their favourite haunt. And he would goto-morrow, he would certainly go to the Engadine. 

But to-morrow came, and the Herr Doctor looked out of his window asusual, and he did not go to Pontresina or anywhere else, nor the nextday, nor the day after. Only up to the Schloss every day through the hotweek, with his book and his pipe, and there he would lie and read andsmoke, and say to himself, "To-morrow I will certainly go. " There wassomething almost pathetic in Claudius, thus day after day revisiting thescene where he had experienced a momentary sensation of youth andvitality, where he had discovered, somewhat to his surprise, that he wasstill alive and full of strength and sanguine hope, when he thoughthimself so old. And lying among the ruins he called up the scene againand again, and the strange woman gradually got possession of his mind, as a cunning enchantress might, and she moulded his thoughts about hertill they clung to her and burned. He did not seriously think to meether again in the Schloss, if he thought of it at all, for he knew ofcourse that she must have been a bird of passage, only pausing aninstant on that hot day to visit some scene long familiar to her memory. And of course, like a true philosophical student, he did not attempt toexplain to himself his own conduct, nor to catalogue the reasons for andagainst a daily visit to the old castle. 

So the week passed, and another after it, and one day, late in theafternoon, Claudius descended the hill and went up as usual to hischamber above the river, to spend an hour indoors before going tosupper. It was a beautiful evening, and he left his door partly open onto the landing that the breeze might blow through the room as he sat bythe window. A book was in his hand before he had sat many moments, fromsheer force of habit; but he did not read. The sounds of the street rosepleasantly to his ear as the little boys and girls played togetheracross each other's doorsteps. To tell the truth, it all seemed very faroff, much farther than three flights of steps from the little crowdbelow to the solitary nest of learning aloft where he sat; and Dr. Claudius was, in his thoughts, incalculably far away from theshoemaker's Hans and the tinman's Gretel and their eight-year-oldflirtation. Claudius was flirting with his fancies, and drawing prettypictures in the smoke, with dark eyes and masses of black hair; and thenhe moved uneasily, and came back to his threadbare proposition that hewas old, and that it was absurd that he should be. 

"Ah! what would I not give to enjoy it all--to feel I could wish onemoment to remain!" He sighed and leaned back in the straight-backedchair. The door creaked slightly, he thought it was the evening wind. Itcreaked again; he turned his head, and his gaze remained riveted on theopening. A beautiful pair of dark eyes were fixed on him, deep andsearching, and on meeting his, a great silky black head was pushedforward into the room, and a magnificent black hound stalked slowlyacross the floor and laid his head on the Doctor's knee with a look ofevident inquiry. 

Claudius was fond of animals, and caressed the friendly beast, wonderingto whom he might belong, and speculating whether the appearance of thedog heralded the approach of a visitor. But the dog was not one of thosethat he knew by sight in the streets of Heidelberg--one of those superbfavourites of the students who are as well known as the professorsthemselves to every inhabitant of a university town in Germany. And theDoctor stroked the beautiful head and listened for steps upon thestairs. Before long he heard an ominous stumbling, as of some oneunfamiliar with the dark and narrow way, and in a moment more a youngman stood in the doorway, dazzled by the flood of the evening sunshinethat faced him. 

"Mr. Claudius live here?" interrogated the stranger in a high andmetallic, but gentlemanly voice. 

"I am Dr. Claudius, " said the tenant of the old chair, rising politely. "Pray be seated, sir, " and he offered his one seat to his visitor, whoadvanced into the middle of the room. 

He was a young man, dressed in the extreme of the English fashion. Hewas probably excessively thin, to judge by his face and neck and hands, but he was made up admirably. He removed his hat and showed a foreheadof mediocre proportions, over which his dark hair was conscientiouslyparted in the middle. Though not in appearance robust, he wore amoustache that would not have disgraced a Cossack, his eyes were small, gray, and near together, and his complexion was bad. His feet wereminute, and his hands bony. 

He took the offered chair, and Claudius sat down upon the bed, which wasby no means so far removed in the little room as to make conversation atthat distance difficult. 

"Dr. Claudius?" the stranger repeated, and the Doctor nodded gravely. "Dr. Claudius, the nephew of the late Mr. Gustavus Lindstrand of NewYork?"

"The same, sir. May I inquire to what good fortune I am indebted--"

"Oh! of course, " interrupted the other, "I am Mr. Barker--Silas B. Barker junior of New York, and my father was your uncle's partner. "

"Indeed, " said Claudius, rising and coming forward, "then we must shakehands again, " and his face wore a pleasant expression. He thoughtnothing of first impressions, and was prepared to offer a hearty welcometo any friend of his uncle, even of the most unprepossessing type. Mr. Barker was not exactly unprepossessing; he was certainly not handsome, but there was a look of action about him that was not unpleasing. Claudius felt at once, however, that the American belonged to a type ofhumanity of which he knew nothing as yet. But they shook handscordially, and the Doctor resumed his seat. 

"And is it long since you received the news, Professor?" inquired Mr. Barker, with the ready Transatlantic use of titles. 

"I heard of my uncle's death about three weeks ago--rather less. "

"Ah yes! And the news about the will--did you hear that?"

"Certainly, " said the Doctor; "I received the intelligencesimultaneously. "

"Well, " said the American, "do you propose to continue living here?"

Claudius looked at his visitor. He was as yet unfamiliar with New Worldcuriosity, and thought the question a rather strange one. However, hereflected that Mr. Barker's father might have some moral claim to knowwhat his old partner's heir meant to do with his money; so he answeredthe question categorically. 

"I was, as perhaps you may imagine, greatly surprised at theintelligence that I had inherited a great fortune. But you will hardlyunderstand, with your tastes, "--the Doctor glanced at Mr. Barker'sfaultless costume, --"that such abundant and unexpected wealth may not beto me a wholly unalloyed blessing. " Claudius proceeded to explain howlittle he cared for the things that his money might bring him, andannounced his intention of continuing his present mode of life some timelonger. Mr. Silas B. Barker junior of New York opened his small eyeswider and wider, as his host set forth his views. 

"I should think you would be bored to death!" he said simply. 

"_Ennui_, in the ordinary sense, does not exist for a man whose life isdevoted to study. What corresponds to it is a very different thing. Isometimes feel oppressed with a sense of profound dissatisfaction withwhat I am doing--"

"I should think so, " remarked Mr. Barker. Then, checking himself, headded, "I beg your pardon, don't misunderstand me. I can hardly conceiveof leading such a life as yours. I could never be a professor. "

Claudius judged the statement to be strictly true. Mr. Barker did notlook like a professor in the least. However, the Doctor wanted to becivil. 

"Have you just arrived? Have you seen our sights?"

"Came last night from Baden-Baden. I have been here before. You hadbetter come around to my hotel, and take dinner with me. But first wewill drive somewhere and get cool. "

Claudius put on his best coat and combed his hair, apologising to Mr. Barker for the informality. Mr. Barker watched him, and thought he wouldmake a sensation in New York. 

"We might go up to the castle, " said the American, when they were seatedin the carriage. So to the castle they went, and, leaving their carriageat the entrance, strolled slowly through the grounds till they reachedthe broken tower. 

"If they had used dynamite, " said Mr. Barker, "they would have sent thewhole thing flying across the river. "

"It would have been less picturesque afterwards, " said Claudius. 

"It would have been more effective at the time. "

Claudius was thinking of the dark woman and her parasol, and how he hadclimbed down there a few weeks before. To show to himself that he didnot care, he told his companion the incident as graphically as he could. His description of the lady was so graphic that Mr. Barker screwed uphis eyes and put out his jaw, so that two great lines circled on hissallow face from just above the nostril, under his heavy moustache tohis chin. 

"I could almost fancy I had seen her somewhere, " said he. 

"Where?" asked Claudius eagerly. 

"I thought he would give himself away, " was the American's terse inwardreflection; but he answered coolly--

"I don't know, I am sure. Very likely I am mistaken. It was prettyromantic though. Ask me to the wedding, Professor. "

"What wedding?"

"Why, when you marry the fascinating creature with the parasol. "

Claudius looked at Mr. Barker with some astonishment. 

"Do you generally manage things so quickly in your country?"

"Oh, I was only joking, " returned the American. "But, of course, you canmarry anybody you like, and why not the dark lady? On the whole, though, if I were you, I would like to astonish the natives before I left. Now, you might buy the castle here and turn it into a hotel. "

"Horrible!" ejaculated Claudius. 

"No worse than making a hotel of Switzerland, which is an older and moreinteresting monument than the castle of Heidelberg. "

"Epigrammatic, but fallacious, Mr. Barker. "

"Epigrams and proverbs are generally that. "

"I think, " said Claudius, "that proverbs are only fallacious when theyare carelessly applied. "

"Very likely. Life is too short to waste time over weapons that willonly go off in some singular and old-fashioned way. When I start out todo any shooting, I want to hit. "

So they went to dinner. Claudius found himself becoming gayer in thesociety of his new acquaintance than he had been for some time past. Hecould not have said whether he liked him or thought him interesting, buthe had a strong impression that there was something somewhere, he couldnot tell what, which Mr. Barker understood thoroughly, and in which hemight show to great advantage. He felt that however superficial andunartistic the American might be, he was nevertheless no fool. There wassomething keen and sharp-edged about him that proclaimed a charactercapable of influencing men, and accustomed to deal boldly and daringlywith life. 

They dined as well as could be expected in a country which is notgastronomic, and Mr. Barker produced a rare brand of cigars, withoutwhich, he informed his guest, he never travelled. They were fat brownHavanas, and Claudius enjoyed them. 

"Let us go to Baden-Baden, " said Barker, sucking at his weed, whichprotruded from his immense moustache like a gun under the raisedport-hole of an old-fashioned man-of-war. 

"If I were seeking innocent recreation from my labours, that is notexactly the spot I would choose to disport myself in, " replied Claudius. "The scenery is good, but the people are detestable. "

"I agree with you; but it is a nice place for all that. You can alwaysgamble to pass the time. "

"I never play games of chance, and there is no play in Baden now. "

"Principle or taste, Professor?"

"I suppose I must allow that it is principle. I used to play a littlewhen I was a student; but I do not believe in leaving anything tofortune. I would not do it in anything else. "

"Well, I suppose you are right; but you miss a great deal of healthyexcitement. You have never known the joys of being short of a thousandN. P. Or Wabash on a rising market. "

"I fear I do not understand the illustration, Mr. Barker. "

"No? Well, it is not to be wondered at. Perhaps if you ever come to NewYork you will take an interest in the stock market. "

"Ah--you were referring to stocks? Yes, I have read a little about yourmethods of business, but that kind of study is not much in my line. Whydo you say Baden, though, instead of some quiet place?"

"I suppose I like a crowd. Besides, there are some people I know there. But I want you to go with me, and if you would rather not go toBaden-Baden, we can go somewhere else. I really think we ought to becomebetter acquainted, and I may prevail on you to go with me to New York. "

Claudius was silent, and he blew a great cloud of smoke. What sort of atravelling companion would Mr. Barker be for him? Could there be agreater contrast to his own nature? And yet he felt that he would liketo observe Mr. Barker. He felt drawn to him without knowing why, and hehad a presentiment that the American would drag him out of his quietlife into a very different existence. Mr. Barker, on the other hand, possessed the showman's instinct. He had found a creature who, he wassure, had the elements of a tremendous lion about town; and having foundhim, he meant to capture him and exhibit him in society, and take tohimself ever after the credit of having unearthed the handsome, rich, and talented Dr. Claudius from a garret in Heidelberg. What a story thatwould be to tell next year, when Claudius, clothed and clipped, shouldbe marrying the girl of the season, or tooling his coach down theNewport avenue, or doing any of the other fashionable and merry thingsthat Americans love to do in spring and summer!

So Mr. Barker insisted on driving Claudius back to his lodging, thoughit was only five minutes' walk, and exacted a promise that the Doctorshould take him on the morrow to a real German breakfast at the FaulerPelz, and that they would "start off somewhere" in the afternoon. 

Claudius said he had enjoyed a very pleasant evening, and went up to hisroom, where he read an elaborate article on the vortex theory byProfessor Helmholtz, with which, having dipped into transcendentalgeometry, he was inclined to find fault; and then he went calmly to bed. 

CHAPTER III. 

Claudius told his old landlord--his _philister_, as he would have calledhim--that he was going away on his customary foot tour for a month orso. He packed a book and a few things in his knapsack and joined Mr. Barker. To Claudius in his simplicity there was nothing incongruous inhis travelling as a plain student in the company of theexquisitely-arrayed New Yorker, and the latter was far too much a man ofthe world to care what his companion wore. He intended that the Doctorshould be introduced to the affectionate skill of a London tailor beforehe was much older, and he registered a vow that the long yellow hairshould be cut. But these details were the result of his showman'sintuition; personally, he would as readily have travelled with Claudiushad he affected the costume of a shoeblack. He knew that the man wasvery rich, and he respected his eccentricity for the present. Toaccomplish the transformation of exterior which he contemplated, fromthe professional and semi-cynic garb to the splendour of a swell of theperiod, Mr. Barker counted on some more potent influence than his own. The only point on which his mind was made up was that Claudius mustaccompany him to America and create a great sensation. 

"I wonder if we shall meet her, " remarked Mr. Barker reflectively, whenthey were seated in the train. 

"Whom?" asked Claudius, who did not intend to understand his companion'schaff. 

But Mr. Barker had shot his arrow, and started cleverly as he answered--

"Did I say anything? I must have been talking to myself. "

Claudius was not so sure. However, the hint had produced its effect, falling, as it did, into the vague current of his thoughts and givingthem direction. He began to wonder whether there was any likelihood ofhis meeting the woman of whom he had thought so much, and before long hefound himself constructing a conversation, supposed to take place ontheir first encounter, overleaping such trifles as probability, thequestion of an introduction, and other formalities with the readyagility of a mind accustomed to speculation. 

"The scenery is fine, is it not?" remarked Claudius tritely as theyneared Baden. 

"Oh yes, for Europe. We manage our landscapes better in America. "

"How so?"

"Swivels. You can turn the rocks around and see the other side. "

Claudius laughed a little, but Barker did not smile. He was apparentlyoccupied in inventing a patent transformation landscape on wheels. Inreality, he was thinking out a _menu_ for dinner whereby he might feedhis friend without starving himself. For Mr. Barker was particular abouthis meals, and accustomed to fare sumptuously every day, whereas he hadobserved that the Doctor was fond of sausages and decayed cabbage. Buthe knew such depraved tastes could not long withstand the blandishmentsand caressing hypersensualism of Delmonico, if he ever got the Doctor sofar. 

Having successfully accomplished the business of dining, Mr. Barkerpromised to return in an hour, and sallied out to find the Britisharistocracy, whom he knew. The British aristocracy was taking his coffeein solitude at the principal _café_, and hailed Mr. Barker's advent withconsiderable interest, for they had tastes in common. 

"How are you, Duke?"

"Pretty fit, thanks. Where have you been?"

"Oh, all over. I was just looking for you. "

"Yes?" said the aristocracy interrogatively. 

"Yes. I want you to introduce me to somebody you know. "

"Pleasure. Who?"

"She has black eyes and dark hair, very dark complexion, middlingheight, fine figure; carries an ivory-handled parasol with a big M and acrown. " Mr. Barker paused for a look of intelligence on the Englishman'sface. 

"Sure she's here?" inquired the latter. 

"I won't swear. She was seen in Heidelberg, admiring views and droppingher parasol about, something like three weeks ago. "

"Oh! ah, yes. Come on. " And the British aristocracy settled the rose inhis button-hole and led the way. He moved strongly with long steps, butMr. Barker walked delicately like Agag. 

"By the by, Barker, she is a countrywoman of yours. She married aRussian, and her name is Margaret. "

"Was it a happy marriage?" asked the American, taking his cigar from hismouth. 

"Exceedingly. Husband killed at Plevna. Left her lots of tin. "

They reached their destination. The Countess was at home. The Countesswas enchanted to make the acquaintance of Monsieur, and on learning thathe was an American and a compatriot, was delighted to see him. Theyconversed pleasantly. In the course of twenty minutes the aristocracydiscovered he had an engagement and departed, but Mr. Barker remained. It was rather stretching his advantage, but he did not lack confidence. 

"So you, too, Countess, have been in Heidelberg this summer?"

"About three weeks ago. I am very fond of the old place. "

"Lovely, indeed, " said Barker. "The castle, the old tower half blownaway in that slovenly war--"

"Oh, such a funny thing happened to me there, " exclaimed the CountessMargaret, innocently falling into the trap. "I was standing just at theedge with Miss Skeat--she is my companion, you know--and I dropped myparasol, and it fell rattling to the bottom, and suddenly there started, apparently out of space--"

"A German professor, seven or eight feet high, who bounded after thesunshade, and bounded back and bowed and left you to your astonishment. Is not that what you were going to say, Countess?"

"I believe you are a medium, " said the Countess, looking at Barker inastonishment. "But perhaps you only guessed it. Can you tell me what hewas like, this German professor?"

"Certainly. He had long yellow hair, and a beard like Rip van Winkle's, and large white hands; and he was altogether one of the most strikingindividuals you ever saw. "

"It is evident that you know him, Mr. Barker, and that he has told youthe story. Though how you should have known it was I--"

"Guess-work and my friend's description. "

"But how do you come to be intimate with German professors, Mr. Barker?Are you learned, and that sort of thing?"

"He was a German professor once. He is now an eccentricity without apurpose. Worth millions, and living in a Heidelberg garret, wishing hewere poor again. "

"What an interesting creature! Tell me more, please. "

Barker told as much of Claudius's history as he knew. 

"Too delightful!" ejaculated the Countess Margaret, looking out of thewindow rather pensively. 

"Countess, " said the American, "if I had enjoyed the advantage of youracquaintance even twenty-four hours I would venture to ask leave topresent my friend to you. As it is--" Mr. Barker paused. 

"As it is I will grant you the permission unasked, " said the Countessquietly, still looking out of the window. "I am enough of an Americanstill to know that your name is a guarantee for any one you introduce. "

"You are very kind, " said Mr. Barker modestly. Indeed the name of Barkerhad long been honourably known in connection with New York enterprise. The Barkers were not Dutch, it is true, but they had the next highesttitle to consideration in that their progenitor had dwelt in Salem, Massachusetts. 

"Bring him in the morning, " said the Countess, after a moment's thought. 

"About two?"

"Oh no! At eleven or so. I am a very early person. I get up at thescreech of dawn. "

"Permit me to thank you on behalf of my friend as well as for myself, "said Mr. Barker, bending low over the dark lady's hand as he took hisdeparture. 

"So glad to have seen you. It is pleasant to meet a civilised countrymanin these days. "

"It can be nothing to the pleasure of meeting a charming countrywoman, "replied Mr. Barker, and he glided from the room. 

The dark lady stood for a moment looking at the door through which hervisitor had departed. It was almost nine o'clock by this time, and sherang for lights, subsiding into a low chair while the servant broughtthem. The candles flickered in the light breeze that fanned fitfullythrough the room, and, finding it difficult to read, the Countess sentfor Miss Skeat. 

"What a tiny little world it is!" said Margaret, by way of opening theconversation. 

Miss Skeat sat down by the table. She was thin and yellow, and her boneswere on the outside. She wore gold-rimmed eyeglasses, and was welldressed, in plain black, with a single white ruffle about her long andsinewy neck. She was hideous, but she had a certain touch of dignifiedelegance, and her face looked trustworthy and not unkind. 

"Apropos of anything especial?" asked she, seeing that the Countessexpected her to say something. 

"Do you remember when I dropped my parasol at Heidelberg?"

"Perfectly, " replied Miss Skeat. 

"And the man who picked it up, and who looked like Niemann in_Lohengrin_?"

"Yes, and who must have been a professor. I remember very well. "

"A friend of mine brought a friend of his to see me this afternoon, andthe man himself is coming to-morrow. "

"What is his name?" asked the lady-companion. 

"I am sure I don't know, but Mr. Barker says he is very eccentric. He isvery rich, and yet he lives in a garret in Heidelberg and wishes he werepoor. "

"Are you quite sure he is in his right mind, dear Countess?"

Margaret looked kindly at Miss Skeat. Poor lady! she had been rich once, and had not lived in a garret. Money to her meant freedom andindependence. Not that she was unhappy with Margaret, who was alwaysthoughtful and considerate, and valued her companion as a friend; butshe would rather have lived with Margaret feeling it was a matter ofchoice and not of necessity, for she came of good Scottish blood, andwas very proud. 

"Oh yes!" answered the younger lady; "he is very learned andphilosophical, and I am sure you will like him. If he is at allcivilised we will have him to dinner. "

"By all means, " said Miss Skeat with alacrity. She liked intelligentsociety, and the Countess had of late indulged in a rather prolonged fitof solitude. Miss Skeat took the last novel--one of Tourguéneff's--fromthe table and, armed with a paper-cutter, began to read to herladyship. 

It was late when Mr. Barker found Claudius scribbling equations on asheet of the hotel letter-paper. The Doctor looked up pleasantly at hisfriend. He could almost fancy he had missed his society a little; butthe sensation was too novel a one to be believed genuine. 

"Did you find your friends?" he inquired. 

"Yes, by some good luck. It is apt to be the other people one finds, asa rule. "

"Cynicism is not appropriate to your character, Mr. Barker. "

"No. I hate cynical men. It is generally affectation, and it is alwaysnonsense. But I think the wrong people have a way of turning up at thewrong moment. " After a pause, during which Mr. Barker lighted a cigarand extended his thin legs and trim little feet on a chair in front ofhim, he continued:

"Professor, have you a very strong and rooted dislike to the society ofwomen?"

Assailed by this point-blank question, the Doctor put his bit of paperinside his book, and drumming on the table with his pencil, considered amoment. Mr. Barker puffed at his cigar with great regularity. 

"No, " said Claudius at last, "certainly not. To woman man owes his life, and to woman he ought to owe his happiness. Without woman civilisationwould be impossible, and society would fall to pieces. "

"Oh!" ejaculated Mr. Barker. 

"I worship woman in the abstract and in the concrete. I reverence hermission, and I honour the gifts of Heaven which fit her to fulfil it. "

"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Barker. 

"I think there is nothing made in creation that can be compared withwoman, not even man. I am enthusiastic, of course, you will say, but Ibelieve that homage and devotion to woman is the first duty of man, after homage and devotion to the Supreme Being whom all different racesunite in describing as God. "

"That will do, thank you, " said Mr. Barker, "I am quite satisfied ofyour adoration, and I will not ask her name. "

"She has no name, and she has all names, " continued Claudius seriously. "She is an ideal. "

"Yes, my feeble intelligence grasps that she cannot be anything else. But I did not want a confession of faith. I only asked if you dislikedladies' society, because I was going to propose to introduce you to somefriends of mine here. "

"Oh!" said Claudius, and he leaned back in his chair and stared at thelamp. Barker was silent. 

The Doctor was puzzled. He thought it would be very rude of him torefuse Mr. Barker's offer. On the other hand, in spite of hisprotestations of devotion to the sex, he knew that the exalted opinionhe held of woman in general had gained upon him of late years, since hehad associated less with them. It was with him a beautiful theory, theoutcome of a knightly nature thrown back on itself, but as yet not fixedor clearly defined by any intimate knowledge of woman's character, stillless by any profound personal experience of love. Courtesy was uppermostas he answered. 

"Really, " he said at last, "if you are very desirous of presenting me toyour friends, of course I--"

"Oh, only if it is agreeable to you, of course. If it it is in any waythe reverse--" protested the polite Mr. Barker. 

"Not that--not exactly disagreeable. Only it is some time since I haveenjoyed the advantage of an hour's conversation with ladies; andbesides, since it comes to that, I am here as a pedestrian, and I do notpresent a very civilised appearance. "

"Don't let that disturb you. Since you consent, " went on Mr. Barker, briskly taking everything for granted, "I may tell you that the lady inquestion has expressed a wish to have you presented, and that I couldnot do less than promise to bring you if possible. As for your personalappearance, it is not of the least consequence. Perhaps, if you don'tmind a great deal, you might have your hair cut. Don't be offended, Professor, but nothing produces an appearance of being dressed soinfallibly as a neatly-trimmed head. "

"Oh, certainly, if you think it best, I will have my hair cut. It willsoon grow again. "

Mr. Barker smiled under the lambrikin of his moustache. "Yes, " thoughthe, "but it sha'n't. "

"Then, " he said aloud, "we will go about eleven. "

Claudius sat wondering who the lady could be who wanted to have himpresented. But he was afraid to ask; Barker would immediately suppose heimagined it to be the dark lady. However, his thoughts took it as acertainty that it must be she, and went on building castles in the airand conversations in the clouds. Barker watched him and probably guessedwhat he was thinking of; but he did not want to spoil the surprise hehad arranged, and fearing lest Claudius might ask some awkward question, he went to bed, leaving the Doctor to his cogitations. 

In the morning he lay in wait for his friend, who had gone off for anearly walk in the woods. He expected that a renewal of the attack wouldbe necessary before the sacrifice of the yellow locks could beaccomplished, and he stood on the steps of the hotel, clad in the mostexquisite of grays, tapering down to the most brilliant of boots. He hada white rose in his buttonhole, and his great black dog was lying at hisfeet, having for a wonder found his master, for the beast was given toroaming, or to the plebeian society of Barker's servant. The American'scareful attire contrasted rather oddly with his sallow face, and withthe bony hand that rested against the column. He was a young man, but helooked any age that morning. Before long his eye twinkled and he changedhis position expectantly, for he saw the tall figure of Claudiusstriding up the street, a head and shoulders above the strolling crowd;and, wonderful to relate, the hair was gone, the long beard wascarefully clipped and trimmed, and the Doctor wore a new gray hat!

"If he will black his boots and put a rose in his coat, he will do. Whata tearing swell he will be when he is dressed, " thought Mr. Barker, ashe looked at his friend. 

"You see I have followed your advice, " said Claudius, holding out hishand. 

"Always do that, and you will yet taste greatness, " said the othercheerfully. "You look like a crown prince like that. Perfectly immense. "

"I suppose I am rather big, " said Claudius apologetically, not catchingthe American idiom. Mr. Barker, however, did not explain himself, for hewas thinking of other things. 

"We will go very soon. Excuse the liberty, Professor, but you might haveyour boots blacked. There is a little cad down the backstairs who doesit. "

"Of course, " answered Claudius, and disappeared within. A small man whowas coming out paused and turned to look after him, putting up hiseyeglass. Then he took off his hat to Mr. Barker. 

"Pardon, Monsieur, " he began, "if I take the liberty of making aninquiry, but could you inform me of the name of that gentleman, whoseappearance fills me with astonishment, and whose vast dimensions obscurethe landscape of Baden?"

Mr. Barker looked at the small man for a moment very gravely. 

"Yes, " said he pensively, "his royal highness _is_ a large mancertainly. " And while his interlocutor was recovering enough toformulate another question, Mr. Barker moved gently away to aflowerstand. 

When Claudius returned his friend was waiting for him, and himselfpinned a large and expensive rose in the Doctor's buttonhole. Mr. Barkersurveyed his work--the clipped head, the new hat, the shiny boots andthe rose--with a satisfied air, such as Mr. Barnum may have worn when helanded Jumbo on the New York pier. Then he called a cab, and they droveaway. 

CHAPTER IV. 

The summer breath of the roses blew sweetly in through the long windowsof the Countess's morning-room from the little garden outside as Barkerand Claudius entered. There was an air of inhabited luxury which wasevidently congenial to the American, for he rubbed his hands softlytogether and touched one or two objects caressingly while waiting forthe lady of the house. Claudius glanced at the table and took up a book, with that singular student habit that is never lost. It was a volume ofEnglish verse, and in a moment he was reading, just as he stood, withhis hat caught between the fingers that held the book, oblivious ofcountesses and visits and formalities. There was a rustle and a step onthe garden walk, and both men turned towards the open glass door. Claudius almost dropped the vellum-covered poet, and was veryperceptibly startled as he recognised the lady of his Heidelbergadventure--the woman who had got, as by magic, a hold over his thoughts, so that he dreamed of her and wondered about her, sleeping and waking. 

Dark-eyed Countess Margaret, all clad in pure white, the smallest oflace fichus just dropped over her heavy hair, moved smoothly up thesteps and into the room. 

"Good morning, Mr. Barker, I am so glad you have come, " said she, graciously extending her hand in the cordial Transatlantic fashion. 

"Permit me to present my friend, Professor Claudius, " said Barker. Claudius bowed very low. The plunge was over, and he recovered hisoutward calm, whatever he might feel. 

"Mr. Barker flatters me, Madam, " he said quietly. "I am not a professor, but only a private lecturer. "

"I am too far removed from anything learned to make such distinctions, "said the Countess. "But since good fortune has brought you into thecircle of my ignorance, let me renew my thanks for the service you didme in Heidelberg the other day. "

Claudius bowed and murmured something inaudible. 

"Or had you not realised that I was the heroine of the parasol at thebroken tower?" asked Margaret smiling, as she seated herself in a lowchair and motioned to her guests to follow her example. Barker selecteda comfortable seat, and arranged the cushion to suit him before hesubsided into repose, but the Doctor laid hands on a stern andsolid-looking piece of carving, and sat upright facing the Countess. 

"Pardon me, " said he, "I had. But it is always startling to realise adream. " The Countess looked at Claudius rather inquiringly; perhaps shehad not expected he was the sort of man to begin an acquaintance bymaking compliments. However, she said nothing, and he continued, "Do younot always find it so?"

"The bearded hermit is no duffer, " thought Mr. Barker. "He will saygrace over the whole barrel of pork. "

"Ah! I have few dreams, " replied the Countess, "and when I do have any, I never realise them. I am a very matter-of-fact person. "

"What matters the fact when you are the person, Madam?" retortedClaudius, fencing for a discussion of some kind. 

"Immense, " thought Mr. Barker, changing one leg over the other andbecoming interested. 

"Does that mean anything, or is it only a pretty paradox?" asked thelady, observing that Claudius had thrown himself boldly into a crucialposition. Upon his answer would probably depend her opinion of him asbeing either intelligent or _banal_ It is an easy matter to frameparadoxical questions implying a compliment, but it is no light task tobe obliged to answer them oneself. Claudius was not thinking ofproducing an effect, for the fascination of the dark woman was upon him, and the low, strange voice bewitched him, so he said what cameuppermost. 

"Yes, " said he, "there are persons whose lives may indeed be matters offact to themselves--who shall say?--but who are always dreams in thelives of others. "

"Charming, " laughed the Countess, "do you always talk like that, Professor Claudius?"

"I have always thought, " Mr. Barker remarked in his high-set voice, "that I would like to be the dream of somebody's life. But somehowthings have gone against me. "

The other two laughed. He did not strike one as the sort of individualwho would haunt the love-sick dreams of a confiding heart. 

"I would rather it were the other way, " said Claudius thoughtfully. 

"And I, " rejoined the American, "would drink perdition to theunattainable. "

"Either I do not agree with you, Mr. Barker, " said the Countess, "orelse I believe nothing is unattainable. "

"I implore you to be kind, and believe the latter, " he answeredcourteously. 

"Come, I will show you my garden, " said Margaret rising. "It ispleasanter in the open air. " She led the way out through the glass door, the men walking on her right and left. 

"I am very fond of my garden, " she said, "and I take great care of itwhen I am here. " She stopped and pulled two or three dead leaves off arosebush to illustrate her profession of industry. 

"And do you generally live here?" asked Claudius, who was as yet incomplete ignorance of the Countess's name, title, nationality, and modeof life, for Mr. Barker had, for some occult reason, left him in thedark. 

Perhaps the Countess guessed as much, for she briefly imparted a gooddeal of information. 

"When Count Alexis, my husband, was alive, we lived a great deal inRussia. But I am an American like Mr. Barker, and I occasionally make atrip to my native country. However, I love this place in summer, and Ialways try to be here. That is my friend, Miss Skeat, who lives withme. "

Miss Skeat was stranded under a tree with a newspaper and several books. Her polished cheekbones and knuckles glimmered yellow in the shade. Byher side was a long cane chair, in which lay a white silk wrap and a bitof needlework, tumbled together as the Countess had left them when shewent in to receive her visitors. Miss Skeat rose as the partyapproached. The Countess introduced the two men, who bowed low, and theyall sat down, Mr. Barker on the bench by the ancient virgin, andClaudius on the grass at Margaret's feet. It was noonday, but there wasa light breeze through, the flowers and grasses. The conversation soonfell into pairs as they sat. 

"I should not have said, at first sight, that you were a veryimaginative person, Dr. Claudius, " said the Countess. 

"I have been dreaming for years, " he answered. "I am a mathematician, and of late I have become a philosopher in a small way, as far as thatis possible from reading the subject. There are no two branches oflearning that require more imagination than mathematics and philosophy. "

"Philosophy, perhaps, " she replied, "but mathematics--I thought that wasan exact science, where everything was known, and there was no room fordreaming. "

"I suppose that is the general impression. But do you think it requiresno imagination to conceive a new application of knowledge, to invent newmethods where old ones are inadequate, to lay out a route through theunknown land beyond the regions of the known?"

"Ordinary people, like me, associate mathematics with measurement andfigures and angles. "

"Yes, " said Claudius, "but it is the same as though you confusedreligion with its practical results. If the religion is true at all, itwould be just as true if man did not exist, and if it consequently hadno application to life. "

"I understand the truth of that, though we might differ about the word. So you have been dreaming for years--and what were your dreams like?"The Countess looked down earnestly at Claudius, who in his turn lookedat her with a little smile. She thought he was different from other men, and he was wondering how much of his dreams he might tell her. 

"Of all sorts, " he answered, still looking up into her face. "Bitter andsweet. I have dreamed of the glory of life and of mind-power, of theaccomplishment of the greatest good to the greatest number; I havebelieved the extension of science possible 'beyond the bounds of allimaginable experience' into the realms of the occult and hidden; I havewandered with Hermes by the banks of the Nile, with Gautama along themud-flats of the Ganges. I have disgusted myself with the writings ofthose who would reduce all history and religion to solar myths, and Ihave striven to fathom the meaning of those whose thoughts are profoundand their hearts noble, but their speech halting. I have dreamed manythings, Countess, and the worst is that I have lived to weary of mydreams, and to say that all things are vanity--all save one, " he addedwith hesitation. There was a momentary pause. 

"Of course, " Mr. Barker was saying to Miss Skeat, with a fascinatingsmile, "I have the greatest admiration for Scotch heroism. John Grahameof Claver-house. Who can read Macaulay's account--"

"Ah, " interrupted the old gentlewoman, "if you knew how I feel aboutthese odious calumnies!"

"I quite understand that, " said Barker sympathetically. He haddiscovered Miss Skeat's especial enthusiasm. 

Margaret turned again to the Doctor. 

"And may I ask, without indiscretion, what the one dream may be that youhave refused to relegate among the vanities?"

"Woman, " answered Claudius, and was silent. 

The Countess thought the Doctor spoke ironically, and she laughed aloud, half amused and half annoyed. "I am in earnest, " said Claudius, plucking a blade of grass and twisting it round his finger. 

"Truly?" asked she. 

"Foi de gentilhomme!" he answered. 

"But Mr. Barker told me you lived like a hermit. "

"That is the reason it has been a dream, " said he. 

"You have not told me what the dream was like. What beautiful thingshave you fancied about us?"

"I have dreamed of woman's mission, and of woman's love. I have fanciedthat woman and woman's love represented the ruling spirit, as man andman's brain represent the moving agent, in the world. I have drawnpictures of an age in which real chivalry of word and thought and deedmight be the only law necessary to control men's actions. Not the scenicand theatrical chivalry of the middle age, ready at any moment to breakout into epidemic crime, but a true reverence and understanding ofwoman's supreme right to honour and consideration; an age wherein itshould be no longer coarsely said that love is but an episode in thebrutal life of man, while to woman it is life itself. I have dreamedthat the eternal womanhood of the universe beckoned me to follow. "

The Countess could not take her eyes off Claudius. She had never met aman like him; at least she had never met a man who plunged into thiskind of talk after half an hour's acquaintance. There was a thrill offeeling in her smooth deep voice when she answered: "If all men thoughtas you think, the world would be a very different place. "

"It would he a better place in more ways than one, " he replied. 

"And yet you yourself call it a dream, " said Margaret, musing. 

"It is only you, Countess, who say that dreams are never realised. "

"And do you expect to realise yours?"

"Yes--I do. " He looked at her with his bold blue eyes, and she thoughtthey sparkled. 

"Tell me, " she asked, "are you going to preach a crusade for theliberation of our sex? Do you mean to bring about the great change inthe social relations of the world? Is it you who will build up thepedestal which we are to mount and from which we shall survey countlessranks of adoring men?"

"Do you not see, as you look down on me from your throne, from thischair, that I have begun already?" answered Claudius, smiling, andmaking a pretence of folding his hands. 

"No, " said the Countess, overlooking his last speech; "if you had anyconvictions about it, as you pretend to have, you would begin at onceand revolutionise the world in six months. What is the use of dreaming?It is not dreamers who make history. "

"No, it is more often women. But tell me, Countess, do you approve of mycrusade? Am I not right? Have I your sanction?"

Margaret was silent. Mr. Barker's voice was heard again, holding forthto Miss Skeat. 

"In all ages, " he said, with an air of conviction, "the aristocracy of acountry have been in reality the leaders of its thought and science andenlightenment. Perhaps the form of aristocracy most worthy of admirationis that time-honoured institution of pre-eminent families, the Scottishclan, the Hebrew tribe--"

Claudius overheard and opened his eyes. It seemed to him that Barker wastalking nonsense. Margaret smiled, for she knew her companion well, andunderstood in a moment that the American had discovered her hobby, andwas either seeking to win her good graces, or endeavouring to amusehimself by inducing her to air her views. But Claudius returned to thecharge. 

"What is it to be, Countess?" he asked. "Am I to take up arms and sailout and conquer the universe, and bring it bound to your feet to do youhomage; or shall I go back to my turret chamber in Heidelberg?"

"Your simile seems to me to be appropriate, " said Margaret. "I am sureyour forefathers must have been Vikings. "

"They were, " replied Claudius, "for I am a Scandinavian. Shall I go outand plunder the world for your benefit? Shall I make your universality, your general expression, woman, sovereign over my general expression, man?"

"Considering who is to be the gainer, " she answered, laughing, "I cannotwell withhold my consent. When will you begin?"

"Now. "

"And how?"

"How should I begin, " said he, a smile on his face, and the lightdancing in his eyes, "except by making myself the first convert?"

Margaret was used enough to pretty speeches, in earnest and in jest, butshe thought she had never heard any one turn them more readily than theyellow-bearded student. 

"And Mr. Barker, " she asked, "will you convert him?"

"Can you look at him at this moment, Countess, and say you really thinkhe needs it?"

She glanced at the pair on the bench, and laughed again, in the air, for it was apparent that Mr. Barker had made a complete conquest of MissSkeat. He had led the conversation about tribes to the ancient practicesof the North American Indians, and was detailing their customs withmarvellous fluency. A scientific hearer might have detected somestartling inaccuracies, but Miss Skeat listened with rapt attention. Who, indeed, should know more about Indians than a born American who hadtravelled in the West?

The Countess turned the conversation to other subjects, and talkedintelligently about books. She evidently read a great deal, or rathershe allowed Miss Skeat to read to her, and her memory was good. Claudiuswas not behind in sober criticism of current literature, though hisreading had been chiefly of a tougher kind. Time flew by quickly, andwhen the two men rose to go their visit had lasted two hours. 

"You will report the progress of your conquest?" said the Countess toClaudius as she gave him her hand, which he stooped to kiss in the goodold German fashion. 

"Whenever you will permit me, Countess, " he said. 

"I am always at home in the middle of the day. And you too, Mr. Barker, do not wait to be asked before you come again. You are absolutely theonly civilised American I know here. "

"Don't say that, Countess. There is the Duke, who came with meyesterday. "

"But he is English. "

"But he is also American. He owns mines and prairies, and he emigratessemi-annually. They all do now. You know rats leave a sinking ship, andthey are going to have a commune in England. "

"Oh, Mr. Barker, how can you!" exclaimed Miss Skeat. 

"But I am only joking, of course, " said he, and pacified her. So theyparted. 

Mr. Barker and Claudius stood on the front door-step, and the former lita cigar while the carriage drove up. 

"Doctor, " said he, "I consider you the most remarkable man of myacquaintance. "

"Why?" asked Claudius as he got into the carriage. 

"Well, for several reasons. Chiefly because though you have lived in a'three pair back' for years, and never seen so much as a woman's ear, byyour own account, you nevertheless act as if you had never been out of adrawing-room during your life. You are the least shy man I ever saw. "

"Shy?" exclaimed Claudius, "what a funny idea! Why should I be shy?"

"No reason in the world, I suppose, after all. But it is very odd. " AndMr. Barker ruminated, rolling his cigar in his mouth. "Besides, " headded, after a long pause, "you have made a conquest. "

"Nonsense. Now, you have some right to flatter yourself on that score. "

"Miss Skeat?" said Mr. Barker. "Sit still, my heart!"

They drove along in silence for some time. At last Mr. Barker beganagain, --

"Well, Professor, what are you going to do about it?"

"About what?"

"Why, about the conquest. Shall you go there again?"

"Very likely. " Claudius was annoyed at his companion's tone of voice. Hewould have scoffed at the idea that he loved the Countess at firstsight; but she nevertheless represented his ideal to him, and he couldnot bear to hear Mr. Barker's chaffing remarks. Of course Barker hadtaken him to the house, and had a right to ask if Claudius had found thevisit interesting. But Claudius was determined to check any kind oflevity from the first. He did not like it about women on any terms, butin connection with the Countess Margaret it was positively unbearable. So he answered curtly enough to show Mr. Barker he objected to it. Thelatter readily understood and drew his own inferences. 

A different conversation ensued in the Countess's garden when thevisitors were gone. 

"Well, Miss Skeat, " said Margaret, "what do you think of my newacquaintances?"

"I think Mr. Barker is the most agreeable American I ever met, " saidMiss Skeat. "He has very sound views about social questions, and hisinformation on the subject of American Indians is perfectlyextraordinary. "

"And the Doctor? what do you think of him?"

"He dresses very oddly, " said the lady companion; "but his manners seemeverything that could be desired, and he has aristocratic hands. "

"I did not notice his dress much. But he is very handsome. He looks likea Scandinavian hero. You know I was sure I should meet him again thatday in Heidelberg. "

"I suppose he really is very good-looking, " assented Miss Skeat. 

"Shall we have them to dinner some day? I think we might; very quietly, you know. "

"I would certainly advise it, dear Countess. You really ought to beginand see people in some way besides allowing them to call on you. Ithink this solitude is affecting your spirits. "

"Oh no; I am very happy--at least, as happy as I can be. But we willhave them to dinner. When shall it be?"

"To-morrow is too soon. Say Thursday, since you ask me, " said MissSkeat. 

"Very well. Shall we read a little?" And Tourguéneff was put intorequisition. 

It was late in the afternoon when the Countess's phaeton, black horses, black liveries, and black cushions, swept round a corner of the drive. Claudius and Barker, in a hired carriage, passed her, coming from theopposite direction. The four people bowed to each other--the ladiesgraciously, the men with courteous alacrity. Each of the four wasinterested in the others, and each of the four felt that they would allbe thrown together in the immediate future. There was a feeling amongthem that they had known each other a long time, though they were butacquaintances of to-day and yesterday. 

"I have seldom seen anything more complete than that turn-out, " said Mr. Barker. "The impression of mourning is perfect; it could not have beenbetter if it had been planned by a New York undertaker. "

"Are New York undertakers such great artists?" asked Claudius. 

"Yes; people get buried more profusely there. But don't you think it isremarkably fine?"

"Yes. I suppose you are trying to make me say that the Countess is abeautiful woman, " answered Claudius, who was beginning to understandBarker. "If that is what you want, I yield at once. I think she is themost beautiful woman I ever saw. "

"Ah!--don't you think perhaps that Miss Skeat acts as an admirablefoil?"

"Such beauty as that requires no foil. The whole world is a foil toher. "

"Wait till you come to America. I will show you her match in Newport. "

"I doubt it. What is Newport?"

"Newport is the principal watering-place of our magnificent country. Itis Baden, Homburg, Bigorre, and Biarritz rolled into one. It is aterrestrial paradise, a land of four-in-hands and houris andsurf-bathing and nectar and ambrosia. I could not begin to give you anidea of it; wait till you get there. "

"A society place, I suppose, then?" said Claudius, not in the leastmoved by the enthusiastic description. 

"A society place before all things. But you may have plenty of solitudeif you like. "

"I hardly think I should care much for Newport, " said Claudius. 

"Well, I like it very much. My father has a place there, to which I takethe liberty of inviting you for the season, whenever you make up yourmind to enjoy yourself. "

"You are very good, I am sure; and if, as you say, I ever go to America, which seems in your opinion paramount to enjoying myself, I will takeadvantage of your kind invitation. "

"Really, I hope you will. Shall we go and dine?"

CHAPTER V. 

On the following day Claudius and Mr. Barker received each a note. Thesecommunications were in square, rough envelopes, and directed in a largefeminine handwriting. The contents intimated that the Countess Margaretwould be glad to see them at dinner at half-past seven on Thursday. 

"That is to-morrow, " said Mr. Barker pensively. 

Claudius, who was generally the calmest of the calm, made a remark inGerman to the effect that he fervently desired a thousand millionbushels of thunder-weather to fly away with him that very instant. 

"Did you say anything, Professor?" inquired Mr. Barker blandly. 

"I did. I swore, " answered Claudius. "I have half a mind to swearagain. "

"Do it. Profanity is the safety-valve of great minds. Swear loudly, andput your whole mind to it. "

Claudius strode to the window of their sitting-room and looked out. 

"It is extremely awkward, upon my word, " he said. 

"What is awkward, Professor? The invitation?"

"Yes--very. "

"Why, pray? I should think you would be very much pleased. "

"Exactly--I should be: but there is a drawback. "

"Of what nature? Anything I can do?"

"Not exactly. I cannot wear one of your coats. "

"Oh! is that it?" said Mr. Barker; and a pleasant little thrill oftriumph manifested itself, as he pushed out his jaw and exhibited hiscircular wrinkle. "Of course--how stupid of me! You are here as apedestrian, and you have no evening dress. Well, the sooner we go andsee a tailor the better, in that case. I will ring for a carriage. " Hedid so, remarking internally that he had scored one in putting theDoctor into a position which forced him to dress like a Christian. 

"Do you never walk?" asked Claudius, putting a handful of cigarettesinto his pocket. 

"No, " said the American, "I never walk. If man were intended by anall-wise Providence to do much walking he would have four legs. "

The tailor promised upon his faith as a gentleman to make Claudiuspresentable by the following evening. Baden tailors are used toproviding clothes at short notice; and the man kept his word. 

Pending the event, Barker remarked to Claudius that it was a pity theymight not call again before the dinner. Claudius said in some countrieshe thought it would be the proper thing; but that in Germany Barker wasundoubtedly right--it would not do at all. 

"Customs vary so much in society, " said Barker; "now in America we havesuch a pretty habit. "

"What is that?"

"Sending flowers--we send them to ladies on the smallest provocation. "

"But is not the Countess an American?" asked Claudius. 

"Yes, certainly. Old Southern family settled north. "

"In that case, " said Claudius, "the provocation is sufficient. Let ussend flowers immediately. " And he took his hat from the table. 

Thought Mr. Barker, "My show Doctor is going it;" but he translated histhoughts into English. 

"I think that is a good idea. I will send for a carriage. "

"It is only a step, " said Claudius, "we had much better walk. "

"Well, anything to oblige you. "

Claudius had good taste in such things, and the flowers he sent werejust enough to form a beautiful _ensemble_, without producing animpression of lavish extravagance. As Mr. Barker had said, the sendingof flowers is a "pretty habit, "--a graceful and gentle fashion mostpeculiar to America. There is no country where the custom is carried tothe same extent; there is no other country where on certain occasions itis requested, by advertisement in the newspapers, "that no flowers besent. " Countess Margaret was charmed, and though Miss Skeat, who lovedroses and lilies, poor thing, offered to arrange them and put them inwater, the dark lady would not let her touch them. She was jealous oftheir beauty. 

The time seemed long to Claudius, though he went in the meanwhile withBarker and the British aristocracy to certain races. He rather liked theracing, though he would not bet. The Duke lost some money, and Barkerwon a few hundred francs from a Russian acquaintance. The Duke drankcuraçao and potass water, and Mr. Barker drank champagne, while Claudiussmoked innumerable cigarettes. There were a great many bright dresses, there was a great deal of shouting, and the congregation of thehorse-cads was gathered together. 

"It does not look much like Newmarket, does it?" said the Duke. 

"More like the Paris Exposition, without the exposition, " said Barker. 

"Do you have much racing in America?" asked Claudius. 

"Just one or two, " answered Barker, "generally on wheels. "

"Wheels?"

"Yes. Trotting. Ag'd nags in sulkies. See how fast they can go a mile, "explained the Duke. "Lots of shekels on it too, very often. "

At last the evening came, and Claudius appeared in Barker's room arrayedin full evening-dress. As Barker had predicted to himself, the resultwas surprising. Claudius was far beyond the ordinary stature of men, andthe close-fitting costume showed off his athletic figure, while thepale, aquiline features, with the yellow heard that looked gold atnight, contrasted in their refinement with the massive proportions ofhis frame, in a way that is rarely seen save in the races of the farnorth or the far south. 

The Countess received them graciously, and Miss Skeat was animated. Theflowers that Claudius had sent the day before were conspicuously placedon a table in the drawing-room. Mr. Barker, of course, took in theCountess, and Miss Skeat put her arm in that of Claudius, inwardlywondering how she could have overlooked the fact that he was soexcessively handsome. They sat at a round table on which were flowers, and a large block of ice in a crystal dish. 

"Do you understand Russian soups?" asked Margaret of Claudius, as shedeposited a spoonful of a wonderful looking _pâté_ in the middle of her_consommé_. 

"Alas" said the Doctor, "I am no gastronome. At least my friend Mr. Barker tells me so, but I have great powers of adaptation. I shallfollow your example, and shall doubtless fare sumptuously. "

"Do not fear, " said she, "you shall not have any more strange andCossack things to eat. I like some Russian things, but they are sotremendous, that unless you have them first you cannot have them atall. "

"I think it is rather a good plan, " said Barker, "to begin withsomething characteristic. It settles the plan of action in one's mind, and helps the memory. "

"Do you mean in things in general, or only in dinner?" asked theCountess. 

"Oh, things in general, of course. I always generalise. In conversation, for instance. Take the traditional English stage father. He alwaysdevotes himself to everlasting perdition before he begins asentence, --and then you know what to expect. "

"On the principle of knowing the worst--I understand, " said Margaret. 

"As long as people understand each other, " Claudius put in, "it isalways better to plunge _in medias res_ from the first. "

"Yes, Dr. Claudius, you understand that very well;" and Margaret turnedtowards him as she spoke. 

"The Doctor understands many things, " said Barker in parenthesis. 

"You have not yet reported the progress of the crusade, " continued theCountess, "I must know all about it at once. "

"I have been plotting and planning in the spirit, while my body has beenfrequenting the frivolities of this over-masculine world, " answered theDoctor. At this point Miss Skeat attacked Mr. Barker about the NorthAmerican Indians, and the conversation paired off, as it will under suchcircumstances. 

Claudius was in good spirits and talked wittily, half in jest, one wouldhave thought, but really in earnest, about what was uppermost in hismind, and what he intended should be uppermost in the world. It was asingular conversation, in the course of which he sometimes spoke veryseriously; but the Countess did not allow herself the luxury of beingserious, though it was an effort to her to laugh at the enthusiasm ofhis language, for he had a strong vitality, and something of the giftwhich carries people away. But Margaret had an impression that Claudiuswas making love, and had chosen this attractive ground upon which toopen his campaign. She could not wholly believe him different from othermen--at least she would not believe so soon--and her instinct told herthat the fair-haired student admired her greatly. 

Claudius, for his part, wondered at himself, when he found a moment toreflect on what he had been saying. He tried to remember whether any ofthese thoughts had been formulated in his mind a month ago. He was, indeed, conscious that his high reverence for women in the abstract hadbeen growing in him for years, but he had had no idea how strong hisbelief had grown in this reverence as an element in social affairs. Doubtless the Doctor had often questioned why it was that women had solittle weight in the scale, why they did so little of all they might do, and he had read something of their doings across the ocean. But it hadall been vague, thick, and foggy, whereas now it was all sharp andclean-edged. He had made the first step out of his dreams in that hehad thought its realisation possible, and none but dreamers know howgreat and wide that step is. The first faint dawning, "It may be true, after all, " is as different from the remote, listless view of theshadowy thought incapable of materialisation, as a landscape pictureseen by candle-light is different from the glorious reality of the sceneit represents. Therefore, when Claudius felt the awakening touch, andsaw his ideal before him, urging him, by her very existence which madeit possible, to begin the fight, he felt the blood run quickly in hisveins, and his blue eyes flashed again, and the words came flowingeasily and surely from his lips. But he wondered at his own eloquence, not seeing yet that the divine spark had kindled his genius into a broadflame, and not half understanding what he felt. 

It is late in the day to apostrophise love. It has been done too much bypeople who persuade themselves that they love because they say they do, and because it seems such a fine thing. Poets and cynics, and good menand bad, have had their will of the poor little god, and he has grown soshy and retiring that he would rather not be addressed, or described, orphotographed in type, for the benefit of the profane. He is chary ofusing pointed shafts, and most of his target practice is done with heavyround-tipped arrows that leave an ugly black bruise where they strike, but do not draw the generous blood. He lurks in out-of-the-way placesand mopes, and he rarely springs out suddenly on unwary youth and maid, as he used to in the good old days before Darwin and La Rochefoucaulddestroyed the beauty of the body and the beauty of the soul, --or man'sbelief in them, which is nearly the same. Has not the one taught us tosee the animal in the angel, and the other to detect the devil in thesaint? And yet we talk of our loves as angels and our departed parentsas saints, in a gentle, commonplace fashion, as we talk of our articlesof faith. The only moderns who apostrophise love with any genuinesuccess are those who smack their lips sensuously at his flesh andblood, because they are too blind to see the lovely soul that isenshrined therein, and they have too little wit to understand that souland body are one. 

Mr. Barker, who seemed to have the faculty of carrying on oneconversation and listening to another at the same time, struck in whenClaudius paused. 

"The Professor, Countess, " he began, "is one of those rare individualswho indulge in the most unbounded enthusiasm. At the present time Ithink, with all deference to his superior erudition, that he is runninginto a dead wall. We have seen something of the 'woman's rights'question in America. Let us take him over there and show him what it allmeans. "

"My friend, " answered Claudius, "you are one of those hardened scepticsfor whom nothing can be hoped save a deathbed repentance. When you aremortally hit and have the alternative of marriage or death set beforeyou in an adequately lively manner, you will, of course, elect to marry. Then your wife, if you get your deserts, will rule you with a rod ofiron, and you will find, to your cost, that the woman who has got youhas rights, whether you like it or not, and that she can use them. "

"Dollars and cents, " said Barker grimly, "that is all. "

"No, it is not all, " retorted Claudius. "A wise Providence has providedwomen in the world who can make it very uncomfortable for sinners likeyou, and if you do not reform and begin a regular course of worship, Ihope that one of them will get you. "

"Thanks. And if I repent and make a pilgrimage on my knees to everywoman I know, what fate do you predict? what countless blessings are instore for me?"

The Countess was amused at the little skirmish, though she knew thatClaudius was right. Barker, with all his extreme politeness and hispleasant speeches, had none of the knightly element in his character. 

"You never can appreciate the 'countless blessings' until you areconverted to woman-worship, my friend, " said Claudius, evading thequestion. "But, " he added, "perhaps the Countess might describe them toyou. "

But Margaret meant to do nothing of the kind. She did not want tocontinue the general conversation on the topic which seemed especiallyClaudius's own, particularly as Mr. Barker seemed inclined to laugh atthe Doctor's enthusiasm. So she changed the subject, and began askingthe American questions about the races on the previous day. 

"Of course, " she said, "I do not go anywhere now. "

The dinner passed off very pleasantly. Miss Skeat was instructed in theKnickerbocker and Boston peerage, so to speak, by the intelligent Mr. Barker, who did not fail, however, to hint at the superiority ofDebrett, who does not hesitate to tell, and boldly to print in black andwhite, those distinctions of rank which he considers necessary to thesalvation of society; whereas the enterprising compilers of the "BostonBlue Book" and the "New York List" only divide society up into streets, mapping it out into so many square feet and so much frontage of dukes, marquesses, generals, and "people we don't know. " Miss Skeat listenedto the disquisition on the rights of birth with rapt attention, and theyellow candle-light played pleasantly on her old corners, and herancient heart fluttered sympathetically. Margaret, on the other side, made Claudius talk about his youth, and took infinite pleasure inlistening to his tales of the fresh Northern life he had led as a boy. The Doctor had the faculty of speech and told his stories with a certainvigour that savoured of the sea. 

"I hope you will both come and see me, " said the Countess, as the twomen took their departure; but as she spoke she looked at Barker. 

Half an hour later they sat in their sitting-room at the hotel, andBarker sipped a little champagne while Claudius smoked cigarettes, asusual. As usual, also, they were talking. It was natural that twoindividuals endowed with the faculty of expressing their thoughts, andholding views for the most part diametrically opposed, should have agood deal to say to each other. The one knew a great deal, and the otherhad seen a great deal; both were given to looking at life ratherseriously than the reverse. Barker never deceived himself for a momentabout the reality of things, and spent much of his time in the practicaladaptation of means to ends he had in view; he was superficial in hisknowledge, but profound in his actions. Claudius was an intellectualseeker after an outward and visible expression of an inward andspiritual truth which he felt must exist, though he knew he might spenda lifetime in the preliminary steps towards its attainment. Just nowthey were talking of marriage. 

"It is detestable, " said Claudius, "to think how mercenary the marriagecontract is, in all civilised and uncivilised countries. It ought notto be so--it is wrong from the very beginning. "

"Yes, it is wrong of course, " answered Barker, who was always ready toadmit the existence and even the beauty of an ideal, though he nevertook the ideal into consideration for a moment in his doings. "Of courseit is wrong; but it cannot be helped. It crops up everywhere, as thequestion of dollars and cents will in every kind of business; and Ibelieve it is better to be done with it at first. Now you have to pay aFrenchman cash down before he will marry your daughter. "

"I know, " said Claudius, "and I loathe the idea. "

"I respect your loathing, but there it is, and it has the greatadvantage that it is all over, and there is no more talk about it. Nowthe trouble in our country is that people marry for love, and when theyget through loving they have got to live, and then somebody must pay thebills. Supposing the son of one rich father marries the daughter ofanother rich father; by the time they have got rid of the novelty of thething the bills begin to come in, and they spend the remainder of theiramiable lives in trying to shove the expense off on to each other. Withan old-fashioned marriage contract to tie them up, that would nothappen, because the wife is bound to provide so many clothes, and thehusband has to give her just so much to eat, and there is an end of it. See?"

"No, I do not see, " returned Claudius. "If they really loved eachother--"

"Get out!" interrupted Barker, merrily. "If you mean to take theimmutability of the human affections as a basis of argument, I havedone. "

"There your cynicism comes in, " said the other, "and denies you thepleasure and profit of contemplating an ideal, and of following it upto its full development. "

"Is it cynical to see things as they are instead of as they might be inan imaginary world?"

"Provided you really see them as they are--no, " said Claudius. "But ifyou begin with an idea that things, as they are, are not very good, youwill very soon be judging them by your own inherent standard of badness, and you will produce a bad ideal as I produce a good one, farther stillfrom the truth, and extremely depressing to contemplate. "

"Why?" retorted Barker; "why should it be depressing to look ateverything as it is, or to try to? Why should my naturally gaydisposition suffer on making the discovery that the millennium is notbegun yet? The world may be bad, but it is a merry little place while itlasts. "

"You are a hopeless case, " said Claudius, laughing; "if you had aconscience and some little feeling for humanity, you would feeluncomfortable in a bad world. "

"Exactly. I am moderately comfortable because I know that I am just likeeverybody else. I would rather, I am sure. "

"I am not sure that you are, " said Claudius thoughtfully. 

"Oh! not as you imagine everybody else, certainly. Medieval persons whohave a hankering after tournaments and crawl about worshipping women. "

"I do not deny the softer impeachment, " answered the Doctor, "but Ihardly think I crawl much. "

"No, but the people you imagine do--the male population of this merryglobe, as you represent it to the Countess. "

"I think Countess Margaret understands me very well. "

"Yes, " said Barker, "she understands you very well. " He did notemphasise the remark, and his voice was high and monotonous; but therepetition was so forcible that Claudius looked at his companion rathercuriously, and was silent. Barker was examining the cork of his littlepint bottle of champagne--"just one square drink, " as he would haveexpressed it--and his face was a blank. 

"Don't you think, Professor, " he said at last, "that with your viewsabout the rights of women you might make some interesting studies inAmerica?"

"Decidedly. "

"You might write a book. "

"I might, " said Claudius. 

"You and the Countess might write a book together. "

"Are you joking?"

"No. What I have heard you saying to each other this evening and theother day when we called would make a very interesting book, though Idisagree with you both from beginning to end. It would sell, though. "

"It seems to me you rather take things for granted when you infer thatthe Countess would be willing to undertake anything of the kind. "

Barker looked at the Doctor steadily, and smiled. 

"Do you really think so? Do you imagine that if you would do the workshe would have any objection whatever to giving you the benefit of herviews and experience?"

"In other words, " Claudius said, "you are referring to the possibilityof a journey to America, in the company of the charming woman to whomyou have introduced me. "

"You are improving, Professor; that is exactly what I mean. Let usadjourn from the bowers of Baden to the wind-swept cliffs of Newport--wecan be there before the season is over. But I forgot, you thought youwould not like Newport. "

"I am not sure, " said Claudius. "Do you think the Countess would go?"

"If you will call there assiduously, and explain to her the gloriousfuture that awaits your joint literary enterprise, I believe she mightbe induced. "

Claudius went to bed that night with his head full of this new idea, just as Mr. Barker had intended. He dreamed he was writing with theCountess, and travelling with her and talking to her; and he woke upwith the determination that the thing should be done if it werepossible. Why not? She often made a trip to her native country, as sheherself had told him, and why should she not make another? For aught heknew, she might be thinking of it even now. 

Then he had a reaction of despondency. He knew nothing of her ties or ofher way of life. A woman in her position probably made engagements longbeforehand, and mapped out her year among her friends. She would havepromised a week here and a month there in visits all over Europe, andthe idea that she would give up her plans and consent, at the instanceof a two days' acquaintance, to go to America was preposterous. Thenagain, he said to himself, as he came back from his morning walk in thewoods, there was nothing like trying. He would call as soon as it wasdecent after the dinner, and he would call again. 

Mr. Barker was a man in whom a considerable experience of mensupplemented a considerable natural astuteness. He was not always rightin the judgments he formed of people and their aims, but he was moreoften right than wrong. His way of dealing with men was calculated onthe majority, and he knew that there are no complete exceptions to befound in the world's characters. But his standard was necessarilysomewhat low, and he lacked the sympathetic element which enables onehigh nature to understand another better than it understands itsinferiors. Barker would know how to deal with the people he met;Claudius could understand a hero if he ever met one, but he bore himselftoward ordinary people by fixed rules of his own, not caring orattempting to comprehend the principles on which they acted. 

If any one had asked the Doctor if he loved the Countess, he would haveanswered that he certainly did not. That she was the most beautifulwoman in the world, that she represented to him his highest ideal, andthat he was certain she came up to that ideal, although he knew her solittle, for he felt sure of that. But love, the Doctor thought, wasquite a different affair. What he felt for Margaret bore no resemblanceto what he had been used to call love. Besides, he would have said, didever a man fall in love at such short notice? Only in books. But as noone asked him the question, he did not ask it of himself, but only wenton thinking a great deal of her, and recalling all she said. He was inan unknown region, but he was happy and he asked no questions. Nevertheless his nature comprehended hers, and when he began to go oftento the beautiful little villa, he knew perfectly well that Barker wasmistaken, and that the dark Countess would think twice and three timesbefore she would be persuaded to go to America, or to write a book, orto do anything in the world for Claudius, except like him and show himthat he was welcome. She would have changed the subject had Claudiusproposed to her to do any of the things he seemed to think she was readyto do, and Claudius knew it instinctively. He was bold with women, buthe never transgressed, and his manner allowed him to say many thingsthat would have sounded oddly enough in Mr. Barker's mouth. He impressedwomen with a sense of confidence that he might be trusted to honour themand respect them under any circumstances. 

The Countess was accustomed to have men at her feet, but she had nevertreated a man unjustly, and if they had sometimes lost their heads itwas not her fault. She was a loyal woman, and had loved her husband asmuch as most good wives, though with an honest determination to love himbetter; for she was young when they married, and she thought her lovestronger than it really was. She had mourned him sincerely, but thewound had healed, and being a brave woman, with no morbid sensitivenessof herself, she had contemplated the possibility of marrying again, without, however, connecting the idea with any individual. She had likedClaudius from the first, and there had been something semi-romanticabout their meeting in the Schloss at Heidelberg. On nearer acquaintanceshe liked him better, though she knew that he admired her, and by thetime a fortnight had passed Claudius had become an institution. Theyread together and they walked together, and once she took him with herin the black phaeton, whereupon Barker remarked that it was "an immensething on wheels. "

Mr. Barker, seeing that his companion was safe for the present, leftBaden for a time and lighted on his friend the Duke at Como, where thelatter had discovered some attractive metal. The Duke remarked that Comowould be a very decent place if the scenery wasn't so confoundedly bad. "I could beat it on my own place in the west, " he added. 

The British aristocracy liked Mr. Barker, because he was alwaysinventing original ways of passing the time, and because, though he wasso rich, he never talked about money except in a vague way as "lots ofshekels, " or "piles of tin. " So they said they would go back to Badentogether, which they did, and as they had talked a good deal aboutClaudius, they called on the Countess the same afternoon, and there, sure enough, was the Swede, sitting by the Countess's side in thegarden, and expounding the works of Mr. Herbert Spencer. Barker and theDuke remained half an hour, and Claudius would have gone with them, butMargaret insisted upon finishing the chapter, so he stayed behind. 

"He's a gone 'coon, Duke, " remarked Barker, beginning to smoke as soonas he was in the Victoria. 

"I should say he was pretty hard hit, myself. I guess nothing bettercould have happened. " The Duke, in virtue of his possessions in America, affected to "guess" a little now and then when none of those horridpeople were about. 

"Come on, Duke, " said Barker, "let us go home, and take them with us. "

"I could not go just now. Next month. Autumn, you know. Glories of theforest and those sort of things. "

"Think they would go?"

"Don't know, " said the Duke. "Take them over in the yacht, if theylike. "

"All right. We can play poker while they bay the moon. "

"Hold on, though; she won't go without some other woman, you know. Itwould be in all the papers. "

"She has a lady-companion, " said Barker. 

"That won't do for respectability. "

"It is rather awkward, then. " There was silence for a few moments. 

"Stop a bit, " said the Duke suddenly. "It just strikes me. I have got asister somewhere. I'll look her up. She is never ill at sea, and theyhave sent her husband off to Kamtchatka, or some such place. "

"That's the very thing, " said Barker. "I will talk to Claudius. Can youmanage the Countess, do you think? Have you known her long?"

"Rather. Ever since she married poor Alexis. "

"All right, then. You ask her. " And they reached their hotel. 

So these two gentlemen settled things between them. They both wanted togo to America, and they were not in a hurry, so that the prospect of apleasant party, with all the liberty and home feeling there is on boardof a yacht, was an immense attraction. Barker, of course, was amused andinterested by his scheme for making Claudius and the Countess fall inlove with each other, and he depended on the dark lady for his show. Claudius would not have been easily induced to leave Europe by argumentor persuasion, but there was little doubt that he would follow theCountess, if she could be induced to lead. The Duke, on the other hand, thought only of making up a well-arranged party of people who wanted tomake the journey in any case, and would not be on his hands after helanded. So two or three days later he called on the Countess to open thecampaign. It was not altogether new ground, as they had crossed togetheronce before. The Duke was not very good at leading the conversation upto his points, so he immediately began talking about America, in orderto be sure of hitting somewhere near the mark. 

"I have not been over since the autumn, " he said, "and I really ought togo. "

"When will you start?" asked Margaret. 

"I meant to go next month. I think I will take the yacht. "

"I wonder you do not always do that. It is so much pleasanter, and youfeel as if you never had gone out of your own house. "

"The fact is, " said he, plunging, "I am going to take my sister, and Iwould like to have a little party. Will you not join us yourself, Countess, and Miss Skeat?"

"Really, Duke, you are very kind. But I was not thinking of going homejust yet. "

"It is a long time since you have been there. Not since--"

"Yes, I know, " said Margaret gravely. "And perhaps that is why Ihesitate to go now. "

"But would it not be different if we all went together? Do you not thinkit would be much nicer?"

"Did you say your sister was going?"

"Oh yes, she will certainly go. "

"Well, " said the Countess after a moment's thought, "I will not say justyet. I need not make up my mind yet; need I? Then I will take a few daysto think of it. "

"I am sure you will decide to join us, " said the Duke pressingly. 

"Perhaps I ought to go, and it is so kind of you, really, to give mesuch a delightful chance. " She had a presentiment that before long shewould he on her way to join the yacht, though at first sight it seemedrather improbable, for, as Claudius had guessed, she had a great manyengagements for visits. If any one had suggested to her that morningthat she might make a trip to America, she would have said it was quiteimpossible. The idea of the disagreeable journey, the horror of beingcast among an immense crowd of unknown travellers; or, still worse, ofbeing thrown into the society of some chance acquaintance who would makethe most of knowing her--it was all sufficient, even in the absence ofother reasons, to deter her from undertaking the journey. But in theparty proposed by the Duke it was all very different. He was agentleman, besides being a peer, and he was an old friend. His sisterwas a kind-hearted gentlewoman of narrow views but broad humanity; andnot least, the yacht was sure to be perfection, and she would be thehonoured guest. She would be sorry to leave Baden for some reasons; sheliked Claudius very much, and he made her feel that she was leading anintellectual life. But she had not entirely realised him yet. He was toher always the quiet student whom she had met in Heidelberg, and duringthe month past the feeling she entertained for him had developed more inthe direction of intellectual sympathy than of personal friendship. Shewould not mind parting with him any more than she would mind laying downan interesting book before she had half read it. Still that wassomething, and the feeling had weight. 

"Miss Skeat, " she said, when they were alone, "you have never been inAmerica?"

"No, dear Countess, I have never been there, and until lately I havenever thought I would care to go. "

"Would you like to go now?"

"Oh!" exclaimed the ancient one, "I would like it of all things!"

"I am thinking of going over next month, " said Margaret, "and of courseI would like you to go with me. Do you mind the sea very much?"

"Oh dear, no! I used to sail a great deal when I was a girl, and theAtlantic cannot be worse than our coast. "

Miss Skeat's assent was a matter of real importance to Margaret, for theold gentlewoman was sincerely attached to her, and Margaret would havebeen very unwilling to turn her faithful companion adrift, even for atime, besides the minor consideration that without a companion she wouldnot go at all. The end of it was that by dinner-time she had made up hermind to write excuses to all the people who expected her, and to acceptthe Duke's invitation. After all, it was not until next month, and shecould finish the book she was reading with Claudius before that. Shepostponed writing to the Duke until the following day, in order to makea show of having considered the matter somewhat longer. But herresolution did not change, and in the morning she despatched a friendlylittle note to the effect that she found her engagements would permither, etc. Etc. 

When Margaret told Miss Skeat that they were going in one of the finestyachts afloat, with the Duke and his sister, her companion fairlycrackled with joy. 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Duke was away during the day, and did not receive the Countess'snote until late in the evening. To tell the truth, he was very glad tofind that she was going; but he felt there might be difficulties in theway; for, of course, he was bound to let her know the names of hisremaining guests. She might hesitate when she heard that Claudius andBarker were to be of the party. After all, Barker was the companion whomthe Duke wanted. He knew nothing about Claudius, but he had met enoughmen of all types of eccentricity not to be much surprised at him, and asthe Doctor was evidently a gentleman, there was no objection. Therefore, as soon as the Duke knew of Margaret's determination, he sallied forth, armed with her note, to find Mr. Barker. It was late, but the Americanwas nocturnal in his habits, and was discovered by his friend in a hugecloud of tobacco smoke, examining his nails with that deep interestwhich in some persons betokens thought. 

"It's all right, " said the Duke; "she will go. "

"You don't mean it?" said Barker, taking his legs off the sofa andwrinkling his face. 

"There you are. Note. Formal acceptance, and all the rest of it. " And hehanded Margaret's letter to Barker. 

"Well, that is pretty smart practice, " remarked the latter; "I expectedyou would have difficulties. "

"Said she would take some days to make up her mind. She wrote this thesame evening I called, I am sure. Just like a woman. "

"Well, I think it's deuced lucky, anyhow, " said Barker. "Did you tellher who was going?"

"I told her about my sister. I have not mentioned you or your friendyet. Of course I will do that as soon as I am sure of you both. "

"Well, " said Barker, "if you don't mind, perhaps you might write a noteto the Doctor. He might be shy of accepting an invitation by word ofmouth. Do you mind?"

"Not in the least, " said the Englishman; "give me a rag of paper and aquill, and I'll do it now. "

And he accordingly did it, and directed the invitation to Claudius, Phil. D. , and Barker pushed it into the crack of the door leading to theapartment where the Doctor was sleeping, lest it should be forgotten. 

The next morning Claudius appeared with the Duke's note in his hand. 

"What does this mean?" he asked. "I hardly know him at all, and here heasks me to cross the Atlantic in his yacht. I wish you would explain. "

"Keep your hair on, my young friend, " replied Mr. Barker jocosely. "Hehas asked you and me because his party would not be complete withoutus. "

"And who are 'the party'?"

"Oh, very small. Principally his sister, I believe. Hold on though, MissSkeat is going. "

"Miss Skeat?" Claudius anticipated some chaff from his friend, and knithis brows a little. 

"Yes; Miss Skeat and the Countess; or, perhaps I should say the Countessand Miss Skeat. "

"Ah!" ejaculated Claudius, "any one else?"

"Not that I know of. Will you go?"

"It is rather sudden, " said the Doctor reflectively. 

"You must make up your mind one way or the other, or you will spoil theDuke's arrangements. "

"Barker, " said Claudius seriously, "do you suppose the Countess knowswho are going?"

"My dear boy, " replied the other, peeling a peach which he had impaledon a fork, "it is not likely the Duke would ask a lady to go with himwithout telling her who the men were to be. Be calm, however; I haveobserved your habits, and in two hours and twenty-three minutes yourmind will be at rest. "

"How so?"

"It is now thirty-seven minutes past nine. Do you mean to say you havefailed once for weeks past to be at the Countess's as the clock strikestwelve?"

Claudius was silent. It was quite true; he went there daily at the samehour; for, as appeared in the beginning of this tale, he was a regularman. But he reflected just now that the Countess would not be likely tospeak of the party unless she knew that he was to be one. He had notaccepted his invitation yet, and the Duke would certainly not take hisacceptance as a foregone conclusion. Altogether it seemed probable thathe would be kept in suspense. If he then accepted without being sure ofthe Countess, he was binding himself to leave her. Claudius had manythings to learn yet. 

"If I were you, " said Barker, "I would write at once and say 'Yes. ' Whycan't you do it now?"

"Because I have not made up my mind. "

"Well, a bird in the hand is the soul of business, as the good oldproverb says. I have accepted for myself, anyhow; but I would be sorryto leave you on this side. "

So Claudius went to the Countess as usual, and found her in hermorning-room awaiting him. He bent over her hand, but as he took it hethought it was a trifle colder than usual. It might have beenimagination, but he fancied her whole manner was less cordial thanbefore. And he said to himself, "She has heard I am going, and she isannoyed, and is not glad to see me. " There was a preternatural solemnityabout their conversation which neither of them could break through, andin a few minutes they both looked as though they had not smiled foryears. 

Now Claudius was entirely mistaken. Margaret had not heard that he wasgoing. If she had, she would have spoken frankly, as was her nature todo always, if she spoke at all. Margaret had accepted the Duke'sinvitation, and intended to keep her word, and she had no suspicionwhatever of who the other guests might be. She foresaw that such ajourney would break up her acquaintance with Claudius, and she regrettedit; and especially she regretted having allowed the Doctor so muchintimacy and so many visits. Not that he had taken advantage of thefooting on which he was received, for any signs of such a disposition onhis part would have abruptly terminated the situation; he had been thevery model of courtesy from the first. But she knew enough of men toperceive that this gentle homage clothed a more sincere admiration thanlay at the root of the pushing attentions of some other men she hadknown. Therefore she made up her mind that as there were yet threeweeks before sailing, after the expiration of which she would never belikely to see Claudius again, she would let him down easily, so tospeak, that there might be no over-tender recollections on his part, norany little stings of remorse on her own. He had interested her; they hadspent a couple of pleasant months; she had given him no encouragement, and he was gone without a sigh: that was the way in which CountessMargaret hoped to remember Dr. Claudius by that time next month. And so, fearing lest she might inadvertently have been the least shade toocordial, she began to be a little more severe, on this hot morning whenClaudius, full of indecision, followed her out to their favouritereading-place under the trees. It was the same spot where they had satwhen Barker first brought him to see her. Margaret had no particularfeeling about the little nook under the trees. It was merely the mostconvenient place to sit and work; that was all. But to Claudius thecircle of green sward represented the temple of his soul, and Margaretwas to him Rune Wife and prophetess as well as divinity. In such places, and of such women, his fair-haired forefathers, bare-armed andsword-girt, had asked counsel in trouble, and song-inspiration in peace. 

Here they sat them down, she determined to do the right by him, andthinking it an easy matter; he utterly misunderstanding her. Without asmile, they set to work at their reading. They read for an hour or more, maintaining the utmost gravity, when, as luck would have it, the word"friendship" occurred in a passage of the book. Claudius paused amoment, his broad hand laid flat on the open page. 

"That is one of the most interesting and one of the most singularlymisunderstood words in all languages, " he said. 

"What word?" inquired Margaret, looking up from her work, to which shehad attentively applied herself while he was reading. 

"Friendship. "

"Will you please define what it means?" said she. 

"I can define what I myself mean by it, or rather what I think I mean byit. I can define what a dozen writers have meant by it. But I cannottell what it really means, still less what it may ultimately come tomean. "

"You will probably be best able to explain what you mean by ityourself, " answered Margaret rather coldly. "Will you please begin?"

"It seems to me, " Claudius began, "that the difficulty lies in thecontradiction between the theory and the fact. Of course, as in all suchcases, the theory loses the battle, and we are left groping for anexplanation of the fact which we do not understand. Perhaps that is alittle vague?" Claudius paused. 

"A little vague--yes, " said she. 

"I will try and put it more clearly. First take the fact. No one willdeny that there have occasionally in the world's history existedfriendships which have stood every test and which have lasted to thevery end. Such attachments have been always affairs of the heart, evenbetween man and man. I do not think you can name an instance of alasting friendship on a purely intellectual basis. True friendshipimplies the absence of envy, and the vanity of even the meanestintellect is far too great to admit of such a condition out of purethought-sympathy. "

"I do not see any contradiction, even admitting your last remark, whichis cynical enough. " Margaret spoke indifferently, as making a merecriticism. 

"But I believe most people connect the idea of friendship, beyondordinary liking, with intellectual sympathy. They suppose, for instance, that a man may love a woman wholly and entirely with the best kind oflove, and may have at the same time a friend with whom he is in entiresympathy. "

"And why not?" she asked. 

"Simply because he cannot serve two masters. If he is in entire sympathywith more than one individual he must sometimes not only contradicthimself, as he would rightly do for one or the other alone, but he mustalso contradict one in favour of the other in case they disagree. Insuch a case he is no longer in entire sympathy with both, and either hislove or his friendship must be imperfect. " Claudius looked at theCountess to see what impression he had made. She did not return hisglance. 

"In other words?" was her question. 

"In other words, " he answered in a tone of conviction, "friendship isonly a substitute for love, and cannot exist beside it unless lover andfriend be one and the same person. Friendship purely intellectual is afallacy, owing to the manifest imperfections of human nature. It must, then, be an affair of the heart, whatever you may define that to be, andcannot, therefore, exist at the same time with any other affair of theheart without inevitable contradiction. How often has love separated oldfriends, and friendship bred discord between lovers!"

"I never heard that argument before, " said Margaret, who, to tell thetruth, was surprised at the result of the Doctor's discourse. 

"What do you think of it?" he asked. 

"I am not sure, but the point is interesting. I think you are a littlevague about what an 'affair of the heart, ' as you call it, really is. "

"I suppose an affair of the heart to be such a situation of the feelingsthat the heart rules the head and the actions by the head. The primeessence of love is that it should be complete, making no reservationsand allowing of no check from the reason. "

"A dangerous state of things. "

"Yes, " said Claudius. "When the heart gets the mastery it knows neitherrest nor mercy. If the heart is good the result will be good, if it isbad the result will be evil. Real love has produced incalculably greatresults in the lives of individuals and in the life of the world. "

"I suppose so, " said Margaret; "but you made out friendship to be alsoan 'affair of the heart, ' so far as you believe in it at all. Is truefriendship as uncalculating as true love? Does it make no reservations, and does it admit of no check from the reason?"

"I think, as I said, that friendship is a substitute for love, secondbest in its nature and second best, too, in its unselfishness. "

"Many people say love is selfishness itself. "

"I know, " answered the Doctor, and paused as if thinking. 

"Do you not want to smoke?" asked Margaret, with a tinge of irony, "itmay help you to solve the difficulty. "

"Thank you, no, " said he, "the difficulty is solved, and it is nodifficulty at all. The people who say that do not know what they aretalking about, for they have never been in love themselves. Love, worththe name, is complete; and being complete, demands the whole, and isnot satisfied with less than the whole any more than it is satisfiedwith giving less than all that it has. The selfishness lies in demandingand insisting upon having everything, while only offering rags andshreds in return; and if one may find this fault in ordinary loveaffairs, one may find it tenfold in ordinary friendships. Friendship maybe heroic but love is godlike. "

Margaret had become interested in spite of herself, though she hadpreserved the constrained manner she had first assumed. Now, however, asClaudius turned his flashing blue eyes to hers, she understood that shehad allowed the conversation to go far enough, and she marvelled that onthe very day when she was trying to be most unapproachable he shouldhave said more to show what was next his heart than ever before. She didnot know enough of exceptional natures like his to be aware that a touchof the curb is the very thing to rouse the fierce blood. True, he spokegenerally, and even argumentatively, and his deep voice was calm enough, but there was a curious light in his eyes that dazzled her even in themid-day sun, and she looked away. 

"I am not sure I agree with you, " she said, "but you put it veryclearly. Shall we go on reading?"

Claudius was some time in finding his place in the open book, and thenwent on. Again he misunderstood her, for though he could not remembersaying anything he regretted, he fancied she had brought theconversation to a somewhat abrupt close. He read on, feeling veryuncomfortable, and longing for one of those explanations that areimpossible between acquaintances and emotional between lovers. He feltalso that if he ever spoke out and told her he loved her it would be insome such situation as the present. Margaret let her needlework drop andleaned back in the long chair, staring at a very uninteresting-lookingtree on the other side of the garden. Claudius read in a steadydetermined tone, emphasising his sentences with care, and never oncetaking his eyes from the book. At last, noticing how quietly he wasdoing his work, Margaret looked at him, not furtively or as by stealth, but curiously and thoughtfully. He was good to look at, so strong andstraight, even as he sat at ease with the book in his hand, and thequivering sunlight through the leaves played over his yellow beard andwhite forehead. She knew well enough now that he admired her greatly, and she hoped it would not be very hard for him when she went away. Somehow, he was still to her the professor, the student, quiet anddignified and careless of the world, as she had first known him. Shecould not realise Claudius as a man of wealth and power, who was as wellable to indulge his fancies as the Duke himself, --perhaps more so, forthe Duke's financial affairs were the gossip of Europe, and always hadbeen since he came of age. 

Meanwhile the Doctor reached the end of the chapter, and there was apause. Neither spoke, and the silence was becoming awkward, when aservant came across the lawn announcing the Duke. 

"Ask his Grace to come outside, " said Margaret, and the representativeof the aristocracy was striding over the green, hat in hand, a momentafterwards. Margaret put out her hand and Claudius rose. Each felt thatthe _deus ex machinâ_ had arrived, and that the subject of the yachtingexcursion would be immediately broached. 

"Immense luck, finding you both, " remarked the Duke when he was seated. 

"We have been reading. It is so pleasant here, " said Margaret, to saysomething. 

"I have come to thank you for your kind note, Countess. It is extremelygood of you to go in such a party, with your taste for literature andthose sort of things. "

"I am sure it is I who ought to thank you, Duke. But when are we tosail?"

"About the tenth of next month, I should say. Will that be convenient?"

Margaret turned to Claudius. 

"Do you think we can finish our book by the tenth, Dr. Claudius?"

"If not, " broke in the Duke, "there is no reason why you should notfinish it on board. We shall have lovely weather. "

"Oh no!" said Margaret, "we must finish it before we start. I could notunderstand a word of it alone. "

"Alone?" inquired the Duke. "Ah! I forgot. Thought he had told you. Ihave asked Dr. Claudius to give us the pleasure of his company. "

"Oh, indeed!" said Margaret. "That will be very nice. " She did not lookas if she thought so, however. Her expression was not such as led theDuke to believe she was pleased, or Claudius to think she would like hisgoing. To tell the truth, she was annoyed for more than one reason. Shethought the Duke, although he was such an old friend, should haveconsulted her before making up the list of men for the party. She wasannoyed with Claudius because he had not told her he was going, when hereally thought she knew it, and was displeased at it. And most of all, she was momentarily disconcerted at being thus taken off her guard. Besides, the Duke must have supposed she liked Claudius very much, andhe had perhaps contrived the whole excursion in order to throw themtogether. Her first impulse was to change her mind and not go after all. 

Meanwhile Claudius was much astonished at the turn things had taken. Margaret had known nothing about the invitation to the Doctor after all, and her coldness this morning must be attributed to some other cause. But now that she did know she looked less pleased than ever. She did notwant him. The Doctor was a proud man in his quiet way, and he was, moreover, in love, not indeed hopelessly as yet, for love is neverwholly irrevocable until it has survived the crucial test, attainment ofits object; but Claudius loved, and he knew it. Consequently his priderevolted at the idea of thrusting himself where he was not wanted, andhis love forbade him to persecute the woman he worshipped. He also saidto himself, "I will not go. " He had not yet accepted the invitation. 

"I had intended to write to you this afternoon, " he said, turning to theDuke. "But since it is my good fortune to be able to thank you in personfor your kind invitation, let me do so now. "

"I hope you are going, " said the Duke. 

"I fear, " answered Claudius, "that I shall be prevented from joiningyou, much as I would like to do so. I have by no means decided toabandon my position in Heidelberg. "

Neither Margaret nor the Duke were in the least prepared for this pieceof news. The Duke was taken aback at the idea that any human being couldrefuse such an invitation. Following on his astonishment that Margaretshould not be delighted at having the Doctor on board, the intelligencethat the Doctor did not want to go at all threw the poor man into thegreatest perplexity. He had made a mistake somewhere, evidently; butwhere or how he could not tell. 

"Barker, " he said to himself, "is an ass. He has made me muff the wholething. " However, he did not mean to give up the fight. 

"I am extremely sorry to hear you say that, Dr. Claudius, " he saidaloud, "and I hope you will change your mind, if I have to send you aninvitation every day until we sail. You know one does not ask people onone's yacht unless one wants them very much, and we want you. It is justlike asking a man to ride your favourite hunter; you would not ask himunless you meant it, for fear he would. " The Duke seldom made so long aspeech, and Claudius felt that the invitation was really genuine, whichgave his wounded pride a pleasant little respite from its aches. He wasgrateful, and he said so. Margaret was silent and plied her needle, planning how she might escape the party if Claudius changed his mind andwent, and how she could with decency leave herself the option of goingif he remained. She did not intend to give people any farther chance ofpairing her off with Claudius or any one else whom they thought shefancied, and she blamed herself for having given people even the shadowof an idea that such officious party-making would please her. 

Claudius rose to go. The position was not tenable any longer, and it washis only course. The Countess bade him good morning with more cordialitythan she had displayed as yet; for, in spite of her annoyance, shewould have been sorry to wound his feelings. The change of tone atfirst gave Claudius a thrill of pleasure, which gave way to an increasedsense of mortification as he reflected that she was probably onlyshowing that she was glad to be rid of him--a clumsy, manlike thought, which his reason would soon get the better of. So he departed. 

There was silence for some minutes after he had gone, for Margaret andthe Englishman were old friends, and there was no immediate necessityfor making conversation. At last he spoke with a certain amount ofembarrassment. 

"I ought to have told you before that I had asked those two men. "

"Who is the other?" she inquired without looking up. 

"Why, Barker, his friend. "

"Oh, of course! But it would have been simpler to have told me. It madeit rather awkward, for of course Dr. Claudius thought I knew he wasasked and wondered why I did not speak of it. Don't you see?" she raisedher eyes as she put the question. 

"It was idiotic of me, and I am very sorry. Please forgive me. "

"As he is not going, it does not make any difference, of course, and soI forgive you. "

Considering that Barker had suggested the party, that it was Barker whomthe Duke especially wanted to amuse him on the trip, that Barker hadproposed Margaret and Claudius, and that, finally, the whole affair wasa horrid mess, the Duke did not see what he could have done. But he knewit was good form to be penitent whenever it seemed to be expected, andhe liked Margaret well enough to hope that she would go. He did notcare very much for the society of women at any time. He was more or lessmarried when he was at home, which was never for long together, and whenhe was away he preferred the untrammelled conversational delights of aforeign green-room to the twaddle of the embassies or to the mingledsnobbery and philistinism produced by the modern fusion of the almightydollar and the _ancienne noblesse_. 

And so he was in trouble just now, and his one idea was to submit toeverything the Countess might say, and then to go and "give it" to Mr. Barker for producing so much complication. But Margaret had nothing moreto say about the party, and launched out into a discussion of thevoyage. She introduced a cautious "if" in most of her sentences. "_If_ Igo I would like to see Madeira, " and "_if_ we join you, you must takecare of Miss Skeat, and give her the best cabin, " etc. Etc. The Dukewisely abstained from pressing his cause, or asking why she qualifiedher plans. At last he got away, after promising to do every conceivableand inconceivable thing which she should now or at any future timeevolve from the depths of her inventive feminine consciousness. 

"By the way, Duke, " she called after him, as he went over the, lawn, "may I take old Vladimir if I go?"

"If you go, " he answered, moving back a step or two, "you may bring allthe Imperial Guards if you choose, and I will provide transports forthose that the yacht won't hold. "

"Thanks; that is all, " she said laughing, and the stalwart peer vanishedthrough the house. The moment he was gone Margaret dropped her work andlay back in her long chair to think. The heavy lids half closed overher dark eyes, and the fingers of her right hand slowly turned round andround the ring she wore upon her left. Miss Skeat was upstairs readingLord Byron's _Corsair_ in anticipation of the voyage. Margaret did notknow this, or the thought of the angular and well-bred Scotchwomanbounding over the glad waters of the dark blue sea would have made hersmile. As it was, she looked serious. 

"I am sorry, " she thought to herself. "It was nice of him to say hewould not go. "

Meanwhile the strong-legged nobleman footed it merrily towards Barker'shotel. It was a good two miles, and the Duke's ruddy face shone againunder the August sun. But the race characteristic was strong in him, andhe liked to make himself unnecessarily hot; moreover he was really fondof Barker, and now he was going to pitch into him, as he said tohimself, so it was indispensable to keep the steam up. He found hisfriend as usual the picture of dried-up coolness, so to say. Mr. Barkernever seemed to be warm, but he never seemed to feel cold either, and atthis moment, as he sat in a half-lighted room, clad in a variety ofdelicate gray tints, with a collar that looked like fresh-baked biscuitware, and a pile of New York papers and letters beside him, he wasrefreshing to the eye. 

"Upon my word, Barker, you always look cool, " said the Duke, as he sathimself down in an arm-chair, and passed his handkerchief round hiswrists. "I would like to know how you do it. "

"To begin with, I do not rush madly about in the sun in the middle ofthe day. That may have something to do with it. "

The Duke sneezed loudly, from the mingled dust and sunshine he had beeninhaling. 

"And then I don't come into a cold room and catch cold, like you. Here Isit in seclusion and fan myself with the pages of my newspapers as Iturn them over. "

"You have got us all into the deuce of a mess with your confoundedcoolness, " said the Duke after a pause, during which he had in vainsearched all his pockets for his cigar-case. Barker had watched him, andpushed an open box of Havanas across the table. But the Duke wasdetermined to be sulky, and took no notice of the attention. Thecircular wrinkle slowly furrowed its way round Barker's mouth, and hisunder jaw pushed forward. It always amused him to see sanguine peopleangry. They looked so uncomfortable, and "gave themselves away" sorecklessly. 

"If you won't smoke, have some beer, " he suggested. But his Grace fumedthe redder. 

"I don't understand how a man of your intelligence, Barker, can go andput people into such awkward positions, " he said. "I think it isperfectly idiotic. "

"Write me down an ass, by all means, " said Barker calmly; "but pleaseexplain what you mean. I told you not to buy in the Green Swash Mine, and now I suppose you have gone and done it, because I said it mightpossibly be active some day. "

"I have been to see the Countess this morning, " said the Duke, beatingthe dust from his thick walking-boot with his cane. 

"Ah!" said Barker, without any show of interest. "Was she at home?"

"I should think so, " said the Duke. "Very much at home, and Dr. Claudiuswas there too. "

"Oh! so you are jealous of Claudius, are you?" The ducal wrath rose. 

"Barker, you are insufferably ridiculous. "

"Duke, you had much better go to bed, " returned his friend. 

"Look here, Barker--"

"Do not waste your vitality in that way, " said the American. "I wish Ihad half of it. It quite pains me to see you. Now I will put the wholething clearly before you as I suppose it happened, and you shall tell meif it is my fault or not, and whether, after all, it is such a veryserious matter. Countess Margaret did not know that Claudius was going, and did not speak of the trip. Claudius thought she was angry, and whenyou arrived and let the cat out of the bag the Countess thought you weretrying to amuse yourself by surprising her, and she was angry too. Thenthey both made common cause and would have nothing more to do with you, and told you to go to the devil, and at this moment they are planning toremain here for the next forty or fifty years, and are sending off ajoint telegram to Professor Immanuel Spencer, or whatever his name is, to hurry up and get some more books ready for them to read. I am gladyou have not bought Green Swash, though, really. " There was a pause, andthe Duke glared savagely at the cigar-box. 

"Is your serene highness satisfied that I know all about it?" askedBarker at last. 

"No, I am not. And I am not serene. She says she will go, and Claudiussays he won't. And it is entirely your fault. "

"It is not of any importance what he says, or whether it is my fault ornot. If you had bestirred yourself to go and see her at eleven beforeClaudius arrived it would not have happened. But he will go all thesame; never fear. And the Countess will persuade him too, without ourdoing anything in the matter. "

"You would not have thought so if you had seen the way she received thenews that he was invited, " grumbled the Duke. 

"If you associated more with women you would understand them better, "replied the other. 

"I dare say. " The Englishman was cooler, and at last made up his mind totake one of Mr. Barker's cigars. When he had lit it, he looked across athis friend. "How do you expect to manage it?" he inquired. 

"If you will write a simple little note to the Countess, and say you aresorry there should have been any misunderstanding, and if you and Ileave those two to themselves for ten days, even if she invites us todinner, they will manage it between them, depend upon it. They are inlove, you know perfectly well. "

"I suppose they are, " said the Duke, as if he did not understand thatkind of thing. "I think I will have some curaçao and potass;" and herang the bell. 

"That's not half a bad idea, " he said when he was refreshed. "I begin tothink you are not so idiotic as I supposed. "

"Waal, " said Barker, suddenly affecting the accents of his native shore, "I _ain't_ much on the drivel _this_ journey _any_how. " The Dukelaughed; he always laughed at Americanisms. 

"I guess _so_, " said the Duke, trying ineffectually to mimic his friend. Then he went on in his natural voice, "I have an idea. "

"Keep it, " said Barker; "they are scarce. "

"No; seriously. If we must leave them alone, why--why should we not godown and look at the yacht?"

"Not bad at all. As you say, we might go round and see how she looks. Where is she?"

"Nice. "

So the one went down and the other went round, but they went together, and saw the yacht, and ran over to Monte Carlo, and had a good taste ofthe dear old green-table, now that they could not have it in Baden anylonger. And they enjoyed the trip, and were temperate and well dressedand cynical, after their kind. But Claudius stayed where he was. 

CHAPTER VII. 

The daily reading proceeded as usual after Barker's departure, butneither Margaret nor Claudius mentioned the subject of the voyage. Margaret was friendly, and sometimes seemed on the point of relapsinginto her old manner, but she always checked herself. What the precisechange was it would be hard to say. Claudius knew it was very easy tofeel the difference, but impossible to define it. As the days passed, heknew also that his life had ceased to be his own; and, with thechivalrous wholeness of purpose that was his nature, he took his souland laid it at her feet, for better for worse, to do with as she would. But he knew the hour was not come yet wherein he should speak; and so heserved her in silence, content to feel the tree of life growing withinhim, which should one day overshadow them both with its shelteringbranches. His service was none the less whole and devoted because it hadnot yet been accepted. 

One evening, nearly a week after they had been left to themselves, Claudius was sitting over his solitary dinner in the casino restaurantwhen a note was brought to him, a large square envelope of rough paper, and he knew the handwriting. He hesitated to open it, and, glancinground the brilliantly-lighted restaurant, involuntarily wondered if anyman at all those tables were that moment in such suspense as he. Hethought it was probably an intimation that she was going away, and thathe was wanted no longer. Then, for the first time in many days, hethought of his money. "And if she does, " he said half aloud, "shall Inot follow? Shall not gold command everything save her heart, and can Inot win that for myself?" And he took courage and quietly opened thenote. 

 "MY DEAR DR. CLAUDIUS--As the time is approaching, will you not do me a favour? I want you to make a list of books to read on the voyage--that is, if I may count on your kindness as an expounder. If not, please tell me of some good novels. 

 "Sincerely yours, "

and her full name signed at the end. The hot blood turned his whiteforehead red as Claudius finished reading. He could not believe hiseyes, and the room swam for a moment; for he was very much in love, thisbig Swede. Then he grew pale again and quite calm, and read the noteover. Novels indeed! What did he know about novels? He would ask herplainly if she wanted his company on the yacht or no. He would say, "Shall I come? or shall I stay behind?" Claudius had much to learn fromMr. Barker before he was competent to deal with women. But then Claudiuswould have scorned the very expression "to deal" with them; theirs tocommand, his to obey--there was to be no question of dealing. Only inhis simple heart he would like to know in so many words what thecommands were; and that is sometimes a little hard, for women like to behalf understood before they speak, and the grosser intellect of manseldom more than half understands them after they have spoken. 

A note requires an answer, and Claudius made the usual number offailures. When one has a great deal more to say than one has any rightto say, and when at the same time one is expected to say particularlylittle, it is very hard to write a good note. All sorts of ideas creepin and express themselves automatically. A misplaced plural for asingular, a superlative adjective where the vaguer comparative belongs;the vast and immeasurable waste of weary years that may lie between"dear" and "dearest, " the gulf placed between "sincerely yours, JohnSmith, " and "yours, J. S. , " and "your J. , " until the blessed state isreached wherein the signature is omitted altogether, and every wordbears the sign-manual of the one woman or one man who really exists foryou. What a registering thermometer of intimacy exists in notes, fromthe icy zero of first acquaintance to the raging throb of boilingblood-heat! So Claudius, after many trials, arrived at the requisitepitch of absolute severity, and began his note, "My dear CountessMargaret, " and signed it, "very obediently yours, " which said just whatwas literally true; and he stated that he would immediately proceed tocarry out the Countess's commands, and make a list in which nothingshould be wanting that could contribute to her amusement. 

When he went to see her on the following day he was a little surprisedat her manner, which inclined more to the severe coldness of thatmemorable day of difficulties than to the unbending he had expected fromher note. Of course he had no reason to be disappointed, and he showedhis inexperience. She was compensating her conscience for the concessionshe had made in intimating that he might go. It was indeed a concession, but to what superior power she had yielded it behoves not inquisitiveman to ask. Perhaps she thought Claudius would enjoy the trip very much, and said to herself she had no right to make him give it up. 

They read together for some time, and at last Claudius asked her, inconnection with a point which arose, whether she would like to read aGerman book that he thought good. 

"Very much, " said she. "By the by, I am glad you have been able toarrange to go with us. I thought your engagements were going to preventyou. "

Claudius looked at her, trying to read her thoughts, in which he failed. He might have been satisfied, but he was not. There was a short silence, and then he closed the book over his hand and spoke. 

"Countess, do you wish me to go or not?"

Margaret raised her dark eyebrows. He had never seen her do that before. But then he had never said anything so clumsy before in his whole life, and he knew it the moment the words were out of his mouth, and his facewas white in sunshine. She looked at him suddenly, a slight smile on herlips, and her eyes just the least contracted, as if she were going tosay something sarcastic. But his face was so pitifully pale. She saw howhis hand trembled. A great wave of womanly compassion welled up in hersoul, and the smile faded and softened away as she said one word. 

"Yes. " It came from the heart, and she could not help it if it soundedkindly. 

"Then I will go, " said Claudius, hardly knowing what he said, for theblood came quickly back to his face. 

"Of course you will, I could have told you that ever so long ago, "chirped a little bullfinch in the tree overhead. 

A couple of weeks or more after the events last chronicled, the steamyacht _Streak_ was two days out on the Atlantic, with a goodly party onboard. There were three ladies--the Duke's sister, the Countess, andMiss Skeat, the latter looking very nautical in blue serge, which sattightly over her, like the canvas cover sewn round a bicycle when it issent by rail. Of men there were also three--to wit, the owner of theyacht, Mr. Barker, and Dr. Claudius. 

The sea has many kinds of fish. Some swim on their sides, some swimstraight, some come up to take a sniff of air, and some stay below. Itis just the same with people who go to sea. Take half a dozenindividuals who are all more or less used to the water, and they willbehave in half a dozen different ways. One will become encrusted to thedeck like a barnacle, another will sit in the cabin playing cards; athird will spend his time spinning yarns with the ship's company, and afourth will rush madly up and down the deck from morning till night inthe pursuit of an appetite which shall leave no feat of marine digestionuntried or unaccomplished. Are they not all stamped on the memory ofthem that go down to the sea in yachts? The little card-box and thescoring-book of the players, the deck chair and rugs of the inveteratereader, the hurried tread and irascible eye of the carnivorouspassenger, and the everlasting pipe of the ocean talker, who feels timebefore him and the world at his feet wherein to spin yarns--has any onenot seen them?

Now, the elements on board of the _Streak_ were sufficiently diverse toform a successful party, and by the time they were two days out on thelong swell, with a gentle breeze just filling the trysails, andeverything stowed, they had each fallen into the groove of sea life thatwas natural to him or to her. There were Barker and the Duke in thepretty smoking-room forward with the windows open and a pack of cardsbetween them. Every now and then they stopped to chat a little, or theDuke would go out and look at the course, and make his rounds to seethat every one was all right and nobody sea-sick. But Barker rarelymoved, save to turn his chair and cross one leg over the other, wherebyhe might the more easily contemplate his little patent leather shoes andstroke his bony hands over his silk-clad ankles; for Mr. Barkerconsidered sea-dressing, as he called it, a piece of affectation, andarrayed himself on board ship precisely as he did on land. The Duke, onthe other hand, like most Englishmen when they get a chance, revelled inwhat he considered ease; that is to say, no two of his garments matchedor appeared to have been made in the same century; he wore a flannelshirt, and was inclined to go about barefoot when the ladies were not ondeck, and he adorned his ducal forehead with a red worsted cap, priceone shilling. 

Margaret, as was to be expected, was the deck member, with hercuriously-wrought chair and her furs and her portable bookcase; whileMiss Skeat, who looked tall and finny, and sported a labyrinthinetartan, was generally to be seen entangled in the weather-shrouds nearby. As for the Duke's sister, Lady Victoria, she was plain, but healthy, and made regular circuits of the steamer, stopping every now and then towatch the green swirl of the foam by the side, and to take long draughtsof salt air into her robust lungs. But of all the party there was notone on whom the change from the dry land to the leaping water producedmore palpable results than on Claudius. He affected nothing nautical indress or speech, but when the Duke saw him come on deck the firstmorning out, there was something about his appearance that made theyachtsman say to Barker--

"That man has been to sea, I am positive. I am glad I asked him. "

"All those Swedes are amphibious, " replied Barker; "they take to thewater like ducks. But I don't believe he has smelled salt water for adozen years. "

"They are the best sailors, at all events, " said the Duke. "I have lotsof them among the men. Captain a Swede too. Let me introduce you. " Theywere standing on the bridge. "Captain Sturleson, my friend Mr. Barker. "And so in turn the captain was made known to every one on board; for hewas an institution with the Duke, and had sailed his Grace's yachts eversince there had been any to sail, which meant for about twenty years. Totell the truth, if it were not for those beastly logarithms, the Dukewas no mean sailing-master himself, and he knew a seaman when he sawone; hence his remark about Claudius. The Doctor knew every inch of theyacht and every face in the ship's company by the second day, and itamused the Countess to hear his occasional snatches of the clean-cutNorthern tongue that sounded like English, but was yet so different. 

Obedient to her instructions, he had provided books of all sorts for thevoyage, and they began to read together, foolishly imagining that, withthe whole day at their disposal, they would do as much work as when theyonly met for an hour or two daily to accomplish a set purpose. Theresult of their unbounded freedom was that conversation took the placeof reading. Hitherto Margaret had confined Claudius closely to thematter in hand, some instinct warning her that such an intimacy as hadexisted during his daily visits could only continue on the footing ofsevere industry she had established from the first. But the sight of theopen deck, the other people constantly moving to and fro, the properaspect of the lady-companion, just out of earshot, and altogether theappearance of publicity which the sea-life lent to their _tête-à-tête_hours, brought, as a necessary consequence, a certain unbending. Italways seemed such an easy matter to call some third party into theconversation if it should grow too confidential. And so, insensibly, Claudius and Margaret wandered into discussions about the feelings, about love, hate, and friendship, and went deep into those topics whichso often end in practical experiment. Claudius had lived little andthought much; Margaret had seen a great deal of the world, and beinggifted with fine intuitions and tact, she had reasoned very little aboutwhat she saw, understanding, as she did, the why and wherefore of mostactions by the pure light of feminine genius. The Doctor theorised, andit interested his companion to find facts she remembered suddenlybrought directly under a neat generalisation; and before long she foundherself trying to remember facts to fit his theories, a mode of going indouble harness which is apt to lead to remarkable but fallaciousresults. In the intervals of theorising Claudius indulged in smallexperiments. But Barker and the Duke played poker. 

Of course the three men saw a good deal of each other--in the earlymorning before the ladies came on deck, and late at night when they sattogether in the smoking-room. In these daily meetings the Duke andClaudius had become better acquainted, and the latter, who was reticent, but perfectly simple, in speaking of himself, had more than once alludedto his peculiar position and to the unexpected change of fortune thathad befallen him. One evening they were grouped as usual around thesquare table in the brightly-lighted little room that Barker and theDuke affected most. The fourfold beat of the screw crushed the waterquickly and sent its peculiar vibration through the vessel as she spedalong in the quiet night. The Duke was extended on a transom, andClaudius on the one opposite, while Barker tipped himself about on hischair at the end of the table. The Duke was talkative, in a disjointed, monosyllabic fashion. 

"Yes. I know. No end of a queer sensation, lots of money. Same thinghappened to me when I came of age. "

"Not exactly the same thing, " said Claudius; "you knew you were going tohave it. "

"No, " put in Barker. "Having money and being likely to have it are aboutthe same as far as spending it goes. Particularly in England. "

"I believe the whole thing is a fraud, " said the Duke in a tone ofprofound reflection. "Never had a cent before I came of age. Seems to meI never had any since. "

"Spent it all in water-melon and fire-crackers, celebrating yourtwenty-first birthday, I suppose, " suggested Barker. 

"Spent it some way, at all events, " replied the Duke. "Now, here, " hecontinued, addressing Barker, "is a man who actually has it, who neverexpected to have it, who has got it in hard cash, and in the only wayin which it is worth having--by somebody else's work. Query--what willClaudius do with his millions?" Exhausted by this effort of speech, theDuke puffed his tobacco in silence, waiting for an answer. Claudiuslaughed, but said nothing. 

"I know of one thing he will do with his money. He will get married, "said Barker. 

"For God's sake, Claudius, " said the Duke, looking serious, "don't dothat. "

"I don't think I will, " said Claudius. 

"I know better, " retorted Barker, "I am quite sure I shall do it myselfsome day, and so will you. Do you think if I am caught, you are going toescape?"

The Duke thought that if Barker knew the Duchess, he might yet savehimself. 

"You are no chicken, Barker, and perhaps you are right. If they catchyou they can catch anybody, " he said aloud. 

"Well, I used to say the mamma was not born who could secure me. But Iam getting old, and my nerves are shaken, and a secret presentimenttells me I shall be bagged before long, and delivered over to thetormentors. "

"I pity you if you are, " said the Duke. "No more poker, and very littletobacco then. "

"Not as bad as that. You are as much married as most men, but it doesnot interfere with the innocent delights of your leisure hours, that Ican see. "

"Ah, well--you see--I am pretty lucky. The Duchess is a domestic type ofangel. Likes children and bric-à-brac and poultry, and all those things. Takes no end of trouble about the place. "

"Why should not I marry the angelic domestic--the domestic angel, Imean?"

"You won't, though. Doesn't grow in America. I know the sort of womanyou will get for your money. "

"Give me an idea. " Barker leaned back in his chair till it touched thedoor of the cabin, and rolled his cigar in his mouth. 

"Of course she will be the rage for the time. Eighteen or nineteensummers of earthly growth, and eighteen or nineteen hundred years ofexperience and calculation in a former state. "

"Thanks, that sounds promising. Claudius, this is intended for yourinstruction. "

"You will see her first at a ball, with a cartload of nosegays slung onher arms, and generally all over her. That will be your firstacquaintance; you will never see the last of her. "

"No--I know that, " said Barker gloomily. 

"She will marry you out of hand after a three months' engagement. Shewill be married by Worth, and you will be married by Poole. It will bevery effective, you know. No end of wedding presents, and acres offlowers. And then you will start away on your tour, and be miserableever after. "

"I am glad you have done, " was Barker's comment. 

"As for me, " said Claudius, "I am of course not acquainted with thepeculiarities of American life, but I fancy the Duke is rather severe inhis judgment. "

It was a mild protest against a wholesale condemnation of Americanmarriages; but Barker and the Duke only laughed as if they understoodeach other, and Claudius had nothing more to say. He mentally comparedthe utterances of these men, doubtless grounded on experience, with theformulas he had made for himself about women, and which were undeniablythe outcome of pure theory. He found himself face to face with the olddifficulty, the apparent discord between the universal law and theindividual fact. But, on the other hand, he could not help comparinghimself with his two companions. It was not in his nature to thinkslightingly of other men, but he felt that they were of a totallydifferent mould, besides belonging to a different race. He knew thathowever much he might enjoy their society, they had nothing in commonwith him, and that it was only his own strange fortune that had suddenlytransported him into the very midst of a sphere where such characterswere the rule and not the exception. 

The conversation languished, and Claudius left the Duke and Barker, andwent towards his quarters. It was a warm night for the Atlantic, andthough there was no moon, the stars shone out brightly, their reflectionmoving slowly up and down the slopes of the long ocean swell. Claudiuswalked aft, and was going to sit down for a few minutes before turningin, when he was suddenly aware of a muffled female figure leaningagainst the taffrail only a couple of paces from where he was. In spiteof the starlight he could not distinguish the person. She was wrappedclosely in a cloak and veil, as if fearing the cold. As it must be oneof the three ladies who constituted the party, Claudius naturally raisedhis cap, but fearing lest he had chanced on the Duke's sister, or stillworse, on Miss Skeat, he did not speak. Before long, however, as heleaned against the side, watching the wake, the unknown remarked that itwas a delightful night. It was Margaret's voice, and the deep musicaltones trembled on the rise and fall of the waves, as if the soundsthemselves had a distinct life and beating in them. Did the dark womanknow what magic lay in her most trivial words? Claudius did not care arush whether the night were beautiful or otherwise, but when she said itwas a fine evening, it sounded as if she had said she loved him. 

"I could not stay downstairs, " she said, "and so when the others went tobed I wrapped myself up and came here. Is it not too wonderful?"

Claudius moved nearer to her. 

"I have been pent up in the Duke's _tabagie_ for at least two hours, " hesaid, "and I am perfectly suffocated. "

"How can you sit in that atmosphere? Why don't you come and smoke ondeck?"

"Oh! it was not only the tobacco that suffocated me to-night, it was theideas. "

"What ideas?" asked Margaret. 

"You have known the Duke a long time, " said he, "and of course you canjudge. Or rather, you know. But to hear those two men talk is enough tomake one think there is neither heaven above nor hell beneath. " He wasrather incoherent. 

"Have they been attacking your favourite theories, " Margaret asked, andshe smiled behind her veil; but he could not see that, and her voicesounded somewhat indifferent. 

"Oh! I don't know, " he said, as if not wanting to continue the subject;and he turned round so as to rest his elbows on the taffrail. So hestood, bent over and looking away astern at the dancing starlight on thewater. There was a moment's silence. 

"Tell me, " said Margaret at last. 

"What shall I tell you, Countess?" asked Claudius. 

"Tell me what it was you did not like about their talk. "

"It is hard to say, exactly. They were talking about women, and Americanmarriages; and I did not like it, that is all. " Claudius straightenedhimself again and turned towards his companion. The screw below themrushed round, worming its angry way through the long quiet waves. 

"Barker, " said Claudius, "was saying that he supposed he would bemarried some day--delivered up to torture, as he expressed it--and theDuke undertook to prophesy and draw a picture of Barker's future spouse. The picture was not attractive. "

"Did Mr. Barker think so too?"

"Yes. He seemed to regard the prospects of matrimony from a resigned andmelancholy point of view. I suppose he might marry any one he chose inhis own country, might he not?"

"In the usual sense, yes, " answered Margaret. 

"What is the 'usual sense'?" asked the Doctor. 

"He might marry beauty, wealth, and position. That is the usual meaningof marrying whom you please. "

"Oh! then it does not mean any individual he pleases?"

"Certainly not. It means that out of half a dozen beautiful, rich, andaccomplished girls it is morally certain that one, at least, would takehim for his money, his manners, and his accomplishments. "

"Then he would go from one to the other until he was accepted? Acharming way of doing things, upon my word!" And Claudius sniffed thenight air discontentedly. 

"Oh no, " said Margaret. "He will be thrown into the society of all six, and one of them will marry him, that will be the way of it. "

"I cannot say I discover great beauty in that social arrangement either, except that it gives the woman the choice. "

"Of course, " she answered, "the system does not pretend to thebeautiful, it only aspires to the practical. If the woman is satisfiedwith her choice, domestic peace is assured. " She laughed. 

"Why cannot each satisfy himself or herself of the other? Why cannot thechoice be mutual?"

"It would take too long, " said she; and laughed again. 

"Very long?" asked Claudius, trying not to let his voice change. But itchanged nevertheless. 

"Generally very long, " she answered in a matter-of-fact way. 

"Why should it?"

"Because neither women nor men are so easily understood as a chapter ofphilosophy, " said she. 

"Is it not the highest pleasure in life, that constant, loving study ofthe one person one loves? Is not every anticipated thought and wish atriumph more worth living for than everything else in the wide world?"He moved close to her side. "Do you not think so too?" She said nothing. 

"I think so, " he said. "There is no pleasure like the pleasure of tryingto understand what a woman wants; there is no sorrow like the sorrow offailing to do that; and there is no glory like the glory of success. Itis a divine task for any man, and the greatest have thought it worthy ofthem. " Still she was silent; and so was he for a little while, lookingat her side face, for she had thrown back the veil and her delicateprofile showed clearly against the sea foam. 

"Countess, " he said at last; and his voice came and went fitfully withthe breeze--"I would give my whole life's strength and study for thegladness of foreseeing one little thing that you might wish, and ofdoing it for you. " His hand stole along the taffrail till it touchedhers, but he did not lift his fingers from the polished wood. 

"Dr. Claudius, you would give too much, " she said; for the magic of thehour and place was upon her, and the Doctor's earnest tones admitted ofno laughing retort. She ought to have checked him then, and the instantshe had spoken she knew it; but before she could speak again he hadtaken the hand he was already touching between both of his, and waslooking straight in her face. 

"Margaret, I love you with all my soul and heart and strength. " Her handtrembled in his, but she could not take it away. Before she had answeredhe had dropped to his knee and was pressing the gloved fingers to hislips. 

"I love you, I love you, I love you, " he repeated, and his strength wasas the strength of ten in that moment. 

"Dr. Claudius, " said she at last, in a broken and agitated way, "youought not to have said this. It was not right of you. " She tried toloose her hand, but he rose to his feet still clasping it. 

"Forgive me, " he said, "forgive me!" His face was almost luminouslypale. "All the ages cannot take from me this--that I have told you. "

Margaret said never a word, but covered her head with her veil andglided noiselessly away, leaving Claudius with his white face andstaring eyes to the contemplation of what he had done. And she wentbelow and sat in her stateroom and tried to think it all over. She wasangry, she felt sure. She was angry at Claudius and half angry atherself--at least she thought so. She was disappointed, she said, in theman, and she did not mean to forgive him. Besides, in a yacht, with aparty of six people, where there was absolutely no escape possible, itwas unpardonable. He really ought not to have done it. Did he think--didhe flatter himself--that if she had expected he was going to act justlike all the rest of them she would have treated him as she had? Did hefancy his well-planned declaration would flatter _her_? Could he not seethat she wanted to consider him always as a friend, that she thought shehad found at last what she had so often dreamed of--a friendship proofagainst passion? It was so common, so commonplace. It was worse, for itwas taking a cruel advantage of the narrow limits within which they wereboth confined. Besides, he had taken advantage of her kindness to plan ascene which he knew would surprise her out of herself. She ought to havespoken strongly and sharply and made him suffer for his sin while he wasyet red-handed. And instead, what had she done? She had merely said verymeekly that "it was not right, " and had sought safety in a hastyretreat. 

She sighed wearily, and began to shake out the masses of her black hair, that was as the thickness of night spun fine. And as she drew out thethick tortoise-shell pins that bore it up, it rolled down heavily in asoft dark flood and covered her as with a garment. Then she leaned backand sighed again, and her eyes fell on a book that lay at the corner ofher dressing-table, where she had left it before dinner. It was the bookthey had been reading, and the mark was a bit of fine white cord thatClaudius had cunningly twisted and braided, sailor fashion, to keep theplace. Margaret rose to her feet, and taking the book in her hand, looked at it a moment without opening it. Then she hid it out of sightand sat down again. The action had been almost unconscious, but now shethought about it, and she did not like what she had done. Angry with himand with herself, she was yet calm enough to ask why she could not bearthe sight of the volume on the table. Was it possible she had caredenough about her friendship for the Doctor to be seriously distressed atits sudden termination? She hardly knew--perhaps so. So many men hadmade love to her, none had ever before seemed to be a friend. 

The weary and hard-worked little sentiment that we call conscience spokeup. Was she just to him? No. If she had cared even as much as thataction showed, had he no right to care also? He had the right, yes; buthe had been wanting in tact. He should have waited till they wereashore. Poor fellow! he looked so white, and his hands were so cold. Washe there still, looking out at the ship's wake? Margaret, are you quitesure you never thought of him save as a friendly professor who taughtyou philosophy? And there was a little something that would not besilenced, and that would say--Yes, you are playing tricks with yourfeelings, you care for him, you almost love him. And for a moment therewas a fierce struggle in the brave heart of that strong woman as sheshook out her black hair and turned pale to the lips. She rose again, and went and got the book she had hidden, and laid it just where it hadlain before. Then she knew, and she bowed her head till her whiteforehead touched the table before her, and her hands were wet as theypressed her eyelids. 

"I am very weak, " she said aloud, and proceeded with her toilet. 

"But you will be kind to him, Margaret, " said the little voice in herheart, as she laid her head on the pillow. 

"But it is my duty to be cold. I do not love him, " she argued, as thewatch struck eight bells. 

Poor Saint Duty! what a mess you make of human kindness!

Claudius was still on deck, and a wretched man he was, as his chilledhands clung to the side. He knew well enough that she was angry, thoughshe had reproached herself with not having made it clear to him. He saidto himself he ought not to have spoken, and then he laughed bitterly, for he knew that all his strength could not have kept back the words, because they were true, and because the truth must be spoken sooner orlater. He was hopeless now for a time, but he did not deceive himself. 

"I am not weak. I am strong. And if my love is stronger than I what doesthat prove? I am glad it is, and I would not have it otherwise. It isdone now and can never be undone. I am sorry I spoke to-night. I wouldhave waited if I could. But I could not, and I should despise myself ifI could. Love that is not strong enough to make a man move in spite ofhimself is not worth calling love. I wonder if I flattered myself sheloved me? No, I am quite sure I did not. I never thought anything aboutit. It is enough for me that I love her, and live, and have told her so;and I can bear all the misery now, for she knows. I suppose it willbegin at once. She will not speak to me. No, not that, but she will notexpect me to speak to her. I will keep out of her way; it is the least Ican do. And I will try and not make her life on board disagreeable. Ah, my beloved, I will never hurt you again or make you angry. "

He said these things over and over to himself, and perhaps theycomforted him a little. At eight bells the Swedish captain turned out, and Claudius saw him ascend the bridge, but soon he came down again andwalked aft. 

"God afton, Captain, " said Claudius. 

"It is rather late to say good evening, Doctor, " replied the sailor. 

"Why, what time is it?"

"Midnight. "

"Well, I shall turn in. "

"If you will take my advice, " said the captain, "you won't leave anyodds and ends lying about to-night. We shall have a dance beforemorning. "

"Think so?" said Claudius indifferently. 

"Why, Doctor, where are your eyes? You are a right Svensk sailor whenyou are awake. You have smelled the foam in Skager Rak as well as I. "

"Many a time, " replied the other, and looked to windward. It was true;the wind had backed to the north-east, and there was an angry littlecross sea beginning to run over the long ocean swell. There was astraight black belt below the stars, and a short, quick splashing, dashing, and breaking of white crests through the night, while therising breeze sang in the weather rigging. 

Claudius turned away and went below. He took the captain's advice, andsecured his traps and went to bed. But he could not sleep, and he saidover and over to himself that he loved her, that he was glad he had toldher so, and that he would stand by the result of his night's work, through all time, --ay, and beyond time. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Lady Victoria was not afraid of the sea. No indeed, and if her brotherwould go with her she would like nothing better. And Miss Skeat, too, would she like to come? Such a pity poor Margaret had a headache. Shehad not even come to breakfast. 

Yes, Miss Skeat would come, and the boatswain would provide them bothwith tarpaulins and sou'-westers, and they would go on deck for a fewminutes. But Mr. Barker was so sorry he had a touch of neuralgia, andbesides he knew that Claudius was on deck and would be of more use tothe ladies than he could ever be. Mr. Barker had no idea of getting wet, and the sudden headache of the Countess, combined with the absence ofClaudius from her side, interested him. He meant to stay below and watchthe events of the morning. Piloted by the Duke, the strong English girland the wiry old Scotch lady made their way up the companion, notwithout difficulty, for the skipper's prediction was already fulfilled, and the _Streak_ was ploughing her way through all sorts of weather atonce. 

The deck was slippery and sloppy, and the sharp spray was blowing itselfin jets round every available corner. The sky was of an even leadcolour, but it was hard to tell at first whether it was raining or not. The Duke's face gleamed like a wet red apple in the wind and water ashe helped his sister to the leeward and anchored her among the shrouds. 

"Hullo, Claudius, you seem to like this!" he sang out, spying the tallSwede near the gangway. Claudius came towards them, holding on by thepins and cleats and benches. He looked so white that Lady Victoria wasfrightened. 

"You are not well, Dr. Claudius. Please don't mind me, my brother willbe back in a moment. Go below and get warm. You really look ill. "

"Do I? I do not feel ill at all I am very fond of this kind of weather. "And he put one arm through the shrouds and prepared for conversationunder difficulties. Meanwhile the Duke brought out Miss Skeat, whorattled inside her tarpaulin, but did not exhibit the slightestnervousness, though a bit of a sea broke over the weather-bow just asshe appeared. 

"Keep your eye peeled there, will you?" the Duke shouted away to the menat the wheel; whereat they grinned, and luffed a little, just enough tolet the lady get across. 

"Steady!" bawled the Duke again when Miss Skeat was made fast; and themen at the wheel held her off once more, so that the spray flew up in acloudy sheet. 

Claudius was relieved. He had expected to see Margaret come up thecompanion, and he had dreaded the meeting, when he would almost ofnecessity be obliged to help her across and touch her hand; and heinwardly blessed her wisdom in staying below. The others might havestayed there too, he thought, instead of coming up to get wet and tospoil his solitude, which was the only thing left to him to-day. 

But Claudius was not the man to betray his ill-temper at beingdisturbed; and after all there was something about these two women thathe liked--in different ways. The English girl was so solidlyenthusiastic, and the Scotch gentlewoman so severely courageous, that hefelt a sort of companionable sympathy after he had been with them a fewminutes. 

Lady Victoria, as previously hinted, was married, and her husband, whowas in the diplomatic service, and who had prospects afterwards ofcoming into money and a peerage, was now absent on a distant mission. They had not been married very long, but his wife was always ready totake things cheerfully, and, since she could not accompany him, she hadmade up her mind to be happy without him; and the trip with her brotherwas "just the very thing. " Mr. Barker admired what he called herexuberant vitality, and expressed his opinion that people with adigestion like that were always having a good time. She was strong andhealthy, and destined to be the mother of many bold sons, and she had acertain beauty born of a good complexion, bright eyes, and white teeth. To look at her, you would have said she must be the daughter of somerobust and hardworking settler, accustomed from her youth to face rainand snow and sunshine in ready reliance on her inborn strength. She didnot suggest dukes and duchesses in the least. Alas! the generation ofthose ruddy English boys and girls is growing rarer day by day, and amealy-faced, over-cerebrated people are springing up, who with theirchildren again, in trying to rival the brain-work of foreigners withlarger skulls and more in them, forget that their English forefathershave always done everything by sheer strength and bloodshed, and can aseasily hope to accomplish anything by skill as a whale can expect todance upon the tight rope. They would do better, thought Lady Victoria, to give it up, to abandon the struggle for intellectual superiority ofthat kind. They have produced greater minds when, the mass of theircountrymen were steeped in brutality, and Elizabethan surfeit of beefand ale, than they will ever produce with a twopenny-halfpenny universaleducation. What is the use? Progress. What is progress? Merely theadequate arrangement of inequalities--in the words of one of their ownthinkers who knows most about it and troubles himself least abouttheories. What is the use of your "universal" education, to whichnine-tenths of the population submit as to a hopeless evil, which takesbread out of their mouths and puts bran into their heads; for might theynot be at work in the fields instead of scratching pothooks on a slate?At least so Lady Victoria thought. 

"You look just like a sailor, " said she to Claudius. 

"I feel like one, " he answered, "and I think I shall adopt the sea as aprofession. "

"It is such a pity, " said Miss Skeat, sternly clutching the twisted wireshroud. "I would like to see you turn pirate; it would be sopicturesque--you and Mr. Barker. " The others laughed, not at the idea ofClaudius sporting the black flag--for he looked gloomy enough to domurder in the first degree this morning--but the picture of theexquisite and comfort-loving Mr. Barker, with his patent-leather shoesand his elaborate travelling apparatus, leading a band of black-browedruffians to desperate deeds of daring and blood, was novel enough to beexhilarating; and they laughed loudly. They did not understand Mr. Barker; but perhaps Miss Skeat, who liked him with an old-maidenlyliking, had some instinct notion that the gentle American could bedangerous. 

"Mr. Barker would never do for a pirate, " laughed Lady Victoria; "hewould be always getting his feet wet and having attacks of neuralgia. "

"Take care, Vick, " said her brother, "he might hear you. "

"Well, if he did? I only said he would get his feet wet. There is noharm in that, and it is clear he has neuralgia, because he says ithimself. "

"Well, of course, " said the Duke, "if that is what you mean. But he willwet his feet fast enough when there is any good reason. "

"If you make it 'worth his while, ' of course, " said Lady Victoria, "Ihave no doubt of it. " She turned up her nose, for she was not very fondof Mr. Barker, and she thought poorly of the Duke's financialenterprises in America. It was not a bit like a good old Englishgentleman to be always buying and selling mines and stocks and all sortsof things with queer names. 

"Look here, Vick, we won't talk any more about Barker, if you please. "

"Very well, then you can talk about the weather, " said she. 

"Yes, " said Claudius, "you may well do that. There is a good deal ofweather to talk about. "

"Oh, I like a storm at sea, of all things!" exclaimed Lady Victoria, forgetting all about Mr. Barker in the delicious sense of saltness andfreedom one feels on the deck of a good ship running through a livelysea. She put out her face to catch the fine salt spray on her cheek. Just then a little water broke over the side abaft the gangway, and thevessel rose and fell to the sweep of a big wave. The water ran alongover the flush deck, as if hunting for the scuppers, and came swashingdown to the lee where the party were standing, wetting the ladies' feetto the ankle. The men merely pulled themselves up by the ropes theyheld, and hung till the deck was clear again. 

"I don't suppose it hurts you to get wet, " said the Duke to his sister, "but you would be much better under hatches while this sort of thing isgoing on. "

"I think, if you will help me, I will go down and see how the Countessis, " said Miss Skeat; and Claudius detached her from the rigging and gother down the companion, but the Duke stayed with his sister, who beggedfor a few minutes more. Once below, Claudius felt how near he was toMargaret, who was doubtless in the ladies' cabin. He could reach his ownquarters without entering that sanctum, of course, but as he still heldMiss Skeat's arm to steady her to the door, he could not resist thetemptation of putting his head through, for he knew now that she must bethere. It was a large sitting-room, extending through the whole beam, with big port-holes on each side. Miss Skeat entered, and Claudiuslooked in. 

There was Margaret, looking much as usual, her face turned a little fromhim as she lay in a huge arm-chair. She could not see him as she was, and his heart beat furiously as he looked at the face he loved best ofall others. 

Margaret spoke to Miss Skeat without turning her head, for she wasworking at some of her eternal needlework. 

"Have you had a good time? How did you get down?"

"Such an airing, " answered the lady-companion, who was divesting herselfof her wraps, "and Dr Claudius--"

The last was lost to the Doctor's ear, for he withdrew his head and beata hasty retreat. Miss Skeat also stopped speaking suddenly, for as shementioned his name she looked naturally towards the door, supposing himto be standing there, and she just saw his head disappear from betweenthe curtains. Margaret turned her eyes and saw Miss Skeat'sastonishment. 

"Well, what about Dr. Claudius?" she asked. 

"Oh, nothing, " said Miss Skeat, "you asked me how I got down, and I wasgoing to say Dr. Claudius gave me his arm, and I thought he had come inhere with me. "

Neither Miss Skeat nor Claudius had noticed Mr. Barker, who wasensconced on a corner transom, with his nails and a book to amusehimself with. He saw the whole thing: how the Doctor put his white faceand dripping beard through the curtains, and suddenly withdrew it at themention of his name, and how Miss Skeat held her peace about having seenit too. He reflected that something had happened, that Miss Skeat knewall about it, and that she was a discreet woman. He wondered what itcould be. Claudius would not look like that unless something were wrong, he thought, and he would certainly come back in five minutes ifeverything were right. He had not seen him at breakfast. He took out hiswatch softly and let it drop on his book, face upwards. Meanwhile hetalked to the two ladies about the weather, and listened to Miss Skeat'srapturous account of the spray and the general slipperiness of the upperregions. When five minutes were elapsed he put his watch back and saidhe thought he would try it himself, as he fancied the fresh air would dohim good. So he departed, and obtained a pair of sea-boots and anoilskin, which he contemplated with disgust, and put on withresolution. He wanted to find the Duke, and he wanted to see Claudius;but he wanted them separately. 

Mr. Barker cautiously put his head out of the cuddy door and espied theDuke and his sister. This was not exactly what he wanted, and he wouldhave retired, but at that moment Lady Victoria caught sight of him, andimmediately called out to him not to be afraid, as it was much smoothernow. But Mr. Barker's caution had proceeded from other causes, and beingdetected, he put a bold face on it, stepped on the deck and slammed thedoor behind him. Lady Victoria was somewhat surprised to see him treadthe slippery deck with perfect confidence and ease, for she thought hewas something of a "duffer. " But Barker knew how to do most things moreor less, and he managed to bow and take off his sou'wester withconsiderable grace in spite of the rolling. Having obtained permissionto smoke, he lighted a cigar, crooked one booted leg through the ironrail, and seated himself on the bulwark, where, as the steamer lurched, he seemed to be in a rather precarious position. But there was a sort ofcat-like agility in his wiry frame, that bespoke unlimited powers ofbalancing and holding on. 

"I thought there were more of you, " he began, addressing Lady Victoria. "You seem to be having quite a nice time here. "

"Yes. "

"I wish I had come up sooner; the atmosphere downstairs is veryoppressive. "

"I thought you had neuralgia, " said Lady Victoria. 

"So I had. But that kind of neuralgia comes and goes very suddenly. Where is the giant of the North?"

"Dr. Claudius? He went down with Miss Skeat, and when he came up againhe said he would go forward, " answered she, giving the nauticalpronunciation to the latter word. 

"Oh, I see him, " cried Barker, "there he is, just going up the bridge. By Jove! what a height he looks. "

"Yes, " put in the Duke, "he is rather oversparred for a nor'-easter, eh?Rather be your size, Barker, for reefing tawpsels;" and the Englishmanlaughed. 

"Well, " said Barker, "when I first knew him he used to wear a balustraderound his neck to keep from being dizzy. I wouldn't care to have to dothat. I think I will go and have a look too. " And leaving his companionsto laugh at his joke, Mr. Barker glided easily from the rail, and beganhis journey to the bridge, which he accomplished without any apparentdifficulty. When he had climbed the little ladder he waved his hand tothe Duke and his sister, who screamed something complimentary in reply;and then he spoke to Claudius who was standing by the skipper, his legsfar apart, and both his hands on the railing. 

"Is that you, Barker?" asked Claudius; "you are well disguised thismorning. "

"Claudius, " said the other, "what on earth is the row?" The captain wason the other side of the Doctor, and could not hear in the wind. 

"What row?" asked Claudius. Barker knew enough of his friend by thistime to be aware that roundabout methods of extracting information wereless likely to be successful than a point-blank question. 

"Don't pretend ignorance, " said he. "You look like a ghost, you are sopale, and when you put your head through the curtains a quarter of anhour ago, I thought you were one. And you have not been near theCountess this morning, though you have never been away from her beforesince we weighed anchor. Now, something has happened, and if I can doanything, tell me, and I will do it, right away. " It is a good old plan, that one of trying to satisfy one's curiosity under pretence of offeringassistance. But Claudius did not trouble himself about such things; hewanted no help from any one, and never had; and if he meant to tell, nothing would prevent him, and if he did not mean to tell, no powerwould make him. 

"Since you have found it out, Barker, something has happened, as yousay; and thanks for your offer of help, but I cannot tell you anythingmore about it. "

"I think you are unwise. "

"Perhaps. "

"I might help you a great deal, for I have some natural tact. "

"Yes. "

"Besides, you know I am as secret as the grave. "

"Quite so. "

"I introduced you to the Countess, too. "

"I know it. "

"And I should be very sorry indeed to think that my action should havehad any evil consequences. "

"I am sure you would. "

"Then, my dear fellow, you must really take me a little more into yourconfidence, and let me help you, " said Barker, in the tone of an injuredman. 

"Perhaps I ought, " said Claudius. 

"Then why will you not tell me what has happened now?"

"Because I won't, " said Claudius, turning sharply on Barker, andspeaking in a voice that seemed to make the railings shake. He wasevidently on the point of losing his temper, and Barker repented himtoo late of his attempt to extract the required information. Now hechanged his tone. 

"Excuse me, Claudius, I did not mean to offend you. "

"You did not offend me at all, Barker. But please--do not ask me anymore questions about it. " Claudius was perfectly calm again. 

"No indeed, my dear fellow, I would not think of it;--and I don't seemto think that I should advise anybody else to, " he added mentally. Hemade up his mind that it must be something very serious, or Claudius, who was so rarely excited, would hardly have behaved as he had done. Hemade a few remarks about the weather, which had certainly not improvedsince morning; and then, resolving that he would find out what was thematter before he was much older, he glided down the ladder and went aft. Lady Victoria had disappeared, and her brother was trying to light ashort black pipe. 

"Duke, " Barker began, "what the deuce is the matter with Claudius thismorning?"

"Don't know, I'm sure. My sister thinks it is very odd. "

"Well, if you don't know, I don't either, but I can make a pretty goodguess. "

The Duke's vesuvian was sputtering in the spray and wind, and he got agood light before he answered. 

"I'll take six to four he marries her, at all events. "

"I don't go in for playing it as low down as that on my friends, " saidBarker virtuously, "or I would take you in hundreds. You must be crazy. Can't you see he has shown up and is sold? Bah! it's all over, as sureas you're born. "

"Think that's it?" said the other, much interested. "You may be right. Glad you would not bet, anyhow. "

"Of course that's it. The idiot has proposed to her here, on board, andshe has refused him, and now he has to face the fury of the elements tokeep out of her way. "

"Upon my soul, it looks like it, " said the Duke. "He won't stay on thebridge much longer if this lasts, though. "

"You had best ask your sister, " answered Barker. "Women always knowthose things first. What do you say to a game? It is beastly dirtyweather to be on the deck watch. " And so they pushed forward to thesmoking-room, just before the bridge, and settled themselves for the daywith a pack of cards and a box of cigars. 

As Margaret had not put in an appearance at breakfast, which was a lateand solid meal on board, and as there was no other regular congregationof the party until dinner, for each one lunched as he or she pleased, itwas clear that the Countess and Claudius would not be brought togetheruntil the evening. Margaret was glad of this for various reasons, somedefinable and others vague. She felt that she must have misjudgedClaudius a little, and she was glad to see that her exhibition ofdispleasure on the previous night had been sufficient to keep him away. Had he been as tactless as she had at first thought, he would surelyhave sought an early opportunity of speaking to her alone, and the restof the party were so much used to seeing them spend their morningstogether that such an opportunity would not have been lacking, had hewished it. And if he had misunderstood her words and manner--well, ifhe had not thought they were meant as a decisive check, he would havefollowed her there and then, last night, when she left him. She felt alittle nervous about his future conduct, but for the present she wassatisfied, and prepared herself for the inevitable meeting at dinnerwith a certain feeling of assurance. "For, " said she, "I do not love himin the least, and why should I be embarrassed?"

Not so poor Claudius, who felt the blood leave his face and rush wildlyto his heart, as he entered the saloon where the party were sitting downto dinner. The vessel was rolling heavily, for the sea was running highunder the north-easter, and dinner would be no easy matter. He knew hemust sit next to her and help her under all the difficulties that ariseunder the circumstances. It would have been easy, too, for them both tosee that the eyes of the other four were upon them, had either of themsuspected it. Claudius held himself up to the full of his great heightand steadied every nerve of his body for the meeting. Margaret belongedto the people who do not change colour easily, and when she spoke, eventhe alert ear of Mr. Barker opposite could hardly detect the faintestchange of tone. And yet she bore the burden of it, for she spoke first. 

"How do you do, Dr. Claudius?"

"Thank you, well. I was sorry to hear you had a headache to-day. I hopeyou are better. "

"Thanks, yes; much better. " They all sat down, and it was over. 

The conversation was at first very disjointed, and was inclined to turnon small jokes about the difficulty of dining at an angle of forty-fivedegrees. The weather was certainly much heavier than it had been in themorning, and the Duke feared they would have a longer passage than theyhad expected, but added that they would be better able to judgeto-morrow at twelve. Claudius and Margaret exchanged a few sentences, with tolerable tact and indifference; but, for some occult reason, Mr. Barker undertook to be especially lively and amusing, and after thedinner was somewhat advanced he launched out into a series of storiesand anecdotes which served very well to pass the time and to attractnotice to himself. As Mr. Barker was generally not very talkative attable, though frequently epigrammatic, his sudden eloquence wascalculated to engage the attention of the party. Claudius and Margaretwere glad of the rattling talk that delivered them from the burden ofsaying anything especial, and they both laughed quite naturally atBarker's odd wit. They were grateful to him for what he did, andClaudius entertained some faint hope that he might go on in the samestrain for the rest of the voyage. But Margaret pondered these things. She saw quickly that Barker had perceived that some embarrassmentexisted, and was spending his best strength in trying to make the meal aparticularly gay one. But she could not understand how Barker could havefound out that there was any difficulty. Had Claudius been makingconfidences? It would have been very foolish for him to do so, andbesides, Claudius was not the man to make confidences. He was reticentand cold as a rule, and Barker had more than once confessed to theCountess that he knew very little of Claudius's previous history, because the latter "never talked, " and would not always answerquestions. So she came to the conclusion that Barker only suspectedsomething, because the Doctor had not been with her during the day. Andso she laughed, and Claudius laughed, and they were well satisfied topay their social obolus in a little well-bred and well-assumed hilarity. 

So the dinner progressed, in spite of the rolling and pitching; forthere was a good deal of both, as the sea ran diagonally to the course, breaking on the starboard quarter. They had reached the dessert, and twoat least of the party were congratulating themselves on the happytermination of the meal, when, just as the Duke was speaking, there wasa heavy lurch, and a tremendous sea broke over their heads. Then came afearful whirring sound that shook through every plate and timber andbulkhead, like the sudden running down of mammoth clock-work, lastingsome twenty seconds; then everything was quiet again save the sea, andthe yacht rolled heavily to and fro. 

Every one knew that there had been a serious accident, but no one movedfrom the table. The Duke sat like a rock in his place and finished whathe was saying, though no one noticed it. Miss Skeat clutched her silverfruit-knife till her knuckles shone again, and she set her teeth. Mr. Barker, who had a glass of wine in the "fiddle" before him, took it outwhen the sea struck and held it up steadily to save it from beingspilled; and Lady Victoria, who was not the least ashamed of beingstartled, cried out--

"Goodness gracious!" and then sat holding to the table and looking ather brother. 

Margaret and Claudius were sitting next each other on one side of thetable. By one of those strange, sympathetic instincts, that onlymanifest themselves in moments of great danger, they did the same thingat the same moment. Claudius put out his left hand and Margaret herright, and those two hands met just below the table and clasped eachother, and in that instant each turned round to the other and looked theother in the face. What that look told man knoweth not, but for oneinstant there was nothing in the world for Margaret but Claudius. As forhim, poor man, he had long known that she was the whole world to him, his life and his death. 

It was very short, and Margaret quickly withdrew her hand and lookedaway. The Duke was the first to speak. 

"I do not think it is anything very serious, " said he. "If you will allsit still, I will go and see what is the matter. " He rose and left thesaloon. 

"I don't fancy there is any cause for anxiety, " said Barker. "There hasprobably been some slight accident to the machinery, and we shall be offagain in an hour. I think we ought to compliment the ladies on thecourage they have shown; it is perfectly wonderful. " And Mr. Barkersmiled gently round the table. Lady Victoria was palpably scared andMiss Skeat was silent. As for Margaret, she was confused and troubled. The accident of her seizing Claudius's hand, as she had done, was athousand times more serious than any accident to the ship. The Doctorcould not help stealing a glance at her, but he chimed in with Barker inpraising the coolness of all three ladies. Presently the Duke came back. He had been forward by a passage that led between decks to theengine-room, where he had met the captain. The party felt reassured asthe ruddy face of their host appeared in the doorway. 

"There is nothing to fear, " he said cheerfully. "But it is a horridnuisance, all the same. "

"Tell us all about it, " said Lady Victoria. 

"Well--we have lost our means of locomotion. We have carried away ourpropeller. "

"What are you going to do about it?" asked Barker. 

"Do? There is nothing to be done. We must sail for it. I am dreadfullysorry. "

"It is not your fault, " said Claudius. 

"Well, I suppose not. It happens even to big steamers. "

"And shall we sail all the way to New York?" asked his sister, who wascompletely reassured. "I think it will be lovely. " Miss Skeat alsothought sailing much more poetic than steaming. 

"I think we must hold a council of war, " said the master. "Let us put itto the vote. Shall we make for Bermuda, which is actually nearer, butwhich is four or five days' from New York, or shall we go straight andtake our chance of a fair wind?"

"If you are equally willing to do both, why not let the ladies decide?"suggested Barker. 

"Oh no, " broke in the Countess, "it will be much more amusing to vote. We will write on slips of paper and put them in a bag. "

"As there are five of you I will not vote, " said the Duke, "for we mightbe three on a side, you know. "

So they voted, and there were three votes for New York and two forBermuda. 

"New York has it, " said the Duke, who counted, "and I am glad, on thewhole, for it is Sturleson's advice. " Barker had voted for New York, andhe wondered who the two could have been who wanted to go to Bermuda. Probably Miss Skeat and Lady Victoria. Had the Countess suspected thatthose two would choose the longer journey and out-vote her, if thedecision were left to the ladies?

Meanwhile there had been heavy tramping of feet on the deck, as the mentrimmed the sails. She could only go under double-reefed trysails andfore-staysail for the present, and it was no joke to keep her head upwhile the reefs were taken in. It was blowing considerably more thanhalf a gale of wind, and the sea was very heavy. Soon, however, theeffect of the sails made itself felt; the yacht was a good sea-boat, andwhen she fairly heeled over on the port-tack and began to cut the wavesagain, the ladies downstairs agreed that sailing was much pleasanter andsteadier than steam, and that the next time they crossed in a yacht theywould like to sail all the way. But in spite of their courage, andnotwithstanding that they were greatly reassured by the explanations ofMr. Barker, who made the nature of the accident quite clear to them, they had been badly shaken, and soon retired to their respectivestaterooms. In the small confusion of getting to their feet to leave thecabin it chanced that Claudius found himself helping Margaret to thedoor. The recollection of her touch and look when the accident happenedwas strong in him yet and gave him courage. 

"Good-night, Countess, " he said; "shall I have the pleasure of readingwith you to-morrow?"

"Perhaps, " she answered; "if it is very fine. Fate has decreed that weshould have plenty of time. " He tried to catch a glance as she left hisarm, but she would not, and they were parted for the night. Barker hadgone into the engine-room, now quiet and strange; the useless machinerystood still as it had been stopped when the loss of the propeller, relieving the opposition to the motor-force, allowed it to make itslast frantic revolutions. The Duke and Claudius were left alone in themain cabin. 

"Well, " said the Duke, "we are in for it this time, at all events. "

"We are indeed, " said Claudius; "I hope the delay will not cause you anyserious inconvenience, for I suppose we shall not reach New York for afortnight at least. "

"It will not inconvenience me at all. But I am sorry for you--for youall, I mean, " he added, fearing he had been awkward in thus addressingClaudius directly, "because it will be so very disagreeable, such anawful bore for you to be at sea so long. "

"I have no doubt we shall survive, " said the other, with a smile. "Whatdo you say to going on deck and having a chat with Sturleson, now thatall is quiet?"

"And a pipe?" said the Duke, "I am with you. " So on deck they went, andclambered along the lee to the smoking-room, without getting very wet. Sturleson was sent for, and they reviewed together the situation. Theresult of the inquiry was that things looked much brighter to all three. They were in a good sea-boat, well manned and provisioned, with nothingto fear from the weather, and if they were lucky they might make SandyHook in a week. On the other hand, they might not; but it is always wellto take a cheerful view of things. People who cross the Atlantic inyachts are very different from the regular crowds that go backwards andforwards in the great lines. They are seldom in a hurry, and havegenerally made a good many voyages before. Perhaps the Duke himself, inhis quality of host, was the most uncomfortable man on board. He didnot see how the Countess and the Doctor could possibly survive beingshut up together in a small vessel, for he was convinced that Barkerknew all about their difficulty. If he had not liked Claudius so much, he would have been angry at him for daring to propose to this beautifulyoung friend of his. But then Claudius was Claudius, and even the Dukesaw something in him besides his wealth which gave him a right to aspireto the highest. 

"I can't make out, " the Duke once said to Barker, "where Claudius gothis manners. He never does anything the least odd; and he always seemsat his ease. "

"I only know he came to Heidelberg ten years ago, and that he is aboutthirty. He got his manners somewhere when he was a boy. "

"Of course, there are lots of good people in Sweden, " said the Duke;"but they all have titles, just as they do in Germany. And Claudius hasno title. "

"No, " said Barker pensively, "I never heard him say he had a title. "

"I don't know anything about it, " answered the Duke. "But I have been agood deal about Sweden, and he is not in the least like a respectableSwedish burgher. Did you not tell me that his uncle, who left him allthat money, was your father's partner in business?"

"Yes, I remember once or twice hearing the old gentleman say he had anephew. But he was a silent man, though he piled up the dollars. "

"Claudius is a silent man too, " said the Duke. 

"And he has sailed into the dollars ready piled. "

But this was before the eventful day just described; and the Duke hadforgotten the conversation, though he had repeated the reflections tohimself, and found them true. To tell the truth, Claudius looked morelike a duke than his host, for the sea air had blown away theprofessorial cobwebs; and, after all, it did not seem so veryincongruous in the Englishman's eyes that his handsome guest should fallin love with the Countess Margaret. Only, it was very uncomfortable; andhe did not know exactly what he should do with them for the next tendays. Perhaps he ought to devote himself to the Countess, and thuseffectually prevent any approaches that Claudius might meditate. Yes--that was probably his duty. He wished he might ask counsel of hissister; but then she did not know, and it seemed unfair, and altogetherrather a betrayal of confidence or something--at all events, it was notright, and he would not do it. Barker might be wrong too. And so thepoor Duke, muddle-headed and weary with this storm in his tea-cup, andwith having his tea-cup come to grief in a real storm into the bargain, turned into his deck-cabin to "sleep on it, " thinking the morning wouldbring counsel. 

Claudius had many things to think of too; but he was weary, for he hadslept little of late, and not at all the night before; so he lay downand went over the scenes of the evening; but soon he fell asleep, anddreamed of her all the night long. 

But the good yacht _Streak_ held on her course bravely, quivering in thejoy of her new-spread wings. For what hulk is so dull and pitifullymodern as not to feel how much gladder a thing it is to bound along withstraining shrouds and singing sails and lifting keel to the fierce musicof the wind than to be ever conscious of a burning sullenly-thuddingpower, put in her bosom by the unartistic beast, man, to make her grindher breathless way whither he would, and whither she would not? Not themeanest mud-scow or harbour tug but would rather have a little mast anda bit of canvas in the fresh salt breeze than all the hundreds ofland-born horse-powers and fire-driven cranks and rods that ahaste-loving generation can cram into the belly of the poor craft. Howmuch more, then, must the beautiful clean-built _Streak_ have rejoicedon that night when she felt the throbbing, gnashing pain of the enginesstop suddenly in her breast, and was allowed to spread her beautifulwings out to be kissed and caressed all over by her old lover, thenorth-east wind?

And the grand crested waves came creeping up, curling over their darkheads till they bristled with phosphorescent foam; and some of thembroke angrily upward, jealous that the wind alone might touch thosegleaming sails. But the wind roared at them in his wrath and drove themaway, so that they sank back, afraid to fight with him; and he took theship in his strong arms, and bore her fast and far that night, throughmany a heaving billow, and past many a breaking crest--far over theuntrodden paths, where footsteps are not, neither the defiling hand ofman. 

But within were beating hearts and the breathings of life. The strongman stretched to his full length on his couch, mighty to see in hishard-earned sleep. And the beautiful woman, with parted lips and wildtossing black hair; dark cheeks flushed with soft resting; hands laidtogether lovingly, as though, in the quiet night, the left hand wouldlearn at last what good work the right hand has wrought; the fringe oflong eyelashes drooping with the lids, to fold and keep the gloriouslight safe within, and--ah yes, it is there!--the single tear stillclinging to its birthplace--mortal impress of immortal suffering. Is itnot always there, the jewelled sign-manual of grief?

But the good yacht _Streak_ held on her course bravely; and thenorth-easter laughed and sang as he buffeted the waves from the path ofhis love. 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Duke was the first to be astir in the morning, and as soon as heopened his eyes he made up his mind that the weather was improving. Thesea was still running high, but there was no sound of water breakingover the bulwarks. He emerged from his deck-cabin, and took a sniff ofthe morning air. A reef had been shaken out of the trysails, and thefore-topsail and jib were set. He went aft, and found the mate justheaving the patent log. 

"Nine and a half, your Grace, " said the officer with a chuckle, for hewas an old sailor, and hated steamers. 

"That's very fair, " remarked the owner, skating off with his bare feetover the wet deck. Then he went back to his cabin to dress. 

Presently Mr. Barker's neat person emerged from the cuddy. He lookedabout to see if any one were out yet, but only a party of red-cappedtars were visible, swabbing the forward deck with their pendulum-likebrooms, and working their way aft in a regular, serried rank. Thephalanx moved with an even stroke, and each bare foot advanced just somany inches at every third sweep of the broom, while the yellow-hairedNorse 'prentice played the hose in front of them. Mr. Barker perceivedthat they would overtake him before long, and he determined on flight, not forward or aft, but aloft; and he leisurely lifted himself into themain-shrouds, and climbing half-way, hooked his feet through theratlines. In this position he took out a cigar, lighted it with avesuvian, and, regardless of the increased motion imparted to him at hisgreater elevation, he began to smoke. The atmosphere below must havebeen very oppressive indeed to induce Mr. Barker to come up beforebreakfast--in fact, before eight o'clock--for the sake of smoking asolitary cigar up there by the catharpings. Mr. Barker wanted to think, for an idea had struck him during the night. 

In ten minutes the parade of deck-swabbers had passed, and Claudius alsoappeared on deck, looking haggard and pale. He did not see Barker, forhe turned, seaman-like, to the weatherside, and the try-sail hid hisfriend from his sight. Presently he too thought he would go aloft, forhe felt cramped and weary, and fancied a climb would stretch his limbs. He went right up to the crosstrees before he espied Barker, a few feetbelow him on the other side. He stopped a moment in astonishment, forthis sort of diversion was the last thing he had given the Americancredit for. Besides, as Barker was to leeward, the rigging where he wasperched stood almost perpendicular, and his position must have been avery uncomfortable one. Claudius was not given to jocularity as a rule, but he could not resist such a chance for astonishing a man who imaginedhimself to be enjoying an airy solitude between sky and water. So hegently swung himself into the lee rigging and, leaning far down, cautiously lifted Mr. Barker's cap from his head by the woollen buttonin the middle. Mr. Barker knocked the ash from his cigar with his freehand, and returned it to his mouth; he then conveyed the same hand tothe top of his head, to assure himself that the cap was gone. He knewperfectly well that in his present position he could not look up to seewho had played him the trick. 

"I don't know who you are, " he sang out, "but I may as well tell you mylife is insured. If I catch cold, the company will make it hot foryou--and no error. "

A roar of laughter from below saluted this sally, for the Duke andSturleson had met, and had watched together the progress of the joke. 

"I will take the risk, " replied Claudius, who had retired again to thecrosstrees. "I am going to put it on the topmast-head, so that you mayhave a good look at it. "

"You can't do it, " said Barker, turning himself round, and lying flatagainst the ratlines, so that he could look up at his friend. 

"What's that?" bawled the Duke from below. 

"Says he will decorate the maintruck with my hat, and I say he can't doit, " Barker shouted back. 

"I'll back Claudius, level money, " answered the Duke in stentoriantones. 

"I'll take three to two, " said Barker. 

"No, I won't. Level money. "

"Done for a hundred, then, " answered the American. 

It was an unlikely thing to bet on, and Barker thought he might havegiven the Duke odds, instead of asking them, as he had done. But heliked to get all he could in a fair way. Having arranged his bet, hetold Claudius he might climb to the mast-head if he liked, but that he, Barker, was going down so as to have a better view; and he forthwithdescended. All three stood leaning back against the weather bulwarks, craning their necks to see the better. Claudius was a very large man, ashas been said, and Barker did not believe it possible that he could draghis gigantic frame up the smooth mast beyond the shrouds. If it werepossible, he was quite willing to pay his money to see him do it. 

Claudius put the woollen cap in his pocket, and began the ascent. Thesteamer, as has been said, was schooner-rigged, with topsail yards onthe foremast, but there were no ratlines in the main topmast shrouds, which were set about ten feet below the mast-head. To this pointClaudius climbed easily enough, using his arms and legs against thestiffened ropes. A shout from the Duke hailed his arrival. 

"Now comes the tug of war, " said the Duke. 

"He can never do it, " said Barker confidently. 

But Barker had underrated the extraordinary strength of the man againstwhom he was betting, and he did not know how often, when a boy, Claudiushad climbed higher masts than those of the _Streak_. The Doctor was oneof those natural athletes whose strength does not diminish for lack ofexercise, and large as he was, and tall, he was not so heavy as Barkerthought. Now he pulled the cap out of his pocket and held it between histeeth, as he gripped the smooth wood between his arms and hands andlegs, and with firm and even motion he began to swarm up the bare pole. 

"There--I told you so, " said Barker. Claudius had slipped nearly a footback. 

"He will do it yet, " said the Duke, as the climber clasped his mightyhands to the mast. He would not slip again, for his blood was up, and hecould almost fancy his iron grip pressed deep into the wood. Slowly, slowly those last three feet were conquered, inch by inch, and the broadhand stole stealthily over the small wooden truck at the topmast-headtill it had a firm hold--then the other, and with the two he raised andpushed his body up till the truck was opposite his breast. 

"Skal to the Viking!" yelled old Sturleson, the Swedish captain, hissunburnt face glowing red with triumph as Claudius clapped the woollencap over the mast-head. 

"Well done, indeed, man!" bawled the Duke. 

"Well, " said Barker, "it was worth the money, anyhow. "

There was a faint exclamation from the door of the after-cabin; but noneof the three men heard it, nor did they see a horror-struck face, stonyand wide-eyed, staring up at the mast-head, where the Doctor's athleticfigure swayed far out over the water with the motion of the yacht. Timehad flown, and the bright sunlight streaming down into the ladies' cabinhad made Margaret long for a breath of fresh air; so that when LadyVictoria appeared, in all sorts of jersies and blue garments, fresh andready for anything, the two had made common cause and ventured up thecompanion without any manly assistance. It chanced that they came out onthe deck at the very moment when Claudius was accomplishing his feat, and seeing the three men looking intently at something aloft, Margaretlooked too, and was horrified at what she saw. Lady Victoria caught herand held her tightly, or she would have lost her footing with the lurchof the vessel. Lady Victoria raised her eyes also, and took in thesituation at a glance. 

"Don't be afraid, " she said, "he can take care of himself, no doubt. Mybrother used to be able to do it before he grew so big. "

Claudius descended rapidly, but almost lost his hold when he sawMargaret leaning against the taffrail. He would not have had her see himfor worlds, and there she was, and she had evidently witnessed the wholeaffair. Before he had reached the deck, the Duke had seen her too, andhastened to her side. She was evidently much agitated. 

"How can you allow such things?" she said indignantly, her dark eyesflashing at him. 

"I had nothing to say about it, Countess. But he did it magnificently. "

Claudius had reached the deck, and eluding the compliments of Barker andSturleson, hastened to the cuddy door, bowing to the ladies as hepassed. He meant to beat a retreat to his cabin. But Margaret wasdetermined to call him to account for having given her such a fright. 

"Dr. Claudius, " said the voice that he loved and feared. 

"Yes, Countess, " said he, steadying himself by the door as the vessellurched. 

"Will you please come here? I want to speak to you. " He moved to herside, waiting his chance between two seas. "Do you think you have aright to risk your life in such follies?" she asked, when he was closeto her. The Duke and Lady Victoria were near by. 

"I do not think I have risked my life, Countess. I have often done itbefore. "

"Do you think, then, that you have a right to do such things in thesight of nervous women?"

"No, Countess, I pretend to no such brutality, and I am very sincerelysorry that you should have unexpectedly seen me. I apologise mosthumbly to you and to Lady Victoria for having startled you;" he bowed tothe Duke's sister as he spoke, and moved to go away. He had alreadyturned when Margaret's face softened. 

"Dr. Claudius, " she called again. He was at her side in a moment. "Please do not do it again--even if I am not there. " She looked at him;he thought it strange. But he was annoyed at the whole business, andreally angry with himself. She had spoken in a low tone so that theothers had not heard her. 

"Countess, " said he in a voice decidedly sarcastic, "I pledge myselfnever in future to ascend to the mast-head of any vessel or vesselswithout your express permission. "

"Very well, " said she coldly; "I shall keep you to your word. " ButClaudius had seen his mistake, and there was no trace of irony in hisvoice as he looked her steadfastly in the eyes and answered. 

"Believe me, I will keep any promise I make to you, " he said earnestly, and went away. Lady Victoria, who was not without tact, and had guessedthat Margaret had something to say to the Doctor, managed meanwhile tokeep her brother occupied by asking him questions about the exploit, andhe, falling into the trap, had begun to tell the story from thebeginning, speaking loud, by way of showing Claudius his appreciation. But Claudius, recking little of his laurels, went and sat in his cabin, pondering deeply. Barker, from a distance, had witnessed theconversation between Margaret and the Doctor. He came up murmuring tohimself that the plot was thickening. "If Claudius makes a corner inmast-heads, there will be a bull market, " he reflected, and he alsoremembered that just now he was a bear. "In that case, " he continuedhis train of thought, "no more mast-heads. "

"Good morning, Countess; Lady Victoria, good morning, " he said, bowing. "I would take off my hat if I could, but the Doctor has set the cap ofliberty on high. " Lady Victoria and the Duke laughed, but Margaret said"Good morning" without a smile. Barker immediately abandoned the subjectand talked about the weather, which is a grand topic when there isenough of it. It was clear by this time that they had passed through aviolent storm, which had gone away to southward. The sea was heavy ofcourse, but the wind had moderated, and by twelve o'clock the yacht wasrunning between nine and ten knots, with a stiff breeze on her quarterand all sails set. 

The Duke was extremely attentive to Margaret all that day, rarelyleaving her side, whether she was below or on deck; bringing her booksand rugs, and adjusting her chair, and altogether performing the officesof a faithful slave and attendant. Whenever Claudius came within hailthe Duke would make desperate efforts to be animated, lengthening hissentences with all the vigorous superlatives and sledge-hammer adverbshe could think of, not to mention any number of "you knows. " His effortsto be agreeable, especially when there appeared to be any likelihood ofClaudius coming into the conversation, were so palpable that Margaretcould not but see there was a reason for the expenditure of so muchenergy. She could not help being amused, but at the same time she wasannoyed at what she considered a bit of unnecessary officiousness on thepart of her host. However, he was such an old friend that she forgavehim. But woman's nature is impatient of control. Left to herself shewould have avoided Claudius; forcibly separated from him she discoveredthat she wanted to speak to him. As the day wore on and the Duke'sattentions never relaxed, she grew nervous, and tried to think how shecould send him away. It was no easy matter. If she asked for anything, he flew to get it and returned breathless, and of course at that verymoment Claudius was just out of range. Then she called Miss Skeat, butthe Duke's eloquence redoubled, and he talked to them both at once; andat last she gave it up in despair, and said she would lie down for awhile. Once safe in her stateroom, the Duke drew a long breath, and wentin search of Mr. Barker. Now Mr. Barker, in consequence of the idea thathad unfolded itself to his fertile brain in the darkness of night, hadbeen making efforts to amuse Claudius all day long, with as muchdetermination as the Duke had shown in devoting himself to the Countess, but with greater success; for Barker could be very amusing when hechose, whereas the Duke was generally most amusing when he did not wishto be so. He found them in the smoking cabin, Claudius stretched at fulllength with a cigarette in his teeth, and Barker seated apparently onthe table, the chair, and the transom, by a clever distribution of thevarious parts of his body, spinning yarns of a high Western flavourabout death's-head editors and mosquitoes with brass ribs. 

The Duke was exhausted with his efforts, and refreshed himself with beerbefore he challenged Barker to a game. 

"To tell the truth, Duke, " he answered, "I don't seem to think I feellike winning your money to-day. I will go and talk to the ladies, andClaudius will play with you. "

"You won't make much headway there, " said the Duke. "The Countess isgone to bed, and Miss Skeat and my sister are reading English history. "

"Besides, " put in Claudius, "you know I never play. "

"Well, " said Barker, with a sigh, "then I will play with you, andClaudius can go to sleep where he is. " They cut and dealt. But Claudiusdid not feel at all sleepy. When the game was well started he rose andwent out, making to himself the same reflection that Margaret had made, "Why is my friend so anxious to amuse me to-day?" He seldom paid anyattention to such things, but his strong, clear mind was not long inunravelling the situation, now that he was roused to thinking about it. Barker had guessed the truth, or very near it, and the Duke and he hadagreed to keep Claudius and Margaret apart as long as they could. 

He went aft, and descended to the cabin. There sat Miss Skeat and LadyVictoria reading aloud, just as the Duke had said. He went through thepassage and met the steward, or butler, whom he despatched to see if theCountess were in the ladies' cabin. The rosy-cheeked, gray-haired priestof Silenus said her ladyship was there, "alone, " he added with a littleemphasis. Claudius walked in, and was not disappointed. There she sat atthe side of the table in her accustomed place, dark and beautiful, andhis heart beat fast. She did not look up. 

"Countess, " he began timidly. 

"Oh, Doctor Claudius, is that you? Sit down. " He sat down on thetransom, so that he could see the evening light fall through theport-hole above him on her side face, and as the vessel rose and fellthe rays of the setting sun played strangely on her heavy hair. 

"I have not seen you all day, " she said. 

"No, Countess. " He did not know what to say to her. 

"I trust you are none the worse for your foolish performance thismorning?" Her voice was even and unmodulated, not too friendly and nottoo cold. 

"I am, and I am not. I am unspeakably the worse in that I displeasedyou. Will you forgive me?"

"I will forgive you, " in the same tone. 

"Do you mean it? Do you mean you will forgive me what I said to youthat--the other night?"

"I did not say that, " she answered, a little weariness sounding with thewords. Claudius's face fell. 

"I am sorry, " he said very simply. 

"So am I. I am disappointed in you more than I can say. You are justlike all the others, and I thought you were different. Do you notunderstand me?"

"Not entirely, though I will try to. Will you not tell me just what youmean to say?"

"I think I will, " she answered, looking up, but not towards Claudius. She hesitated a moment and then continued, "We are not children, Dr. Claudius; let us speak plainly, and not misunderstand each other. " Sheglanced round the cabin as if to see if they were alone. Apparently shewas not satisfied. "Move my chair nearer to the sofa, please, " sheadded; and he rose and did her bidding. 

"I have not much to say, " she went on, "but I do not want to say itbefore the whole ship's company. It is this: I thought I had found inyou a friend, a man who would be to me what no one has ever been--afriend; and I am disappointed, for you want to be something else. Thatis all, except that it must not be thought of, and you must go. "

An Englishman would have reproached her with having given himencouragement; an Italian would have broken out into a passionateexpression of his love, seeking to kindle her with his own fire. But thegreat, calm Northman clasped his hands together firmly on his knee andsat silent. 

"You must go--" she repeated. 

"I cannot go, " he said honestly. 

"That is all the more reason why you should go at once, " was thefeminine argument with which she replied. 

"Let us go back to two days ago, and be as we were before. Will you notforget it?"

"We cannot--you cannot, and I cannot. You are not able to take back yourwords or to deny them. "

"May God forbid!" said he very earnestly. "But if you will let me beyour friend, I will promise to obey you, and I will not say anythingthat will displease you. "

"You cannot, " she repeated; and she smiled bitterly. 

"But I can, and I will, if you will let me. I am very strong, and I willkeep my word;" and indeed he looked the incarnation of strength as hesat with folded hands and earnest face, awaiting her reply. His wordswere not eloquent, but they were plain and true, and he meant them. Something in the suppressed power of his tone drove away the smile fromMargaret's face, and she looked toward him. 

"Could you?" she asked. But the door opened, and Lady Victoria enteredwith her book. 

"Oh!" said Lady Victoria. 

"I must go and dress, " said Claudius. 

"We will go on with the book to-morrow, " said the Countess. And he boreaway a light heart. 

On the following day the Duke began to take care of the Countess, as hehad done yesterday, and Barker turned on the fireworks of hisconversation for the amusement of Claudius. Claudius sat quite still foran hour or more, perhaps enjoying the surprise he was going to give theDuke and Barker. As the latter finished a brilliant tale, for theveracity of which he vouched in every particular, Claudius calmly roseand threw away his cigarette. 

"That is a very good story, " he said. "Good-bye for the present. I amgoing to read with the Countess. " Barker was nearly "taken off hisfeet. "

"Why--" he began, but stopped short. "Oh, very well. She is on deck. Isaw the Duke bring up her rugs and things. " His heavy moustache seemedto uncurl itself nervously, and his jaw dropped slowly, as he watchedClaudius leave the deck-cabin. 

"I wonder when they got a chance, " he said to himself. 

But Barker was not nearly so much astonished as the Duke. The latter wassitting by Margaret's side, near the wheel, making conversation. He wastelling her such a good story about a mutual friend--the son of a greatchancellor of the great empire of Kakotopia--who had gambled away hiswife at cards with another mutual friend. 

"And the point of the story, " said the Duke, "is that the lady did notobject in the least. Just fancy, you know, we all knew her, and now sheis married again to--" At this point Claudius strode up, and Margaret, who did not care to hear any more, interrupted the Duke. 

"Dr. Claudius, I have our book here. Shall we read?" The Doctor's faceflushed with pleasure. The Duke stared. 

"I will get a chair, " he said; and his long legs made short work of it. 

"Well, if you will believe it, " said the Duke, who meant to finish hisstory, "it was not even the man who won her at cards that she marriedwhen she was divorced. It was a man you never met; and they are livingin some place in Italy. " The Duke could hardly believe his eyes whenClaudius boldly marched up with his chair and planted himself onMargaret's other side. She leaned back, looking straight before her, andturning the leaves of the book absently backwards and forwards. The Dukewas evidently expected to go, but he sat fully a minute stupidly lookingat Margaret. At last she spoke. 

"That was not a very nice story. How odd! I knew them both very well. Doyou remember where we left off, Dr. Claudius?"

"Page one hundred and nineteen, " answered the Doctor, who never forgotanything. This looked like business, and the Duke rose. He got awayrather awkwardly. As usual, he departed to wreak vengeance on Mr. Barker. 

"Barker, " he began with emphasis, "you are an ass. "

"I know it, " said Barker, with humility. "I have been saying it over tomyself for a quarter of an hour, and it is quite true. Say it again; itdoes me good. "

"Oh, that is all. If you are quite sure you appreciate the fact I amsatisfied. "

"It dawned upon me quite suddenly a few minutes ago. Claudius has beenhere, " said Barker. 

"He has been there too, " said the Duke. "He is there now. "

"I suppose there is no doubt that we are talking about the same thing?"

"I don't know about you, " said the other. "I am talking about Claudiusand Countess Margaret. They never had a chance to speak all dayyesterday, and now she asks him to come and read with her. Just as I wastelling no end of a jolly story too. " Mr. Barker's wrinkle wound slowlyround his mouth. He had been able to shave to-day, and the deep furrowwas clearly defined. 

"Oh! she asked him to read, did she?" Then he swore, very slowly andconscientiously, as if he meant it. 

"Why the deuce do you swear like that?" asked the Duke. "If it is nottrue that she has refused him, you ought to be very glad. " And hestuffed a disreputable short black pipe full of tobacco. 

"Why, of course I am. I was swearing at my own stupidity. Of course I amvery glad if she has not refused him. " He smiled a veryunhealthy-looking smile. "See here--" he began again. 

"Well? I am seeing, as you call it. "

"This. They must have had a talk yesterday. He was here with me, andsuddenly he got up and said he was going to read with her. And you saythat she asked him to read with her when he went to where you were. "

"Called out to him half across the deck--in the middle of my story, too, and a firstrate one at that. "

"She does not care much for stories, " said Barker; "but that is not thequestion. It was evidently a put-up job. "

"Meaning a preconcerted arrangement, " said the Duke. "Yes. It wasarranged between them some time yesterday. But I never left her aloneuntil she said she was going to lie down. "

"And I never left him until you told me she had gone to bed. "

"She did not lie down, then, " said the Duke. 

"Then she lied up and down, " said Barker, savagely playful. 

"Ladies do not lie, " said the Duke, who did not like the word, andrefused to laugh. 

"Of course. And you and I are a couple of idiots, and we have beenprotecting her when she did not want to be protected. And she will hateus for ever after. I am disgusted. I will drown my cares in drink. Willyou please ring the bell?"

"You had better drink apollinaris. Grog will go to your head. I neversaw you so angry. " The Duke pressed the electric button. 

"I loathe to drink of the water, " said Barker, tearing off the end of acigar with his teeth. The Duke had seen a man in Egypt who bit off theheads of black snakes, and he thought of him at that moment. The stewardappeared, and when the arrangements were made, the ocean in which Barkerproposed to drown his cares was found to consist of a small glass of avery diluted concoction of champagne, bitters, limes, and soda water. The Duke had some, and thought it very good. 

"It is not a question of language, " said Barker, returning to theconversation. "They eluded us and met. That is all. "

"By her wish, apparently, " said the other. 

"We must arrange a plan of action, " said Barker. 

"Why? If she has not refused him, it is all right. We have nothing moreto do with it. Let them go their own way. "

"You are an old friend of the Countess's, are you not?" asked theAmerican. "Yes--very well, would you like to see her married toClaudius?"

"Upon my word, " said the Duke, "I cannot see that I have anything to sayabout it. But since you ask me, I see no possible objection. He is agentleman--has money, heaps of it--if she likes him, let her marry himif she pleases. It is very proper that she should marry again; she hasno children, and the Russian estates are gone to the next heir. I onlywanted to save her from any inconvenience. I did not want Claudius to behanging after her, if she did not want him. She does. There is an end ofit. " O glorious English Common Sense! What a fine thing you are whenanybody gets you by the right end. 

"You may be right, " said Barker, with a superior air that meant "you arecertainly wrong. " "But would Claudius be able to give her the positionin foreign society--"

"Society be damned, " said the Duke. "Do you think the widow of Alexiscannot command society? Besides, Claudius is a gentleman, and that isquite enough. "

"I suppose he is, " said Mr. Barker, with an air of regret. 

"Suppose? There is no supposing about it. He is. " And the Duke looked athis friend as if he would have said, "If I, a real, palpable, tangible, hereditary duke, do not know a gentleman when I see one, what can _you_possibly know about it, I would like to inquire?" And that settled thematter. 

But Mr. Barker was uneasy in his mind. An idea was at work there whichwas diametrically opposed to the union of Claudius and Margaret, and dayby day, as he watched the intimacy growing back into its oldproportions, he ground his gold-filled teeth with increasing annoyance. He sought opportunities for saying and doing things that might curtailthe length of those hours when Claudius sat at her side, ostensiblyreading. Ostensibly? Yes--the first day or two after she had allowed himto come back to her side were days of unexampled industry and severeroutine, only the most pertinent criticisms interrupting from time totime the even progress from line to line, from page to page, fromparagraph to paragraph, from chapter to chapter. But soon the criticismbecame less close, the illustration more copious, the tongue moreeloquent, and the glance less shy. The elective strength of their twohearts rose up and wrought mightily, saying, "We are made for eachother, we understand each other, and these foolish mortals who carry usabout in their bosoms shall not keep us apart. " And to tell the truth, the foolish mortals made very little effort. Margaret did not believethat Claudius could possibly break his plighted word, and he knew thathe would die rather than forfeit his faith. And so they sat side by sidewith the book, ostensibly reading, actually talking, most of the day. And sometimes one or the other would go a little too near the forbiddenpoint, and then there was a moment's silence, and the least touch ofembarrassment; and once Margaret laughed a queer little laugh at one ofthese stumbles, and once Claudius sighed. But they were very happy, andthe faint colour that was natural to the Doctor's clear white skin cameback as his heart was eased of its burden, and Margaret's dark cheekgrew darker with the sun and the wind that she took no pains to keepfrom her face, though the olive flushed sometimes to a warmer hue, withpleasure--or what? She thought it was the salt breeze. 

"How well those two look!" exclaimed Lady Victoria once to Mr. Barker. 

"I have seen Claudius look ghastly, " said Barker, for he thought theylooked too "well" altogether. 

"Yes; do you remember one morning--I think it was the day before, or theday after, the accident? I thought he was going to faint. "

"Perhaps he was sea-sick, " suggested Barker. 

"Oh no, we were a week out then, and he was never ill at all from thefirst. "

"Perhaps he was love-sick, " said the other, willing to be spiteful. 

"How ridiculous! To think of such a thing!" cried the stalwart Englishgirl; for she was only a girl in years despite her marriage. "Butreally, " she continued, "if I were going to write a novel I would putthose two people in it, they are so awfully good-looking. I would makeall my heroes and heroines beautiful if I wrote books. "

"Then I fear I shall never be handed down to posterity by your pen, LadyVictoria, " said Barker, with a smile. 

"No, " said she, eyeing him critically, "I don't think I would put you inmy book. But then, you know, I would not put myself in it either. "

"Ah, " grinned Mr. Barker, "the book would lose by that, but I shouldgain. "

"How?" asked her ladyship. 

"Because we should both be well out of it, " said he, having reached hisjoke triumphantly. But Lady Victoria did not like Mr. Barker, or hisjokes, very much. She once said so to her brother. She thought himspiteful. 

"Well, Vick, " said her brother good-naturedly, "I daresay you areright. But he amuses me, and he is very square on settling days. "

 * * * * *

Meanwhile Lady Victoria was not mistaken--Mr. Barker was spiteful; butshe did not know that she was the only member of the party to whom heventured to show it, because he thought she was stupid, and because itwas such a relief to say a vicious thing now and then. He devotedhimself most assiduously to Miss Skeat, since Margaret would not accepthis devotion to her, and indeed had given him little chance to show thathe would offer it. The days sped fast for some of the party, slowly forothers, and pretty much as they did anywhere else for the Duke, who wasin no especial hurry to arrive in New York. His affairs were largeenough to keep, and he had given himself plenty of time. Butnevertheless his affairs were the object in view; and though he did notlike to talk about those things, even with Barker, the fate of Claudiusand Margaret as compared with the larger destinies of the Green SwashMining Company were as the humble and unadorned mole-hill to the gloriesof the Himalaya. People had criticised the Duke's financial career inEngland. Why had he sold that snuffbox that Marie Therèse gave to hisancestor when--well, you know when? Why had he converted thoseworm-eaten manuscripts, whereon were traced many valuable things in avariety of ancient tongues, into coin of the realm? And why had heturned his Irish estates into pounds, into shillings, yea, and intopence. Pence--just think of it! He had sold his ancestral lands for_pence_; that was what it came to. These and many other things thescoffers scoffed, with a right good-will. But none save the Duke couldtell how many broad fields of ripening grain, and vine-clad hills, andclean glistening miles of bright rail, and fat ore lands sodden withwealth of gold and silver and luscious sulphurets--none save the Dukecould tell how much of these good things the Duke possessed in thatgreat land beyond the sea, upon which if England were bodily set down itwould be as hard to find as a threepenny bit in a ten-acre field. Butthe Duke never told. He went about his business quietly, for he said inhis heart, "Tush! I have children to be provided for; and if anythinghappens to the old country, I will save some bacon for them in the new, and they may call themselves dukes or farmers as far as I am concerned;but they shall not lack a few hundred thousand acres of homestead in thehour of need, neither a cow or two or a pig. "

The breeze held well, on the whole, and old Sturleson said they werehaving a wonderful run, which was doubtless an effort on the part ofnature to atone for the injury she had done. But the days flew by, andyet they were not at their voyage's end. At last, as they sat sunningthemselyes in the fair September weather, Sturleson came to them, hisbright quadrant, with its coloured glasses sticking out in alldirections, in his hand, and told the Duke he thought that by to-morrowafternoon they would sight the Hook. The party were all together, as ithappened, and there was a general shout, in which, however, Claudiusjoined but faintly. He longed for contrary winds, and he wished thatSandy Hook and all its appurtenances, including New York and the UnitedStates, would sink gently down to the bottom of the sea. He knew, andSturleson had told him, that with unfavourable weather they might be atsea a month, and he was one of the two who voted to go to Bermuda whenthe accident occurred. 

That evening, as the sun was going down to his tossing bed of goldenwaves, all canopied with softest purple, Margaret stood leaning over thetaffrail. Every stitch of canvas was out--topsails, gaff-topsails, staysails, and jibs--and the good yacht bounded with a will to thebright west. But the dark woman looked astern to where the billowsrolled together, forgetting what precious burden they had borne. Claudius stole to her side and stood a moment looking at her face. 

"So it is over, " he said at last. 

"Nearly over. It has been very pleasant, " said she. 

"It has been more than pleasant. It has been divine--for me. "

"Hush!" said Margaret softly; "remember. " There was silence, save forthe rushing of the rudder through the dark-blue foam. Again Claudiusspoke, softly, and it seemed to her that the voice was not his, butrather that it came up mystically from the water below. 

"Are you sorry it is over?" he asked--or the voice of the mighty deepwelling up with its burden of truth. 

"Yes, I am very sorry, " she answered, whether she would or no. The sunsank down, and the magic after-glow shone in the opposite sky, tingingship and sails and waves. 

"I am very sorry too, " he said; and he sighed and looked asterneastwards, and thought of the golden hours he had spent on that broadtrack stretching away behind. Margaret leaned down, resting her chin onher hands, and presently she unfolded them, and her fingers stoleupwards and covered her face, and she bent her head. There was a mightybeating in Claudius's breast, and a thousand voices in the air cried tohim to speak and to say what was in his heart to say. But he would not, for he had given the woman at his side the promise of his faith. At lastshe looked up and turned toward him. They were alone on the deck in thefaintness of the gathering twilight. 

"Claudius, you have kept your promise truly and well. Keep it--keep italways. " She held out her ungloved hand. 

"Always, my queen and my lady, " and he kissed the white fingers once. 

"Hullo!" shouted the Duke, emerging from the cuddy. "Upon my word! Why, it's dinner time. "

CHAPTER X. 

How they left the good yacht _Streak_, and how they bade a heartyfarewell to that old sea lion Captain Sturleson, and how they wentthrough the hundred and one formalities of the custom-house, and thethousand and one informalities of its officials, are matters of interestindeed, but not of history. There are moments in a man's existence whenthe act of conveying half a dozen sovereigns to the pocket of that sternmonitor of good faith, the brass-buttoned custom-house officer with thetender conscience, is of more importance to salvation than women's loveor the Thirty-nine Articles. All this they did. Nor were they spared bythe great tormentor of the West, who bristleth with the fretful quill, whose ears surround us in the night-time, and whose voice is as thevoice of the charmer, the reporter of the just and the unjust, butprincipally of the latter. And Mr. Barker made an appointment with theDuke, and took a tender farewell of the three ladies, and promised tocall on Claudius in the afternoon, and departed. But the rest of theparty went to a famous old hotel much affected by Englishmen, and whosechief recommendation in their eyes is that there is no elevator, so thatthey can run upstairs and get out of breath, and fancy themselves athome. Of course their apartments had been secured, and had been waitingfor them a week, and the Countess was glad to withdraw for the day intothe sunny suite over the corner that was hers. As for Miss Skeat, shewent to the window and stayed there, for America was quite differentfrom what she had fancied. Claudius descended to the lower regions, andhad his hair cut; and the cook and the bar-keeper and the head "boots, "or porter, as he called himself, all came and looked in at the door ofthe barber's shop, and stared at the huge Swede. And the barber walkedreverently round him with scissors and comb, and they all agreed thatClaudius must be Mr. Barnum's new attraction, except the head porter--norelation of an English head porter--who thought it was "Fingal's babby, or maybe the blessed Sint Pathrick himself. " And the little boy whobrushed the frequenters of the barber's shop could not reach toClaudius's coat collar, so that the barber had to set a chair for him, and so he climbed up. 

The Duke retired also to the depths of his apartments, and his servantarrayed him in the purple and stove-pipe of the higher civilisation. Andbefore long each of the ladies received a large cardboard box full offresh-cut flowers, sent by Mr. Barker of course; and the Duke, hearingof this from his man, sent "his compliments to Lady Victoria, and wouldshe send him a rose for his coat?" So the Duke sallied forth on foot, and the little creases in his clothes showed that he had just arrived. But he did not attract any attention, for the majority of the populationof New York have "just arrived. " Besides, he had not far to go. He had afriend in town who lived but a few steps from the hotel, and his firstmove on arriving was generally to call there. 

Claudius waited a short time to see whether Mr. Barker would come; butas Claudius rarely waited for anybody, he soon grew impatient, andsqueezing himself into a cab, told the driver to take him to Messrs. Screw and Scratch in Pine Street. He was received with deference, andtreated as his position demanded. Would he like to see Mr. Silas B. Barker senior? Very natural that he should want to make the acquaintanceof his relative's old friend and partner. Mr. Screw was out, yes--butMr. Scratch would accompany him. No trouble at all. Better "go aroundright off, " as Mr. Barker would probably go to Newport by the boat thatevening. So they went "around right away, " and indeed it was a circularjourney. Down one elevator, through a maze of corridors, round crowdedcorners, through narrow streets, Claudius ploughing his way throughbillows of curbstone brokers, sad and gay, messenger-boys, young clerks, fruit vendors, disreputable-looking millionaires and gentlemanly-lookingscamps, newspaper-boys, drunken Irishmen, complacent holders ofpreferred, and scatterbrained speculators in wild-cat, an atmosphere oftobacco smoke, dust, melons, and unintelligible jargon--little Mr. Scratch clinging to his client's side, nodding furiously at every otherface he saw, and occasionally shouting a word of outlandish etymology, but of magic import. Claudius almost thought it would be civil to offerto carry the little man, but when he saw how deftly Mr. Scratch got in afoot here and an elbow there, and how he scampered over any little bitof clear pavement, the Doctor concluded his new acquaintance wasprobably used to it. More elevators, more passages, a glass door, stillbearing the names "Barker and Lindstrand, " and they had reached theirdestination. 

The office was on the second floor, with large windows looking over thestreet; there were several people in the room they first entered, andthe first person Claudius saw was Mr. Barker junior, his friend. 

"Well, " said Barker, "so you have found us out. That's right. I wascoming round to see you afterwards, for I did not suppose you would liketo face 'the street' alone. Father, " he said, turning to a thickset manwith white hair and bushy eyebrows, "this is Dr. Claudius, Mr. Lindstrand's nephew. "

The old gentleman looked up keenly into Claudius's face, and smiledpleasantly as he put out his hand. He said a few words of cordialwelcome, and seemed altogether a sturdy, hearty, hardworking man ofbusiness--rather a contrast to his son. He hoped that Claudius wouldcome on to Newport with Silas, as he wanted to have a long talk withhim. The old gentleman was evidently very busy, and his son tookClaudius in charge. 

"What is that?" asked the Doctor, looking curiously at a couple ofwheels that unwound unceasingly long strips of white paper. The paperpassed through a small instrument, and came out covered withunintelligible signs, coiling itself in confusion into a waste-basketbelow. 

"That has driven more men to desperation, ruin, and drink, than all theother evils of humanity put together, " said Barker. "That is theticker. "

"I perceive that it ticks, " said Claudius. And Barker explained howevery variation in the market was instantly transmitted to every placeof business, to every club, and to many private houses in New York, bymeans of a simple arrangement of symbols--how "Gr. S. " meant GreenSwash, and "N. P. Pr. " "North Pacific, preferred, " and many other things. Claudius thought it an ingenious contrivance, but said it must be verywearing on the nerves. 

"It is the pulse of New York, " said Barker. "It is the croupier callingout from morning till night 'trente-sept, rouge, impair, ' and then'Messieurs faites votre jeu--le jeu est fait. ' When stock goes down youbuy, when it goes up you sell. That is the whole secret. "

"I think it is very like gambling, " said Claudius. 

"So it is. But we never gamble here, though we have a ticker to see whatother people are doing. Besides, it tells you everything. Horse-racing, baseball, steamers, births, deaths, and marriages; corn, wheat, tobacco, and cotton. Nobody can live here without a ticker. "

And after this they went out into the street again, and Mr. Scratch tookoff his hat to Claudius, which is the highest token of unusual esteemand respect of which "the street" is capable, and in a moment the heelsof his boots were seen disappearing into the dense crowd. Claudius andBarker walked on, and crossed Broadway; a few steps farther, and theDoctor was brought face to face with the triumph of business overprivacy--the elevated railway. He had caught a glimpse of portions of itin the morning, but had supposed the beams and trestles to bescaffoldings for buildings. He stood a few moments in profound thought, contemplating and comprehending this triumph of wheels. 

"It is a great invention, " he said quietly. And when they were seated inthe long airy car, he looked out of the window, and asked whether thepeople in the first stories of the houses did not find it verydisagreeable to have trains running by their windows all day. 

"The social and municipal economy of New York, " explained Mr. Barker, "consists in one-third of the population everlastingly protestingagainst the outrageous things done by the other two-thirds. One-thirdfights another third, and the neutral third takes the fees of bothparties. All that remains is handed over to the deserving poor. "

"That is the reason, I suppose, why there are so few poor in New York, "observed the Doctor with a smile. 

"Exactly, " said Barker; "they go West. "

"I would like to discuss the political economy of this country with you, when I have been here six months. "

"I hope you will not. And when you have been here six months you will bewilling to pay a large sum rather than discuss it with any one. "

And so they went up town, and Claudius watched everything with interest, and occasionally made a remark. Barker was obliged to go on, and he putClaudius out on the platform at the station nearest his hotel, and whichwas in fact at the same cross-street. As Claudius ascended the steps hewas overtaken by the Duke, who was breathless with running. 

"I--am afraid--it is too late, " he panted; "come along, " and he seizedClaudius by the arm and dragged him to the corner of Fifth Avenue, before he could ask any questions. 

"What is the matter?" asked the Doctor, looking about. 

"He is gone, " said the Duke, who had recovered his speech, "I knew hewould, but I thought there was time. I was with a friend of mine, and Ihad just left him when I saw you, and as I have asked him to dinner Iwanted to introduce you first. But he is always in such a hurry. Nowhereto be seen. Probably down town by this time. " They turned back and wentin. The Duke asked for the ladies. The Countess and her companion hadgone to drive in the park, but Lady Victoria was upstairs. 

"Vick, I am going to have a man to dinner--of course we will all dinetogether the first night ashore--a man you have heard me speak of; youwill like him amazingly. "

"Who is he?"

"He is the uncle of the whole human race. "

"Including the peerage?" laughed Lady Victoria. 

"Peerage? I should think so. The whole of Debrett and the _Almanach deGotha_. Nobility and gentry, the Emperor of China and the North AmericanIndians. "

"That will suit Miss Skeat. She is always talking about the NorthAmerican Indians. I think I know who it is. "

"Of course you do, and now he is coming. " There was a pause. "Vick, mayI smoke?"

"Oh yes, if you like. " His Grace lit a cigarette. 

"Vick, I am afraid you have had a dreadfully stupid time of it on thistrip. I am so sorry. Those people turned out rather differently fromwhat I had expected. " The Duke was fond of his sister, though she wasmuch younger than he, and he began to reflect that she had been poorlyprovided for, as he had engaged Barker most of their time. 

"Not at all. You know I am so fond of the sea and the open air, and Ihave enjoyed it all so much. Besides--"

"It is awfully good of you to say so, my dear, but I don't believe aword of it. 'Besides'--you were going to say something. "

"Was I? Oh yes. Besides, you could not have had another man, you know, because it would have spoiled the table. "

"No, but I was so selfish about Barker, because he can play cards, andClaudius would not, or could not. "

"I am not sorry for that, exactly, " said Lady Victoria. "You remember, we talked about him once. I do not like Mr. Barker very much. "

"Oh, he is no end of a good fellow in his way, " said her brother. "Haveyou--a--any reason for not liking him, Vick?"

"I think he is spiteful. He says such horrid things. "

"Does he? What about?" said the Duke indifferently, as he tore a bit ofcharred paper from the end of his cigarette, which had burned badly. Shedid not answer at first. He inspected the cigarette, puffed it intoactive life again, and looked up. 

"What about, Vick?"

"About his friend--about Doctor Claudius. I like Doctor Claudius. " LadyVictoria smoothed her rebellious brown hair at the huge over-giltpier-glass of the little drawing-room which she and Margaret had incommon. 

"I like him too, " said the Duke. "He is a gentleman. Why don't you doyour hair like the American women--all fuzzy, over your eyes? I shouldthink it would be much less trouble. "

"It's not neat, " said her ladyship, still looking into the glass. Thensuddenly, "Do you know what I think?"

"Well?"

"I believe Mr. Barker would like to marry Margaret himself. "

"Pshaw! Victoria, don't talk nonsense. Who ever heard of such a thing!The Duke rose and walked once up and down the room; then he sat downagain in the same place. He was not pleased at the suggestion. 

"Why is it such nonsense?" she asked. 

"Any number of reasons. Besides, she would not have him. "

"That would not prevent him from wishing to marry her. "

"No, of course not, but--well, it's great stuff. " He looked a littlepuzzled, as if he found it hard to say exactly why he objected to theidea. 

"You would be very glad if Claudius married her, would you not?" askedhis sister. 

"Glad--I don't know--yes, I suppose so. "

"But you pretend to like Mr. Barker a great deal more than you likeDoctor Claudius, " said she argumentatively. 

"I know him better, " said the Duke; "I have known Barker several years. "

"And he is rich--and that, and why should he not think of proposing toMargaret?"

"Because--well I don't know, but it would be so deuced inappropriate, "in which expression the honest-hearted Englishman struck the truth, going for it with his head down, after the manner of his people. 

"At first he was very nice, " said Lady Victoria, who had gained a point, though for what purpose she hardly knew; "but after a while he began tosay disagreeable things. He hinted in all sorts of ways that Claudiuswas not exactly a gentleman, and that no one knew where he came from, and that he ought not to make love to Margaret, and so on, till I wantedto box his ears;" and she waxed warm in her wrath, which was really duein great part to the fact that Mr. Barker was personally not exactly toher taste. If she had liked him she would have thought differently ofthe things he said. But her brother was angry too by this time, for heremembered a conversation he had had with Barker on the same topic. 

"I told Barker once that Claudius was a gentleman, every inch of him, and I should think that was enough. As if I did not know--it's too bad, upon my word!" And the ducal forehead reddened angrily. The fact wasthat both he and his sister had taken an unaccountable fancy to thisstrange Northman, with his quiet ways and his unaffected courtesy, andat the present moment they would have quarrelled with their best friendsrather than hear a word against him. "My guest, too, and on my yacht, "he went on; and it did his sister good to see him angry--"it's true hebrought him, and introduced him to me. " Then a bright idea struck him. "And if Claudius were not a gentleman, what the deuce right had Barkerto bring him to me at all, eh? Wasn't it his business to find out? Myword! I would like to ask him that, and if I find him I will. " LadyVictoria had no intention of making mischief between her brother and Mr. Barker. But she did not like the American, and she thought Barker wasturning the Duke into a miner, or a farmer, or a greengrocer, orsomething--it was not quite clear. But she wished him out of the way, and fate had given her a powerful weapon. It was just that sort ofdouble-handedness that the Duke most hated of all things in the earth. Moreover, he knew his sister never exaggerated, and that what she hadtold him was of necessity perfectly true. 

Woe to Mr. Silas B. Barker junior if he came in the Duke's way thatevening!

"I suppose he is coming to dinner?" said the Duke after a pause, duringwhich his anger had settled into a comfortable ferocity. 

"No, " said Lady Victoria; "he sent some flowers and a note of regret. "

"Well--I am glad of that. Would you like to go for a drive, Vick?"

"Yes, of all things. I have not been here since I was married"--whichwas about eighteen months, but she had already caught that matronlyphrase--"and I want to see what they have been doing to the Park. "

"All right. We'll take Claudius, if he is anywhere about the place. "

"Of course, " said Lady Victoria. And so the brother and sister preparedto soothe their ruffled feelings by making much of the man who was "agentleman. " But they were right, for Claudius was all they thought him, and a great deal more too, as they discovered in the sequel. 

Having driven in the Park, the Duke insisting that Claudius should sitin the place of honour with Lady Victoria, and having criticised totheir satisfaction the few equipages they met--for it was too early forNew York--they went back to their hotel, and dispersed to dress fordinner. The Duke, as he had told his sister, had invited his friend todine. They all sat together waiting his arrival. Punctual to the moment, the door opened, and Mr. Horace Bellingham beamed upon the assembledparty. Ay, but he was a sight to do good to the souls of the hungry andthirsty, and of the poor, and in misery!

He requires description, not that any pen can describe him, but no oneever saw him who did not immediately wish to try. He was short, decidedly; but a broad deep chest and long powerful arms had given himmany an advantage over taller adversaries in strange barbarous lands. Hewas perfectly bald, but that must have been because Nature had not theheart to cover such a wonderful cranium from the admiring gaze ofphrenologists. A sweeping moustache and a long imperial of snowy whitesat well on the ruddy tan of his complexion, and gave him an air at oncemartial and diplomatic. He was dressed in the most perfect of Londonclothes, and there were superb diamonds in his shirt, while a pricelesssapphire sparkled, in a plain gold setting, on his broad, brown hand. Heis the only man of his time who can wear precious stones withoutvulgarity. He moves like a king and has the air of the old school inevery gesture. His dark eyes are brighter than his diamonds, and hislook, for all his white beard and seventy years, is as young and freshas the rose he wears in his coat. 

There are some people who turn gray, but who do not grow hoary, whosefaces are furrowed but not wrinkled, whose hearts are sore wounded inmany places, but are not dead. There is a youth that bids defiance toage, and there is a kindness which laughs at the world's rough usage. These are they who have returned good for evil, not having learned it asa lesson of righteousness, but because they have no evil in them toreturn upon others. Whom the gods love die young, and they die youngbecause they never grow old. The poet, who at the verge of death saidthis, said it of, and to, this very man. 

The Duke went through the introductions, first to the Countess, then toMiss Skeat, then to his sister, and last of all to Claudius, who hadbeen intently watching the newcomer. Mr. Bellingham paused beforeClaudius, and looked up in a way peculiarly his own, without raising hishead. He had of course heard in New York of the strange fortune that hadbefallen Claudius on the death of the well-known Mr. Lindstrand, and nowhe stood a minute trying to take the measure of the individual beforehim, not in the least overcome by the physical proportions of the outerman, but struck by the intellectual face and forehead that surmountedsuch a tower of strength. 

"I was in Heidelberg myself--a student, " said he, his face lighting upwith coming reminiscences, "but that was long before you were born, fifty years ago. "

"I fancy it is little changed, " said Claudius. 

"I would like to go back to the Badischer Hof. I remember once--" but hebroke off short and turned to the Countess, and sat down beside her. Heknew all her people in America and her husband's people abroad. Heimmediately began telling her a story of her grandmother, with a _verve_and graphic spirit that enchanted Margaret, for she liked clever oldmen. Besides he is not old. It is not so long since--well, it is a longstory. However, in less than one minute the assembled guests werelistening to the old-time tale of Margaret's ancestress, and the waiterpaused breathless on the threshold to hear the end, before he announceddinner. 

There are two very different ways of dining--dining with Mr. Bellingham, and dining without him. But for those who have dined with him, allother prandial arrangements are an empty sham. At least so Claudius saidto Margaret in an aside, when they got to the fruit. And Margaret, wholooked wonderfully beautiful with a single band of gold through herblack hair, laughed her assent, and said it was hopeless for the men ofthis day to enter the lists against the veterans of the _ancien régime_. And Claudius was not in the least hurt by the comparison, odious thoughit would have been to Mr. Barker, had he been there. Claudius had plentyof vanity, but it did not assume the personal type. Some people call acertain form of vanity pride. It is the same thing on a larger scale. Vanity is to pride what nervousness is to nerve, what morbid conscienceis to manly goodness, what the letter of the law is to the spirit. 

Before they rose from the table, Mr. Bellingham proposed that theyshould adjourn to Newport on the following day. He said it was too earlyto be in New York and that Newport was still gay; at all events, theweather promised well, and they need not stay more than twenty-fourhours unless they pleased. The proposition was carried unanimously, theDuke making a condition that he should be left in peace and not"entertained in a handsome manner by the _élite_ of our Newportmillionaires"--as the local papers generally have it. Lady Victoriawould not have objected to the operation of "being entertained" byNewport, for it amused her to see people, but of course she would enjoyherself very well without it. She always enjoyed herself, even when shewent for a walk in the rain on a slippery Yorkshire road, all bundled upin waterproofs and hoods and things for her poor people--she enjoyed itall. 

As for Claudius, he knew that if he went to Newport he must of necessitystay with the Barkers, but as he had not yet learned to look at Mr. Barker in the light of a rival, he thought this would be ratherconvenient than otherwise. The fact that he would be within easy reachof Margaret was uppermost in his mind. 

During the last two days his relations with her had been of thehappiest. There was an understanding between them, which took the placeof a great deal of conversation. Claudius felt that his error inspeaking too boldly had been retrieved, if not atoned for, and thathenceforward his position was assured. He was only to be a friend, itwas true, but he still felt that from friendship to love was but a step, and that the time would come. He thought of the mighty wooings of theheroes of his Northern home, and he felt in him their strength and theirconstancy. What were other men that he should think of them? He was heraccepted friend of all others. She had said she hoped to find in himwhat she had never found before; and were not her words "always, always!" still ringing in his ears? She had found it then in him, thisrare quality of friendship; she had found more, --a man who was a friendand yet a lover, but who could curb the strong passion to the semblanceand docility of the gentler feeling. And when at last she should givethe long-desired sign, the single glance that bids love speak, she wouldfind such a lover as was not even dreamt of among the gods of theGreeks, nor yet among berserk heroes of ice and storm and battle. Hefelt to-day that he could endure to the end, for the end was worthy allendurance. 

And now he sat by her side and looked down into her face when she spoke, and they laughed together. Verily was Claudius the proudest man in allearth's quarters, and his blue eyes flashed a deep fire, and hisnostrils expanded with the breath of a victory won. Mr. Bellingham, onthe other side of the table, sparkled with a wit and grace that were tomodern table-talk what a rare flagon of old madeira, crusted with years, but brimming with the imperishable strength and perfume of eternalyouth, might be to a gaudily-ticketed bottle of California champagne, effervescent, machine-made, cheap, and nasty. And his glancecomprehended the pair, and loved them. He thought they were like apicture of the North and of the South; and the thought called upmemories in his brave old breast of a struggle that shook the earth toher foundations, and made him think of problems yet unsolved. He sat inhis place silent for some minutes, and the broad brown hand stroked thesnowy beard in deep thought, so that the conversation flagged, and theDuke began to talk about the voyage. But Mr. Bellingham took hisbrimming glass, filled with the wine that ripened in the sun when hehimself was but a little boy, and he held it a moment to the light; thejuice was clearer now than it had been that day sixty years, and thehand that held the goblet was as a hand of iron for strength andsteadiness, though the dark fingers might have plucked the grapes on theday they were pressed. And with an old-time motion he carried it to hislips, then paused one instant, then drank it slowly, slowly to the lastdrop. It was a toast, but the speech was unspoken, and none knew to whomor to what he drained the measure. In a little time he began to speakagain; the conversation turned upon mutual friends in England, and thedinner was at an end. 

But all through the evening Claudius never left Margaret's side. Hefelt that he was bridging over the difference between life at sea andlife on land--that he was asserting his right to maintain in adrawing-room the privileges he had gained on the deck of the _Streak_. And Margaret, moreover, was especially friendly to-night, for she toofelt the difference, and recognised that, after all, life on shore isthe freer. There are certain conventionalities of a drawing-room that aman is less likely to break through, more certain to remember, than theunwritten rules of cruising etiquette. Most men who have led a free lifeare a little less likely to make love under the restraint of a white tiethan they are when untrammelled by restraints of dress, which alwaysimply some restraint of freedom. 

At least Margaret thought so. And Claudius felt it, even though he wouldnot acknowledge it. They talked about the voyage; about what they hadsaid and done, about the accident, and a hundred other things. There isa moment in acquaintance, in friendship, and in love, when two peoplebecome suddenly aware that they have a common past. Days, weeks, ormonths have been spent in conversation, in reading, perhaps in toil anddanger, and they have not thought much about it. But one day they wakeup to the fact that these little or great things bind them, as formingthe portion of their lives that have touched; and as they talk over theincidents they remember they feel unaccountably drawn to each other bythe past. Margaret and Claudius knew this on the first evening theyspent together on shore. The confusion of landing, the custom-house, thestrange quarters in the great hotel--all composed a drop-curtainshutting off the ocean scene, and ending thus an episode of theirlife-drama. A new act was beginning for them, and they both knew howmuch might depend on the way in which it was begun, and neither daredplan how it should end. At all events, they were not to be separatedyet, and neither anticipated such a thing. 

Little by little their voices dropped as they talked, and they reckedlittle of the others, as the dark cheek of the woman flushed withinterest, and the blue light shone in the man's eyes. Their companionson the voyage were well used to seeing them thus together, and hardlynoticed them, but Mr. Bellingham's bright eyes stole a glance from timeto time at the beautiful pair in their corner, and the stories of youthand daring and love, that he seemed so full of this evening, flashedwith an unwonted brilliancy. He made up his mind that the two weredesperately, hopelessly, in love, and he had taken a fancy to Claudiusfrom the first. There was no reason why they should not be, and he lovedto build up romances, always ending happily, in his fertile imagination. 

But at last it was "good-night. " Mr. Bellingham was not the man to spendthe entire evening in one house, and he moved towards Margaret, hatingto disturb the couple, but yet determined to do it. He rose, therefore, still talking, and, as the Duke rose also, cleverly led him round thechairs until within speaking distance of Margaret, who was stillabsorbed in her conversation. Then, having finished the one thread, heturned round. 

"By the by, Countess, " he said, "I remember once--" and he told agraceful anecdote of Margaret's grandmother, which delighted every one, after which he bowed, like a young lover of twenty, to each of the threeladies, and departed. 

The party dispersed, the Duke and Claudius for half an hour's chat anda cigar, and the ladies to their rooms. But Claudius and Margaretlingered one moment in their corner, standing. 

"Has it been a happy day for you?" he asked, as she gave her hand. 

"Yes, it has been happy. May there be many like it!" she answered. 

"There shall be, " said Claudius; "good-night, Countess. "

"Good-night--good-night, Claudius. "

The Duke waited fully ten minutes for the Doctor. It was the second timeshe had spoken his name without the formality of a prefix, and Claudiusstood where she left him, thinking. There was nothing so veryextraordinary in it, after all, he thought. Foreign women, especiallyRussians, are accustomed to omit any title or prefix, and to call theirintimate friends by their simple names, and it means nothing. But hervoice was so wonderful. He never knew his name sounded so sweetbefore--the consonants and vowels, like the swing and fall of a deepsilver bell in perfect cadence. "A little longer, " thought Claudius, "and it shall be hers as well as mine. " He took a book from the tableabsently, and had opened it when he suddenly recollected the Duke, putit down and left the room. 

Soon a noiseless individual in a white waistcoat and a dress-coat puthis head in at the door, advanced, straightened the chairs, closed thebook the Doctor had opened, put the gas out and went away, shutting thedoor for the night, and leaving the room to its recollections. Whatsleepless nights the chairs and heavy-gilt glasses and gorgeous carpetsof a hotel must pass, puzzling over the fragments of history that areenacted in their presence!

CHAPTER XI. 

Mr. Barker's urgent engagement up town that evening must have been tomeet some one; but considering that the individual he might be supposedto be awaiting did not come, he showed a remarkable degree of patience. He went to a certain quiet club and ordered, with the utmost care, ameal after his own heart--for one; and though several members hailed himand greeted him on his return, he did not seem particularly interestedin what they had to say, but sat solitary at his small square table withits exquisite service; and when he had eaten, and had finished hismodest pint of Pommery Sec, he drank his coffee and smoked his owncigars in undisturbed contemplation of the soft-tinted wall-paper, andin calm, though apparently melancholy, enjoyment of the gentle lightthat pervaded the room, and of the sweet evening breeze that blew infrom the trees of Madison Square, so restful after the dust anddiscomfort of the hot September day. 

Whoever it was that he awaited did not come, and yet Mr. Barkerexhibited no sign of annoyance. He went to another room, and sat in adeep arm-chair with a newspaper which he did not read, and once he tooka scrap of paper from his pocket and made a short note upon it with apatent gold pencil. It was a very quiet club, and Mr. Barker seemed tobe its quietest member. And well he might be, for he had made up hismind on a grave point. He had determined to marry. 

He had long known it must come, and had said to himself more than oncethat "to every man upon this earth death cometh, soon or late;" butbeing human, he had put off the evil day, having always thought that itmust, of necessity, be evil. But now it was different. What he had saidto the Duke, and what the Duke had said to him, that evening on theyacht when they were talking about marriage, was exactly what he hadalways expected to occur. The day, he said, must come when theenterprising mamma will get the better of Silas B. Barker junior. Thegirl of the season, with her cartload of bouquets slung all over her, her neat figure, her pink-and-white complexion and her matchless stayingpowers in a ballroom, will descend upon the devoted victim Barker, beakand talons, like the fish-hawk on the poor, simple minnow innocentlydisporting itself in the crystal waters of happiness. There will bewedding presents, and a breakfast, and a journey, and a prospect ofeverlasting misery. All these things, thought he, must come to every manin time, unless he is a saint, or an author, or has no money, andtherefore they must come to me; but now it was different. If there is tobe any fishing, he thought, I will be the hawk, and the minnow may takeits chance of happiness. Why should the minnow not be happy? I am ahawk; well--but I am a very good hawk. 

But these reflections were not what occupied his mind as he sat with hissecond cigar in the reading-room of his quiet club. These things he hadelaborated in his brain at least three days ago, and they had now takenthe form of a decision, against which there could be no appeal, becauseit was pleasant to the _ego_ of Mr Barker. Judgments of that sort henever reversed. He had fully determined to be the hawk, he had pickedout his minnow, and he was meditating the capture of his prey. A greatmany people do as much as that, and discover too late that what theyhave taken for a minnow is an alligator, or a tartar, or a salamander, or some evil beast that is too much for their powers. This was what Mr. Barker was afraid of, and this was what he wished to guard against. Unfortunately he was a little late in the selection of his victim, andhe knew it. He had determined to marry the Countess Margaret. 

He knew perfectly well that Claudius had determined upon the very samething, and he knew that Claudius was intimate, to say the least of it, with the woman he loved. But Barker had made up his mind that Claudiushad been refused, and had accepted the Platonic position offered him bythe Countess, merely because he had not the strength to leave her. "Justlike the vanity of a fellow like that, " he argued, "not to be willing tobelieve himself beaten. " He had drawn the whole situation in his mindentirely to his own satisfaction. If Claudius could only be removed, anyother man would have as good a chance. The other man isBarker--therefore, remove Claudius at once. Remove him! Away with him!Let his place know him no more!

Mr. Barker sat unmoved in his chair; but he contemplated the nail on themiddle finger of his left hand with absorbed interest, even bringing itnearer the light in order to obtain a better view. 

He was one of those men who are seldom altogether unprepared. His mindwas of the Napoleonic order, on a very small scale; with him to think ofthe end was to plan the means, and in the days that had followed thememorable night wherein the idea had struck him that he might marry theCountess in the teeth of Dr. Claudius, a project had grown up in hismind whereby he hoped now to effect his purpose. Perhaps the scheme haddeveloped unconsciously, as often happens with persons whose lives arespent in planning. Perhaps he fondly hoped--for he was not withoutvanity--that he might yet win the Countess fairly, and had onlycontemplated his plot as a possibility. Be that as it may, from themoment he realised that a plan of action was necessary he also realisedthat the plan was ready, and he determined to put it into execution. Itwas an unfair plan he meditated, bad from the root up, and he knew it;but he did not hesitate on that account. Silas B. Barker junior had notenough conscience to make it an object for him to deceive himself as tothe morality of his actions. A year or two since he would perhaps havedefended himself in a general way by saying it was arrogance for a manto set himself up as any better than his surroundings. But between ayear or two ago and this September evening there was set a gulf, represented by a couple of transactions in the "street, " over whichthere was small joy in heaven and very little on earth. 

Fair or unfair, it would be so much easier if Claudius were out of theway. It would simplify Mr. Barker's campaign so much; and, besides, itwas so easy a matter to remove him, for a time at least. How? Why, simply by asserting that Claudius was not Claudius, that he was not thelate Mr. Lindstrand's nephew, that he had no right to the fortune, andthat if he wished to save himself trouble he had better returnimmediately to Heidelberg and resume his duties as a private lecturer inthe University. It was easy enough! Who was there to show that Claudiuswas Claudius? There was nothing but the attestation of a wretchedHeidelberg notary, who might easily have been persuaded to swear alittle in consideration of a large bribe. 

Besides, reflected Mr. Barker, the real Dr. Claudius was dead. He diedabout eight months ago; no doubt it was in the newspapers at the time, and a newspaper could certainly be found which should contain a noticeof his death. Therefore, if the real Dr. Claudius were dead this Dr. Claudius was a sham, an impostor, a man obtaining money by personatingthe dead--in short, a criminal. However, it might not be necessary toproceed with all the rigour of the law, and he might be quietly sentback to Germany. 

Of course Mr. Barker was responsible in some measure for havingintroduced this villain to the Countess and to the Duke. But how couldMr. Barker, a creature of sunny, lamb-like innocence, be expected toknow an impostor at first sight? Claudius had acted his part so verywell, you know, and Barker had been deceived by his apparent frankness;he had not even made any inquiries in Heidelberg, but had simply gone tothe address his father had given him. Of course, also, the pretender hadadopted the obvious expedient of taking the dead man's lodgings; hadinstalled himself there, and called himself "Dr. Claudius. " Nobody inAmerica had ever seen the real Dr. Claudius; none of the yachting partyhad any means of knowing whether he were what he pretended to be ornot; the only person who vouched for him was Silas B. Barker junior. Andif Silas B. Barker junior would not vouch for him any longer, who would, pray? Obviously, no one. 

"Dukes are very pretty things, " said Mr. Barker; "and to know themintimately is a special grace. But they cannot swear to what they do notknow anything about, any more than other people. " And he lit anothercigar, and looked at the clock, an old-fashioned black-marble timepiecewith gilded hands. It wanted half an hour of midnight, and Mr. Barker'ssolitude had lasted since seven or thereabouts. Some one entered theroom, bidding good-night to some one else at the door. Mr. Barker turnedhis eyes, and, recognising a friend, he smiled a wrinkled smile. 

"Well, Mr. Screw, how goes it?" he said. "It is some time since we met. "

"Happy to meet you, sir; glad to see you, " replied the lawyer, puttingout a long hand towards the part of the room where Mr. Barker wasstanding. 

Mr. Screw was Mr. Scratch's partner. Mr. Screw was very tall, very thin, and exceedingly yellow. He had thick yellow hair, streaked with gray. His face seemed bound in old parchment, and his eyes were like brassnails driven very deep, but bright and fixed when he spoke. He had agreat abundance of teeth of all sizes and shapes; his face was cleanshaven; and he wore a stand-up collar, with a narrow black tie neatlyadjusted in a bow. His feet and hands were of immense size. He was inevening-dress. He doubled up a few of his joints and deposited himselfin a deep arm-chair--the twin of Barker's--on the other side of thefireplace. 

"I thought very likely you would be here before the evening was out, "said Mr. Barker. "Yes, " he continued after a pause, "that is the reasonI came here. I wanted to see you on business, and I missed you to-daydown town. "

"Oh! business, did you say?" inquired the other, rubbing his bony noseand looking at the empty grate. 

"Yes, rather important to you--more than to myself, though it concernsme too. You have a new client, I believe; the nephew of our old partnerMr. Lindstrand. "

"Dr. Claudius?" asked the lawyer, looking up. 

"He calls himself so, at any rate, " said Barker. 

"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Screw quickly, shifting his position. 

"Do you think you have taken all the necessary steps towardsascertaining that he is the heir--the right man--the real Dr. Claudius?"

"Great heavens!" exclaimed the lawyer, surprised and terribly frightenedby Barker's insinuation, "you don't mean to say there is any doubt aboutit, do you?"

"I am inclined to think there is doubt--yes, decidedly. It is a veryserious matter, and I thought it best to speak to you about it beforetalking to my father. You see, though the loss might fall on us, indirectly, the moral responsibility is yours, since you are the lawyersin the case. "

"But your father is one of the executors, Mr. Barker, " said Mr. Screw, who felt obliged to say something, and wanted to gain time. 

"My father--yes, " and Barker smiled disagreeably. "Yes, he is one of theexecutors. But you yourself are the other, Mr. Screw. And as far as anyintelligence in the matter is concerned, you might be alone. " Barkerwas willing to flatter the lawyer at the expense of his fond parent. Screw would be of more use to him than many fathers in this matter. Mr. Screw relapsed into silence, and sat for some minutes, hooking one legbehind the other, and thrusting as much of his hands into his pockets asthose receptacles would contain. After a time he changed his position, heaved a species of sigh that sounded like the sudden collapse of a setof organ-bellows, and ran his fingers through his thick hair. 

Barker thought he was going to speak. But he was mistaken; Mr. Screw wastoo much taken aback to speak yet. Then Barker spoke for him. 

"Well, " said he, caressing his foot and looking at the ceiling, "whatare you going to do about it?"

"I shall do what is proper in such cases. I will stop his drawing anymore money, and investigate the matter. If this is not the realClaudius, the real Claudius must be somewhere, and can be found. "

"Perhaps he is dead, " suggested Barker. 

"It is about as easy to find a dead man as a live man, " said Screw. "Itis a surer thing, on the whole. A dead man can't change his clothes, andget his beard shaved off, and cavoort around the corner. "

"Not generally speaking, " said the other, "no well-regulated corpsewould do it, anyhow. Besides, if he is dead, there must have been somenotice of it in the Heidelberg papers. He belonged to the University, and they always put those things in the local sheet in Germany. "

"That's so, " said the lawyer. "Do you know anybody in Heidelberg whowould look the matter up, Mr. Barker?"

Mr. Barker did know some one in Heidelberg--the very man, in fact. Hewould write immediately, and set the inquiry on foot. Meanwhile therewere other things to be settled. After the first shock the lawyer wasnot inclined to let Barker off so easily for having indorsed a man hesuspected of being a humbug. Barker retorted that he had found Claudiusin possession of the documents transmitted by Messrs. Screw and Scratch, and that it was not his fault if he supposed that those astute gentlemenhad taken proper precautions to ascertain the identity of their client. He went into many details, explaining how his suspicions had beenaroused by degrees in the course of many conversations. He was expectinga question from Mr. Screw. At last it came. 

"Mr. Barker, " said Screw, fixing his brass-headed eyes intently on hiscompanion--for Mr. Screw was no fool--"Mr. Barker, you brought this manover here, and you know him better than any one else. Now, what I wantto know is this. He may be the right man, after all. What we are goingto do is entirely precautionary. Do you want to appear or not?" Barkerhad not expected the question to be put so directly, but he wasperfectly prepared for it. 

"I am sure I do not care, " he said, with a fine indifference. "I have noobjection. It is a mere question of expediency; do not consider me inthe matter. Do what you think is right, " he added, emphasising the lastword, and meeting Screw's glance boldly enough. Screw looked at him fora moment or two in silence, and then turned his eyes away. There was thefaintest reflection of a smile on his yellow face, and the expressionbecame him well. Screw was astute, sharp as a ferret, relentless as asteel-corkscrew, crushing its cruel way through the creaking cork; butScrew was an honest man, as the times go. That was the differencebetween him and Barker. Screw's smile was his best expression, Barker'ssmile was of the devil, and very wily. Screw smiled because he wasamused. Barker smiled when he was successful. 

"I think for the present, " said Mr. Screw, "that unless you positivelywish to appear, it would be as well that you should not. If we aremistaken, and the Doctor is really what he pretends to be, it will bevery unpleasant for you afterwards to have been concerned in an inquiryinto the validity of his rights. "

"Do you think so?" asked Barker, looking languidly across at Mr. Screw. "Very well, in that case you may conduct the inquiry, and I will notappear. I shall meet him just as if nothing had happened, and let himtell me what you have done. Of course he will tell me, the first thing. Besides, as you say, he may be the right man, after all. "

"Exactly, " said Mr. Screw. He knew perfectly well that Barker would notwant Claudius to know the part he had played, in case all turned out tobe right, though he did not know that Barker was deceiving him. Hesupposed that Barker really had serious doubts about Claudius, and asthere was no one else to vouch for the latter, he was very honestlyfrightened. He reviewed the situation in his own mind, and he came tothe conclusion that he had really been remiss in the performance of hisduties as executor. It had not seemed in the least probable that anydeception could be practised, and yet, when all was said, there was onlythe Heidelberg notary's attestation of the signature to support theclaimant of Mr. Lindstrand's fortune. This reflection comforted Mr. Screw a little. At all events, he would be perfectly justified incalling on Claudius and stating his difficulty, requesting him to givewhat assistance was in his power towards a speedy identification ofhimself. In the meantime he set himself to cross-examine Mr. Barker, endeavouring to extract all the information he could. But extractinginformation from Mr. Barker was no easy task, as he very soon found, andas the hands of the clock pointed to one, he rose slowly, as by stages, from the depths of his arm-chair, and made up his mind that Barker didnot know very much about the matter, though he knew more than any oneelse, and that the only thing to be done was to go straight to Claudiusand state the case. No honest man ever had much difficulty in provingwho he was, thought Mr. Screw, and if he is an impostor, he will verylikely not show fight at all, but make off to parts unknown, where hecan very easily be caught. 

Barker rose from his seat too, and took leave of the lawyer, wellpleased with the result of his evening's work. It was very satisfactory. He had produced exactly the impression on Mr. Screw's mind which he hadintended to produce; and having set that engine of the law in motion, heknew that he could fold his hands and proceed to enjoy himself after hismanner. He knew that everything would be done which could contribute toannoy and mortify Claudius, and that it would be done in such a way, with such paraphernalia of legal courtesy and mercantile formality, thatthe unhappy Doctor could not complain. Barker had shrewdly calculatedthe difficulties Claudius would have to surmount in identifying himselfin a strange country, without friends, and against the prejudices of Mr. Screw, his uncle's executor. Moreover, if, after countless efforts andendless trouble, Claudius succeeded, as he probably would, in obtaininghis fortune, Barker would be no worse off than before. He would havedone nothing assailable, and he would have gained all the advantages ofthe time Claudius lost, not to mention the cloud of suspicion which mustinevitably rest on the Doctor, until he should succeed in clearinghimself before the world. With skill, courage, and money, there was notelling what progress Barker might make in his suit for the Countess, before Claudius was himself again. With such an advantage, if he couldnot outdo the Swede, he did not deserve to. 

So saying, Mr. Barker, left once more alone in the sitting-room, pacedslowly twice round the table, looked at himself in the glass, twistedhis heavy moustache into shape, and smoothed his hair. Then he took hishat and went out. There was a cab at the door of the club, and in aminute more he was spinning along Fifth Avenue, in the direction of hisfather's house. 

The machinery was wound up, and he had nothing more to do. To-morrowmorning Claudius would pass a bad quarter of an hour with Mr. Screw, andin the afternoon Barker would call upon him and offer such consolationas was in his power; and when he had called on Claudius, he would callon the Countess Margaret and tell her what sad sceptics these legalpeople were, everlastingly pestering peaceable citizens in the hope ofextracting from them a few miserable dollars. And he would tell her howsorry he was that Claudius should be annoyed, and how he, Barker, wouldsee him through--that is, he hoped so; for, he would add, of course, such men as Mr. Screw and his own father would not make so much troubleif they did not at least think they had some cause for anxiety; and soforth, and so on. And he would leave the Countess with a most decidedimpression that there was something wrong about Claudius. Oh yes!something not _quite_ clear about his antecedents, you know. Of courseit would come right in the end--no doubt of that; oh dear, no. 

It was a happy night for Mr. Barker; but Claudius slept ill. He had anevil dream. 

CHAPTER XII

When Mr. Screw called at Claudius's hotel the next day, the Doctor hadgone out. Mr. Screw said he would wait, and sat down with a book to passthe time, for he was fond of reading in his leisure moments, few as theywere. Claudius had left the house early in the morning, and had gone tofind the spot where his uncle had been buried--no easy matter, in thevast cemetery where the dead men lie in hundreds of thousands, instately avenues and imposing squares, in houses grand and humble, highand low, but all closed and silent with the grandeur of a great waiting. Claudius was not sentimental in this pilgrimage; it was with him amatter of course, a duty which he performed naturally for thesatisfaction of his conscience. He could not have told any other reason, though, if he had been called upon to analyse the feeling which impelsmost men to do the same thing, under the same circumstances, he wouldhave replied that a scientific explanation of the fact could only befound in the ancient practices of "ancestor worship, " of which sometrace remains unto this day. But he would have added that it was aproper mark of reverence and respect for the dead, and that mannaturally inclines to fulfil such obligations, unless deterred byindolence or the fear of ridicule. At any rate, he went alone; and itwas late in the afternoon before he came back. 

When at last he returned, he was not surprised to find Mr. Screwawaiting him. He had not found that gentleman on his first visit to PineStreet; and it seemed very natural that his uncle's executor should callupon him. He was cordial and courteous to his visitor, who took theDoctor's measure, and looked into his honest eyes, and realised thatthis claimant to Lindstrand's money was undoubtedly a very fine fellowindeed. Mr. Screw felt that it would be hard to tell such a man to hisface that he was not altogether satisfied of his identity. But then, asthe lawyer reflected, swindlers are generally fine fellows; indeed, their imposing appearance is often their whole capital andstock-in-trade. Mr. Screw had a profound knowledge of mankind, and heimmediately determined upon his course of action, which should becautious, but at the same time honest and straightforward. After apreliminary exchange of civilities, he opened fire. 

"I have come on very delicate business, Dr. Claudius, " said he; and hehooked one leg behind the other as he sat and ran his hands through hishair. Claudius settled himself in his chair and waited, not having anyidea what the business might be. 

"You will readily understand, " continued Mr. Screw, "that in my positionI feel obliged to take every conceivable precaution in administering theestate of the late Mr. Lindstrand. You will, therefore, not be offendedat what I am going to say. My personality has nothing to do with it, norcan any personal impression you produce upon me, no matter howfavourable, be considered in the light of evidence. I have never seenyou before, and I am bound to say that the little I know of you, although perfectly satisfactory as far as it goes, is not sufficient toprove in a court that you are really the person indicated in Mr. Lindstrand's will. " Here Mr. Screw paused to see how Claudius would takethe hint that more evidence was required. 

But Claudius, the embodiment of calm strength, intellectual andphysical, was not to be moved by such trifles. He showed not theslightest emotion, nor did he betray any especial interest in what thelawyer was saying. His attitude was that of attention to a matter whichit was his duty to understand and to elucidate. But that was all. Hewished Mr. Screw would talk a little faster, and say what he requiredand go; but he was too courteous to hurry him. 

"My dear sir, " he answered, "I fully understand your position, and anyapology from you would be out of place. Pray proceed. "

"I have nothing more to say, " said Mr. Screw, astonished at so muchindifference where a great fortune was concerned. "I like to be brief insuch matters. I have nothing more to say, sir, excepting that I would begreatly obliged if you would put into my hands such documents as you maythink proper for the full establishing of your rights. "

"Very well, " said Claudius. "If you will tell me what evidence yourequire I will procure it immediately. " "With that he rose, and lighteda cigarette. 

"A properly-attested certificate of your birth would be all-sufficient, "said Mr. Screw, who began to feel relieved by the conduct of the Doctor. The latter, however, suddenly stood still with the match in his fingers, and looked at the lawyer with a curious scrutiny. 

"I would prefer, " he said, "to give some other evidence of my identitythan that, if it is the same to you. "

"If you prefer it, of course, " said the lawyer coldly. His suspicionswere immediately roused, for he had named the simplest description ofdocument he could think of, and it seemed odd that the Doctor should beso evidently disinclined to produce it. 

"I suppose, " said the Doctor, "that the formal attestation of myidentity by the authorities of the University of Heidelberg would besufficient?"

"Yes, I should think so, " said Screw cautiously. "But will it not takesome time to procure that?"

"Well? If it does, what then?"

"Only that--you will understand that until this matter is settled Ishould not feel justified in authorising you to draw upon the estate. "

Claudius's sense of logic was offended. 

"My dear sir, " he replied, "have I drawn upon the estate for a singledollar yet?"

"No, sir, I am bound to say you have not, although you might haveconsidered it natural to do so, and we should have put no obstacle--"Mr. Screw stopped short. He had betrayed himself, and felt extremelyembarrassed. But he said enough to give Claudius an idea of thesituation. Something had occurred, some one had spoken, to cast a doubton his identity; and Mr. Screw was the chosen emissary of that "someone. "

"Then, Mr. Screw, " said the Doctor in measured tones, "I would admonishyou to be more careful how you insinuate that I might do anything of thekind. You have inconvenienced me quite enough already. You had betternot inconvenience me any more. I consider your conduct a piece ofunparalleled clumsiness, and your language little short of impertinent. What you have said now you should have said in the letter whichannounced my uncle's death. Or you should have instructed Mr. Barker, who was abroad at the time and found me in Heidelberg, to make thenecessary investigations. The evidence shall be forthcoming in properseason, and until then I do not desire the advantage of your company. "

Mr. Screw was so much astonished with this mode of address from a manwhom he had foolishly imagined to be good-natured that he stood a momentby the table hesitating what he should say. Claudius took up a book andbegan to read. 

"Well, " said he, perceiving that Mr. Screw was still in the room, "whydon't you go?"

"Really, Dr. Claudius, I am not accustomed--" he began. 

"Go, " said Claudius, interrupting him; "it is not of the smallestinterest to me to know what you are accustomed to. There is the door. "

"Sir--"

"Do you prefer the window?" asked the Doctor, rising in great wrath andstriding towards the unhappy lawyer. Mr. Screw instantly made up hismind that the door was preferable, and disappeared. When he was goneClaudius sat down again. He was very angry; but, in his own view, hisanger was just. It was very clear to him, from the words Mr. Screw hadinadvertently let fall, that some one had, for reasons unknown, undertaken to cause him a great deal of unpleasantness. What he had saidto Screw was not to be denied. If there was any question as to hisidentity, full proof should have been required from the first. But hisautograph letter from Heidelberg, attested by a notary, had beenaccepted as sufficient; and "Screw and Scratch" had answered theletter, and Claudius had received their answer in Baden. It had neverentered his head that anything more would be required. So long as Screwhad confined himself to stating his position, merely asking for furtherevidence, the Doctor had nothing to say. But at the suggestion thatClaudius might want to draw money from the estate before his claims werefully established, he lost his temper. It was an imputation on hishonour; and, however slight it might seem to Mr. Screw, Claudius was notthe man to bear it. 

Ten minutes later Mr. Barker walked in unannounced. It was naturalenough that he should call, but Claudius did not want him. The Doctorhad not had time to think over the situation, but he had, a vagueimpression that Barker had something to do with this sudden cloud ofannoyance that had risen to darken his path. Barker, on his side, wasprepared for storms, but he intended to play the part of confidentialfriend and consoler. Claudius, however, wanted neither friends norconsolation, and he was in the worst of tempers. Nevertheless, he roseand offered his guest a chair, and asked him how he did. Barker took thechair and said he was fairly well, on the way to recovery from thevoyage. 

"What have you been doing all day, Claudius?" he asked. 

"I have been to a place called Greenwood, to see where they had buriedmy uncle, " answered Claudius, and relapsed into silence. 

"No wonder you look so gloomy. Whatever induced you to do such a thing?"

"I was not induced, " said Claudius. "He was my last relation in theworld, and I did the only thing I could to honour his memory, which wasto go and see his grave. "

"Yes, very proper, I am sure, " replied Barker. "If my relations wouldbegin and die, right away, I would trot around and see their graves fastenough!"

Claudius was silent. 

"What on earth is the matter with you, Claudius? Have you got aheadache, or are you going to be married?"

Claudius roused himself, and offered Barker a cigar. 

"There is nothing the matter, " he said; "I suppose my excursion has mademe a little gloomy; but I shall soon get over that. There are matches onthe mantelpiece. "

"Thanks. Why did you not come down town to-day? Oh! of course you wereaway. It was very good fun. We had a regular bear garden. "

"It looked like something of that sort yesterday when I was there. "

"Yesterday? Oh! you had never been there before. Yes, it is always likethat. I say, come and take a drive in the park before dinner. "

"No, thanks. I am very sorry, but I have an appointment in a fewminutes. I would like to go very much; you are very kind. "

"Business?" asked the inquisitive Mr. Barker. 

"Well--yes, if you like, business. "

"Oh!" said Barker. "By the by, have you seen any of your lawyer peopleto-day?" Barker had expected that Claudius would confide to him thetrouble Screw was raising. But as Claudius did not begin, Barker askedthe question. 

"Yes, " answered the Doctor, "Screw has been here. In fact he is justgone. "

"Anything wrong?" inquired the tormentor. 

"No, nothing wrong that I know of, " said Claudius. Then he suddenlyturned sharply on Barker, and looked straight at him. "Did you expect tohear that there was anything wrong?" he asked quickly. Claudius had avery unpleasant way of turning upon his antagonist just a minute beforethe enemy was ready for him. Barker had found this out before, and, being now directly interrogated, he winced perceptibly. 

"Oh dear, no, " he hastened to say. "But lawyers are great boressometimes, especially where wills are concerned. And I thought perhapsScrew might be wearying you with his formalities. "

"No, " said Claudius indifferently, "nothing to--" he was interrupted bya knock at the door. It was the Duke's servant, a quiet man in grayclothes and gray whiskers. He had a bald head and bright eyes. 

"His Grace's compliments, sir, and can you see him now, sir?"

"Yes, I will come in a moment, " said Claudius. 

"I think, sir, " said the man, "that his Grace is coming to your rooms. "

"Very good. My compliments, and I shall be glad to see him. " The grayservant vanished. 

Barker rose to go; but Claudius was begging him not to hurry, when therewas another knock, and the Duke entered. He shook hands with Claudius, and spoke rather coldly to Barker. The latter was uneasy, and felt thathe was in the way. He was. Barker had fallen into a singular error ofjudgment in regard to the relations existing between the Duke andClaudius. He had imagined it in his power to influence the Duke'sopinion, whereas in trying to effect that object he had roused theEnglishman's animosity. Besides, Mr. Barker was to the Duke a caprice. He found the quick-thinking man of business amusing and even useful, butfor steady companionship he did not want him. A passage across theAtlantic was more than enough to satisfy his desire for Mr. Barker'ssociety, even if Barker had not managed to excite his indignation. ButClaudius was different. The honest nobleman could not tell why it was, but it was true, nevertheless. He looked upon the Doctor more as anequal than Barker. The Duke was a very great man in his own country, andit was singular indeed that he should find a man to his liking, a manwho seemed of his own caste and calibre, in the simple _privat-docent_of a German university. Perhaps Barker felt it too. At all events, whenthe Duke sat himself down in Claudius's room, after begging permissionto ring for lights, and made himself most evidently at home, Mr. Barkerfelt that he was in the way; and so, promising to call on Claudius againin the morning, he departed. Claudius stood by the mantelpiece while theservant lit the gas. 

"I am very glad to see you, " he said, when the man had gone. 

"I am glad of that, for I want your society. The Countess Margaret has aheadache, and Lady Victoria has gone to dine in her rooms, and to spendthe evening with her. "

"I am very sorry to hear that the Countess is not well, " said Claudius, "but I am very glad of anything that brings you here to-night. I am introuble--that is, I have been very much annoyed. "

"Ah, very sorry, " said the Duke. 

"It so happens that you are the only person in America, as far as Iknow, who can help me. "

"I?" The Duke opened his eyes wide. Then he reflected that it might besomething concerning the Countess, and waited. 

"You are a gentleman, " said Claudius reflectively, and hardly addressinghis visitor as he said it. 

"Quite so, " said the Duke. "It's a very fine word that. "

"And a man of honour, " continued Claudius in a meditative tone. 

"The deuce and all, it's the same thing, " said the Duke, rather puzzled. 

"Yes; in some countries it is. Now, what I want to ask you is this. Could you, as a gentleman and a man of honour, swear in a court of lawthat you know me, and that I am the person I represent myself to be?That is the question. "

The Duke was too much surprised to answer directly. He made a great fussover his cigar, and got up and shut the window. Then he sat down inanother chair. 

"I don't know what you mean, " he said at last, to gain time. 

"I mean what I say, " said Claudius. "Could you swear, before the SupremeCourt of the United States, for instance, that I am Claudius, sometimestudent, now Doctor of Philosophy of the University of Heidelberg inGermany? Could you swear that?"

"My dear boy, " said the other, "what in the world are you driving at?"The Duke realised that he could not conscientiously swear to any suchstatement as that proposed by Claudius; and, liking him as he did, hewas much distressed at being put into such a corner. 

"I will tell you afterwards what it is about, Duke, " said Claudius. "Iam serious, and I would like you to answer the question, though Iforesee that you will say you could not swear to anything of the kind. "

"Honestly, Claudius, though there is not the slightest doubt in my mindthat you are what you appear to be, I could not conscientiously swear itin evidence. I do not know anything about you. But Barker could. "

"No, he could not. He knows no more about me than you do, saving that hemet me two or three days sooner. He met me in Heidelberg, it is true, but he made no inquiries whatever concerning me. It never entered hishead that I could be anything but what I professed to be. "

"I should think not, indeed, " said the Duke warmly. 

"But now that I am here in the flesh, these lawyers are making trouble. One of them was here a little while since, and he wanted documentaryevidence of my identity. "

"Who was the lawyer?"

"A Mr. Screw, one of the executors of the will. "

"Who is the other executor?" asked the Duke quickly. 

"Barker's father. "

The Englishman's face darkened, and he puffed savagely at his cigar. Hehad been angry with Barker the day before. Now he began to suspect himof making trouble. 

"What sort of evidence did the man want?" he asked at length. 

"Any sort of documentary evidence would do. He asked me for mycertificate of birth, and I told him he could not have it. And then hewent so far as to remark in a very disagreeable way that he could notauthorise me to draw upon the estate until I produced evidence. "

"Well, that is natural enough. "

"It would have been so at first. But they had accepted the meresignature to my letter from Heidelberg as proof of my existence, and Igot word in Baden in July that I might draw as much as I pleased. Andnow they turn upon me and say I am not myself. Something has happened. Fortunately I have not touched the money, in spite of their kindpermission. "

"There is something very odd about this, Claudius. Have you got such athing as a birth certificate to show?"

"Yes, " answered Claudius, after a pause. "I have everything in perfectorder, my mother's marriage and all. "

"Then why, in Heaven's name, can you not show it, and put all theserascally lawyers to flight?"

"Because--" Claudius began, but he hesitated and stopped. "It is acurious story, " he said, "and it is precisely what I want to talk to youabout. "

"Is it very long?" asked the Duke; "I have not dined yet. "

"No, it will not take long, and if you have nothing better to do we willdine together afterwards. But first there are two things I want to say. If I prove to you that I am the son of my uncle's sister, will you tellMr. Screw that you know it for a fact, that is, that if it had to besworn to, you would be willing to swear to it?"

"If you prove it to me so that I am legally sure of it, of course Iwill. "

"The other thing I will ask you is, not to divulge what I shall tellyou, or show you. You may imagine from my being unwilling to show thesepapers, even to a lawyer, when my own fortune is concerned, that Iattach some importance to secrecy. "

"You may trust me, " said the Duke; "you have my word, " he added, as ifreluctantly. People whose word is to be trusted are generally slow togive it. Claudius bowed his head courteously, in acknowledgment of theplighted promise. Then he opened a trunk that stood in a corner of theroom, and took from it the iron box in which he had deposited thelawyer's letter on that evening three months before, when his destinyhad roused itself from its thirty years' slumber. He set the box on thetable, and having locked the door of the room sat down opposite hisguest. He took a key from his pocket. 

"You will think it strange, " he said with a smile, "that I should havetaken the liberty of confiding to you my secret. But when you have seenwhat is there, you will perceive that you are the most fitting confidantin this country--for general reasons, of course; for I need not saythere is nothing in those papers which concerns you personally. "Claudius unlocked the box and took out a few letters that were lying onthe top, then he pushed the casket across the table to the Duke. 

"Will you please examine the contents for yourself?" he said. "There areonly three or four papers to read--the rest are letters from my fatherto my mother--you may look at them if you like; they are very old. "

All this time the Duke looked very grave. He was not accustomed to havehis word of honour asked for small matters, and if this were sometrivial question of an assumed name, or the like, he was prepared to beangry with Claudius. So he silently took the little strong box, andexamined the contents. There were two packages of papers, two or threemorocco cases that might contain jewels, and there was a string ofpearls lying loose in the bottom of the casket. The Duke took the pearlscuriously in his hand and held them to the light. He had seen enough ofsuch things to know something of their value, and he knew this stringmight be worth anywhere from eight to ten thousand pounds. He lookedgraver than ever. 

"Those are beautiful pearls, Dr. Claudius, " he said; "too beautiful fora Heidelberg student to have lying about among his traps. " He turnedthem over and added, "The Duchess has nothing like them. "

"They belonged to my mother, " said Claudius simply. "I know nothing oftheir value. "

The Duke took the papers and untied the smaller package, which appearedto contain legal documents, while the larger seemed to be a series ofletters filed in their envelopes, as they had been received. 

"My mother's name was Maria Lindstrand, " said Claudius. He leaned back, smoking the eternal cigarette, and watched the Duke's face. 

Before the Englishman had proceeded far he looked up at Claudius, uttering an exclamation of blank amazement. Claudius merely bent hishead as if to indorse the contents of the paper, and was silent. TheDuke read the papers carefully through, and examined one of them veryminutely by the light. Then he laid them down with a certain reverence, as things he respected. 

"My dear Claudius--" he rose and extended his hand to the young man witha gesture that had in it much of dignity and something of pride. "Mydear Claudius, I shall all my life remember that you honoured me withyour confidence. I accepted it as a token of friendship, but I am nowable to look upon it as a very great distinction. "

"And I, Duke, shall never forget that you believed in me on my ownmerits, before you were really able to swear that I was myself. "Claudius had also risen, and their hands remained clasped a moment. ThenClaudius applied himself to rearranging the contents of his box; and theDuke walked up and down the room, glancing from time to time at theDoctor. He stopped suddenly in his walk. 

"But--goodness gracious! why have you kept this a secret?" he asked, asif suddenly recollecting himself. 

"My mother, " said Claudius, "was too proud to come forward and claimwhat my father, but for his untimely death, would have given her in afew months. As for me, I have been contented in my life, and would havebeen unwilling to cause pain to any one by claiming my rights. My motherdied when I was a mere child, and left these papers sealed, directing menot to open them until I should be twenty-one years old. And so when Iopened them, I made up my mind to do nothing about it. "

"It is not easy to understand you, Claudius; but I will swear toanything you like. "

"Thank you; I am very grateful. "

"Do not speak of that. I am proud to be of service. By the by, thepresent--the present incumbent is childless, I believe. He must be yourfather's brother?"

"Yes, " said Claudius. "Should he die, I would not hesitate any longer. "

"No indeed, I hope not. It is a shame as it is. "

"By the by, " said Claudius, who had put away his box; "why did you notgo to Newport to-day? I meant to go on to-morrow and meet you there. This business had put it out of my head. "

"Lady Victoria and the Countess both wanted to stay another day. "

"Is the Countess ill?" asked Claudius. "Or do you think she would see methis evening?"

"I do not think there is anything especial the matter. She will verylikely see you after dinner. As for me, I am hungry; I have walked allover New York this afternoon. "

"Very well, let us dine. You know New York, and must select the place. "

Arm-in-arm they went away together, and the Duke introduced Claudius tothe glories of Delmonico's. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Troubles never come singly; moreover, they come on horseback, and goaway on foot. If Claudius had passed an unpleasant afternoon, theCountess's day had been darkened with the shadow of a very seriousdifficulty. Early in the morning her maid had brought her coffee, andwith it a note in a foreign hand. The maid, who was French, andpossessed the usual characteristics of French maids, had exhausted herbrain in trying to discover who the sender might be. But the missive wassealed with wax, and a plain "N" was all the impression. So she adoptedthe usual expedient of busying herself in the room, while her mistressopened the note, hoping that some chance exclamation, or even perhaps ananswer, might give her curiosity the food it longed for. But Margaretread and reread the note, and tore it up into very small pieces, thoughtfully; and, as an afterthought, she burned them one by one over awax taper till nothing was left. Then she sent her maid away and fell tothinking. But that did not help her much; and the warm sun stole throughthe windows, and the noise in the street prevented her from sleeping, for she was unused to the sound of wheels after the long weeks at sea. And so she rang for her maid again. The maid came, bringing anothernote, which, she said, had been given her by "Monsieur Clodiuse;" andwould there be an answer?

It was simply a few lines to say he was going to be away all day, andthat he hoped to have the pleasure of seeing the Countess in Newportto-morrow. But for some reason or other Margaret was not pleased withthe note, and merely said there would be no answer. 

"Madame would she dress herself to go out, or to keep the lodging?"

Madame would not go out. Was it warm? Oh yes, it was very warm. In factit was _hébétant_. Would Madame see Monsieur le Duc if he called ateleven? Monseigneur's Monsieur Veelees had charged her to inquire ofMadame. No, Madame would not see Monsieur le Duc this morning. But ifany one called, Madame desired to be informed. Madame would be served. And so the toilet proceeded. 

It was not very long before some one called. There was a knock at thedoor of the bedroom. Clémentine left the Countess's hair, which she wasbusy combing and tressing, and went to the door. It was old Vladimir, Margaret's faithful Russian servant. 

"At this hour!" exclaimed the Countess, who was not in the best oftempers. "What does he want?"

Vladimir ventured to make a remark in Russian, from the door, whichproduced an immediate effect. Margaret rose swiftly, overturning herchair and sweeping various small articles from the table in her rapidmovement. She went very quickly to the door, her magnificent black hairall hanging down. She knew enough Russian to talk to the servant. 

"What did you say, Vladimir?"

"Margareta Ivanowna"--Margaret's father's name had been John--"NicolaïAlexandrewitch is here, " said Vladimir, who seemed greatly surprised. His geographical studies having been purely experimental, the suddenappearance of a Russian gentleman led him to suppose his mistress hadlanded in some outlying part of Russia, or at least of Europe. So shebade the old servant conduct the gentleman to her sitting-room and askhim to wait. She was not long in finishing her toilet. Before she leftthe room a servant of the hotel brought another box of flowers from Mr. Barker. Clémentine cut the string and opened the pasteboard shell. Margaret glanced indifferently at the profusion of roses and pinkpond-lilies--a rare variety only found in two places in America, on LongIsland and near Boston--and having looked, she turned to go. 

Clémentine held up two or three flowers, as if to try the effect of themon Margaret's dress. 

"Madame would she not put some flowers in her dress?"

No. Madame would not. Madame detested flowers. Whereat the intelligentClémentine carefully examined the name of the sender, inscribed on acard which lay in the top of the box. Mr. Barker knew better than tosend flowers anonymously. He wanted all the credit he could get. TheCountess swept out of the room. 

At the door of the sitting-room she was met by a young man, who bent lowto kiss her extended hand, and greeted her with a manner which wasrespectful indeed, but which showed that he felt himself perfectly atease in her society. 

Nicolaï Alexandrewitch, whom we will call simply Count Nicholas, was theonly brother of Margaret's dead husband. Like Alexis, he had been asoldier in a guard regiment; Alexis had been killed at Plevna, andNicholas had succeeded to the title and the estates, from which, however, a considerable allowance was paid to the Countess as ajointure. 

Nicholas was a handsome man of five or six and twenty, of middle height, swarthy complexion, and compact figure. His beard was very black, and hewore it in a pointed shape. His eyes were small and deep-set, but fullof intelligence. He had all the manner and appearance of a man of gentlebirth, but there was something more; an indescribable, undefinable airthat hung about him. Many Russians have it, and the French have embodiedthe idea it conveys in their proverb that if you scratch a Russian youwill find the Tartar. It is rather a trait of Orientalism in the blood, and it is to be noticed as much in Servians, Bulgarians, Roumanians, andeven Hungarians, as in Russians. It is the peculiarity of most of theseraces that under certain circumstances, if thoroughly roused, they willgo to any length, with a scorn of consequence which seems to the Westernmind both barbarous and incomprehensible. Margaret had always liked him. He was wild; but he was a courteous gentleman, and could always bedepended upon. 

"Mon cher, " said Margaret, "I need not tell you I am enchanted to seeyou, but what is the meaning of the things you wrote me this morning?Are you really in trouble?"

"Hélas, yes. I am in the worst kind of trouble that exists for aRussian. I am in political trouble--and that entails everything else. "

"Tell me all about it, " said she. "Perhaps I may help you. "

"Ah no! you cannot help. It is not for that I am come. I have aconfession to make that concerns you. "

"Well?" said she, with a smile. She did not suppose it could be anythingvery bad. 

"You will be angry, of course, " he said, "but that is nothing. I havedone you an injury that I cannot repair. "

"Enfin, my dear Nicholas, tell me. I do not believe anything bad ofyou. "

"You are kindness itself, and I thank you in advance. Wait till you haveheard. I am 'suspect, '--they think I am a Nihilist I am exiled to themines, and everything is confiscated. Voilà! Could it be worse?"

Margaret was taken off her guard. She had herself been in more than easycircumstances at the time of her marriage, but the financial crisis inAmerica, which occurred soon after that event, had greatly crippled herresources. She had of late looked chiefly to her jointure for all theluxuries which were so necessary to her life. To find this suddenlygone, in a moment, without the slightest preparation, was extremelyembarrassing. She covered her eyes with one hand for a moment to collecther thoughts and to try and realise the extent of the disaster. Nicholasmistook the gesture. 

"You will never forgive me, I know. I do not deserve that you should. But I will do all in my power to repair the evil. I will go to Siberiaif they will consider your rights to the estate. "

Margaret withdrew her hand, and looked earnestly at the young man. 

"Forgive you?" said she. "My dear Nicholas, you do not suppose Iseriously think there is anything to forgive?"

"But it is true, " he said piteously; "in ruining me they have ruinedyou. Mon Dieu, mon Dieu! If I only had a friend--"

"Taisez vous donc, mon ami. It is everything most bête what you say. Youhave many friends, and as for me, I do not care a straw for the money. Only if I had known I would not have left Europe. Voilà tout. "

"Ah, that is it, " said Nicholas. "I escaped the police and hurried toBaden. But you were gone. So I took the first steamer and came here. ButI have waited ten days, and it was only last night I saw in the papersthat you had arrived yesterday morning. And here I am. "

Margaret rose, from a feeling that she must move about--the restlessfiend that seizes energetic people in their trouble. Nicholas thought itwas a sign for him to go. He took his hat. 

"Believe me--" he began, about to take his leave. 

"You are not going?" said Margaret. "Oh no. Wait, and we will think ofsome expedient. Besides you have not told me half what I want to know. The money is of no consequence; but what had you done to lead to such asentence? Are you really a Nihilist?"

"Dieu m'en garde!" said the Count devoutly. "I am a Republican, that isall. Seulement, our Holy Russia does not distinguish. "

"Is not the distinction very subtle?"

"The difference between salvation by education and salvation bydynamite; the difference between building up and tearing down, betweenRobespierre and Monsieur Washington. "

"You must have been indiscreet. How could they have found it out?"

"I was bête enough to write an article in the _Russki Mir_--the mildestof articles. And then some of the Nihilist agents thought I was in theirinterests and wanted to see me, and the police observed them, and I wasat once classed as a Nihilist myself, and there was a perquisition in myhouse. They found some notes and a few manuscripts of mine, quite enoughto suit their purpose, and so the game was up. "

"But they did not arrest you?"

"No. As luck would have it, I was in Berlin at the time, on leave frommy regiment, for I was never suspected before in the least. And theNihilists, who, to tell the truth, are well organised and take good careof their brethren, succeeded in passing word to me not to come back. Afew days afterwards the Russian Embassy were hunting for me in Berlin. But I had got away. Sentence was passed in contempt, and I read the newsin the papers on my way to Paris. There is the whole history. "

"Have you any money?" inquired Margaret after a pause. 

"Mon Dieu! I have still a hundred napoleons. After that the deluge. "

"By that time we shall be ready for the deluge, " said Margaretcheerfully. "I have many friends, and something may yet be done. Meanwhile do not distress yourself about me; you know I have somethingof my own. "

"How can I thank you for your kindness? You ought to hate me, andinstead you console!"

"My dear friend, if I did not like you for your own sake, I would helpyou because you are poor Alexis's brother. " There was no emotion in hervoice at the mention of her dead husband, only a certain reverence. Shehad honoured him more than she had loved him. 

"Princesse, quand même, " said Nicholas in a low voice, as he raised herfingers to his lips. 

"Leave me your address before you go. I will write as soon as I havedecided what to do. " Nicholas scratched the name of a hotel on his card. 

When he was gone Margaret sank into a chair. She would have sent forClaudius--Claudius was a friend--but she recollected his note, andthought with some impatience that just when she needed him most he wasaway. Then she thought of Lady Victoria, and she rang the bell. But LadyVictoria had gone out with her brother, and they had taken Miss Skeat. Margaret was left alone in the great hotel. Far off she could hear adoor shut or the clatter of the silver covers of some belated breakfastservice finding its way up or down stairs. And in the street the eternalclatter and hum and crunch, and crunch and hum and clatter of men andwheels; the ceaseless ring of the tram-cars stopping every few steps topick up a passenger, and the jingle of the horses' bells as they movedon. It was hot--it was very hot. Clémentine was right, it was_hébétant_, as it can be in New York in September. She bethought herselfthat she might go out and buy things, that last resource of a rich womanwho is tired and bored. 

Buy things! She had forgotten that she was ruined. Well, not quite that, but it seemed like it. It would be long before she would feel justifiedin buying anything more for the mere amusement of the thing. She triedto realise what it would be like to be poor. But she failed entirely, aswomen of her sort always do. She was brave enough if need be; if it mustcome, she had the courage to be poor. But she had not the skill to paintto herself what it would be like. She could not help thinking ofClaudius. It would be so pleasant just now to have him sitting there byher side, reading some one of those wise books he was so fond of. 

It was so hot. She wished something would happen. Poor Nicholas! He neednot have been so terribly cut up about the money. Who is there? It wasVladimir. Vladimir brought a card. Yes, she would see the gentleman. Vladimir disappeared, and a moment after ushered in Mr. HoraceBellingham, commonly known as "Uncle Horace. "

"I am so glad to see you, Mr. Bellingham, " said Margaret, who hadconceived a great liking for the old gentleman on the previous evening, and who would have welcomed anybody this morning. 

Mr. Bellingham made a bow of the courtliest, most _ancien-régime_ kind. He had ventured to bring her a few flowers. Would she accept them? Theywere only three white roses, but there was more beauty in them than inall Mr. Barker's profusion. Margaret took them, and smelled them, andfastened them at her waist, and smiled a divine smile on the bearer. 

"Thank you, so much, " said she. 

"No thanks, " said he; "I am more than repaid by your appreciation;" andhe rubbed his hands together and bowed again, his head a little on oneside, as if deprecating any further acknowledgment. Then he at oncebegan to talk a little, to give her time to select her subject if shewould; for he belonged to a class of men who believe it their duty totalk to women, and who do not expect to sit with folded hands and beamused. To such men America is a revelation of social rest. In Americathe women amuse the men, and the men excuse themselves by saying thatthey work hard all day, and cannot be expected to work hard all theevening. It is evidently a state of advanced civilisation, incomprehensible to the grosser European mind--a state where talking toa woman is considered to be hard work. Or--in fear and trembling it issuggested--is it because they are not able to amuse their womankind? Istheir refusal a _testimonium paupertatis ingenii_? No--perish thethought! It may have been so a long time ago, in the Golden Age. This isnot the Golden Age; it is the Age of Gold. Messieurs! faites votre jeu!

By degrees it became evident that Margaret wanted to talk about Russia, and Mr. Bellingham humoured her, and gave her a good view of thesituation, and told anecdotes of the Princess Dolgorouki, and drew thesame distinction between Nihilists and Republicans that Count Nicholashad made an hour earlier in the same room. Seeing she was so muchinterested, Mr. Bellingham took courage to ask a question that hadpuzzled him for some time. He stroked his snowy beard, and hesitatedslightly. 

"Pardon me, if I am indiscreet, Madam, " he said at last, "but I read inthe papers the other day that a nobleman of your name--a Count Nicholas, I think--had landed in New York, having escaped the clutches of thePetersburg police, who wanted to arrest him as a Nihilist. Was he--washe any relation of yours?"

"He is my brother-in-law, " said Margaret, rather startled at seeing thepoint to which she had led the conversation. But she felt a strongsympathy for Mr. Bellingham, and she was glad to be able to speak on thesubject to any one. She stood so much in need of advice; and, after all, if the story was in the papers it was public property by this time. Mr. Bellingham was a perfect diplomatist, and, being deeply interested, hehad soon learned all the details of the case by heart. 

"It is very distressing, " he said gravely. But that was all. Margarethad had some faint idea that he might offer to help her--it was absurd, of course--or at least that he might give her some good advice. But thatwas not Mr. Bellingham's way of doing things. If he intended to doanything, the last thing he would think of would be to tell her of hisintention. He led the conversation away, and having rounded it neatlywith a couple of anecdotes of her grandmother, he rose to go, pleadingan engagement. He really had so many appointments in a day that heseldom kept more than half of them, and his excuse was no politeinvention. He bowed himself out, and when he was gone Margaret felt asthough she had lost a friend. 

She wearied of the day--so long, so hot, and so unfortunate. She tried abook, and then she tried to write a letter, and then she tried to thinkagain. It seemed to her that there was so little to think about, for shehad a hopeless helpless consciousness that there was nothing to be donethat she could do. She might have written to her friends inPetersburg--of course she would do that, and make every possiblerepresentation. But all that seemed infinitely far off, and could bedone as well to-morrow as to-day. At last Lady Victoria came back, andat sight of her Margaret resolved to confide in her likewise. She had somuch common sense, and always seemed able to get at the truth. Therefore, in the afternoon Margaret monopolised Lady Victoria andcarried her off, and they sat together with their work by the openwindow, and the Countess was "not at home. "

In truth, a woman of the world in trouble of any kind could not dobetter than confide in Lady Victoria. She is so frank and honest thatwhen you talk to her your trouble seems to grow small and your heartbig. She has not a great deal of intellect; but, then, she has a greatdeal of common sense. Common sense is, generally speaking, merely adislike of complications, and a consequent refusal on the part of theindividual to discover them. People of vivid imagination delight inmagnifying the difficulties of life by supposing themselves the centreof much scheming, plotting, and cheap fiction. They cheerfully givetheir time and their powers to the study of social diplomacy. It isreserved for people intellectually very high or very low in the scale tolead a really simple life. The average mind of the world is terriblymuddled on most points, and altogether beside itself as regards itsindividual existence; for a union of much imagination, unbounded vanity, and unfathomable ignorance can never take the place of an intellect, while such a combination cannot fail to destroy the blessed _visinertiæ_ of the primitive fool, who only sees what is visible, insteadof evolving the phantoms of an airy unreality from the bottomless abyssof his own so-called consciousness. Fortunately for humanity, thelow-class unimaginative mind predominates in the world, as far asnumbers are concerned; and there are enough true intellects among men toleaven the whole. The middle class of mind is a small class, congregatedtogether chiefly within the boundaries of a very amusing institutioncalling itself "society. " These people have scraped and varnished theaforesaid composition of imagination, ignorance, and vanity, into acertain conventional thing which they mendaciously term their"intelligence, " from a Latin verb _intelligo_, said to mean "Iunderstand. " It is a poor thing, after all the varnishing. It is neitherhammer nor anvil; it cannot strike, and, if you strike it, dissolutioninstantly takes place, after which the poor driveller is erroneouslysaid to have "lost his mind, " and is removed to an asylum. It is curiousthat the great majority of lunatics should be found in "society. "Society says that all men of genius are more or less mad; but it is anotable fact that very few men of genius have ever been put inmadhouses, whereas the society that calls those men crazy is alwaysfinding its way there. It takes but little to make a lunatic of poorLady Smith-Tompkins. Poor thing! you know she is so very "high-strung, "such delicate sensibilities! She has an _idée fixe_--so very sad. Ahyes! that is it. She never had an idea before, and now that she has oneshe cannot get rid of it, and it will kill her in time. 

Now people whose intellect is of a low class are not disturbed withvisions of all that there is to be known, nor with a foolish desire toappear to know it. On the other hand, they are perfectly capable ofunderstanding what is honourable or dishonourable, mean or generous, andthey are very tenacious of these principles, believing that in theletter of the law is salvation. They are not vain of qualities andpowers not theirs; and, consequently, when they promise, they promisewhat they are able to perform. Occasionally such characters appear in"society, "--rare creatures, in whom a pernicious education has notspoiled the simplicity and honesty which is their only virtue. They fallnaturally into the position of confessors to the community, for thecommunity requires confessors of some sort. In them confides thehardened sinner bursting with evil deeds and the accumulation of pettynaughtiness. To them comes the beardless ass, simpering from his firstadventure, and generally "afraid he has compromised" the mature woman ofthe world, whom he has elected to serve, desiring to know what he oughtto do about it. To them, too, comes sometimes the real sufferer with hisor her little tale of woe, hesitatingly told, half hinted, hoping to bewholly understood. They are good people, these social confessors, thoughthey seldom give much advice. Nevertheless, it is such a help to tellone's story and hear how it sounds!

Lady Victoria was not a woman of surpassing intellect; perhaps she hadno intellect at all. She belonged to the confessors above referred to. She was the soul of honour, of faith, and of secrecy. People were alwaysmaking confidences to her, and they always felt the better forit--though she herself could not imagine why. And so even Margaret cameand told her troubles. Only, as Margaret was really intelligent, she didnot hesitate or make any fuss about telling, when once she had made upher mind. The story was, indeed, public property by this time, and LadyVictoria was sure to know it all before long from other people. WhenMargaret had finished, she laid down her work and looked out of thewindow, waiting. 

"I need not tell you I am sorry, " said Lady Victoria. "You know that, mydear. But what will you do? It will be so very awkward for you, youknow. "

"I hardly can tell yet--what would you do in my place?"

"Let me see, " said the English girl. "What would I do? You must have aRussian minister here somewhere. I think I would send for him, if I wereyou. "

"But it takes so long--so dreadfully long, to get anything done in thatway, " said Margaret. And they discussed the point in a desultoryfashion. Of course Lady Victoria's suggestion was the simplest and mostdirect one. She was quite certain that Margaret would get her rightsvery soon. 

"Of course, " said she, "they must do it. It would be so unjust not to. "She looked at Margaret with a bright smile, as if there was no suchthing as injustice in the world. But the Countess looked grave; and asshe leaned back in her deep arm-chair by the window, with half-closedeyes, it was easy to see she was in trouble. She needed help andsympathy and comfort. She had never needed help before, and it was not apleasant sensation to her; perhaps she was dissatisfied when sherealised whose help of all others she would most gladly accept. At leastit would be most pleasant that he should offer it. "He"--has it come tothat? Poor Margaret! If "he" represented a sorrow instead of ahappiness, would you confide that too to Lady Victoria? Or would youfeel the least shadow of annoyance because you miss him to-day? Perhapsit is only habit. You have schooled yourself to believe you ought to dowithout him, and you fancy you ought to be angry with yourself fortransgressing your rule. But what avails your schooling against thelittle god? He will teach you a lesson you will not forget. The day issinking. The warm earth is drinking out its cup of sunlight to thepurple dregs thereof. There is great colour in the air, and the cloudsare as a trodden wine-press in the west. The old sun, the golden bowl oflife, is touching earth's lips, and soon there will be none of the wineof light left in him. She will drink it all. Yet your lover tarries, Margaret, and comes not. 

Margaret and Lady Victoria agreed they would dine together. Indeed, Margaret had a little headache, for she was weary. They would dinetogether, and then read something in the evening--quite alone; and sothey did. It was nearly nine o'clock when the servant announced Claudiusand the Duke. The latter, of course, knew nothing about Margaret'stroubles, and was in high spirits. As for Claudius, his momentaryexcitement, caused by Mr. Screw's insinuations, had long since passedaway, and he was as calm as ever, meditating a graphic description ofhis day's excursion to Greenwood Cemetery for Margaret's benefit. It wasa lugubrious subject, but he well knew how to make his talk interesting. It is the individual, not the topic, that makes the conversation; if aman can talk well, graveyards are as good a subject as the last novel, and he will make tombstones more attractive than scandal. 

No one could have told from Claudius's appearance or conversation thatnight that there was anything in the world to cloud his happiness. Hetalked to the woman he loved with a serene contempt for everything elsein the world--a contempt, too, which was not assumed. He was perfectlyhappy for the nonce, and doubly so in that such a happy termination to avery long day was wholly unexpected. He had thought that he should findthe party gone from New York on his return from Greenwood, and this bitof good luck seemed to have fallen to him out of a clear sky. Margaretwas glad to see him too; she was just now in that intermediate frame ofmind during which a woman only reasons about a man in his absence. Themoment he appears, the electric circuit is closed and the quiescentstate ceases. She was at the point when his coming made a differencethat she could feel; when she heard his step her blood beat faster, andshe could feel herself turning a shade paler. Then the heavy lids woulddroop a little to hide what was in her dark eyes, and there were manyvoices in her ear, as though the very air cried _gloria_, while herheart answered _in excelsis_. But when he was come the gentle taleseemed carried on, as from the hour of his last going; and while hestayed life seemed one long day. 

She had struggled hard, but in her deepest thoughts she had foreseen thetermination. It is the instinct of good women to fight against love--hecomes in such a questionable shape. A good woman sees a differencebetween being in love and loving--well knowing that there is passionwithout love, but no love without passion. She feels bound in faith toset up a tribunal in her heart, whereby to judge between the two; butvery often judge and jury and prisoner at the bar join hands, and sweareternal friendship on the spot. Margaret had feared lest this Northernwooer, with his mighty strength and his bold eyes, should lead herfeelings whither her heart would not. Sooner than suffer that, she woulddie. And yet there is a whole unspoken prophecy of love in every humansoul, and his witness is true. 

All this evening they sat side by side, welding their bonds. Each had asecret care, but each forgot it utterly. Claudius would not have deignedto think of his own troubles when he was with her; and she never onceremembered how, during that morning, she had longed to tell him allabout her brother-in-law. They talked of all sorts of things, and theymade up their minds to go to Newport the next day. 

Miss Skeat asked whether Newport was as romantic as Scarborough. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

There were odours of Russian cigarettes in Mr. Horace Bellingham's room, and two smokers were industriously adding to the fragrant cloud. One wasthe owner of the dwelling himself, and the other was Claudius. He satupon the sofa that stood between the two windows of the room, which wason the ground floor, and looked out on the street. The walls werecovered with pictures wherever they were not covered with books, andthere was not an available nook or corner unfilled with scraps ofbric-à-brac, photographs, odds and ends of reminiscence, and all mannerof things characteristic to the denizen of the apartment. The furniturewas evidently calculated more for comfort than display, and if there wasan air of luxury pervading the bachelor's quiet _rez-de-chaussée_, itwas due to the rare volumes on the shelves and the good pictures on thewalls, rather than to the silk or satin of the high-art upholsterer, orthe gilding and tile work of the modern decorator, who ravages uponbeauty as a fungus upon a fruit tree. Whatever there was in Mr. Bellingham's rooms was good; much of it was unique, and the whole washarmonious. Rare editions were bound by famous binders, and if thetwopenny-halfpenny productions of some little would-be modern poet, resplendent with vellum and æsthetic greenliness of paper, occasionallyfound their way to the table, they never travelled as far as theshelves. Mr. Bellingham had fools enough about him to absorb his sparetrash. 

On this particular occasion the old gentleman was seated in an arm-chairat his table, and Claudius, as aforesaid, had established himself uponthe sofa. He looked very grave and smoked thoughtfully. 

"I wish I knew what to do, " he said. "Mr. Bellingham, do you think Icould be of any use?"

"If I had not thought so, I would not have told you--I could have letyou find it out for yourself from the papers. You can be of a great dealof use. "

"Do you advise me to go to St. Petersburg and see about it then?"

"Of course I do. Start at once. You can get the necessary steps taken inno time, if you go now. "

"I am ready. But how in the world can I get the thing done?"

"Letters. Your English friend over there will give you letters to theEnglish Ambassador; he is Lord Fitzdoggin--cousin of the Duke's. And Iwill give you some papers that will be of use. I know lots of people inPetersburg. Why, it's as plain as a pikestaff. Besides, you know theproverb, _mitte sapientem et nihil dicas. _ That means then when you senda wise man you must not dictate to him. "

"You flatter me. But I would rather have your advice, if that is whatyou call 'dictating. ' I am not exactly a fool, but then, I am not verywise either. "

"No one is very wise, and we are all fools compared to some people, "said Mr. Bellingham. "If anybody wanted a figurehead for a new Ship ofFools, I sometimes think a portrait of myself would be singularlyappropriate. There are times when I should fix upon a friend for thepurpose. Mermaid--half fish--figurehead, half man, half fool. That's avery good idea. "

"Very good--for the friend. Meanwhile, you know, it is I who am going onthe errand. If you do not make it clear to me it will be a fool'serrand. "

"It is perfectly clear, my dear sir, " insisted Mr. Bellingham. "You goto St. Petersburg; you get an audience--you can do that by means of theletters; you lay the matter before the Czar, and request justice. Eitheryou get it or you do not. That is the beauty of an autocratic country. "

"How about a free country?" asked Claudius. 

"You don't get it, " replied his host grimly. Claudius laughed a cloud ofsmoke into the air. 

"Why is that?" he asked idly, hoping to launch Mr. Bellingham intofurther aphorisms and paradoxes. 

"Men are everywhere born free, but they--"

"Oh, " said Claudius, "I want to know your own opinion about it. "

"I have no opinion; I only have experience, " answered the other. "At anyrate in an autocratic country there is a visible, tangible repository ofpower to whom you can apply. If the repository is in the humour you willget whatever you want done, in the way of justice or injustice. Now in afree country justice is absorbed into the great cosmic forces, and it isapt to be an expensive incantation that wakes the lost elementaryspirit. In Russia justice shines by contrast with the surroundingcorruption, but there is no mistake about it when you get it. In Americait is taken for granted everywhere, and the consequence is that, likemost things that are taken for granted, it is a myth. Rousseau thoughtthat in a republic like ours there would be no more of the 'chains' hewas so fond of talking about. He did not anticipate a stagnation of thenational moral sense. An Englishman who has made a study of these thingssaid lately that the Americans had retained the forms of freedom, butthat the substance had suffered considerably. "

"Who said that?" asked Claudius. 

"Mr. Herbert Spencer. He said it to a newspaper reporter in New York, and so it was put into the papers. It is the truest thing he ever said, but no one took any more notice of it than if he had told the reporterit was a very fine day. They don't care. Tell the first man you meetdown town that he is a liar; he will tell you he knows it. He willprobably tell you you are another. We are all alike here. I'm a liarmyself in a small way--there's a club of us, two Americans and oneEnglishman. "

"You are the frankest person I ever met, Mr. Bellingham, " said Claudius, laughing. 

"Some day I will write a book, " said Mr. Bellingham, rising andbeginning to tramp round the room. "I will call it--by the way, we weretalking about Petersburg. You had better be off. "

"I am going, but tell me the name of the book before I go. "

"No, I won't; you would go and write it yourself, and steal my thunder. "Uncle Horace's eyes twinkled, and a corruscation of laugh-wrinkles shotlike sheet-lightning over his face. He disappeared into a neighbouringroom, leaving a trail of white smoke in his wake, like a locomotive. Presently he returned with a _Bullinger Guide_ in his hand. 

"You can sail on Wednesday at two o'clock by the Cunarder, " he said. "You can go to Newport to-day, and come back by the boat on Tuesdaynight, and be ready to start in the morning. " Mr. Bellingham pridedhimself greatly on his faculty for making combinations of times andplaces. 

"How about those letters, Mr. Bellingham?" inquired Claudius, who had noidea of going upon his expedition without proper preparations. 

"I will write them, " said Uncle Horace, "I will write them at once, " andhe dived into an address-book and set to work. His pen was that of thetraditional ready-writer, for he wrote endless letters, and hiscorrespondence was typical of himself--the scholar, the wanderer, andthe Priest of Buddha by turns, and sometimes all at once. For Mr. Bellingham was a professed Buddhist and a profound student of Easternmoralities, and he was a thorough scholar in certain branches of theclassics. The combination of these qualities, with the tact andversatile fluency of a man of the world, was a rare one, and was asource of unceasing surprise to his intimates. At the present moment hewas a diplomatist, since he could not be a diplomat, and to hisenergetic suggestion and furtherance of the plan he had devised theresults which this tale will set forth are mainly due. 

Claudius sat upon the sofa watching the old gentleman, and wondering howit was that a stranger should so soon have assumed the position of anadviser, and with an energy and good sense, too, which not only disarmedresistance, but assubjugated the consent of the advised. Life is full ofsuch things. Man lives quietly like a fattening carp in some old pondfor years, until some idle disturber comes and pokes up the mud with astick, and the poor fish is in the dark. Presently comes anotherdestroyer of peace, less idle and more enterprising, and drains awaythe water, carp and all, and makes a potato-garden of his old haunts. Sothe carp makes a new study of life under altered circumstances in otherwaters; and to pass the time he wonders about it all. It happens even tomen of masterful character, accustomed to directing events. An illnesstakes such a man out of his sphere for a few months. He comes back andfinds his pond turned into a vegetable-garden and his ploughed fieldinto a swamp; and then for a time he is fain to ask advice and take it, like any other mortal. So Claudius, who felt himself in an atmospherenew to him, and had tumbled into a very burning bush of complications, had fallen in with Mr. Horace Bellingham, a kind of professionalbone-setter, whose province was the reduction of society fractures, speaking medically. And Mr. Bellingham, scenting a patient, and moreoverbeing strongly attracted to him on his own merits, had immediatelybroached the subject of the Nihilist Nicholas, drawing the conclusionthat the man of the emergency was Claudius, and Claudius only. And thebold Doctor weighed the old gentleman's words, and by the light of whathe felt he knew that Uncle Horace was right. That if he loved Margarethis first duty was to her, and that first duty was her welfare. Nomessenger could or would be so active in her interests as himself; andin his anxiety to serve her he had not thought it strange that Mr. Bellingham should take it for granted he was ready to embark on theexpedition. He thought of that later, and wondered at the boldness ofthe stranger's assumption, no less than at the keenness of his wit. PoorClaudius! anybody might see he was in love. 

"There; I think that will draw sparks, " said Mr. Bellingham, as hefolded the last of his letters and put them all in a great squareenvelope. "Put those in your pocket and keep your powder dry. "

"I am really very grateful to you, " said Claudius. Uncle Horace began totramp round the room again, emitting smoky ejaculations of satisfaction. Presently he stopped in front of his guest and turned his eyes up toClaudius's face without raising his head. It gave him a peculiarexpression. 

"It is a very strange thing, " he said, "but I knew at once that you hada destiny, the first time I saw you. I am very superstitious; I believein destiny. "

"So would I if I thought one could know anything about it. I mean in ageneral way, " answered Claudius, smiling. 

"Is generalisation everything?" asked Mr. Bellingham sharply, stilllooking at the young man. "Is experience to be dismissed as empiricism, with a sneer, because the wider rule is lacking?"

"No. But so long as only a few occupy themselves in reducing empiricknowledge to a scientific shape they will not succeed, at least in thisdepartment. To begin with, they have not enough experience among them tomake rules from. "

"But they contribute. One man will come who will find the rule. WasTycho Brahé a nonentity because he was not Kepler? Was Van Helmontnothing because he was not Lavoisier? Yet Tycho Brahé was an empiric--hewas the last of the observers of the concrete, if you will allow me thephrase. He was scientifically the father of Kepler. "

"That is very well put, " said Claudius. "But we were talking of destiny. You are an observer. "

"I have very fine senses, " replied Mr. Bellingham. "I always know whenanybody I meet is going to do something out of the common run. You are. "

"I hope so, " said Claudius, laughing. "Indeed I think I am beginningalready. "

"Well, good luck to you, " said Mr. Bellingham, remembering that he hadmissed one engagement, and was on the point of missing another. Hesuddenly felt that he must send Claudius away, and he held out his hand. There was nothing rough in his abruptness. He would have liked to talkwith Claudius for an hour longer had his time permitted. Claudiusunderstood perfectly. He put the letters in his pocket, and with aparting shake of the hand he bade Mr. Horace Bellingham good-morning, and good-bye; he would not trouble him again, he said, before sailing. But Mr. Bellingham went to the door with him. 

"Come and see me before you go--Wednesday morning; I am up at six, youknow. I shall be very glad to see you. I am like the Mexican donkey thatdied of _congojas ajenas_--died of other people's troubles. Peoplealways come to me when they are in difficulties. " The old gentlemanstood looking after Claudius as he strode away. Then he screwed up hiseyes at the sun, sneezed with evident satisfaction, and disappearedwithin, closing the street door behind him. 

"Some day I will write my memoirs, " he said to himself, as he sat down. 

Claudius was in a frame of mind which he would have found it hard todescribe. The long conversation with Mr. Bellingham had been the firstintimation he had received of Margaret's disaster, and the sameinterview had decided him to act at once in her behalf--in other words, to return to Europe immediately, after a week's stay in New York, leaving behind all that was most dear to him. This resolution hadformed itself instantaneously in his mind, and it never occurred to him, either then or later, that he could have done anything else in theworld. It certainly did not occur to him that he was doing anythingespecially praiseworthy in sacrificing his love to its object, inleaving Margaret for a couple of months, and enduring all that such aseparation meant, in order to serve her interests more effectually. Heknew well enough what he was undertaking--the sleepless nights, theendless days, the soul-compelling heaviness of solitude, and the deadlysinking at the heart, all which he should endure daily for sixtydays--he could not be back before that. He knew it all, for he hadsuffered it all, during those four and twenty hours on the yacht thatfollowed his first wild speech of love. But Claudius's was a knightlysoul, and when he served he served wholly, without reservation. Had thedark-browed Countess guessed half the nobleness of purpose her talllover carried in his breast, who knows but she might have been soonermoved herself. But how could she know? She suspected, indeed, that hewas above his fellows, and she never attributed bad motives to hisactions, as she would unhesitatingly have done with most men; for shehad learned lessons of caution in her life. Who steals hearts stealssouls, wherefore it behoves woman to look that the lock be strong andthe key hung high. Claudius thought so too, and he showed it in everyaction, though unconsciously enough, for it was a knowledge natural andnot acquired, an instinctive determination to honour where honour wasdue. Call it Quixotism if need be. There is nothing ridiculous in theword, for there breathes no truer knight or gentler soul thanCervantes's hero in all the pages of history or romance. Why cannot allmen see it? Why must an infamous world be ever sneering at the sight, and smacking its filthy lips over some fresh gorge of martyrs? Societyhas non-suited hell to-day, lest peradventure it should not sleep o'nights. 

Thomas Carlyle, late of Chelsea, knew that. How he hit and hammered andchurned in his wrath, with his great cast-iron words. How the worldshrieked when he wound his tenacious fingers in the glory of her goldenhair and twisted and wrenched and twisted till she yelled for mercy, promising to be good, like a whipped child. There is a story told of himwhich might be true. 

It was at a dinner-party, and Carlyle sat silent, listening to the talkof lesser men, the snow on his hair and the fire in his amber eyes. Ayoung Liberal was talking theory to a beefy old Conservative, whodespised youth and reason in an equal degree. 

"The British people, sir, " said he of the beef, "can afford to laugh attheories. "

"Sir, " said Carlyle, speaking for the first time during dinner, "theFrench nobility of a hundred years ago said they could afford to laughat theories. Then came a man and wrote a book called the _SocialContract_. The man was called Jean-Jacques Rousseau, and his book was atheory, and nothing but a theory. The nobles could laugh at his theory;_but their skins went to bind the second edition of his book_[1]. "

[Footnote 1: There was a tannery of human skins at Meudon during theRevolution. ]

Look to your skin, world, lest it be dressed to morocco and cunninglytooled with gold. There is much binding yet to be done. 

Claudius thought neither of the world nor of Mr. Carlyle as he walkedback to the hotel; for he was thinking of the Countess Margaret, to theexclusion of every other earthly or unearthly consideration. But histhoughts were sad, for he knew that he was to leave her, and he knewalso that he must tell her so. It was no easy matter, and his walkslackened, till, at the corner of the great thoroughfare, he stoodstill, looking at a poor woman who ground a tuneless hand-organ. Theinstrument of tympanum torture was on wheels, and to the back of it wasattached a cradle. In the cradle was a dirty little baby, licking itsfist and listening with conscientious attention to the perpetualtrangle-tringle-jangle of the maternal music. In truth the little thingcould not well listen to anything else, considering the position inwhich it was placed. Claudius stood staring at the little caravan, halted at the corner of the most aristocratic street in New York, andhis attention was gradually roused to comprehend what he saw. Hereflected that next to being bound on the back of a wild horse, likeMazeppa, the most horrible fate conceivable must be that of this dirtybaby, put to bed in perpetuity on the back of a crazy grind-organ. Hesmiled at the idea, and the woman held out a battered tin dish with onehand, while the other in its revolution ground out the final palpitatingsqueaks of "_Ah, che la morte ognora_. " Claudius put his hand into hispocket and gave the poor creature a coin. 

"You are encouraging a public nuisance, " said a thin gentlemanly voiceat his elbow. Claudius looked down and saw Mr. Barker. 

"Yes, " said the Doctor, "I remember a remark you once made to me aboutthe deserving poor in New York--it was the day before yesterday, Ithink. You said they went to the West. "

"Talking of the West, I suppose you will be going there yourself one ofthese days to take a look at our 'park'--eh?"

"No, I am going East. "

"To Boston, I suppose?" inquired the inquisitive Barker. "You will bevery much amused with Boston. It is the largest village in the UnitedStates. "

"I am not going to Boston, " said Claudius calmly. 

"Oh! I thought when you said you were going East you meant--"

"I am going to sail for Europe on Wednesday, " said the Doctor, who hadhad time to reflect that he might as well inform Barker of hisintention. Mr. Barker smiled grimly under his moustache. 

"You don't mean that?" he said, trying to feign astonishment anddisguise his satisfaction. It seemed too good to be true. "Going sosoon? Why, I thought you meant to spend some time. "

"Yes, I am going immediately, " and Claudius looked Barker straight inthe face. "I find it is necessary that I should procure certain papersconnected with my inheritance. "

"Well, " said Barker turning his eyes another way, for he did not likethe Doctor's look, "I am very sorry, any way. I suppose you mean to comeback soon?"

"Very soon, " answered Claudius. "Good-morning, Barker. "

"Good morning. I will call and see you before you sail. You have quitetaken my breath away with this news. " Mr. Barker walked quickly away inthe direction of Elevated Road. He was evidently going down town. 

"Strange, " thought Claudius, "that Barker should take the news soquietly. I think it ought to have astonished him more. " Leaving theorgan-grinder, the dirty baby, and the horse-cars to their fate, Claudius entered the hotel. He found the Duke over a late breakfast, eating cantelopes voraciously. Cantelopes are American melons, small andof sickly appearance, but of good vitality and unearthly freshnesswithin, a joy to the hot-stomached foreigner. Behold also, his Graceeateth the cantelope and hath a cheerful countenance. Claudius sat downat the table, looking rather gloomy. 

"I want you to give me an introduction to the English Ambassador inPetersburg. Lord Fitzdoggin, I believe he is. "

"Good gracious!" exclaimed the peer; "what for?"

"I am going there, " answered Claudius with his habitual calm, "and Iwant to know somebody in power. "

"Oh! are _you_ going?" asked the Duke, suddenly grasping the situation. He afterwards took some credit to himself for having been so quick tocatch Claudius's meaning. 

"Yes. I sail on Wednesday. "

"Tell me all about it, " said the Duke, who recovered his equanimity, andplunged a knife into a fresh cantelope at the same moment. 

"Very well. I saw your friend, Mr. Horace Bellingham, this morning, andhe told me all about the Countess's troubles. In fact, they are in thenewspapers by this time, but I had not read about them. He suggestedthat some personal friend of the Countess had better proceed toheadquarters at once, and see about it; so I said I would go; and hegave me some introductions. They are probably good ones; but he advisedme to come to you and get one for your ambassador. "

"Anything Uncle Horace advises is right, you know, " said his Grace, speaking with his mouth full. "He knows no end of people everywhere, " headded pensively, when he had swallowed. 

"Very well, I will go; but I am glad you approve. "

"But what the deuce are you going to do about that fortune of yours?"asked the other suddenly. "Don't you think we had better go down andswear to you at once? I may not be here when you get back, you know. "

"No; that would not suit my arrangements, " answered Claudius. "I wouldrather not let it be known for what purpose I had gone. Do youunderstand? I am going ostensibly to Heidelberg to get my papers fromthe University, and so, with all thanks, I need not trouble you. " TheDuke looked at him for a moment. 

"What a queer fellow you are, Claudius, " he said at last. "I shouldthink you would like her to know. "

"Why? Suppose that I failed, what a figure I should cut, to be sure. "Claudius preferred to attribute to his vanity an action which was thenatural outcome of his love. 

"Well, that is true, " said the Duke; "but I think you are pretty safefor all that. Have some breakfast--I forgot all about it. "

"No, thanks. Are you going to Newport to-day? I would like to seesomething outside of New York before I go back. "

"By all means. Better go at once--all of us in a body. I know theCountess is ready, and I am sure I am. "

"Very good. I will get my things together. One word--please do not tellthem I am going; I will do it myself. 

"All right, " answered the Duke; and Claudius vanished. "He says 'them, '"soliloquised the Englishman, "but he means 'her. '"

Claudius found on his table a note from Mr. Screw. This missive wascouched in formal terms, and emitted a kind of phosphorescent wrath. Mr. Screw's dignity was seriously offended by the summary ejectment he hadsuffered at the Doctor's hands on the previous day. He gave the Doctorformal notice that his drafts would not be honoured until the executorswere satisfied concerning his identity; and he solemnly and legally"regretted the position Dr. Claudius had assumed towards those whosesacred duty it was to protect the interests of Dr. Claudius. " Thecunning repetition of name conveyed the idea of two personages, theclaimant and the real heir, in a manner that did not escape the Doctor. Since yesterday he had half regretted having lost his temper; and had heknown that Screw had been completely duped by Mr. Barker, Claudius wouldprobably have apologised to the lawyer. Indeed, he had a vaguesuspicion, as the shadow of a distant event, that Barker was notaltogether clear of the business; and the fact that the latter had shownso little surprise on hearing of his friend's sudden return to Europehad aroused the Doctor's imagination, so that he found himself piecingtogether everything he could remember to show that Barker had aninterest of some kind in removing him from the scene. Nevertheless, theburden of responsibility for the annoyance he was now suffering seemedto rest with Screw, and Screw should be taught a great lesson; and tothat end Claudius would write a letter. It was clear he was still angry. 

The Doctor sat down to write; and his strong, white fingers held the penwith unrelenting determination to be disagreeable. His face was set likea mask, and ever and anon his blue eyes gleamed scornfully. And this iswhat he said--

 "SIR--Having enjoyed the advantage of your society, somewhat longer than I could have wished, during yesterday afternoon, I had certainly not hoped for so early a mark of your favour and interest as a letter from you of to-day's date. As for your formal notice to me that my drafts will not be honoured in future, I regard it as a deliberate repetition of the insulting insinuation conveyed to me by your remarks during your visit. You are well aware that I have not drawn upon the estate in spite of your written authorisation to do so. I consider your conduct in this matter unworthy of a person professing the law, and your impertinence is in my opinion only second to the phenomenal clumsiness you have displayed throughout. As I fear that your ignorance of your profession may lead you into some act of folly disastrous to yourself, I will go so far as to inform you that on my return from Europe, two months hence, your proceedings as executor for the estate of the late Gustavus Lindstrand will be subjected to the severest scrutiny. In the meantime, I desire no further communications from you. 

 CLAUDIUS. "

This remarkable epistle was immediately despatched by messenger to PineStreet; and if Mr. Screw had felt himself injured before, he was on theverge of desperation when he read Claudius's polemic. He repeated tohimself the several sentences, which seemed to breathe war and carnagein their trenchant brevity; and he thought that even if he had beenguilty of any breach of trust, he could hardly have felt worse. He ranhis fingers through his thick yellow-gray hair, and hooked his legs inand out of each other as he sat, and bullied his clerks within an inchof their lives. Then, to get consolation, he said to himself thatClaudius was certainly an impostor, or he would not be so angry, or goto Europe, or refuse any more communications. In the midst of his rage, Mr. Barker the younger opportunely appeared in the office of Messrs. Screw and Scratch, prepared to throw any amount of oil upon the flames. 

"Well?" said Mr. Barker interrogatively, as he settled the flower in hisgray coat, and let the paper ribband of the "ticker" run through hisother hand, with its tale of the tide of stocks. Yellow Mr. Screw shot alurid glance from his brassy little eyes. 

"You're right, sir--the man's a humbug. "

"Who?" asked Barker, in well-feigned innocence. 

"Claudius. It's my belief he's a liar and a thief and a damned impostor, sir. That's my belief, sir. " He waxed warm as he vented his anger. 

"Well, I only suggested taking precautions. I never said any of thesethings, " answered Barker, who had no idea of playing a prominent part inhis own plot. "Don't give me any credit, Mr. Screw. "

"Now, see here, Mr. Barker; I'm talking to you. You're as clever a youngman as there is in New York. Now, listen to me; I'm talking to you, "said Mr. Screw excitedly. "That man turned me out of his house--turnedme out of doors, sir, yesterday afternoon; and now he writes me thisletter; look here, look at it; read it for yourself, can't you? And sohe makes tracks for Europe, and leaves no address behind. An honest manisn't going to act like that, sir--is he, now?"

"Not much, " said Barker, as he took the letter. He read it throughtwice, and gave it back. "Not much, " he repeated. "Is it true that hehas drawn no money?"

"Well, yes, I suppose it is, " answered Screw reluctantly, for this wasthe weak point in his argument. "However, it would be just like such aleg to make everything sure in playing a big game. You see he has lefthimself the rear platform, so he can jump off when his car is boarded. "

"However, " said Barker sententiously, "I must say it is in his favour. What we want are facts, you know, Mr. Screw. Besides, if he had takenanything, I should have been responsible, because I accepted him abroadas the right man. "

"Well, as you say, there is nothing gone--not a red. So if he likes toget away, he can; I'm well rid of him. "

"Now that's the way to look at it. Don't be so down in the mouth, sir;it will all come straight enough. " Barker smiled benignly, knowing itwas all crooked enough at present. 

"Well, I'm damned anyhow, " said Mr. Screw, which was not fair tohimself, for he was an honest man, acting very properly according to hislights. It was not his fault if Barker deceived him, and if thathot-livered Swede was angry. 

"Never mind, " answered Barker, rather irrelevantly; I will see himbefore he sails, and tell you what I think about it. He is dead sure togive himself away, somehow, before he gets off. "

"Well, sail in, young man, " said Screw, biting off the end of a cigar. "_I_ don't want to see him again, you can take your oath. "

"All right; that settles it. I came about something else, though. I knowyou can tell me all about this suit against the Western Union, can'tyou?"

So the two men sat in their arm-chairs and talked steadily, as onlyAmericans can talk, without showing any more signs of fatigue than ifthey were snoring; and it cost them nothing. If the Greeks of the timeof Pericles could be brought to life in America, they would be very likemodern Americans in respect of their love of talking and of theirpolitics. Terrible chatterers in the market-place, and great wranglersin the council--the greatest talkers living, but also on occasion thegreatest orators, with a redundant vivacity of public life in theirpolitical veins, that magnifies and inflames the diseases of the parts, even while it gives an unparalleled harmony to the whole. The Greeks hadmore, for their activity, hampered by the narrow limits of theirpolitical sphere, broke out in every variety of intellectual effort, carried into every branch of science and art. In spite of the wholemodern school of impressionists, æsthetes, and aphrodisiac poets, themost prominent features of Greek art are its intellectuality, itswell-reasoned science, and its accurate conception of the ideal. Theresemblance between Americans of to-day and Greeks of the age ofPericles does not extend to matters of art as yet, though America bidsfair to surpass all earlier and contemporary nations in the progressivedepartments of science. But as talkers they are pre-eminent, these rapidbusiness men with their quick tongues and their sharp eyes and theirmillions. 

When Barker left Screw he had learned a great deal about the suit ofwhich he inquired, but Screw had learned nothing whatever aboutClaudius. 

As for the Doctor, as soon as he had despatched his letter he sent tosecure a passage in Wednesday's steamer, and set himself to prepare hiseffects for the voyage, as he only intended returning from Newport intime to go on board. He was provided with money enough, for beforeleaving Germany he had realised the whole of his own little fortune, notwishing to draw upon his larger inheritance until he should feel somenecessity for doing so. He now felt no small satisfaction in the thoughtthat he was independent of Mr. Screw and of every one else. It wouldhave been an easy matter, he knew, to clear up the whole difficulty intwenty-four hours, by simply asking the Duke to vouch for him; andbefore hearing of Margaret's trouble he had had every intention ofpursuing that course. But now that he was determined to go to Russia inher behalf, his own difficulty, if he did not take steps for removingit, furnished him with an excellent excuse for the journey, withouttelling the Countess that he was going for the sole purpose ofrecovering her fortune, as he otherwise must have told her. Had he knownthe full extent of Barker's intentions he might have acted differently, but as yet his instinct against that ingenious young gentleman wasundefined and vague. 

CHAPTER XV. 

The cliff at Newport--the long winding path that follows it from thegreat beach to the point of the island, always just above the sea, hardly once descending to it, as the evenly-gravelled path, too narrowfor three, though far too broad for two, winds by easy curves throughthe grounds, and skirts the lawns of the million-getters who have theirtents and their houses therein--it is a pretty place. There the rich mencome and seethe in their gold all summer; and Lazarus comes to seewhether he cannot marry Dives's daughter. And the choleric architect, dissatisfied with the face of Nature, strikes her many a dread blow, andproduces an unhealthy eruption wherever he strikes, and calls the thingshe makes houses. Here also, on Sunday afternoon, young gentlemen andyounger ladies patrol in pairs, and discourse of the most saccharineinanities, not knowing what they shall say, and taking no thought, forobvious reasons. And gardeners sally forth in the morning and trim thepaths with strange-looking instruments--the earth-barbers, who latherand shave and clip Nature into patterns, and the world into a quincunx. 

It is a pretty place. There is nothing grand, not even anything naturalin Newport, but it is very pretty for all that. For an artificial place, destined to house the most artificial people in the world during threemonths of the year, it is as pleasing as it can be in alight-comedy-scenery style. Besides, the scenery in Newport is veryexpensive, and it is impossible to spend so much money without producingsome result. It cost a hundred thousand to level that lawn there, andDives paid the money cheerfully. Then there is Croesus, his neighbour, who can draw a cheque for a hundred millions if he likes. His house costhim a pot of money. And so they build themselves a landscape, and pareoff the rough edges of the island, and construct elegant landing-stages, and keep yachts, and make to themselves a fashionable watering-place;until by dint of putting money into it, they have made it remarkableamong the watering-places of the world, perhaps the most remarkable ofall. 

But there are times when the cliff at Newport is not an altogetherflippant bit of expensive scene-painting, laid out for the sole purposeof "effect. " Sometimes in the warm summer nights the venerable moonrises stately and white out of the water; the old moon, that is thehoariest sinner of us all, with her spells and enchantments and herbreathing love-beams, that look so gently on such evil works. And theartist-spirits of the night sky take of her silver as much as they will, and coat with it many things of most humble composition, so that theyare fair to look upon. And they play strange pranks with faces of livingand dead. So when the ruler of the darkness shines over poor, commonplace Newport, the aspect of it is changed, and the gingerbreadabominations wherein the people dwell are magnified into lofty palacesof silver, and the close-trimmed lawns are great carpets of soft darkvelvet; and the smug-faced philistine sea, that the ocean would beashamed to own for a relation by day, breaks out into broken flashes ofsilver and long paths of light. All this the moonlight does, rejoicingin its deception. 

There is another time, too, when Newport is no longer commonplace, whenthat same sea, which never seems to have any life of its own, disgorgesits foggy soul over the land. There is an ugly odour as of mustysalt-water in men's nostrils, and the mist is heavy and thick to thetouch. It creeps up to the edge of the cliff, and greedily clings to thewet grass, and climbs higher and over the lawns, and in at the windowsof Dives's dining-room, and of Croesus's library, with its burden ofinsiduous mould. The pair of trim-built flirtlings, walking so daintilydown the gravel path, becomes indistinct, and their forms are seen butas the shadows of things dead--treading on air, between three worlds. The few feet of bank above the sea, dignified by the name of cliff, fallback to a gaping chasm, a sheer horror of depths, misty andunfathomable. Onward slides the thick cloud, and soon the deep-mouthedmonotone of the fog-horns in the distance tells it is in the bay. Thereis nothing commonplace about the Newport cliff in a fog; it is wildenough and dreary enough then, for the scene of a bad deed. You mightmeet the souls of the lost in such a fog, hiding before the wrath tocome. 

Late on Tuesday afternoon Claudius and Margaret had taken their waytowards the cliff, a solitary couple at that hour on a week-day. Even ata distance there was something about their appearance that distinguishedthem from ordinary couples. Claudius's great height seemed still moreimposing now that he affected the garb of civilisation, and Margaret hadthe air of a woman of the great world in every movement of her gracefulbody, and in every fold of her perfect dress. American women, when theydress well, dress better than any other women in the world; but anAmerican woman who has lived at the foreign courts is unapproachable. Ifthere had been any one to see these two together on Tuesday afternoon, there would have been words of envy, malice, and hatred. As it was, theywere quite alone on the cliff walk. 

Margaret was happy; there was light in her eyes, and a faint warm flushon her dark cheek. A closed parasol hung from her hand, having an ivoryhandle carved with an "M" and a crown--the very one that three monthsago had struck the first spark of their acquaintance from the stones ofthe old Schloss at Heidelberg--perhaps she had brought it on purpose. She was happy still, for she did not know that Claudius was going away, though he had brought her out here, away from every one, that he mighttell her. But they had reached the cliff and had walked some distance inthe direction of the point, and yet he spoke not. Something tied histongue, and he would have spoken if he could, but his words seemed toobig to come out. At last they came to a place where a quick descentleads from the path down to the sea. A little sheltered nook of sand andstones is there, all irregular and rough, like the lumps in brown sugar, and the lazy sea splashed a little against some old pebbles it had knownfor a long time, never having found the energy to wash them away. Therocks above overhung the spot, so that it was entirely shielded from thepath, and the rocks below spread themselves into a kind of seat. Herethey sat them down, facing the water--towards evening--not too near toeach other, not too far, --Margaret on the right, Claudius on the left. And Claudius punched the little pebbles with his stick after he had satdown, wondering how he should begin. Indeed it did not seem easy. Itwould have been easier if he had been less advanced, or furtheradvanced, in his suit. Most people never jump without feeling, at themoment of jumping, that they could leap a little better if they could"take off" an inch nearer or further away. 

"Countess, " said the Doctor at last, turning towards her with a verygrave look in his face, "I have something to tell you, and I do not knowhow to say it. " He paused, and Margaret looked at the sea, withoutnoticing him, for she half fancied he was on the point of repeating hisformer indiscretion and saying he loved her. Would it be an indiscretionnow? She wondered what she should say, what she would say, if hedid--venture. Would she say "it was not right" of him now? In a momentClaudius had resolved to plunge boldly at the truth. 

"I am obliged to go away very suddenly, " he said; and his voice trembledviolently. 

Margaret's face lost colour in answer, and she resisted an impulse toturn and meet his eyes. She would have liked to, but she felt his lookon her, and she feared lest, looking once, she should look too long. 

"Must you go away?" she asked with a good deal of self-possession. 

"Yes, I fear I must. I know I must, if I mean to remain here afterwards. I would rather go at once and be done with it. " He still spokeuncertainly, as if struggling with some violent hoarseness in histhroat. 

"Tell me why you must go, " she said imperiously. Claudius hesitated amoment. 

"I will tell you one of the principal reasons of my going, " he said. "You know I came here to take possession of my fortune, and I verynaturally relied upon doing so. Obviously, if I do not obtain it Icannot continue to live in the way I am now doing, on the slenderresources which have been enough for me until now. "

"Et puis?" said the Countess, raising her eyebrows a little. 

"Et puis, " continued the Doctor, "these legal gentlemen find difficultyin persuading themselves that I am myself--that I am really the nephewof Gustavus Lindstrand, deceased. "

"What nonsense!" exclaimed Margaret. "And so to please them you aregoing away. And who will get your money, pray?"

"I will get it, " answered Claudius, "for I will come back as soon as Ihave obtained the necessary proofs of my identity from Heidelberg. "

"I never heard of anything so ridiculous, " said Margaret hotly. "To goall that distance for a few papers. As if we did not all know you! Ifyou are not Dr. Claudius, who are you? Why, Mr. Barker went toHeidelberg on purpose to find you. "

"Nevertheless, Messrs. Screw and Scratch doubt me. Here is theirletter--the last one. Will you look at it?" and Claudius took anenvelope from his pocket-book. He was glad to have come over to theargumentative tack, for his heart was very sore, and he knew what theend must be. 

"No. " The Countess turned to him for the first time, with anindescribable look in her face, between anger and pain. "No, I will notread it. "

"I wish you would, " said Claudius, "you would understand better. "Something in his voice touched a sympathetic chord. 

"I think I understand, " said the Countess, looking back at the sea, which was growing dim and indistinct before her. "I think you ought togo. "

The indistinctness of her vision was not due to any defect in her sight. The wet fog was rising like a shapeless evil genius out of the sluggishsea, rolling heavily across the little bay to the lovers' beach, withits swollen arms full of blight and mildew. Margaret shivered at thesight of it, and drew the lace thing she wore closer to her throat. Butshe did not rise, or make any sign that she would go. 

"What is the other reason for your going?" she asked at length. 

"What other reason?"

"You said your inheritance, or the evidence you require in order toobtain it, was one of the principal reasons for your going. I supposethere is another?"

"Yes, Countess, there is another reason, but I cannot tell you now whatit is. "

"I have no right to ask, of course, " said Margaret, --"unless I can helpyou, " she added, in her soft, deep voice. 

"You have more right than you think, far more right, " answered Claudius. "And I thank you for the kind thought of help. It is very good of you. "He turned towards her, and leaned upon his hand as he sat. Still the fogrolled up, and the lifeless sea seemed overshed with an unctuous calm. They were almost in the dark on their strip of beach, and the moisturewas already clinging in great, thick drops to their clothes, and to therocks where they sat. Still Claudius looked at Margaret, and Margaretlooked at the narrow band of oily water still uncovered by the mist. 

"When are you going?" she asked slowly, as if hating to meet the answer. 

"To-night, " said Claudius, still looking earnestly at her. The light wasgone from her eyes, and the flush had long sunk away to the heart whenceit had come. 

"To-night?" she repeated, a little vaguely. 

"Yes, " he said, and waited; then after a moment, "Shall you mind when Iam gone?" He leaned towards her, earnestly looking into her face. 

"Yes, " said Margaret, "I shall be sorry. " Her voice was kind, and verygentle. Still she did not look at him. Claudius held out his right hand, palm upward, to meet hers. 

"Shall you mind much?" he asked earnestly, with intent eyes. She met hishand and took it. 

"Yes, I shall be very sorry. " Claudius slipped from the rock where hewas sitting, and fell upon one knee before her, kissing the hand shegave as though it had been the holy cross. He looked up, his face nearhers, and at last he met her eyes, burning with a startled light underthe black brows, contrasting with the white of her forehead, and face, and throat. He looked one moment. 

"Shall you really mind very much?" he asked a third time, in a strange, lost voice. There was no answer, only the wet fog all around, and thosetwo beautiful faces ashy pale in the mist, and very near together. Oneinstant so--and then--ah, God! they have cast the die at last, for hehas wound his mighty arms about her, and is passionately kissing themarble of her cheek. 

"My beloved, my beloved, I love you--with, all my heart, and with all mysoul, and with all my strength"--but she speaks no word, only her armspass his and hang about his neck, and her dark head lies on his breast;and could you but see her eyes, you would see also the fair pearls thatthe little god has formed deep down in the ocean of love--the lashesthereof are wet with sudden weeping. And all around them the deep, deaffog, thick and muffled as darkness, and yet not dark. 

"Ugh!" muttered the evil genius of the sea, "I hate lovers; an' theydrown not, they shall have a wet wooing. " And he came and touched themall over with the clamminess of his deathly hand, and breathed upon themthe thick, cold breath of his damp old soul. But he could do nothingagainst such love as that, and the lovers burned him and laughed him toscorn. 

She was very silent as she kissed him and laid her head on his breast. And he could only repeat what was nearest, the credo of his love, andwhile his arms were about her they were strong, but when he tried totake them away, they were as tremulous as the veriest aspen. 

The great tidal wave comes rolling in, once in every lifetime thatdeserves to be called a lifetime, and sweeps away every one of ourlandmarks, and changes all our coast-line. But though the waters do notsubside, yet the crest of them falls rippling away into smoothness afterthe first mad rush, else should we all be but shipwrecked mariners inthe sea of love. And so, after a time, Margaret drew away from Claudiusgently, finding his hands with hers as she moved, and holding them. 

"Come, " said she, "let us go. " They were her first words, and Claudiusthought the deep voice had never sounded so musical before. But thewords, the word "go, " sounded like a knell on his heart. He hadforgotten that he must sail on the morrow. He had forgotten that it wasso soon over. 

They went away, out of the drizzling fog and the mist, and the evilsea-breath, up to the cliff walk and so by the wet lanes homewards, twoloving, sorrowing hearts, not realising what had come to them, norknowing what should come hereafter, but only big with love fresh spoken, and hot with tears half shed. 

"Beloved, " said Claudius as they stood together for the last time in thedesolation of the great, dreary, hotel drawing-room--for Claudius wasgoing--"beloved, will you promise me something?"

Margaret looked down as she stood with her clasped hands on his arm. 

"What is it I should promise you--Claudius?" she asked, half hesitating. 

Claudius laid his hand tenderly--tenderly, as giants only can be tender, on the thick black hair, as hardly daring, yet loving, to let it lingerthere. 

"Will you promise that if you doubt me when I am gone, you will ask ofthe Duke the 'other reason' of my going?"

"I shall not doubt you, " answered Margaret, looking proudly up. 

"God bless you, my beloved!"--and so he went to sea again. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

When Mr. Barker, who had followed the party to Newport, called on theCountess the following morning, she was not visible, so he was fain tocontent himself with scribbling a very pressing invitation to drive inthe afternoon, which he sent up with some flowers, not waiting for ananswer. The fact was that Margaret had sent for the Duke at an earlyhour--for her--and was talking with him on matters of importance at thetime Barker called. Otherwise she would very likely not have refused tosee the latter. 

"I want you to explain to me what they are trying to do to make Dr. Claudius give up his property, " said Margaret, who looked pale andbeautiful in a morning garment of nondescript shape and of white silkenmaterial. The Duke was sitting by the window, watching a couple of menpreparing to get into a trim dogcart. To tell the truth, the dogcart andthe horse were the objects of interest. His Grace was not aware that theyoung men were no less personages than young Mr. Hannibal Q. Snigginsand young Mr. Orlando Van Sueindell, both of New York, sons of the"great roads. " Either of these young gentlemen could have bought out hisGrace; either of them would have joyfully licked his boots; and eitherof them would have protested, within the sacred precincts of theirgorgeous club in New York, that he was a conceited ass of an Englishman. But his Grace did not know this, or he would certainly have regardedthem with more interest. He was profoundly indifferent to the characterof the people with whom he had to do, whether they were catalogued inthe "book of snobs" or not. It is generally people who are themselvessnobs who call their intimates by that offensive epithet, attributing tothem the sin they fall into themselves. The Duke distinguished betweengentlemen and cads, when it was a question of dining at the same table, but in matters of business he believed the distinction of no importance. He came to America for business purposes, and he took Americans as hefound them. He thought they were very good men of business, and when itcame to associating with them on any other footing, he thought some ofthem were gentlemen and some were not--pretty much as it is everywhereelse. So he watched the young men getting into their dogcart, and hethought the whole turn-out looked "very fit. "

"Really, " he began, in answer to the Countess's question, "--upon myword, I don't know much about it. At least, I suppose not. "

"Oh, I thought you did, " said Margaret, taking up a book and apaper-cutter. "I thought it must be something rather serious, or hewould not have been obliged to go abroad to get papers about it. "

"Well, you know, after all, he--aw--" the Duke reddened--"he--well yes, exactly so. "

"Yes?" said Margaret interrogatively, expecting something more. 

"Exactly, " said the Duke, still red, but determined not to say anything. He had not promised Claudius not to say he could have vouched for him, had the Doctor stayed; but he feared that in telling Margaret this, hemight be risking the betrayal of Claudius's actual destination. It wouldnot do, however. 

"I really do not understand just what you said, " said Margaret, lookingat him. 

"Ah! well, no. I daresay I did not express myself very clearly. What wasyour question, Countess?"

"I asked who it was who was making so much trouble for the Doctor;" saidMargaret calmly. 

"Oh, I was sure I could not have understood you. It's the executors andlawyer people, who are not satisfied about his identity. It's all right, though. "

"Of course. But could no one here save him the trouble of going all theway back to Germany?"

The Duke grew desperate. He was in a corner where he must either tell alie of some sort or let the cat out of the bag. The Duke was a cynicaland worldly man enough, perhaps, as the times go, but he did not telllies. He plunged. 

"My dear Countess, " he said, facing towards her and stroking hiswhiskers, "I really know something about Dr. Claudius, and I will tellyou all I am at liberty to tell; please do not ask me anything else. Claudius is really gone to obtain papers from Heidelberg as well as foranother purpose which I cannot divulge. The papers might have beendispensed with, for I could have sworn to him. "

"Then the other object is the important one, " said the Countesspensively. The Duke was silent. "I am greatly obliged to you, " Margaretcontinued, "for what you have told me. "

"I will tell you what I can do, " said the Englishman after a pause, during which an unusual expression in his face seemed to betokenthought. "I am going to the West for a couple of months to look afterthings, and of course accidents may happen. Claudius may have difficultyin getting what he wants, and I am the only man here who knows all abouthim. He satisfied me of his identity. I will, if you like, sign astatement vouching for him, and leave it in your hands in case of need. It is all I can do. "

"In my hands?" exclaimed Margaret, drawing herself up a little. "And whyin _my_ hands, Duke?" The Duke got very red indeed this time, andhesitated. He had put his foot into it through sheer goodness of heartand a desire to help everybody. 

"Aw--a--the--the fact is, Countess, " he got out at last, "the fact is, you know, Claudius has not many friends here, and I thought you were oneof them. My only desire is--a--to serve him. "

Margaret had quickly grasped the advantage to Claudius, if such avoucher as the Duke offered were kept in pickle as a rod for hisenemies. 

"You are right, " said she, "I am a good friend of Dr. Claudius, and Iwill keep the paper in case of need. "

The Duke recovered his equanimity. 

"Thank you, " said he. "I am a very good friend of his, and I thank youon his behalf, as I am sure he will himself. There's one of our ForeignOffice clerks here for his holiday; I will get him to draw up the paperas he is an old friend of mine--in fact, some relation, I believe. ByJove! there goes Barker. " The latter exclamation was caused by thesudden appearance of the man he named on the opposite side of theavenue, in conversation with the two young gentlemen whom the Duke hadalready noticed as preparing to mount their dogcart. 

"Oh, " said Margaret indifferently, in response to the exclamation. 

"Yes, " said the Duke, "it is he. I thought he was in New York. "

"No, " said the Countess, "he has just called. It was his card theybrought me just as you came. He wants me to drive with him thisafternoon. "

"Indeed. Shall you go?"

"I think so--yes, " said she. 

"Very well. I will take my sister with me, " said the Duke. "I have gotsomething very decent to drive in. " Margaret laughed at the impliedinvitation. 

"How you take things for granted, " said she. "Did you really think Iwould have gone with you?"

"Such things have happened, " said the Duke good-humouredly, and wentaway. Not being in the least a ladies' man, he was very apt to make suchspeeches occasionally. He had a habit of taking it for granted that noone refused his invitations. 

At four o'clock that afternoon Silas B. Barker junior drew up to thesteps of the hotel in a very gorgeous conveyance, called in America aT-cart, and resembling a mail phaeton in build. From the high double boxMr. Barker commanded and guided a pair of showy brown horses, harnessedin the most approved philanthropic, or rather philozooic style; nocheck-rein, no breeching, no nothing apparently, except a pole and Mr. Barker's crest. For Mr. Barker had a crest, since he came from Salem, Massachusetts, and the bearings were a witch pendant, gules, on agallows sinister, sable. Behind him sat the regulation clock-work groom, brought over at considerable expense from the establishment of ViscountPlungham, and who sprang to the ground and took his place at the horses'heads as soon as Barker had brought them to a stand. Then Barker, arrayed in a new hat, patent-leather boots, a very long frock-coat, anda very expensive rose, descended lightly from his chariot and swiftlyascended the steps, seeming to tread half on air and half on egg-shells. And a few minutes later he again appeared, accompanied by the CountessMargaret, looking dark and pale and queenly. A proud man was dandy Silasas he helped her to her place, and going to the other side, got in andtook the ribbands. Many were the glances that shot from the two edges ofthe road at the unknown beauty whom Silas drove by his side, andobsequious were the bows of Silas's friends as they passed. Even thegroggy old man who drives the water-cart on Bellevue Avenue could scarceforbear to cheer as she went by. 

And so they drove away, side by side. Barker knew very well thatClaudius had taken his leave the day before, and to tell the truth, hewas a good deal surprised that Margaret should be willing to accept thisinvitation. He had called to ask her, because he was not the man to letthe grass grow under his feet at any time, much less when he was layingsiege to a woman. For with women time is sometimes everything. And beingof a reasonable mind, when Mr. Barker observed that he was surprised, heconcluded that there must be some good reason for his astonishment, andstill more that there must be some very good reason why Margaret shouldaccept his first invitation to a _tête-à-tête_ afternoon. From onereflection to another, he came at last to the conclusion that she mustbe anxious to learn some details concerning the Doctor's departure, fromwhich again he argued that Claudius had not taken her into hisconfidence. The hypothesis that she might be willing to make an effortwith him for Claudius's justification Mr. Barker dismissed asimprobable. And he was right. He waited, therefore, for her to broachthe subject, and confined himself, as they drove along, to remarks aboutthe people they passed, the doings of the Newport summer, concerningwhich he had heard all the gossip during the last few hours, theprospect of Madame Patti in opera during the coming season, horses, dogs, and mutual friends--all the motley array of subjects permissible, desultory, and amusing. Suddenly, as they bowled out on an open road bythe sea, Margaret began. 

"Why has Dr. Claudius gone abroad, " she asked, glancing at Barker'sface, which remained impenetrable as ever. Barker changed his hold onthe reins, and stuck the whip into the bucket by his side before heanswered. 

"They say he has gone to get himself sworn to, " he said rather slowly, and with a good show of indifference. 

"I cannot see why that was necessary, " answered Margaret calmly "Itseems to me we all knew him very well. "

"Oh, nobody can understand lawyers, " said Barker, and was silent, knowing how strong a position silence was, for she could know nothingmore about Claudius without committing herself to a direct question. Barker was in a difficult position. He fully intended later to hint thatClaudius might never return at all. But he knew too much to do anythingof the kind at present, when the memory of the Doctor was fresh in theCountess's mind, and when, as he guessed, he himself was not too high inher favour. He therefore told a bit of the plain truth which could notbe cast in his teeth afterwards, and was silent. 

It was a good move, and Margaret was fain to take to some other subjectof conversation, lest the pause should seem long. They had not gone farbefore the society kaleidoscope was once more in motion, and Barker wastalking his best. They rolled along, passing most things on the road, and when they came to a bit of hill, he walked his horses, on pretenceof keeping them cool, but in reality to lengthen the drive and increasehis advantage, if only by a minute and a hairbreadth. He could see hewas amusing her, as he drew her away from the thing that made her heavy, and sketched, and crayoned, and photographed from memory all manner ofharmless gossip--he took care that it should be harmless--and suchbook-talk as he could command, with such a general sprinkling ofsentimentalism, ready made and easy to handle, as American young menaffect in talking to women. 

Making allowance for the customs of the country, they were passing avery innocently diverting afternoon; and Margaret, though secretlyannoyed at finding that Barker would not talk about Claudius, or add inany way to her information, was nevertheless congratulating herself uponthe smooth termination of the interview. She had indeed only acceptedthe invitation in the hope of learning something more about Claudius andhis "other reason. " But she also recognised that, though Barker wereunwilling to speak of the Doctor, he might have made himself verydisagreeable by taking advantage of the confession of interest she hadvolunteered in asking so direct a question. But Barker had taken no suchlead, and never referred to Claudius in all the ramblings of his politeconversation. 

He was in the midst of a description of Mrs. Orlando Van Sueindell'slast dinner-party, which he had unfortunately missed, when his browns, less peaceably disposed than most of the lazy bean-fed cattle one seeson the Newport avenue, took it into their heads that it would be ajoyous thing to canter down a steep place into the sea. The road turned, with a sudden dip, across a little neck of land separating the bay fromthe harbour, and the descent was, for a few yards, very abrupt. At thispoint, then, the intelligent animals conceived the ingenious scheme ofbolting, with that eccentricity of device which seems to characteriseoverfed carriage-horses. In an instant they were off, and it was clearthere would be no stopping them--from a trot to a break, froma canter to a gallop, from a gallop to a tearing, breakneck, leave-your-bones-behind-you race, all in a moment, down to the sea. 

Barker was not afraid, and he did what he could. He was not a strongman, and he knew himself no match for the two horses, but he hoped by asudden effort, repeated once or twice, to scare the runaways into astandstill, as is sometimes possible. Acting immediately on hisdetermination, as he always did, he wound one hand in each rein, andhalf rising from his high seat, jerked with all his might. Margaret heldher breath. 

But alas for the rarity of strength in saddlers' work! The off-reinsnapped away like a thread just where the buckle leads half of it overto the near horse, and the strain on the right hand being thus suddenlyremoved, the horses' heads were jerked violently to the left, and theybecame wholly unmanageable. Barker was silent, and instantly dropped theunbroken rein. As for Margaret, she sat quite still, holding to the lowrail-back of her seat, and preparing for a jump. They were by this timenearly at the bottom of the descent, and rapidly approaching a cornerwhere a great heap of rocks made the prospect hideous. To haul thehorses over to the left would have been destruction, as the ground fellaway on that side to a considerable depth down to the rocks below. ThenBarker did a brave thing. 

"If I miss him, jump off to the right, " he cried; and in a moment, before Margaret could answer or prevent him, he had got over thedashboard, and was in mid-air, a strange figure, in his long frock-coatand shiny hat. With a bold leap--and the Countess shivered as she sawhim flying in front of her--he alighted on the back of the off horse, almost on his face, but well across the beast for all that. Light andwiry, a mere bundle of nerves dressed up, Mr. Barker was not to beshaken off, and, while the animal was still plunging, he had caught theflying bits of bridle, and was sawing away, right and left, with theenergy of despair. Between its terror at being suddenly mounted by someone out of a clear sky, so to say, and the violent wrenching it wasgetting from Barker's bony little hands, the beast decided to stop atlast, and its companion, who was coming in for some of the pulling too, stopped by sympathy, with a series of snorts and plunges. Barker stillclung to the broken rein, leaning far over the horse's neck so as towind it round his wrist; and he shouted to Margaret to get out, whichshe immediately did; but, instead of fainting away, she came to thehorses' heads and stood before them, a commanding figure that even adumb animal would not dare to slight--too much excited to speak yet, butready to face anything. 

A few moments later the groom, whose existence they had both forgotten, came running down to them, with a red face, and dusting his battered haton his arm as he came. He had quietly slipped off behind, and had beenrolled head over heels for his pains, but had suffered no injury. ThenBarker got off. He was covered with dust, but his hat was still on hishead, and he did not look as though he had been jumping for his life. Margaret turned to him with genuine gratitude and admiration, for he hadborne himself as few men could or would have done. 

"You have saved my life, " she said, "and I am very grateful. It was verybrave of you. " And she held out her hand to meet his, now tremblingviolently from the fierce strain. 

"Oh, not at all; it was really nothing, " he said, bowing low. But thedeep wrinkle that scored Barker's successes in life showed plainly roundhis mouth. He knew what his advantage was, and he had no thought of thedanger when he reflected on what he had gained. Not he! His heart, orthe organ which served him in place of one, was full of triumph. Had heplanned the whole thing with the utmost skill and foresight he could nothave succeeded better. Such a victory! and the very first day afterClaudius's departure--Ye gods! what luck!

And so it came to pass that by the time the harness had been tiedtogether and the conveyance got without accident as far as the firststable on the outskirts of the town, where it was left with the groom, Barker had received a goodly meed of thanks and praise. And whenMargaret proposed that they should walk as far as the hotel, Barkertried a few steps and found he was too lame for such exercise, his leftleg having been badly bruised by the pole of the carriage in his lateexploit; which injury elicited a further show of sympathy fromMargaret. And when at last he left her with a cab at the door of herhotel, he protested that he had enjoyed a very delightful drive, andwent away in high spirits. Margaret, in her gratitude for such anescape, and in unfeigned admiration of Barker's daring and coolness, wascertainly inclined to think better of him than she had done for a longtime. Or perhaps it would be truer to say that he was more in herthoughts than he had been; for, in the reign of Claudius, Barker haddwindled to a nearly insignificant speck in the landscape, dwarfed awayto nothing by the larger mould and stronger character of the Swede. 

Margaret saw the Duke in the evening. He gave her a document, unsealed, in a huge envelope, bidding her keep it in a safe place, for the use oftheir mutual friend, in case he should need it. She said she would giveit to Claudius when he came back; and then she told the Duke about herdrive with Barker and the accident. The Duke looked grave. 

"Of course, " he said, "I introduced Barker to you, and it would seemvery odd if I were to warn you against him now. All the same, Countess, I have had the honour of being your friend for some time, and I must sayI have sometimes regretted that I brought him to your house. " Hereddened a little after he had spoken, fearing she might havemisunderstood him. "I wish, " he added, to make things clearer, "that Icould have brought you Claudius without Barker. " Then he reddened stillmore, and wished he had said nothing. Margaret raised her eyebrows. Perhaps she could have wished as much herself, but she dropped thesubject. 

"When are you coming back from the West, Duke, " she asked, busyingherself in arranging some books on her table. The hotel sitting-room wasso deadly dreary to the eye that she was trying to make it look as if ithad not been lately used as a place of burial. 

"It may be two months before I am here again. A--about the time Claudiuscomes over, I should think. "

"And when do you go?"

"Next week, I think. "

"I wish you were going to stay, " said Margaret simply, "or LadyVictoria. I shall be so lonely. "

"You will have Miss Skeat, " suggested his Grace. 

"Oh, it's not that, " said she. "I shall not be alone altogether, forthere is poor Nicholas, you know. I must take care of him; and then Isuppose some of these people will want to amuse me, or entertain me--notthat they are very entertaining; but they mean well. Besides, my beingmixed up in a Nihilist persecution adds to my social value. " The Duke, however, was not listening, his mind being full of other things--whatthere was of it, and his heart had long determined to sympathise withMargaret in her troubles; so there was nothing more to be said. 

"Dear me, " thought Miss Skeat, "what a pity! They say she might have hadthe Duke when she was a mere child--and to think that she should haverefused him! So admirably suited to each other!" But Miss Skeat, as shesat at the other end of the room trying to find "what it was that peoplesaw so funny" in the _Tramp Abroad_, was mistaken about her patronessand the very high and mighty personage from the aristocracy. The Dukewas much older than Margaret, and had been married before he had everseen her. It was only because they were such good friends that thebusybodies said they had just missed being man and wife. 

But when the Duke was gone, Margaret and Miss Skeat were left alone, andthey drew near each other and sat by the table, the elder lady readingaloud from a very modern novel. The Countess paid little attention towhat she heard, for she was weary, and it seemed as though the eveningwould never end. Miss Skeat's even and somewhat monotonous voiceproduced no sensation of drowsiness to-night, as it often did, thoughMargaret's eyes were half-closed and her fingers idle. She needed rest, but it would not come, and still her brain went whirling through thescenes of the past twenty-four hours, again and again recurring to thequestion "Why is he gone?" unanswered and yet ever repeated, as thedreadful wake-song of the wild Irish, the "Why did he die?" that hauntsthe ear that has once heard it for weeks afterwards. 

She tried to reason, but there was no reason. Why, why, why? He was gonewith her kiss on his lips and her breath in his. She should have waitedtill he came back from over the sea before giving him what was so veryprecious. More than once, as she repeated the words he had spoken atparting, she asked herself whether she doubted him after all, andwhether it would not be wiser to speak to the Duke. But then, the latterso evidently believed in Claudius that it comforted her to think of hishonest faith, and she would dismiss every doubt again as vain andwearying. But still the eternal question rang loudly in her soul's ears, and the din of the inquisitive devil that would not be satisfieddeafened her so that she could not hear Miss Skeat. Once or twice shemoved her head nervously from side to side, as it rested on the back ofthe chair, and her face was drawn and pale, so that Miss Skeatanxiously asked whether she were in any pain, but Margaret merelymotioned to her companion to continue reading, and was silent. But MissSkeat grew uneasy, feeling sure that something was the matter. 

"Dear Countess, " she said, "will you not retire to rest? I fear thatthis horrid accident has shaken you. Do go to bed, and I will come andread you to sleep. " Her voice sounded kindly, and Margaret's fingersstole out till they covered Miss Skeat's bony white ones, with the greenveins and the yellowish lights between the knuckles. 

Miss Skeat, at this unusual manifestation of feeling, laid down the bookshe held in her other hand, and settled her gold-rimmed glasses over herlong nose. Then her eyes beamed across at Margaret, and a kindly, old-fashioned smile came into her face that was good to see, and as shepressed the hot young hand in hers there was a suspicion of motherlinessin her expression that would have surprised a stranger. For Miss Skeatdid not look motherly at ordinary times. 

"Poor child!" said she softly. Margaret's other hand went to her eyesand hid them from sight, and her head sank forward until it touched herfingers, where they joined Miss Skeat's. 

"I am so unhappy to-night, " murmured Margaret, finding at last, in theevening hours, the sympathy she had longed for all day. Miss Skeatchanged her own position a little so as to be nearer to her. 

"Poor child!" repeated Miss Skeat almost in a whisper, as she bent downto the regal head that lay against her hand, smoothing the thick hairwith her worn fingers. "Poor child, do you love him so very dearly?" Shespoke almost inaudibly, and her wrinkled eyelids were wet. But low aswas her voice, Margaret heard, and moved her head in assent, withoutlifting it from the table. 

Ah yes--she loved him very, very much. But she could not bear to confessit, for all that, and a moment afterwards she was sitting upright againin her chair, feeling that she had weathered the first storm. Hercompanion, who was not ignorant of her ways, contented herself then withpatting Margaret's hand caressingly during the instant it remained inher own, before it was drawn away. There was a world of kindness and ofgentle humanity in the gaunt gentlewoman's manner, showing that theheart within was not withered yet. Then Miss Skeat flattened the bookbefore her with the paper-cutter, and began to read. Reading aloud hadbecome to her a second nature, and whether she had liked it or not atfirst, she had learned to do it with perfect ease and indifference, neither letting her voice drag languidly and hesitatingly when she wastired, nor falling into that nerve-rending fault of readers who vainlyendeavour to personate the characters in dialogue, and to giveimpressiveness in the descriptive portions. She never made a remark, orasked her hearer's opinion. If the Countess was in the humour to sleep, the reading was soporific; if she desired to listen, she felt that hercompanion was not trying to bias her judgment by the introduction ofdramatic intonation and effect. With an even, untiring correctness ofutterance, Miss Skeat read one book just as she read another--M. Thiersor Mr. Henry James, Mark Twain or a Parliamentary Report--it was all oneto her. Poor Miss Skeat!

But to Margaret the evening seemed long and the night longer, and manydays and evenings and nights afterwards. Not that she doubted, but thatshe thought--well--perhaps she thought she ought to doubt. Some cunningreader of face and character, laughing and making love by turns, hadonce told her she had more heart than head. Every woman knows she oughtto seem flattered at being considered a "person of heart, " and yet everywoman cordially hates to be told so. And, at last, Margaret began towonder whether it were true. Should she have admitted she loved a manwho left her a moment afterwards in order to make a voyage of two monthsfor the mere furthering of his worldly interest? But then--he told herhe was going before he kissed her. What could be the "other reason"?

CHAPTER XVII. 

It is not to be supposed that a man of Barker's character would neglectthe signal advantage he had gained in being injured, or at least badlybruised, while attempting to save Margaret from destruction. That he hadreally saved her was a less point in his favour than that he had barkedhis shins in so doing. The proverbial relationship between pity and loveis so exceedingly well known that many professional love-makerssystematically begin their campaigns by endeavouring to move thecompassion of the woman they are attacking. Occasionally they find awoman with whom pity is akin to scorn instead of to love--and then theirpolicy is a failure. 

The dark Countess was no soft-hearted Saxon maiden, any more than shewas a cold-blooded, cut-throat American girl, calculating her romance bythe yard, booking her flirtations by double-entry and marrying atcompound interest, with the head of a railway president and the heart ofan Esquimaux. She was rather one of those women who are ever ready tosympathise from a naturally generous and noble nature, but who rarelygive their friendship and still more seldom their love. They marry, sometimes, where there is neither. They marry--ye gods! why do peoplemarry, and what reasons will they not find for marrying? But suchwomen, if they are wedded where their heart is not, are generally veryyoung; far too young to know what they are doing; and though there belittle inclination to the step, it always turns out that they had atleast a respect for the man. Margaret had been married to Count Alexisbecause it was in every way such a plausible match, and she was onlyeighteen then, poor thing. But Alexis was such an uncommonly good fellowthat she had honestly tried to love him, and had not altogether failed. At least she had never had any domestic troubles, and when he was shotat Plevna, in 1876, she shed some very genuine tears and shut herselfaway from the world for a long time. But though her sorrow was sincere, it was not profound, and she knew it from the first, never deceivingherself with the idea that she could not marry again. She had sustainedmany a siege, however, both before her husband's untimely death andsince; and though a stranger to love, she was no novice in love-making. Indeed few women are; certainly no beautiful women. 

Margaret, then, though a pure-hearted and brave lady, was of the world, understanding the wiles thereof; and so, when Mr. Barker began to comeregularly to see her, and when she noticed how very long the slightlameness he had incurred from the runaway accident seemed to last, andwhen she observed how cunningly he endeavoured to excite her sympathytowards him, she began to suspect that he meant something more than amere diversion for himself. He spoke so feelingly of his lonely positionin the world; to accentuate which, he spoke of his father without anyfeeling whatever. He represented himself as so drearily lonely andfriendless in this hard-hearted, thorny world. Quite a little lamb wasSilas, leaving shreds of his pure white wool rent off and clinging tothe briars of his solitary life-journey. He was very patient in hissufferings, he said, for he so keenly felt that coarser natures couldnot suffer as he did; that troubles glided from their backs like waterfrom the feathers of the draggled but happy goose, whereas on his tenderheart they struck deep like a fiery rain. Was it not Danty who told ofthose poor people who were exposed to the molten drizzle? Ah yes! Dantyknew, of course, for he had been a great sufferer. What a beautiful, yetsad, word is that, "to suffer"! How gentle and lovely to suffer withoutcomplaint! Had the Countess ever thought of it? To suffer silently--andlong--(here Silas cast a love-sick glance out of his small darkeyes)--with the hope of gaining an object infinitely far removed, but--(another glance)--infinitely beautiful and worth obtaining. Oh!Silas would suffer for ever in such a hope! There was nothing Silaswould not do that was saintly that he might gain heaven. 

After a time, Margaret, who disliked this kind of talk intensely, beganto look grave, an omen which Barker did not fail to interpret to hisadvantage, for it is a step gained when a woman begins to be serious. Only a man ignorant of Margaret's real character, and incapable ofappreciating it, could have been so deceived in this case. She had feltstrongly that Barker had saved her life, and that he had acted with aboldness and determination on that occasion which would have merited heradmiration even had it not commanded her gratitude. But she was reallygrateful, and, wishing to show it, could devise no better plan than toreceive his visits and to listen politely to his conversation. 

One day, late in the afternoon, they were sitting together over a cup oftea, and Barker was pouring out his experiences, or what he was pleasedto call by that name, for they were not genuine. Not that his ownexistence would have been a dull or uninteresting chapter for a rainyafternoon, for Barker had led a stirring life of its kind. But as it wasnecessary to strike the pathetic key, seeing that Claudius had theheroic symphony to himself, Barker embroidered skilfully a littlepicture in which he appeared more sinned against than sinning, inasmuchas he had been called upon to play the avenging angel. He had succeeded, he admitted, in accomplishing his object, which in his opinion had beena justifiable one, but it had left a sore place in his heart, and he hadnever quite recovered from the pain it had given him to give so muchpain--wholesome pain indeed, but what of that?--to another. 

"It was in New York, some years ago, " he said. "A friend of mine, such adear good fellow, was very much in love with a reigning beauty, aMiss--; well, you will guess the name. She threw him over, after a threemonths' engagement, in the most heartless manner, and he was sobroken-hearted that he drank himself to death in six months at the club. He died there one winter's evening under very painful circumstances. "

"A noble end, " said Margaret, scornfully. "What a proud race weAmericans are!" Barker sighed skilfully and looked reproachfully atMargaret. 

"Poor chap!" he ejaculated, "I saw him die. And that night, " continuedMr. Barker, with a mournful impressiveness, "I determined that the womanwho had caused so much unhappiness should be made to know whatunhappiness is. I made up my mind that she should suffer what my friendhad suffered. I knew her very well, --in fact she was a distantconnection; so I went to her at a ball at the Van Sueindells'. I hadengaged her to dance the German[2], and had sent her some very handsomeroses. I had laid my plan already, and after a little chaff and a fewturns I challenged her to a set flirtation. 'Let us swear, ' I said, 'tobe honest, and let us make a bet of a dozen pairs of gloves. If one ofus really falls in love, he or she must acknowledge it and pay thegloves. ' It was agreed, for she was in great spirits that night, andlaughed at the idea that she could ever fall in love with _me_--poor me!who have so little that is attractive. At first she thought it was onlya joke, but as I began to visit her regularly and to go through all theformalities of love-making, she became interested. We were soon the talkof the town, and everybody said we were going to be married. Still theengagement did not come out, and people waited, open-mouthed, wonderingwhat next. At last I thought I was safe, and so, the first chance I hadat a party in Newport, I made a dead set at a new beauty just arrivedfrom the South--I forget where. The other--the one with whom I wasbetting--was there, and I watched her. She lost her temper completely, and turned all sorts of colours. Then I knew I had won, and so I wentback to her and talked to her for the rest of the evening, explainingthat the other young lady was a sister of a very dear friend of mine. 

[Footnote 2: American for the _cotillon_. ]

"The next day I called on my beauty, and throwing myself at her feet, Ideclared myself vanquished. The result was just as I expected. She burstinto tears and put her arms round my neck, and said it was she wholost, for she really loved me though she had been too proud toacknowledge it. Then I calmly rose and laughed. 'I do not care for youin the least, ' I said; 'I only said so to make you speak. I have won thegloves. ' She broke down completely, and went abroad a few daysafterwards. And so I avenged my friend. "

There was a pause when Barker had finished his tale. He sipped his tea, and Margaret rose slowly and went to the window. 

"Don't you think that is a very good story, Countess?" he asked. "Don'tyou think I was quite right?" Still no answer. Margaret rang the bell, and old Vladimir appeared. 

"Mr. Barker's carriage, " said she; then, recollecting herself, sherepeated the order in Russian, and swept out of the room withoutdeigning to look at the astonished young man, standing on the hearthrugwith his tea-cup in his hand. How it is that Vladimir succeeds ininterpreting his mistress's orders to the domestics of the variouscountries in which she travels is a mystery not fathomed, for in herpresence he understands only the Slav tongue. But however that may be, aminute had not elapsed before Mr. Barker was informed by another servantthat his carriage was at the door. He turned pale as he descended thesteps. 

You have carried it too far, Mr. Barker. That is not the kind of storythat a lady of Countess Margaret's temper will listen to; for when youdid the thing you have told her--if indeed you ever did it, which isdoubtful--you did a very base and unmanly thing. It may not be very niceto act as that young lady did to your friend; but then, just think howvery much worse it would have been if she had married him from a senseof duty, and made him feel it afterwards. Worse? Ay, worse than ahundred deaths. You are an ass, Barker, with your complicatedcalculations, as the Duke has often told you; and now it is a thousandto one that you have ruined yourself with the Countess. She will nevertake your view that it was a justifiable piece of revenge; she will onlysee in it a cruel and dastardly deception, practised on a woman whoseonly fault was that, not loving, she discovered her mistake in time. Aman should rejoice when a woman draws back from an engagement, reflecting what his life might have been had she not done so. 

But Barker's face was sickly with disappointment as he drove away, andhe could hardly collect himself enough to determine what was best to bedone. However, after a time he came to the conclusion that a letter mustbe written of humble apology, accompanied by a few very expensiveflowers, and followed after a week's interval by a visit. She could notmean to break off all acquaintance with him for so slight a cause. Shewould relent and see him again, and then he would put over on the othertack. He had made a mistake--very naturally, too--because she was alwaysso reluctant to give her own individual views about anything. A mistakecould be repaired, he thought, without any serious difficulty. 

And so the next morning Margaret received some flowers and a note, avery gentlemanly note, expressive of profound regret that anything hecould have said, and so forth, and so forth. And Margaret, whose strongtemper sometimes made her act hastily, even when acting rightly, said toherself that she had maltreated the poor little beast, and would see himif he called again. That was how she expressed it, showing that to someextent Barker had succeeded in producing a feeling of pity in hermind--though it was a very different sort of pity from what he wouldhave wished. Meanwhile Margaret returned to New York, where she saw herbrother-in-law occasionally, and comforted him with the assurance thatwhen his hundred napoleons were at an end, she would take care of him. And Nicholas, who was a gentleman, like his dead brother, proud andfierce, lived economically in a small hotel, and wrote magazine articlesdescribing the state of his unhappy country. 

Then Barker called and was admitted, Miss Skeat being present, and hisface expressed a whole volume of apology, while he talked briskly ofcurrent topics; and so he gradually regained the footing he had lost. Atall events he thought so, not knowing that though Margaret might forgiveshe could never forget; and that she was now forewarned and forearmed inperpetuity against any advance Barker might ever make. 

One day the mail brought a large envelope with an English postage stamp, addressed in a strong, masculine hand, even and regular, and utterlywithout adornment, but yet of a strikingly peculiar expression, if ahandwriting may be said to have an expression. 

 "CUNARD S. S. _Servia, Sept. 15th_. 

 "My Beloved Lady--Were it not for the possibility of writing to you, this voyage would be an impossible task to me; and even as it is, the feeling that what I write must travel away from you for many days before it travels towards you again makes me half suspect it is a mockery after all. After these wonderful months of converse it seems incredible that I should be thus taken out of your hearing and out of the power of seeing you. That I long for a sight of your dear face, that I hunger for your touch and for your sweet voice, I need not tell you or further asseverate. I am constantly looking curiously at the passengers, vainly thinking that you must appear among them. The sea without you is not the sea, any more than heaven would be heaven were you not there. 

 "I cannot describe to you, my dear lady, how detestable the life on board is to me. I loathe the people with their inane chatter, and the idiotic children, and the highly-correct and gentlemanly captain, all equally. The philistine father, the sea-sick mother, the highly-cultured daughter, and the pipe-smoking son, are equally objects of disgust. When I go on deck the little children make a circle round me, because I am so big, and the sailors will not let me go on to forecastle under three shillings--which I paid cheerfully, however, because I can be alone there and think of you, without being contemplated as an object of wonder by about two hundred idiots. I have managed to rig a sort of table in my cabin at last, and here I sit, under the dubious light of the port-hole, wishing it would blow, or that we might meet an iceberg, or anything, to scare the people into their dens and leave me a little open-air solitude. 

 "It seems so strange to be writing to you. I never wrote anything but little notes in the old days at Baden, and now I am writing what promises to be a long letter, for we cannot be in under six days, and in all that time there is nothing else I can do--nothing else I would do, if I could. And yet it is so different. Perhaps I am incoherent, and you will say, different from what? It is different from what it used to be, before that thrice-blessed afternoon in the Newport fog. 

 "The gray mist came down like a curtain, shutting off the past and marking where the present begins. It seems to me that I never lived before that moment, and yet those months were happy while they lasted, so that it sometimes seemed as though no greater happiness could be possible. How did it all happen, most blessed lady?

 "The lazy, good-natured sea, that loves us well, washes up and glances through my port-hole as I write, as if in answer to my question. The sea knows how it happened, for he saw us, and bore us, and heard all the tale; and even in Newport he was there, hidden under the fog and listening, and he is rejoicing that those who loved are now lovers. It is not hard to see how it happened. They all worship you, every human being that comes near you falls down and acknowledges you to be the queen. For they must. There is no salvation from that, and it is meet and right that it should be so. And I came, like the others, to do homage to the great queen, and you deigned to raise me up and bid me stand beside you. 

 "You are my first allegiance and my first love. I thank Heaven that I can say it honestly and truly, without fear of my conscience pricking. You know too, for I have told you, how my boyhood and manhood have been passed, and if there is anything you do not know I will tell you hereafter, for I would always hate to feel that there was anything about me you did not know--I could not feel it. But then, say you, he should have told me what he was going to do abroad. And so I have, dear lady; for though I have not explained it all to you, I have placed all needful knowledge in safe hands, where you can obtain it for the asking, if ever the least shadow of doubt should cross your mind. Only I pray you, as suing a great boon, not to doubt--that is all, for I would rather you did not know yet. 

 "This letter is being written by degrees. I have not written all this at once, for I find it as hard to express my thoughts to you on paper as I find it easy by word of mouth. It seems a formal thing to write, and yet there should be nothing less marred by formality than such a letter as mine. It is only that the choice is too great. I have too much to say, and so say nothing. I would ask, if I were so honoured by Heaven, the tongues of men and of angels, and all the mighty word-music of sage and prophet, that I might tell you how I love you, my heart's own. I would ask that for one hour I might hold in my hand the bâton of heaven's choir. Then would I lead those celestial musicians through such a grand plain chant as time has never dreamt of, nor has eternity yet heard it; so that rank on rank of angels and saints should take up the song, until the arches of the outer firmament rang again, and the stars chimed together; and all the untold hierarchy of archangelic voice and heavenly instrument should cry, as with one soul, the confession of this heart of mine--'I love. '

 "Another day has passed, and I think I have heard in my dreams the bursts of music that I would fain have wafted to your waking ears. Verily the lawyers in New York say well, that I am not Claudius. Claudius was a thing of angles and books, mathematical and earthy, believing indeed in the greatness of things supernal, but not having tasted thereof. My beloved, God has given me a new soul to love you with, so great that it seems as though it would break through the walls of my heart and cry aloud to you. This new Claudius is a man of infinite power to rise above earthly things, above everything that is below you--and what things that are in earth are not below you, lady mine?

 "Again the time has passed, in a dull reluctant fashion, as if he delighted to torment, like the common bore of society. He lingers and dawdles through his round of hours as though it joyed him to be sluggish. It has blown a little, and most of the people are sea-sick. Thank goodness! I suppose that is a very inhuman sentiment, but the masses of cheerful humanity, gluttonously fattening on the ship's fare and the smooth sea, were becoming intolerable. There is not one person on board who looks as though he or she had left a human being behind who had any claim to be regretted. Did any one of these people ever love? I suppose so. I suppose at one time or another most of them have thought they loved some one. I will not be uncharitable, for they are receiving their just punishment. Lovers are never sea-sick, but now a hoarse chorus, indescribable and hideous, rises from hidden recesses of the ship. They are not in love, they are sea-sick. May it do them all possible good!

 "Here we are at last. I hasten to finish this rambling letter that it may catch the steamer, which, I am told, leaves to-day. Nine days we have been at sea, and the general impression seems to be that the last part of the passage has been rough. And now I shall be some weeks in Europe--I cannot tell how long, but I think the least possible will be three weeks, and the longest six. I shall know, however, in a fortnight. My beloved, it hurts me to stop writing--unreasonable animal that I am, for a letter must be finished in order to be posted. I pray you, sweetheart, write me a word of comfort and strength in my journeying. Anything sent to Baring's will reach me; you cannot know what a line from you would be to me, how I would treasure it as the most sacred of things and the most precious, until we meet. And so, à bientôt, for we must never say 'goodbye, ' even in jest. I feel as though I were launching this letter at a venture, as sailors throw a bottle overboard when they fear they are lost. I have not yet tested the post-office, and I feel a kind of uncertainty as to whether this will reach you. 

 "But they are clamouring at my door, and I must go. Once more, my own queen, I love you, ever and only and always. May all peace and rest be with you, and may Heaven keep you from all harm!"

This letter was not signed, for what signature could it possibly need?Margaret read it, and read it again, wondering--for she had never hadsuch a letter in her life. The men who had made love to her had neverbeen privileged to speak plainly, for she would have none of them, andso they had been obliged to confine themselves to such cunning use ofpermissible words and phrases as they could command, together withcopious quotations from more or less erotic poets. Moreover, Claudiushad never been in a position to speak his heart's fill to her until thatlast day, when words had played so small a part. 

It was a love-letter, at least in part, such as a man might have writtena hundred years ago--not such as men write nowadays, thought Margaret;certainly not such as Mr. Barker would write--or could. But she was gladhe had written; and written so, for it was like him, who was utterlyunlike any one else. The letter had come in the morning while Clémentinewas dressing her, and she laid it on her writing-desk. But when themaid was gone, she read it once again, sitting by her window, and whenshe had done she unconsciously held it in her hand and rested her cheekagainst it. A man kisses a letter received from the woman he loves, buta woman rarely does. She thinks when he is away that she would hardlykiss _him_, were he present, much less will she so honour hishandwriting. But when he himself comes the colour of things is changed. Nevertheless, Margaret put the folded letter in her bosom and wore itthere unseen all through that day; and when Mr. Barker came to offer totake her to drive she said she would not go, making some libellousremark about the weather, which was exceeding glad and sunshiny in spiteof her refusal to face it. And Mr. Barker, seeing that he was lesswelcome than usual, went away, for he was mortally afraid of annoyingher. 

Margaret was debating within herself whether she should answer, and ifso, what she should say. In truth, it was not easy. She felt herselfunable to write in the way he did, had she wished to. Besides, there wasthat feminine feeling still lurking in her heart, which said, "Do nottrust him till he comes back. " It seemed to her it must be so easy towrite like that--and yet, she had not thought so at the first reading. But she loved him, not yet as she would some day, but still she loved, and it was her first love, as it was his. 

She had settled herself in the hotel for the present, and to make itmore like home--like her pretty home at Baden--she had ordered a fewplants and growing flowers, very simple and inexpensive, for she feltherself terribly pinched, although she had not yet begun actually tofeel the restrictions laid on her by her financial troubles. WhenBarker was gone, she amused herself with picking off the dried leavesand brushing away the little cobwebs and spiders that always accumulateabout growing things. In the midst of this occupation she made up hermind, and rang the bell. 

"Vladimir, I am not at home, " she said solemnly, and the gray-haired, gray-whiskered functionary bowed in acknowledgment of the fact, whichwas far from evident. When he was gone she sat down to her desk andwrote to Dr. Claudius. She wrote rapidly in her large hand, and beforelong she had covered four pages of notepaper. Then she read it over, andtore it up. The word "dear" occurred once too often for her taste. Againthe white fingers flew rapidly along the page, but soon she stopped. 

"That is too utterly frigid, " she said half aloud, with a smile. Thenshe tried again. 

 "DEAR DR. CLAUDIUS--So many thanks for your charming letter, which I received this morning. Tell me a great deal more, please, and write _at once_. Tell me everything you do and say and see, for I want to feel just as though you were here to talk everything over. 

 "Mr. Barker has been here a good deal lately, and the other day he told me a story I did not like. But I forgave him, for he seemed so penitent. Please burn my letters. 

 "It is very cold and disagreeable, and I really half wish I were in Europe. Europe is much pleasanter. I have not read a word of Spencer since you left, but I have thought a great deal about what you said the last time we did any work together. 

 "Let me know _positively_ when you are coming back, and let it be as soon as possible, for I must see you. I am going to see Salvini, in _Othello_, to-night, with Miss Skeat. He sent me a box, in memory of a little dinner years ago, and I expect him to call. He _did_ call, but I could not see him. 

 "I cannot write any more, for it is dinner-time. Thanks, dear, for your loving letter. It was sweet of you to post it the same day, for it caught the steamer. 

 --In tearing haste, yours, M. 

 "_P. S. _--Answer all my questions, please. "

There was an indistinctness about the last word; it might have been"your, " or "yours. " The "tearing haste" resolved itself into ringing thebell to know what time it was, for Margaret had banished the hideoushotel clock from the room. On finding it was yet early, she sat down ina deep chair, and warmed her toes at the small wood fire, which was justenough to be enjoyable and not enough to be hot. It was now thebeginning of October, for Claudius's letter, begun on the 15th ofSeptember, had not been posted until the 21st, and had been a long timeon the way. She wondered when he would get the letter she had justwritten. It was not much of a letter, but she remembered the lastparagraph, and thought it was quite affectionate enough. As forClaudius, when he received it he was as much delighted as though it hadbeen six times as long and a hundred times more expansive. "Thanks, dear, for your loving letter, "--that phrase alone acknowledgedeverything, accepted everything, and sanctioned everything. 

In the evening, as she had said in writing to the Doctor, she went withMiss Skeat and sat in the front box of the theatre, which the greatactor had placed at her disposal. The play was _Othello_. Mr. Barker hadascertained that she was going, and had accordingly procured himself aseat in the front of the orchestra. He endeavoured to catch a look fromMargaret all through the first part of the performance, but she was tooentirely absorbed in the tragedy to notice him. At length, in theinterval before the last act, Mr. Barker took courage, and, leaving hischair, threaded his way out of the lines of seats to the entrance. Thenhe presented himself at the door of the Countess's box. 

"May I come in for a little while?" he inquired with an affectation ofdoubt and delicacy that was unnatural to him. 

"Certainly, " said Margaret indifferently, but smiling a little withal. 

"I have ventured to bring you some _marrons glacés_, " said Barker, whenhe was seated, producing at the same time a neat _bonbonnière_ in theshape of a turban. "I thought they would remind you of Baden. You usedto be very fond of them. "

"Thanks, " said she, "I am still. " And she took one. The curtain rose, and Barker was obliged to be silent, much against his will. Margaretimmediately became absorbed in the doings on the stage. She hadwitnessed that terrible last act twenty times before, but she neverwearied of it. Neither would she have consented to see it acted by anyother than the great Italian. Whatever be the merits of the play, therecan be no question as to its supremacy of horror in the hands ofSalvini. To us of the latter half of this century it appears to standalone; it seems as if there could never have been such a scene or suchan actor in the history of the drama. Horrible--yes! beyond alldescription, but, being horrible, of a depth of horror unrealisedbefore. Perhaps no one who has not lived in the East can understandthat such a character as Salvini's _Othello_ is a possible, livingreality. It is certain that American audiences, even while giving theiradmiration, withhold their belief. They go to see _Othello_, that theymay shudder luxuriously at the sight of so much suffering; for it is themoral suffering of the Moor that most impresses an intelligent beholder, but it is doubtful whether Americans or English, who have not lived inSouthern or Eastern lands, are capable of appreciating that thecharacter is drawn from the life. 

The great criticism to which all modern tragedy, and a great deal ofmodern drama, are open is the undue and illegitimate use of horror. Horror is not terror. They are two entirely distinct affections. A manhurled from a desperate precipice, in the living act to fall, isproperly an object of terror, sudden and quaking. But the same man, reduced to a mangled mass of lifeless humanity, broken to pieces, andghastly with the gaping of dead wounds--the same man, when his last leapis over and hope is fled, is an object of horror, and as such would notin early times have been regarded as a legitimate subject for artisticrepresentation, either on the stage or in the plastic or pictorial arts. 

It may be that in earlier ages, when men were personally familiar withthe horrors of a barbarous ethical system, while at the same time theyhad the culture and refinement belonging to a high development ofæsthetic civilisation, the presentation of a great terror immediatelysuggested the concomitant horror; and suggested it so vividly that thevisible definition of the result--the bloodshed, the agony, and thedeath-rattle--would have produced an impression too dreadful to beassociated with any pleasure to the beholder There was no curiosity tobehold violent death among a people accustomed to see it often enough inthe course of their lives, and not yet brutalised into a love of bloodfor its own sake. The Romans presented an example of the latter state;they loved horror so well that they demanded real horror and realvictims. And that is the state of the populations of England and Americaat the present day. Were it not for the tremendous power of modern law, there is not the slightest doubt that the mass of Londoners or NewYorkers would flock to-day to see a gladiatorial show, or to watch apack of lions tearing, limb from limb, a dozen unarmed convicts. Not the"cultured" classes--some of them would be ashamed, and some would reallyfeel a moral incapacity for witnessing so much pain--but the masseswould go, and would pay handsomely for the sport; and, moreover, if theyonce tasted blood they would be strong enough to legislate in favour oftasting more. It is not to the discredit of the Anglo-Saxon race that itloves savage sports. The blood is naturally fierce, and has not beencowed by the tyranny endured by European races. There have been morefree men under England's worst tyrants than under France's most liberalkings. 

But, failing gladiators and wild beasts, the people must have horrors onthe stage, in literature, in art, and, above all, in the daily press. Shakspere knew that, and Michelangelo, who is the Shakspere of brush andchisel, knew it also, as those two unrivalled men seem to have knowneverything else. And so when Michelangelo painted the _Last Judgment_, and Shakspere wrote _Othello_ (for instance), they both made use ofhorror in a way the Greeks would not have tolerated. Since we no longersee daily enacted before us scenes of murder, torture, and publicexecution, our curiosity makes us desire to see those scenes representedas accurately as possible. The Greeks, in their tragedies, did theirslaughter behind the scenes, and occasionally the cries of the supposedvictims were heard. But theatre-goers of to-day would feel cheated ifthe last act of Othello were left to their imagination. When Salvinithrusts the crooked knife into his throat, with that ghastly sound ofdeath that one never forgets, the modern spectator would not understandwhat the death-rattle meant, did he not see the action that accompaniesit. 

"It is too realistic, " said Mr. Barker in his high thin voice when itwas over, and he was helping Margaret with her silken wrappings. 

"It is not realistic, " said she, "it is real. It may be an unhealthyexcitement, but if we are to have it, it is the most perfect of itskind. "

"It is very horrible, " said Miss Skeat; and they drove away. 

Margaret would not stay to see the great man after the curtain fell. Thedisillusion of such a meeting is too great to be pleasurable. Othello isdead, and the idea of meeting Othello in the flesh ten minutes later, smiling and triumphant, is a death-blow to that very reality whichMargaret so much enjoyed. Besides, she wanted to be alone with her ownthoughts, which were not entirely confined to the stage, that night. Writing to Claudius had brought him vividly into her life again, and shehad caught herself more than once during the evening wondering how herfair Northern lover would have acted in Othello's place. Whether, whenthe furious general takes Iago by the throat in his wrath, the Swede'sgrip would have relaxed so easily on one who should dare to whisper abreath against the Countess Margaret. She so lived in the thought for amoment that her whole face glowed in the shade of the box, and her darkeyes shot out fire. Ah me! Margaret, will he come back to stand by yourside and face the world for you? Who knows. Men are deceivers ever, saysthe old song. 

Home through the long streets, lighted with the pale electric flame thatgives so deathly a tinge to everything that comes within the circling ofits discolour; home to her rooms with the pleasant little firesmouldering on the hearth, and flowers--Barker's flowers--scenting theroom; home to the cares of Clémentine, to lean back with half-closedeyes, thinking, while the deft French fingers uncoil and smooth and coilagain the jet-black tresses; home to the luxury of sleep unbroken by illease of body, though visited by the dreams of a far-away lover--dreamsnot always hopeful, but ever sweet; home to a hotel! Can a hostelry bedignified with that great name? Yes. Wherever we are at rest and atpeace, wherever the thought of love or dream of lover visits us, wherever we look forward to meeting that lover again--that is home. Forsince the cold steel-tipped fingers of science have crushed space into anut-shell, and since the deep-mouthed capacious present has swallowedtime out of sight, there is no landmark left but love, no hour but thehour of loving, no home but where our lover is. 

The little god who has survived ages of sword-play and centuries ofpeace-time, survives also science the leveller, and death the destroyer. 

And in the night, when all are asleep, and the chimes are muffled withthe thick darkness, and the wings of the dream-spirits caress the air, then the little Red Mouse comes out and meditates on all these things, and wonders how it is that men can think there is any originality intheir lives or persons or doings. The body may have changed a little, men may have grown stronger and fairer, as some say, or weaker and morepuny, as others would have it, but the soul of man is even as it wasfrom the beginning. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

A month has passed since Margaret went to see _Othello_, and New York isbeginning to wake to its winter round of amusements. There are dinnersand dances and much leaving of little pasteboard chips with names andaddresses. 

Mr. Barker had made progress, in his own opinion, since the day when heso unfortunately roused Margaret's anger by his story. He bethought himone day that Claudius's influence had begun with the reading of books, and he determined to try something of the kind himself. He was noscholar as Claudius was, but he knew men who were. He cultivated theacquaintance of Mr. Horace Bellingham, and spent studious hours inascertaining the names of quaint and curious volumes, which he spared noexpense in procuring. He read books he had never heard of before, andthen talked about them to Margaret; and when he hit upon anything shedid not know he was swift to bring it to her, and sometimes she wouldeven listen while he read a few pages aloud. 

Margaret encouraged Barker in this new fancy unconsciously enough, forshe thought it an admirable thing that a man whose whole life wasdevoted to business pursuits should develop a taste for letters; andwhen he had broken the ice on the sea of literature she talked morefreely with him than she had ever done before. It was not Barker whointerested her, but the books he brought, which were indeed rare andbeautiful. He, on the other hand, quick to assimilate any knowledge thatmight be of use to him, and cautious of exposing the weaker points ofhis ignorance, succeeded in producing an impression of considerablelearning, so that by and by he began to think he was taking Claudius'splace in her daily pursuits, as he hoped to take it in her heart. 

Meanwhile no one had heard from the Doctor, for his correspondence withMargaret was unknown to Barker, and the latter began to cherish a hopethat, after all, there might be overwhelming difficulties in the way ofproving Claudius's right to the estate. He had more than once talkedover the matter with Mr. Screw, and they came to the conclusion thatthis silence was prognostic of the Doctor's defeat. Screw thought itprobable that, had Claudius immediately obtained from Heidelberg thenecessary papers, he would have sent a triumphant telegram over thecable, announcing his return at the shortest possible interval. But thetime was long. It was now the first week in November and nearly twomonths had passed since he had sailed. Mr. Barker had avoided speakingof him to the Countess, at first because he did not wish to recall himto her memory, and later because he observed that she never mentionedthe Doctor's name. Barker had inquired of Mr. Bellingham whether he knewanything of his friend's movements, to which Uncle Horace had replied, with a grim laugh, that he had quite enough to do with taking care ofdistinguished foreigners when they were in New York, without lookingafter them when they had gone elsewhere. 

One evening before dinner Vladimir brought Margaret a telegram. She wasseated by the fire as usual and Miss Skeat, who had been reading alouduntil it grew too dark, was by her side warming her thin hands, whichalways looked cold, and bending forward towards the fire as she listenedto Margaret's somewhat random remarks about the book in hand. Margarethad long since talked with Miss Skeat about her disturbed affairs, andconcerning the prospect that was before her of being comparatively poor. And Miss Skeat, in her high-bred old-fashioned way, had laid her handgently on the Countess's arm in token of sympathy. 

"Dear Countess, " she had said, "please remember that it will not makeany difference to me, and that I will never leave you. Poverty is not anew thing to me, my dear. " The tears came into Margaret's eyes as shepressed the elder lady's hand in silence. These passages of feeling wererare between them, but they understood each other, for all that. And nowMargaret was speaking despondently of the future. A few days before shehad made up her mind at last to write the necessary letters to Russia, and she had now despatched them on their errand. Not that she had anyreal hope of bettering things, but a visit from Nicholas had roused herto the fact that it was a duty she owed to him as well as to herself toendeavour to recover what was possible of her jointure. 

At last she opened the telegram and uttered an exclamation of surprise. 

"What in the world does it mean?" she cried, and gave it to Miss Skeat, who held it close to the firelight. 

The message was from Lord Fitzdoggin, Her British Majesty's Ambassadorat St. Petersburg, and was an informal statement to the effect that hisExcellency was happy to communicate to the Countess Margaret theintelligence that, by the untiring efforts and great skill of a personalfriend, the full payment of her jointure was now secured to her inperpetuity. It stated, moreover, that she would shortly receive officialinformation of the fact through the usual channels. 

Miss Skeat beamed with pleasure; for though she had been willing to makeany sacrifice for Margaret, it would not have been an agreeable thing tobe so very poor again. 

"I never met Lord Fitzdoggin, " said Margaret, "and I do not understandin the least. Why should he, of all people, inform me of this, if it isreally true?"

"The Duke must have written to him, " said Miss Skeat, still beaming, andreading the message over again. 

Margaret paused a moment in thought, then lighting the gas herself, shewrote a note and despatched Vladimir in hot haste. 

"I have asked Mr. Bellingham to dine, " she said, in answer to MissSkeat's inquiring look. "He will go to the party with me afterwards, ifhe is free. "

It chanced that Mr. Bellingham was in his rooms when Margaret's notecame, and he immediately threw over an engagement he had previouslymade, and sent word he would be at the Countess's disposal. Punctual tothe minute he appeared. Margaret showed him the telegram. 

"What does this mean, Mr. Bellingham?" she asked, smiling, butscrutinising his face closely. 

"My dear Countess, " cried the old gentleman, delighted beyond measure atthe result of his policy, and corruscating with smiles and twinkles, "my dear Countess, allow me to congratulate you. "

"But who is the 'personal friend' mentioned? Is it the Duke? He is inthe far West at this moment. "

"No, " answered Mr. Bellingham, "it is not the Duke. I am inclined tothink it is a manifestation of some great cosmic force, working silentlyfor your welfare. The lovely spirits, " continued the old gentleman, looking up from under his brows, and gesticulating as though he wouldcall down the mystic presence he invoked--"the lovely spirits that guardyou would be loth to allow anything so fair to suffer annoyance from therude world. You are well taken care of, Countess, believe me. "

Margaret smiled at Uncle Horace's way of getting out of the difficulty, for she suspected him of knowing more than he would acknowledge. But allshe could extract from him was that he knew Lord Fitzdoggin slightly, and that he believed the telegram to be perfectly genuine. He had playedhis part in the matter, and rubbed his hands as though washing them ofany further responsibility. Indeed he had nothing to tell, save that hehad advised Claudius to get an introduction from the Duke. He well knewthat the letters he had given Claudius had been the real means of hissuccess; but as Margaret only asked about the telegram, he was perfectlysafe in denying any knowledge of it. Not that such a consideration wouldhave prevented his meeting her question with a little fib, just to keepthe secret. 

"Will you not go to this dance with me this evening?" asked Margaretafter dinner, as they sat round the fireplace. 

"What ball is that?" inquired Mr. Bellingham. 

"I hardly know what it is. It is a party at the Van Sueindell's andthere is 'dancing' on the card. Please go with me; I should have to goalone. "

"I detest the pomp and circumstance of pleasure, " said Uncle Horace, "the Persian appurtenances, as my favourite poet calls them; but Icannot resist so charming an invitation. It will give me the greatestpleasure. I will send word to put off another engagement. "

"Do you really not mind at all?"

"Not a bit of it. Only three or four old fogies at the club. _Est mihinonum superantis annum plenus Albani cadus_, " continued Mr. Bellingham, who never quoted Horace once without quoting him again in the next fiveminutes. "I had sent a couple of bottles of my grandfather's madeira tothe club, 1796, but those old boys will enjoy it without me. They wouldtalk me to death if I went. "

"It is too bad, " said Margaret, "you must go to the club. I would notlet you break an engagement on my account. "

"No, no. Permit me to do a good deed without having to bear the infernalconsequences in this life, at all events. The chatter of those people islike the diabolical screaming of the peacock on the terrace of theEmir's chief wife, made memorable by Thackeray the prophet. " He paused amoment, and stroked his snowy pointed beard. "Forgive my stronglanguage, " he added; "really, they are grand adjectives those, 'diabolical' and 'infernal. ' They call up the whole of Dante to mymind. " Margaret laughed. 

"Are you fond of Dante?" asked she. 

"Very. I sometimes buy a cheap copy and substitute the names of my petenemies all through the _Inferno_ wherever they will suit the foot. Inthat way I get all the satisfaction the author got by putting hisfriends in hell, without the labour of writing, or the ability tocompose, the poem. " The Countess laughed again. 

"Do you ever do the same thing with the _Paradiso_?"

"No, " answered Uncle Horace, with a smile. "Purgatory belonged to an agewhen people were capable of being made better by suffering, and as forparadise, my heaven admits none but the fair sex. They are allbeautiful, and many of them are young. "

"Will you admit me, Mr. Bellingham?"

"St. Margaret has forestalled me, " said he gallantly, "for she has aparadise of her own, it seems, to which she has admitted me. "

And so they passed the evening pleasantly until the hour warned themthat it was time to go to the great Van Sueindell house. That mansion, like all private houses in America, and the majority of modern dwellingsin other parts of the world, is built in that depraved style ofarchitecture which makes this age pre-eminent in the ugliness of brickand stone. There is no possibility of criticism for such monstrosity, asthere also seems to be no immediate prospect of reform. Time, theiron-fisted Nihilist, will knock them all down some day and bid mankindbegin anew. Meanwhile let us ignore what we cannot improve. Night, theall-merciful, sometimes hides these excrescences from our sight, andsometimes the moon, Nature's bravest liar, paints and moulds them into afugitive harmony. But in the broad day let us fix our eyes modestly onthe pavement beneath us, or turn them boldly to the sky, for if we lookto the right or the left we must see that which sickens the sense ofsight. 

On the present occasion, however, nothing was to be seen of the house, for the long striped canvas tent, stretching from the door to thecarriage, and lined with plants and servants, hid everything else fromview. There is probably no city in the world where the _business_ of"entertaining" is so thoroughly done as in New York. There are manyplaces where it is more agreeable to be "entertained;" many where it isdone on a larger scale, for there is nothing in America so imposing asthe receptions at Embassies and other great houses in England andabroad. To bring the matter into business form, since it is a matter ofbusiness, let us say that nowhere do guests cost so much by the cubicfoot as in New York. Abroad, owing to the peculiar conditions ofcourt-life, many people are obliged to open their houses at statedintervals. In America no one is under this necessity. If people begin to"entertain" they do it because they have money, or because they havesomething to gain by it, and they do it with an absolute regardlessnessof cost which is enough to startle the sober foreigner. 

It may be in bad taste, but if we are to define what is good taste inthese days, and abide by it, we shall be terribly restricted. As anexhibition of power, this enormous expenditure is imposing in theextreme; though the imposing element, being strictly confined to thedisplay of wealth, can never produce the impressions of durability, grandeur, and military pomp so dear to every European. Hence theEnglishman turns up his nose at the gilded shows of American society, and the American sniffs when he finds that the door-scraper of somegreat London house is only silverplated instead of being solid, and thatthe carpets are at least two years old. They regard things from oppositepoints of view, and need never expect to agree. 

Margaret, however, was not so new to American life, seeing she wasAmerican born, as to bestow a thought or a glance on the appointments ofMr. And Mrs. Van Sueindell's establishment; and as for Mr. Bellingham, he had never cared much for what he called the pomp and circumstance ofpleasure, for he carried pleasure with him in his brilliant conversationand his ready tact. All places were more or less alike to Mr. Bellingham. At the present moment, however, he was thinking principallyof his fair charge, and was wondering inwardly what time he would gethome, for he rose early and was fond of a nap in the late evening. Hetherefore gave Margaret his arm, and kept a lookout for some amusing manto introduce to her. He had really enjoyed his dinner and the pleasantchat afterwards, but the prospect of piloting this magnificent beautyabout till morning, or till she should take it into her head to go home, was exhausting. Besides, he went little into society of this kind, andwas not over-familiar with the faces he saw. 

He need not have been disturbed, however, for they had not been manyminutes in the rooms before a score of men had applied for the "pleasureof a turn. " But still she held Mr. Bellingham's arm, obdurately refusingto dance. As Barker came up a moment later, willing, perhaps, to showhis triumph to the rejected suitors, Margaret thanked Mr. Bellingham, and offered to take him home if he would stay until one o'clock; thenshe glided away, not to dance but to sit in a quieter room, near thedoor of which couples would hover for a quarter of an hour at a timewaiting to seize the next pair of vacant seats. Mr. Bellingham movedaway, amused by the music and the crowd and the fair young faces, untilhe found a seat in a corner, shaded from the flare of light by an opendoor close by, and there, in five minutes, he was fast asleep in themidst of the gaiety and noise and heat--unnoticed, a gray old man amidso much youth. 

But Barker knew the house better than the most of the guests, andpassing through the little room for which every one seemed fighting, hedrew aside a heavy curtain and showed a small boudoir beyond, lightedwith a solitary branch of candles, and occupied by a solitary couple. Barker had hoped to find this sanctum empty, and as he pushed two chairstogether he eyed the other pair savagely. 

"What a charming little room, " said Margaret, sinking into the softchair and glancing at the walls and ceiling, which were elaboratelyadorned in the Japanese fashion. The chairs also were framed of bamboo, and the table was of an unusual shape. It was the "Japanese parlour[3], "as Mrs. Van Sueindell would have called it. Every great house in NewYork has a Japanese or a Chinese room. The entire contents of theapartment having been brought direct from Yokohama, the effect washarmonious, and Margaret's artistic sense was pleased. 

[Footnote 3: Parlour or parlor, American for "sitting-room. "]

"Is it not?" said Barker, glad to have brought her to a place she liked. "I thought you would like it, and I hoped, " lowering his voice, "that weshould find it empty. Only people who come here a great deal know aboutit. "

"Then you come here often?" asked Margaret, to say something. She wasglad to be out of the din, for though she had anticipated some pleasurefrom the party, she discovered too late that she had made a mistake, andwould rather be at home. She had so much to think of, since receivingthat telegram; and so, forgetting Barker and everything else, shefollowed her own train of thought. Barker talked on, and Margaret seemedto be listening--but it was not the music, muffled through the heavycurtains, nor the small voice of Mr. Barker that she heard. It was thewashing of the sea and the creaking of cordage that were in herears--the rush of the ship that was to bring him back--that was perhapsbringing him back already. When would he come? How soon? If it couldonly be to-morrow, she would so like to--what in the world is Mr. Barkersaying so earnestly? Really, she ought to listen. It was very rude. "Conscious of my many defects of character--" Oh yes, he was alwaystalking about his defects; what next? "--conscious of my many defects ofcharacter, " Mr. Barker was saying, in an even, determined voice, "andfeeling deeply how far behind you I am in those cultivated pursuits youmost enjoy, I would nevertheless scorn to enlarge upon my advantages, the more so as I believe you are acquainted with my circumstances. "

Good gracious! thought Margaret, suddenly recovering the acutest use ofher hearing, what is the man going to say? And she looked fixedly at himwith an expression of some astonishment. 

"Considering, as I was saying, " he continued steadily, "those advantagesupon which I will not enlarge, may I ask you to listen to what I amgoing to say?"

Margaret, having lost the first part of Barker's speech completely, inher fit of abstraction, had some vague idea that he was asking heradvice about marrying some other woman. 

"Certainly, " she said indifferently; "pray go on. " At the moment ofattack, however, Barker's heart failed him for an instant. He thought hewould make one more attempt to ascertain what position Claudius heldtowards Margaret. 

"Of course, " he said, smiling and looking down, "we all knew about Dr. Claudius on board the _Streak_. "

"What did you know about him?" asked Margaret calmly, but her faceflushed for an instant. That might have happened even if she had notcared for Claudius; she was so proud that the idea of being thought tocare might well bring the colour to her cheek. Barker hardly noticed theblush, for he was getting into very deep water, and was on the point oflosing his head. 

"That he proposed to you, and you refused him, " he said, still smiling. 

"Take care, sir, " she said quickly, "when Dr. Claudius comes back he--"Barker interrupted her with a laugh. 

"Claudius coming back?" he answered, "ha! ha! good indeed!"

He looked at Margaret. She was very quiet, and she was naturally so darkthat, in the shadow of the fan she held carelessly against the light, hecould not see how pale she turned. She was intensely angry, and heranger took the form of a preternatural calm of manner, by no meansindicative of indifferent reflection. She was simply unable to speak forthe moment. Barker, however, whose reason was in abeyance for themoment, merely saw that she did not answer; and, taking her silence forconsent to his slighting mention of Claudius, he at once proceeded withhis main proposition. At this juncture the other couple slowly left theroom, having arranged their own affairs to their satisfaction. 

"That being the case, " he said, "and now that I am assured that I haveno rivals to dread, will you permit me to offer you my heart and myhand? Countess Margaret, will you marry me, and make me the happiest ofmen? Oh, do not be silent, do not look as if you did not hear! I haveloved you since I first saw you--will you, will you marry me?" Here Mr. Barker, who was really as much in love as his nature allowed him to be, moved to the very edge of his chair and tried to take her hand. 

"Margaret!" he said, as he touched her fingers. 

At the touch she recovered her self-possession, too long lost for such acase. She had tried to control her anger, had tried to remember whetherby any word she could have encouraged him to so much boldness. Now sherose to all her haughty height, and though she tried hard to controlherself, there was scorn in her voice. 

"Mr. Barker, " she said, dropping her hands before her and standingstraight as a statue, "you have made a mistake, and if through anycarelessness I have led you into this error I am sorry for it. I cannotlisten to you, I cannot marry you. As for Dr. Claudius, I will notpermit you to use any slighting words about him. I hold in my possessiondocuments that could prove his identity as well as any he can obtain inGermany. But I need not produce them, for I am sure it will be enoughfor you to know that I am engaged to be married to him--I am engaged tobe married to Dr. Claudius, " she repeated very distinctly in her deepmusical tones; and before Barker could recover himself, she had passedfrom the room into the lights and the sound of music beyond. 

What do you think, reader? Was it not a brave and noble action of hersto vindicate Claudius by taking upon herself the whole responsibility ofhis love rather than by going home and sending Mr. Barker documentaryevidence of the Doctor's personality? Claudius had never asked her tomarry him, the very word had never been mentioned. But he had told herhe loved her and she had trusted him. 

Start not at the infinity of social crime that such a doubt defines. Itis there. It is one thing for a woman to love a man at arm's lengthconditionally; it is another for her to take him to her heart and trusthim. Does every millionaire who makes love to a penniless widow mean tomarry her? for Margaret was poor on that Tuesday in Newport. Or reversethe case; if Claudius were an adventurer, as Barker hinted, what werethe consequences she assumed in declaring herself engaged to marry him?

In spite of her excitement, Margaret was far too much a woman of theworld to create a sensation by walking through the rooms alone. In amoment or two she saw a man she knew, and calling him to her by a look, took his arm. She chatted pleasantly to this young fellow, as proud asneed be of being selected to conduct the beauty whither she would, andafter some searching she discovered Mr. Bellingham, still asleep behindthe swinging door. 

"Thanks, " she said to her escort. "I have promised to take Mr. Bellingham home. " And she dropped the young man's arm with a nod and asmile. 

"But he is asleep, " objected the gallant. 

"I will wake him, " she answered. And laying her hand on Mr. Bellingham's, she leaned down and spoke his name. Instantly he awoke, asfresh as from a night's rest, for he had the Napoleonic faculty forcatching naps. 

"Winter awaking to greet the spring, " he said without the slightesthesitation, as though he had prepared the little speech in his sleep. "Forgive me, " he said, "it is a habit of mine learned long ago. " Hepresented his arm and asked her what was her pleasure. 

"I am going home, " she said, "and if you like I will drop you at yourdoor. "

Mr. Bellingham glanced at a great enamelled clock, half-hidden amongflowers and fans, as they passed, and he noticed that they had not beenin the house much more than three quarters of an hour. But he wiselysaid nothing, and waited patiently while Margaret was wrapped in hercloaks, and till the butler had told the footman, and the footman hadtold the other footman, and the other footman had told the page, and thepage had told the policeman to call the Countess Margaret's carriage. After which the carriage appeared, and they drove away. 

Uncle Horace chatted pleasantly about the party, admitting that he haddreamed more than he had seen of it. But Margaret said little, for thereaction was coming after the excitement she had passed through. Onlywhen they reached Mr. Bellingham's rooms, and he was about to leave her, she held his hand a moment and looked earnestly in his face. 

"Mr. Bellingham, " she said suddenly, "I trust you will always be myfriend--will you not?" The old gentleman paused in his descent from thecarriage, and took the hand she offered. 

"Indeed I will, my dear child, " he said very seriously. Then he benthis knee to the sill of the door and kissed her fingers, and was gone. No one ever resented Mr. Bellingham's familiarity, for it was rare andhonest of its kind. Besides, he was old enough to be her grandfather, inspite of his pretty speeches and his graceful actions. 

Margaret passed a sleepless night. Her anger with Mr. Barker had notbeen so much the mere result of the words he had spoken, though shewould have resented his sneer about Claudius sharply enough under anycircumstances. It was rather that to her keen intelligence, renderedstill more acute by her love for the Doctor, the whole scene constituteda revelation. By that wonderful instinct which guides women in the mostcritical moments of their lives, she saw at last the meaning of Barker'sdoings, of his silence concerning Claudius, and of his coolness with thelatter before he had got rid of him. She saw Barker at the bottom of theplot to send Claudius to Europe; she saw him in all the efforts made bythe Duke and Barker to keep Claudius and herself apart on board theyacht; she saw his hand in it all, and she understood for the first timethat this man, whom she had of late permitted to be so much with her, was her worst enemy, while aspiring to be her lover. The whole extent ofhis faithlessness to Claudius came before her, as she remembered that ithad doubtless been to serve the Doctor that Barker had obtained anintroduction to her at Baden; that he had done everything to throw themtogether, devoting himself to Miss Skeat, in a manner that drove thatancient virgin to the pinnacle of bliss and despair, while leavingClaudius free field to make love to herself. And then he had suddenlyturned and made up his mind that he should have her for his own wife. And her anger rose higher and hotter as she thought of it. 

Then she went over the scene of the evening at Mrs. Van Sueindell'shouse--how she had not listened and not understood, until she was sosuddenly roused to the consciousness of what he was saying--how she hadfaced him, and, in the inspiration of the moment, had boldly told himthat she loved his rival. In that thought she found satisfaction, aswell she might, for her love had been put to the test, and had notfailed her. 

"I am glad I said it, " she murmured to herself, and fell asleep. PoorClaudius, far away over the sea, what a leap his heart would have givencould he have known what she had done, and that she was glad of it. 

And Mr. Barker? He felt a little crushed when she left him there alonein the Japanese boudoir, for he knew at once that he might as well throwup the game. There was not the least chance for him any longer. He mightindeed suspect that the documents Margaret spoke of were a myth, andthat her declaration of the engagement was in reality the only weaponshe could use in Claudius's defence. But that did not change matters. Nowoman would "give herself away, " as he expressed it, so recklessly, unless she were perfectly certain. Therefore Mr. Barker went into thesupper-room, and took a little champagne to steady his nerves; afterwhich he did his best to amuse himself, talking with unusual vivacity toany young lady of his acquaintance whom he could allure from her partnerfor a few minutes. For he had kept himself free of engagements thatevening on Margaret's account, and now regretted it bitterly. But Mr. Barker was a great match, as has been said before, and he seldom hadany difficulty in amusing himself when he felt so inclined. He had notwitnessed Margaret's departure, for, not wishing to be seen coming outof the boudoir alone, a sure sign of defeat, and being perfectlyfamiliar with the house, he had found his way by another door, andthrough circuitous passages to the pantry, and thence to thesupper-room; so that by the time he had refreshed himself Margaret andMr. Bellingham had gone. 

Do people of Mr. Barker's stamp feel? Probably not. It requires a strongorganisation, either animal or intellectual, to suffer much from anyshock to the affections. Englishmen, on those occasions when theirpassion gets the better of their caution, somewhat a rare occurrencenowadays, are capable of loving very strongly, and of suffering severelyif thwarted, for they are among the most powerful races in the animalkingdom. Their whole history shows this, moulded as it has generallybeen by exceptional men, for the most part Irish and Scotch, in whom thehighest animal and intellectual characteristics were united. Germans, inwhom the intellectual faculties, and especially the imagination, predominate, are for the most part very love-sick for at least halftheir lives. But Americans seem to be differently organised; meaning, ofcourse, the small class, who would like to be designated as the"aristocracy" of the country. The faculties are all awake, acute, andready for use; but there is a lack of depth, which will rouse theperpetual wonder of future generations. While the mass of the peopleexhibits the strong characteristics of the Saxon, the Celtic, and theSouth German races, physical endurance and occasionally intellectualpre-eminence, --for, saving some peculiarities of speech, made defectsmerely by comparison, there are no such natural orators and statesmenin the world as are to be found in Congress; at the same time, thewould-be aristocracy of the country is remarkable for nothing so much asfor the very unaristocratic faculty of getting money--rarely mingling inpublic questions, still more rarely producing anything of merit, literary or artistic. Therefore, being so constituted that the almightydollar crowns the edifice of their ambitions as with a coronet of milledsilver, they are singularly inapt to suffer from such ills as prick thesoul, which taketh no thought for the morrow, what it shall eat or whatit shall drink. 

Truly, a happy people, these American aristocrats. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

When Margaret awoke the next morning her first impulse was to go awayfor a time. She was disgusted with New York, and desired nothing so muchas the sensation of being free from Mr. Barker. A moment, however, sufficed to banish any such thoughts. In the first place, if she wereaway from the metropolis it would take just so many hours longer for theDoctor's letters to reach her. There had been a lacuna in thecorrespondence of late, and it seemed to her that the letters she hadreceived were always dated some days before the time stamped on theHeidelberg postmark. He spoke always of leaving very soon; but though hesaid many loving and tender things, he was silent as to his own doings. She supposed he was occupied with the important matter he described asthe "other reason, " and so in the two or three short notes she wrote himshe abstained from questioning any more. 

Furthermore, she reflected that however much she might wish to be away, it was most emphatically not the thing to do. On the whole, she wouldstay where she was. 

She was roused from her reverie by Clémentine, who entered in a halo ofsmiles, as though she were the bearer of good news. In the first placeshe had a telegram, which proved to be from Claudius, dated Berlin, andsimply announcing the fact that he would sail at once. Margaret couldhardly conceal her great satisfaction, and the colour came so quickly toher face as she read the flimsy bit of paper from the cable office thatClémentine made the most desperate efforts to get possession of it, orat least to see the signature. But Margaret kept it under her pillow forhalf an hour, and then burned it carefully by the taper, to Clémentine'sinexpressible chagrin. 

Meanwhile, however, there were other news in the wind, and when theartful Frenchwoman had succeeded in opening the window just so that aray of light should fall on madam's face, she fired her second shot. 

"Monsieur le Duc is of return, Madame, " she said, suddenly turningtowards her mistress. 

"The Duke?" repeated Margaret innocently. "When did he come?"

"Ah, Madame, " said the maid, disappointed at having produced so littleeffect, "it is precisely what I do not know. I come from meetingMonsieur Veelees upon the carrefour. He has prayed me to present thecompliments of Monsieur le Duc and to ask at what hour Madame laComtesse would be in disposition to see him. "

"Ah, very well, " said the Countess. "I will get up, Clémentine. "

"Si tôt, Madame? it is yet very morning, " argued the girl with a littleshow of polite surprise. 

"That is indifferent. Go, Clémentine, and tell Monsieur le Duc I willsee him at once. "

"At once, Madame? I run, " said Clémentine, going slowly to the door. 

"Enfin--when I am dressed. Don't you understand?" said Margaretimpatiently. 

"Parfaitement, Madame. I will speak with Monsieur Veelees. " And shevanished. 

It was a bright November morning, and though there had been a slightfrost daring the night, it was fast vanishing before the sun. Margaretwent to the window and breathed the cool air. An indescribable longingseized her to be out, among trees and plants and fresh growingthings--to blow away the dark dreams of the night, the visions of Barkerand Screw, and of the ballroom, and of that detestable Japanese boudoir. She hurried her toilet in a manner that completely aroused Clémentine'svigilant suspicion. 

"Hélas, " Clémentine used to say to Willis the Duke's servant, "Je ne luiai jamais connu d'amant. I had pourtant much hoped of MonsieurClodiuse. " But she never ventured such remarks when old Vladimir was athand. 

When the Countess was dressed she went out into her little drawing-room, and found the Duke looking more sunburnt and healthy than ever, though atrifle thinner. The rough active Western life always agreed with him. Hecame forward with a bright smile to meet her. 

"Upon my word, how well you look!" he exclaimed as he shook hands; andindeed she was beautiful to see, for if the sleepless night had made herpale, the good news of Claudius's coming had brought the fire to hereyes. 

"Do I?" said she. "I am glad; and you look well too. Your run on theprairies has done you good. Come, " said she, leading him to the window, "it is a beautiful day. Let us go out. "

"By all means: but first I have some good news for you. Fitzdoggin hastelegraphed me that Claudius--I mean, " he said, interrupting himselfand blushing awkwardly, "I mean that it is all right, you know. Theyhave arranged all your affairs beautifully. " Margaret looked at himcuriously a moment while he spoke. Then she recognised that the Dukemust have had a hand in the matter, and spoke very gratefully to him, not mentioning that she had received news direct, for she did not wishto spoil his pleasure in being the first to tell her. To tell the truth, the impulsive Englishman was rather in doubt whether he had not betrayedthe Doctor's secret, and seemed very little inclined to say anythingmore about it. 

"I wish, " she said at last, "that we could ride this morning. I have notbeen on a horse for ever so long, and I want the air. "

"By Jove, " cried the Duke, overjoyed at the prospect of breaking aninterview which seemed likely to lead him too far, "I should think so. Iwill send and get some horses directly. The very thing, by Jove!" And hewent to the door. 

"How are you going to get anything fit to ride in New York, at suchshort notice?" asked Margaret, laughing at his impetuosity. 

"There's a fellow here lends me anything in his stable when I am in NewYork, " he answered, half out of the room. "I'll go myself, " he calledback from the landing, and shut the door behind him. "Upon my word, " hesaid to himself as he lighted a cigarette in the cab, and drove away tohis friend's stable, "she is the most beautiful thing I ever saw. Ialmost let the cat out of the bag, just to please her. I don't wonderClaudius is crazy about her. I will talk about the West when we areriding, and avoid the subject. " With which sage resolution his Graceseemed well satisfied. When he returned, he found Margaret clad in amarvellous habit, that reminded him of home. 

"The horses will be at the Park by the time we have driven there, " hesaid. "We will drive up. " He made no toilet himself, for being Englishand to the saddle born, he cared not a jot how he looked on horseback. In half an hour they were mounted, and walking their horses down thebroad bend of the road where it enters the Central Park. Margaret askedabout Lady Victoria, and the Duke, to make sure of not getting off thetrack, immediately began talking about the journey they had just made. But Margaret was not listening. 

"Do you know?" she said, "it is very pleasant to feel I am not poor anylonger. I suppose it is a very low sentiment. "

"Of course, " said the Duke. "Beastly thing to have no money. "

"Do you know--" she began again, but stopped. 

"Well, " said the Duke, following her first train of thought, "it alwaysseems to me that I have no money myself. I don't suppose I am exactlypoor, though. "

"No, " laughed Margaret, "I was not thinking of that. "

"What is it?" he asked. 

"I think I will confide in you a little, for you have always been such agood friend to me. What do you know of Mr. Barker?"

"I am sure I don't know, " said the Englishman, taken off his guard bythe question. "I have known him some time--in this sort of way, " headded vaguely. 

"I believe, " said the Countess bluntly, "that it was Mr. Barker who madeall this trouble for Dr. Claudius. "

"I believe you are right, " answered the Duke suddenly turning in hissaddle and facing her. "I wonder how he could be such a brute?"

Margaret was silent. She was astonished at the readiness with which hercompanion assented to her proposition. He must have known it all along, she thought. 

"What makes you think so?" he asked presently. 

"What are your reasons for believing it?" she asked, with a smile. 

"Really, " he began; then shortly, "I believe I don't like his eyes. "

"Last night, " said Margaret, "I was talking with him at a party. Ichanced to speak of the Doctor's coming back, and Mr. Barker laughed andsneered, and said it was ridiculous. "

The Duke moved angrily in his saddle, making the horse he rode shake hishead and plunge a little. 

"He is a brute, " he said at last. 

"Your horse?" inquired Margaret sweetly. 

"No--Barker. And pray what did you answer him? I hope you gave him alesson for his impertinence. "

"I told him, " said she, "that I had documents in my possession thatwould establish his right as well as any he could get in Germany. "

"Barker must have been rather taken aback, " said the other in high glee. "I am glad you said that. "

"So am I. I do not imagine I shall see much of Mr. Barker in future, "she added demurely. 

"Um! As bad as that?" The Duke was beginning to catch the drift of whatMargaret was saying. She had no intention of telling him any more, however. Bitterly as she felt towards Barker, she would not allowherself the triumph of telling her friend she had refused to marry him. 

"I know it is a very womanly fancy, " she said, "but I want to ride fast, please. I want exercise. "

"All right, " said the Duke, and they put their horses into a canter. TheCountess felt safe now that her friends had returned and that Claudiushad telegraphed he was about to sail. She felt as though her troubleswere over, and as if the world were again at her feet. And as theygalloped along the roads, soft in the warm sun to the horses' feet, breathing in great draughts of good clean air, the past two monthsseemed to dwindle away to a mere speck in the far distance of her life, instead of being entangled with all the yesterdays of the dark seasonjust over. 

And Claudius--the man who made all this change in her life, who hadopened a new future for her--how had he passed these months, shewondered? To tell the truth, Claudius had been so desperately busy thatthe time had not seemed so long. If he had been labouring in any othercause than hers it would have been insupportable. But the constantfeeling that all he did was for her, and to her advantage, and that atthe same time she was ignorant of it all, gave him strength and courage. He had been obliged to think much, to travel far, and to act promptly;and for his own satisfaction he had kept up the illusion that he was inHeidelberg by a cunning device. He wrote constantly, and enclosed theletters to the old notary at the University, who, with Teutonicregularity, stamped and posted them. And so it was that the date of theletter, written in St. Petersburg, was always two or three days olderthan that of the postmark. For Claudius would not put a false date atthe head of what he wrote, any more than, if Margaret had written toask him whether he were really in Heidelberg or not, he would havedeceived her in his answer. Probably he would not have answered thequestion at all. The letters were merely posted in Heidelberg; andMargaret had trusted him enough not to notice or be willing to commentupon the discrepancy. 

And, by dint of activity and the assistance of the persons to whom hehad letters, he had succeeded in bringing the Countess's business to asatisfactory conclusion. He found it just as Mr. Bellingham had toldhim. In an autocratic country, if you are to have justice at all, youwill have it quickly. Moreover, it was evident to the authorities that aman coming all the way from America, and presenting such credentials asClaudius brought, deserved to be attended to at once--the more so whenhis whole appearance and manner were such as to create a small _furore_, in the Embassy circles. Claudius went everywhere, saw every one, andused every particle of influence he could obtain to further the objectof his visit. And so it was that, at the end of a month or so, a special_ukase_ provided for the payment in perpetuity to herself and her heirsfor ever of the jointure-money first decreed to the Countess Margaretfor life only from the estates of her late husband, Count Alexis of theGuards. This was even more than Claudius had hoped for--certainly morethan Margaret had dreamt of. As for Nicholas, Claudius cared nothingwhat became of him, for he probably thought him a foolish Nihilist, andhe knew enough of the Countess's character to be sure she would neverlet her brother suffer want, whatever his faults. 

So when he had concluded the affair he hastened to Berlin, telegraphingfrom thence the news of his immediate return. In less than a fortnight, at all events, he ought to be in New York. The thought gave him infiniterelief; for, since he had finished his business in Petersburg, thereaction which in strong natures is very sure to follow a great effort, for the very reason that strong natures tax their powers to the utmost, recklessly, began to make itself felt. It seemed to him, as he lookedback, that he had heard so little from her. Not that he complained; forhe was fully sensible of her goodness in writing at all, and hetreasured her letters as things sacred, even to the envelopes, andwhatsoever had touched her hand. But he felt keenly that he was in totalignorance of her doings; and one or two references to Barker troubledhim. He too had his suspicions that the scheming American had beenconcerned in the sudden fit of caution developed by Messrs. Screw andScratch. He too had suspected that his quondam friend had beeninsincere, and that everything was not as it should be. But he wasneither so wise as Margaret, who would have told him not to soil hishands with pitch, nor so supremely indifferent as the Duke, who wouldhave said that since he had got the money it didn't matter in the leastif Barker were a brute or not. On the contrary, Claudius promisedhimself to sift the evidence; and if he discovered that Barker wasguilty of any double-dealing, he would simply break his neck. And asClaudius thought of it, his teeth set, and he looked capable of breakingany number of necks, then and there. 

But for all his wrath and his suspicions, the real cause of Barker'sstrange behaviour never presented itself to his mind. It never struckhim that Barker could aspire to Margaret's hand; and he merelyconcluded that the young man had laid a plot for getting his money. Ifany one had related to Claudius the scene which took place at Mrs. VanSueindell's the very night when he sent his telegram, he would havelaughed the story to scorn in perfect good faith, for he could not havebelieved it possible. Nor, believing it, would he have cared. And so herushed across Europe, and never paused till he had locked himself intohis stateroom on board the steamer, and had begun a long letter toMargaret. He knew that he would see her as soon as a letter could reachher, but that made no difference. He felt impelled to write, and hewrote--a letter so tender and loving and rejoicing that were it toappear in these pages no lover would ever dare write to his lady again, lest she chide him for being less eloquent than Claudius, Phil. D. OfHeidelberg. And he wrote on and on for many days, spending most of histime in that way. 

Meanwhile, the Duke and Margaret cantered in the Park, and talked of allkinds of things; or rather, the Duke talked, and Margaret thought ofClaudius. Before they returned, however, she had managed to let the Dukeknow that the Doctor was on his way back; whereat the Englishmanrejoiced loudly. Perhaps he would have given a great deal to knowwhether they were engaged, to be married; but still Margaret gave nosign. It was far from her thoughts; and the fact had only presenteditself in that form to her on the spur of the moment, the precedingevening, as likely to prove a crushing blow at once to Mr. Barker'splotting and Mr. Barker's matrimonial views. But while the Duke talked, she was thinking. And as the situation slowly unfolded its well-knownpictures to her mind, she suddenly saw it all in a different light. 

"I must be mad, " she thought. "Barker will tell every one; and the Dukeought not to know it except from me!"

"Speaking of Dr. Claudius--" she began; the Duke was at that momenttalking earnestly about the Pueblo Indians, but that was of noimportance. "Speaking of the Doctor, you ought to know--I would ratherthat no one else told you--we are going to be married. "

The Duke was so much surprised--not so much at the information as at hermanner of imparting it--that he pulled up short. Seeing him stop, shestopped also. 

"Are you very much astonished?" she asked, pushing the gray veil up toher hat, and looking at him smilingly out of her deep, dark eyes. TheDuke spoke no word, but leapt from his horse, which he left standing inthe middle of the path, surprised into docility by the sudden desertion. There were a few wild-flowers growing by the road, which here ledthrough a wooded glade of the Park; they were the flowers calledMichaelmas daisies, which bloom until November in America. He picked agreat handful of them, and came running back. 

"Let me be the first to congratulate you, my dear friend, " he said, standing bareheaded at her stirrup, and offering the flowers with ahalf-bashful smile that sat strangely on a man of his years. It was aquick, impulsive action, such as no one could have expected from him whodid not know him intimately well--and few could boast that they did. Margaret was touched by his look and manner. 

"Thanks, " she said, bending over her saddle-bow, and taking the daisiesas he held them up to her. "Yes, you are the first--to congratulate me, "which was true. He still stood looking at her, and his hand wouldhardly let go the flowers where his fingers touched hers. His face grewpale, then ashy-white and he steadied himself against her horse's neck. 

"What is the matter? are you ill? have you hurt yourself?" askedMargaret in real alarm, for he looked as though he were going to faint, and it was a full minute since he had come back to her from theroadside. Then he made a great effort and collected himself, and thenext instant he had dashed after his horse, which was wandering awaytowards the trees. 

"I did feel queer for a minute, " he said when he was once more in thesaddle and by her side. "I dare say it is the heat. It's a very hot day, now I think of it. Would you allow me a cigarette? I hate to smoke inpublic, you know, but it will make me all right again. " Margaretassented, of course, to the request; it was morning, in the recesses ofthe Park, and nobody would see. But she looked strangely at him for aminute, wondering what could have produced his sudden dizziness. 

They rode more slowly towards the entrance of the Park, and theCountess's thoughts did not wander again. She talked to her companion onevery subject he broached, showing interest in all he said, and askingquestions that she knew would please him. But the latter part of theride seemed long, and the drive home interminable, for Margaret was inhaste to be alone. She was not sure that the Duke's manner had changedsince he had turned so strangely pale, but she fancied he spoke as ifmaking an effort. However, they reached the hotel at last, andseparated. 

"Thanks, so much, " she said; "it has been such a delightful morning. "

"It has indeed, " said he, "and--let me congratulate you once more. Claudius is a gentleman in every way, and--I suppose he is as worthy ofyou as any one could be, " he added quickly, in a discontented voice, andturned away, hat in hand. She stood looking after him a moment. 

"I wonder, " she said to herself as she entered her room and closed thedoor. "Poor man! it is not possible, though. I must be dreaming. Ah me!I am always dreaming now, it seems to me;" and she sank down in a chairto wait for Clémentine. 

And so it is that some women go through life making far more victimsthan they know of. There are some honest men who will not speak, unlessthey have a right to, and who are noble enough to help those who have aright. The Duke had known Margaret ever since she had married Alexis, ashas been said. Whether he had loved her or not is a question not soeasily answered. Certain it is that when she told him she was going tobe married to Claudius he turned very pale, and did not recover theentire use of his mind for a whole day. 

Nevertheless, during the succeeding fortnight he devoted himselfsedulously to Margaret's amusement, and many were the things that he andshe and Lady Victoria, and the incomparable Miss Skeat, who alwaysenjoyed everything, planned and carried out together. Margaret did notshun society or shut herself up, and more than once she saw Barker inthe street and in the crowds at parties. The houses in America are sosmall that parties are always crowded. But he had the good sense toavoid her, and she was not troubled by any communication from him. Clémentine, indeed, wondered that so few flowers came, for a day or two, and old Vladimir pondered on the probable fate of Mr. Barker, who, hesupposed, had been sent to Canada in chains for some political offence, seeing that he called no longer. But these faithful servitors could notask questions, and sources of information they had none. Barker, however, as Margaret had anticipated, had been active in spreading thenews of her engagement; for, before very long, callers were plenty, andflowers too, and many were the congratulations that poured in. Then shesaw the wisdom of having informed the Duke of her position before anyofficious acquaintance could do it for her. The Duke, indeed, saw veryfew people in New York, for he hated to be "entertained, " but he knew agreat many men slightly, and some one of them would probably haveobliged him with the information. 

One morning as he and the Countess were about to drive up to the Parkfor their daily ride, which had become an institution, the servantpresented a card, saying the gentleman was anxious to see her ladyshipat once, if possible. The card was that of Mr. Screw, of Screw andScratch. 

"Very well, " said the Countess, who was pulling on her gloves, andholding her riding-stick under one arm as she did so. "Ask him to comeup. " The Duke moved to withdraw. 

"Don't go, please, " said Margaret; and so he remained. A moment laterMr. Screw's yellow head and small eyes appeared at the door. 

"The Countess Margaret?" he inquired deferentially. 

"Yes. Mr. Screw, I believe?"

"The same, Madam. A--pardon me, but--I desired to speak with you alone, "stammered the lawyer, seeing that the Duke did not move. 

"I have asked the--this gentleman, who is my friend, to remain, " saidMargaret calmly. "You may speak freely. What is your business with me, sir?" She motioned him to a chair, and he sat down opposite her, hat inhand. He would have liked to hook his legs into each other and put hishands into his pockets, but he was too well bred for that. At last hetook courage. 

"Frankly, Madam, I have come to discharge a moral duty, and I will speakplainly. I am informed on credible authority that you are engaged tomarry a gentleman, calling himself Dr. Claudius--a--a tall man--fairbeard?"

"Your information is correct, Mr. Screw, " said Margaret haughtily, "I amengaged to be married to Dr. Claudius. "

"As one of the executors of the late Mr. Gustavus Lindstrand, deceased, "proceeded Mr. Screw slowly, "I feel it my duty, as an honest man, toinform you that there are serious doubts as to whether the gentleman whocalls himself Dr. Claudius is Dr. Claudius at all. The person inquestion disappeared two months ago, and has not been heard of since, asfar as I can make out. I have no interest in the matter as far as itconcerns yourself, as you may well imagine, but I have thought it rightto warn you that the gentleman whom you have honoured with a promise ofmarriage has not established his claim to be the person he representshimself. "

Margaret, who, after the first words, had foreseen what Mr. Screw hadcome to say, and who believed that very respectable and honest man to beconcerned in the plot against Claudius, was naturally angry, but she hadthe good sense to do the right thing. 

"Mr. Screw, " she said in her commanding voice, icily, "I am deeplyindebted to you for your interference. Nevertheless, I am persuaded thatthe gentleman to whom I am engaged is very really and truly the personhe represents himself to be. A fact of which my friend here willprobably be able to persuade you without difficulty. " And she forthwithleft the room. The Duke turned upon the lawyer. 

"Look here, Mr. Screw, " he said sharply, "I am the--well, never mind myname, you can find out from the people downstairs. I am an Englishgentleman, and I know who Dr. Claudius is. I knew his father; I broughthim to this country in my yacht. I am prepared to go into court thisminute and swear to the identity of the gentleman you are slandering. Slandering, sir! Do you hear me?" The ducal anger was hot. "And exceptfor the fact that Dr. Claudius will be here to speak for himself the dayafter to-morrow morning, I would take you into court now by main forceand make you hear me swear to him. Do you hear me, sir?"

"My dear sir, " began Mr. Screw, who was somewhat taken aback by thisburst of wrath. 

"Don't call me 'your dear sir, '" said the nobleman, moving towardsScrew. 

"Sir, then, " continued the other, who had not an idea to whom he wasspeaking, and perhaps would not have cared had he known, being such anhonest man, "I cannot conceive why, if you are so certain, you have notcome forward before, instead of allowing your friend to go to Europe inorder to procure evidence he might have obtained here. "

"I am not going to argue with you, " said the Duke. "Dr. Claudius wouldhave gone to Europe in any case, if that is any satisfaction to you. What did you come here for?"

"Because I thought it right to warn an unsuspecting lady of her danger, "answered Mr. Screw boldly. 

"Is that true? Do you really believe Claudius is not Claudius?" askedthe Duke, coming close to the lawyer and looking him in the eyes. 

"Certainly, I believe him to be an impostor, " said the other returninghis gaze fearlessly. 

"I suppose you do, " said the Duke, tolerably satisfied. "Now then, whosent you here?"

"No one sent me, " answered Screw with some pride. "I am not in the habitof being sent, as you call it. It was in the course of a conversation Ihad with Mr. Barker, the other day--"

"I thought so, " interrupted the Englishman. "I thought Mr. Barker was atthe bottom of it. Will you please to deliver a message to Mr. Barker, with my compliments?" Screw nodded solemnly, as under protest. 

"Then be kind enough to tell him from me that he is a most infernalblackguard. That if he attempts to carry this abominable plot anyfurther I will post him at every one of his clubs as a liar and a cheat, and--and that he had better keep out of my way. As for you, sir, I wouldadvise you to look into his character, for I perceive that you are anhonest man. "

"I am obliged to you, sir, " said Mr. Screw, with something of a sneer. "But who are you, pray, that ventures to call my clients by such uglynames?"

"There is my card--you can see for yourself, " said the Duke. Screw readit. His anger was well roused by this time. 

"We have small respect for titles in this country, my Lord Duke, " saidhe stiffly. "The best thing I can say is what you said to me, that youimpress me as being an honest man. Nevertheless you may be mistaken. "

"That is a matter which will be decided the day after to-morrow, " saidthe other. "Meanwhile, in pursuance of what I said, I thank you verysincerely indeed"--Mr. Screw smiled grimly--"no, I am in earnest, Ireally thank you, on behalf of the Countess Margaret, for the honourablepart you have endeavoured to perform towards her; and I beg your pardonfor having mistaken you, and supposed you were in the plot. But give mymessage to Mr. Barker--it is actionable, of course, and he may takeaction upon it, if he likes. Good-morning, sir. "

"Good-morning, " said Screw shortly, somewhat pacified by the Duke'sfrank apology. 

"I think I settled him, " said the peer to Margaret, as they got into thecab that was to drive them to the Park. And they cantered away in royalspirits. 

CHAPTER XX. 

Whatever reason may say, whatever certainty we may feel, the last hoursof waiting for an ocean steamer are anxious ones. The people at theoffice may assure us twenty times that they feel "no anxietywhatever"--that is their stock phrase; our friends who have crossed theocean twice a year for a score of years may tell us that any vessel maybe a few hours, nay, a few days, behind her reckoning; it may seemmadness to entertain the least shadow of a doubt--and yet, until thefeet we love are on the wharf and the dear glad hands in ours, theshadow of an awful possibility is over us, the dreadful consciousness ofthe capacity of the sea. 

The Duke, who, but for his anxiety to see the end, would have long sincebeen on his way to England, had taken every precaution to ascertain thedate of the ship's arrival. He took it for granted that Claudius wouldsail in the Cunard steamer, and he found out the vessel which sailednext after the Doctor had telegraphed. Then he made arrangements to beinformed so soon as she was sighted, determined to go down in theCustom-House tug and board her at the Quarantine, that he might have thesatisfaction of being first to tell Claudius all there was to be told. 

"The day after to-morrow, " he had said to Margaret, "we may safelyexpect him, " and he watched, with a sort of dull pleasure, the lightthat came into her eyes when she heard the time was so near. 

The first disappointment--alas, it was only the first--came on theevening before the appointed day. The Duke received a note from theoffice to the effect that late arrivals having reported very heavyweather, it was feared that the steamer might be delayed some hours. Heat once inquired for the Countess, but found to his annoyance that bothshe and his sister had gone to the theatre. He had been out when theywent, and so they had taken Miss Skeat as a sort of escort, and weredoubtless enjoying themselves mightily. It was necessary, however, thatMargaret should know the news of the delay before she went to bed, forit would have been cruel to allow her to wake in the morning with theassurance that Claudius might arrive at any moment. 

"If I wait for them, and make a fuss, she will think it is somethingserious, " reflected the Duke with more than usual tact. So he wrote anote, simply stating that he had news of a delay in the arrival of somehours, --perhaps a whole day, he added, wishing to be on the safe side. He gave the note to Vladimir, and went away to his rooms. 

Margaret and Lady Victoria came home together in great spirits, laughingand rustling in their silk cloaks as they entered the littledrawing-room, and sat down by the fire for a chat. Then Vladimir broughtthe Duke's note. Margaret read it by the firelight, and her face fellsuddenly. 

"What is it, dear?" asked Lady Victoria affectionately, as she noticedher companion's distressed look. 

"Nothing--I suppose I ought not to be anxious. The steamer is delayed, that is all, " and she gave the English girl her brother's note. 

"Oh, if it had been anything serious he would have sat up for us. Itwill probably be in in the afternoon instead of in the morning. " ButMargaret's eyes were heavy and her gladness was gone from her. 

"Do you ever have presentiments?" she asked, as they separated half anhour later. 

"Never, " answered Lady Victoria cheerily, "and if I ever do they nevercome true. "

"I do, " said Margaret, "I have a feeling that I shall never see himagain. " Poor Countess! She looked very miserable, with her white faceand weary eyes. 

Early the next morning Lady Victoria told her brother what had been theeffect of his note. He was very angry with himself for not having put itinto better shape, and he determined to repair his error by devotinghimself entirely to watching for the steamer. With this object, he wentdown to the Cunard office and established himself with a novel and a boxof cigarettes, to pass the day. He refused to move, and sent out in theafternoon for something to eat. The people in the office did not knowhim, and he felt free to be as Bohemian as he pleased. Once in thecourse of the day he was told that a French steamer had come in and hadmet with very heavy weather, losing a boat or two. It was possible, theysaid, that the Cunarder, which had sailed on the day following thisvessel's departure, though from a nearer point, might be delayed anothertwenty-four hours. For his part, he felt no fear of the safe arrival ofthe ship, in due time. The odds are a thousand to one that a companywhich has never lost a vessel at sea will not lose any particular oneyou name. Nevertheless, he arranged to be called up in the night, if herlights were sighted, and he returned somewhat disconsolately to thehotel. Again he bethought him that if he told the Countess he had passedthe day in the steamer office she would overrate his anxiety and soincrease her own. 

Margaret was really very unreasonable. There was not the slightest doubtthat the steamer was safe, but she had become possessed, as LadyVictoria expressed it, by this unaccountable presentiment, that herfair-haired lover was gone from her for ever. Hideous things came upbefore her, poor drowned faces in the green swirl of the waves, mendead, and dying men grasping frantically at the white water-crestsbreaking over them, as though the rushing foam were a firm thing andcould save them. She heard the wild thin wind screeching across theocean furrows, breathless in his race with death. And then all seemedquiet, and she could see a grand form of a man, stiff-limbed and stark, the yellow hair all hanging down and the broad white throat turned up indeath, floating solemnly through the deep green water, and seaweed, andooze, far down below the angry waves. 

She struggled hard against these dark thoughts; but it was no use. Theywould come back, and all through the evening she sat by her fire, witheyes wide, and parted lips, staring at the embers and straining herhearing to catch the sound of some one coming to the door--some onebearing the welcome news that the good ship was sighted at last. But nosound came, all through that weary evening, nor any message of comfort. Lady Victoria sat with her, and Miss Skeat, pretending not to notice herdistressed mood; and once or twice the Duke came in and spoke cheerfullyof what they would do "when Claudius came back. " But Margaret went toher room at last with a heavy heart, and would not be comforted. 

To tell the truth, the Duke firmly expected to receive the news of theship's arrival during the night, and so great was his anxiety to relieveMargaret that he insisted upon Willis and Vladimir sitting up all night, so as to be sure of having the message delivered the moment it arrived. The Russian and the English servants hated each other, and he wascertain they would not give each other any rest. But the Duke sleptsoundly, and waking at daybreak yelled viciously for Willis. 

"Well?" he said, "I suppose you went to sleep. Where is the telegram?"

"There's no telegraph been yet, your Grace;" said the gray man-servant, who looked as though he had been up several nights instead of one. 

"Oh!" said the Duke with a change of voice. He was not given to bullyinghis servants, and always regretted being hasty with them, but hisconviction had been strong that the message ought to have come in thenight. 

Having spent the day previous in the office, he felt in duty bound notto relinquish his post until the Countess's doubts were set at rest. Sohe got into a cab; for, like many foreigners, he hated the ElevatedRoad, and was driven down town to the Bowling-Green. 

It rained heavily all the morning, and the Duke, who, as may beimagined, was not generally given to spending his days in steamboatoffices, was wonderfully and horribly bored. He smoked and kicked thechairs and read his novel, and was generally extremely uneasy, so thatthe clerks began to find him a nuisance, not having any idea that hewas a real living swell. And still it rained, and the newspaper vendorslooked in, all drizzly and wet, and the gay feathers of New Yorkbusiness seemed draggled. 

Suddenly--it might have been at two o'clock--there was a stir in theoffice, a rattling of feet on the board floor, and a sort of generalrevival. 

"She's in sight, " a clerk called out to the Duke. His Grace stretchedhimself and departed. He had ascertained that the Custom-House tug didnot start for two hours after the ship was sighted. So he sent atelegram to Margaret to announce that her waiting was over, and then, topass the time, he went, and got something to eat. In due season he wasseated in the single cabin of the little high-pressure boat, as itploughed its way bravely through the waves and the rain to meet thegreat ocean monster. The Custom-House officials, cheery well-fed men, who know the green side of a XX[4], and are seldom troubled with gloomyforebodings, chatted and chaffed merrily together. One of them was verybald, and appeared to be a perpetual laughing-stock for the rest. 

[Footnote 4: Twenty dollars. ]

"Well, Ike, " shouted one of his companions between two pulls of a smallblack bottle, "you _hev_ got a skatin' rink on to the top of _your_head, and no _mistake_". The other grinned, and retorted to the effectthat it was better to have the outside smooth than the inside soft. 

"Well, I guess you got both, like a water-melon, " returned the firstspeaker. 

There are seldom more than one or two passengers on the Custom-Housetug, and on this occasion the Duke was alone. He could not stand theatmosphere of tobacco and whisky in the cabin, and made his way alongthe side to the engine-room, leaving the Custom-House men to their smokeand their repartee. 

It was almost five o'clock, and already nearly dark, when they came upwith the great steamer. In five minutes the Duke was over the side, hurrying down to find his friend. Not seeing him anywhere, he found thebursar and inquired for Dr. Claudius. The officer replied that he hadnot made his acquaintance on the voyage, but offered the Duke a list ofthe passengers, remarking that the ship was unusually crowded for thetime of year. 

The Duke ran his finger down the list, then thinking he had missed thename he sought, he held the paper close to the lamp. But there was no"Dr. Claudius" there. His face fell and his heart beat fast, for he hadbeen so positively certain. Poor Margaret! What would she do? Howfoolish of Claudius not to telegraph the day he sailed!

"You are quite sure there are no omissions here?" asked the Duke of thebursar. 

"Quite sure, sir, " answered he. "Wait a minute, though, " he said, as theDuke dropped the list, "there was a passenger taken ashore at Queenstownvery ill. A tall man, I should say, though they carried him. He had notregistered on board, and he was so ill he gave up the passage. I couldnot tell you his name. "

"Had he a light beard?" asked the Duke in great alarm. 

"Um! yes; a large beard at all events. I remember how he looked as theycarried him past. He was awfully pale, and his eyes were closed. "

"My God!" exclaimed the Duke; "it must have been he! Does no one knowhis name?"

"The captain may. He would not see you now, just going into port, but Iwill go and ask him, " added the officer kindly, seeing how muchdistressed the other seemed to be. 

"Do--thanks--please ask him--yes!" he ejaculated, and sank into a chair. The bursar returned in a quarter of an hour. 

"I am sorry to say, sir, " he said, "that no one seems to have known hisname. It sometimes happens. I am very sorry. "

The Duke saw there was nothing to be done. It was clear that Claudiuswas not on board; but it was by no means clear that Claudius was notlying ill, perhaps dead, in Queenstown. The poor Englishman bit his lipsin despair, and was silent. He could not decide how much he ought totell Margaret, and how much he ought to keep to himself. The sickpassenger seemed to answer the description, and yet he might not havebeen the Doctor for all that. Tall man--pale--he would be pale anyhow ifhe were ill--fair beard--yes, it sounded like him. 

"I wish Vick were here, " said the Duke to himself; "she has so muchsense. " Immediately the idea of consulting with his sister developeditself in his mind. "How can I get ashore?" he asked suddenly. 

"I am afraid you will have to wait till we are in, " said the friendlyofficer. "It will not be more than an hour now. "

Impelled by some faint hope that the Doctor's name might have beenomitted by some accident, the Duke rose and threaded his way among thecrowding passengers, as they got their traps together and moved aboutthe great saloons. He pursued every tall man he saw, till he could catcha glimpse of his face. At last he met a towering figure in a darkenedpassage way. 

"My dear Claudius!" he cried, holding out his hand. But the strangeronly paused, muttered something about a "mistake" and passed on. Theexcitement grew on the Duke, as it became certain that Claudius was noton board, and never in the whole of his very high and mighty life had hebeen in such a state of mind. Some of the passengers noted his uneasymovements and exchanged remarks in an undertone, as he passed andrepassed. 

"He is probably crazy, " said an Englishman. 

"He is probably drunk, " said an American. 

"He is probably a defaulting bank cashier, " said a Scotchman. 

"He looks very wild, " said a New York mamma. 

"He looks very unhappy, " said her daughter. 

"He is very well dressed, " said her son, who got his clothes half yearlyfrom Smallpage. 

But the time passed at last, and the great thing came up to her pier, and opened her jaws and disgorged her living freight down a steep plankon to dry earth again; and the Duke, with a final look at the stream ofdescending passengers, forced his way ashore, and jumped into the firstcab he saw. 

"Drive to the nearest Elevated station, " he shouted. 

"Which avenue?" inquired the driver with that placidity which cabmenassume whenever one is in a hurry. 

"Oh, any avenue--damn the avenue--Sixth Avenue of course!" cried theDuke in a stew. 

"Very good, sir--Sixth Avenue Elevated, did you say?" and hedeliberately closed the door and mounted to his box. 

"What shall I tell her--what shall I say?" were the questions thatrepeated themselves with stunning force in his ear as he rattled throughthe streets, and slid over the smooth Elevated Road, swiftly towards hishotel. He had still some few hundred yards to walk from the station whenhe got out. His courage failed him, and he walked slowly, with bent headand heavy heart, the bearer of bad news. 

Leisurely he climbed the steps, and the few stairs to his room. Therestood Lady Victoria under the gaslight, by the fire, looking at theclock. 

"At last, " she cried, "how _did_ you miss him?"

"Whom?" asked her brother dejectedly. 

"Why, Claudius, of course!"

"Claudius is not come, " he said in a low voice. 

"Not come?" cried Lady Victoria, "not come? Why he has been here thesetwo hours, with Margaret!"

The Duke was fairly overpowered and worn-out with excitement, and hefell back into a chair. 

"How the--" he began, but checked the expletive, which found ventelsewhere, as expletives will. "Where the devil did he come from?"

"From Europe, I believe, " said she. "Don't swear about it. "

"Excuse me, Vick, I am bowled out; I was never so taken aback in mylife. Tell me all about it, Vick. " And he slowly recovered his sensesenough to appreciate that Claudius had really arrived, and that he, thefriend who had taken so much trouble, had somehow missed him after all. But he was honestly glad. 

"I only saw him a moment, and I came in to your room to wait. Of courseI let him go in there alone. "

"Of course, " assented her brother gravely. 

"Margaret was waiting for him, for she got your telegram that the shipwas in sight at three o'clock, and he got here at five; I thought it wasvery quick. "

"Devilish quick, indeed, " said her profane brother under his breath. "Tell me all about it, " he added aloud. 

It was easily enough explained, and before they went to bed that nightevery one understood it all. It was simply this--Claudius had come byanother steamer, one of the German line, and had chanced to arrive acouple of hours before the Cunarder. Margaret had received the Duke'smessage, as Lady Victoria had said, and, as Claudius appeared soonafterwards, she saw no discrepancy. 

The tall Doctor left his slender luggage to the mercy of the CustomHouse, and, hailing a cab, paid the man double fare in advance to hurryto the hotel. He could hardly wait while the servant went through theformality of taking up his name to the Countess, and when the messagecame back that he would "please to step up upstairs, " as the stereotypedAmerican hotel phrase has it, he seemed indeed to make of the stairwaybut a single step. 

One moment more, and he was kneeling at her feet, trembling in everylimb and speechless, but kissing the fair white hands again and again, while she bent down her flushed dark cheek till it touched his yellowhair. Then he stood up to his height and kissed her forehead and claspedhis fingers about her waist and held her up to the length of his mightyarms before him, unconscious, in his overmastering happiness, of thestrength he was exerting. But she laughed happily, and her eyes flashedin pride of such a man. 

"Forgive me, my beloved, " he said at last. "I am beside myself withjoy. " She hid her face on his breast as they stood together. 

"Are you very glad to come back?" she asked at last, looking up to himwith a smile that told the answer. 

"Glad is too poor a word, my dear, dear lady, " he said simply. 

 * * * * *

Two hours later they were still seated side by side on the deep sofa. Claudius had told her everything, for, now that he had accomplished hismission, there were to be no more secrets; and there were tears inMargaret's dark eyes as she heard, for she knew what it had cost him toleave her, knowing how he loved. And then they talked on. 

"If it is to be so soon, dear, " she said, "let it be on Christmas Day. "

"So be it. And, beloved, where shall we go?" he asked. 

"Oh, away--away from New York, and--and Mr. Barker and Mr. Screw and allthese horrid people, " she cried; for she too had confessed and told himall. 

"Yes, " he said; and was silent for a moment. "Dear one, " he began again, "there is one thing more that you ought to know--" he stopped. 

"Yes?" she said interrogatively. 

"My blessed lady, I have told you the story of my birth for the firsttime to-day. I thought you ought to know it. "

"That would never have made any difference, Claudius, " she answered halfreproachfully. 

"My uncle--my father's brother--died a week before I sailed. "

"I am sorry, dear, " said she in ready sympathy; "were you fond of him?"She did not realise what he meant. 

"I never remember to have seen him, " he replied; "but--he diedchildless. And I--I am no longer a _privat-docent_. " Margaret turnedquickly to him, comprehending suddenly. 

"Then you are the heir?" she asked. 

"Yes, darling, " he said softly. "It is a great name, and you must helpme to be worthy of it. I am no longer Dr. Claudius. " He added the lastsentence with a shade of regret. 

"And you need never have taken any trouble about this stupid money, after all? You are independent of all these people?"

"Yes, " he answered, with a smile, "entirely so. "

"I am so glad, --so glad, you do not know, " said she, clasping her handson his shoulder. "You know I hated to feel you were wrangling with thoselawyers for money;" and she laughed a little scornfully. 

"We will have it, all the same, " said Claudius, smiling, "and you shalldo as you like with it, beloved. It was honestly got, and will bring noill luck with it. And now I have told you, I say, let us go to myfather's house and make it ours. " He spoke proudly and fondly. "Let mewelcome my dear lady where her match was never welcomed before. "

"Yes, dear, we will go there. "

"Perhaps the Duke will lend us the yacht?" said Claudius. 

"Yes, " said Margaret, and there was a tinge of sadness in her voice, "yes, perhaps the Duke will lend us the yacht. "

THE END.