The Lady of the Basement Flat, by Mrs George de Horne Vaizey. 

________________________________________________________________________The scene opens with the marriage of one of a pair of sisters, and herdeparture for North America. The other sister is left feeling very muchat a loss, but she hits on the idea of renting a small London flat in apoor area, making herself look like a very elderly woman, and findingacts of kindness to do for her neighbours. She takes the name of MissHarding. 

However the married sister's marriage founders, and she comes back toEngland. Both the sisters rent a nice place in the country and spend alot of effort in decorating it. So Miss Harding has occasional spellsof living as her original young self with her sister, before returningto her basement flat. As usual with this author, with her fascinationwith illness, a child of one of the neighbours, Billie, becomes very illand needs roound-the-clock nursing. Miss Harding plays a big part inthis. But one day a chance remark by another of the tenants in theblock of flats makes it clear that the reason why the married sister'smarriage had foundered was no more than a misunderstanding. So MissHarding is able to fix her sister's problems, and Miss Harding herselffinds a husband, in her true and original identity, and so ends herparallel existence as Miss Harding. 

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THE LADY OF THE BASEMENT FLAT, BY MRS GEORGE DE HORNE VAIZEY. 

CHAPTER ONE. 

WHY NOT?

At three o'clock this afternoon Evelyn Wastneys died. I am EvelynWastneys, and I died, standing at the door of an old country home inIreland, with my hands full of ridiculous little silver shoes andhorseshoes, and a Paris hat on my head, and a trembling treble voicewhispering in my ear:--

"Good-bye, Evelyn darling--darling! Thank you--thank you for all youhave been to me! Oh, Evelyn, _promise_ you will not be unhappy!"

Then some mysterious hidden muscle, whose existence I had never beforesuspected, pulled two little strings at the corners of my mouth, and mylips smiled--a marionette smile--and a marionette voice criedjauntily:--

"Unhappy? Never! Why, I am free! I am going to begin to live. "

Then I watched a tall bridegroom in tweeds tenderly help a little bridein mole-coloured taffeta and sable furs into the waiting car, the hornblew, the engines whirled, a big hand and a little one flourishedhandkerchiefs out of the window, a white satin shoe danced ridiculouslyafter the wheels, and Aunt Emmeline cried sensibly:--

"That's over, thank goodness! The wind _is_ sharp! Let's have tea!"

She hurried into the house to give orders, and the old Evelyn Wastneysstood staring after the car, as it sped down the drive, passed throughthe lodge gates, and spun out into the high road. She had thestrangest, most curious feeling that it was only the ghost of herselfwho stood there--a ghost in a Paris hat and gown, with long suede gloveswrinkled up her arms, and a pendant of mingled initials sparkling on herlace waistcoat. The real, true Evelyn--a little, naked, shiveringcreature--was skurrying after that car, bleating piteously to be takenin. 

But the car rolled on quicker and quicker, its occupants too much takenup with themselves to have time to waste on dull other people. Inanother minute it was out of sight, but the ghost did not come back. The new Evelyn lingered upon the steps, waiting for it to return. Therewas such a blank, empty ache in the place where her heart used to be. It seemed impossible that that skurrying little ghost would not comeback, nestle again in its own place, and warm up the empty void. But itnever came back. The new Evelyn turned and walked into the house. 

"Well, it has all gone off very well! Kathleen looked quite nice, though I always do say that a real lace veil is less becoming thantulle. There was a rose and thistle pattern right across her nose, andpersonally I think those sheaves of lilies are too large. I hope she'llbe happy, I am sure! Mr Anderson seems a nice man; but one neverknows. It's always a risk going abroad. A young Canadian proposed tome as a girl. I said to him, `Do you think you could be nice enough tomake up to me for home, and country, and relations and friends, andassociations and customs, and everything I have valued all my life?' Hesaid it was a matter of opinion. What did _I_ think? I said it wasridiculous nonsense. _No_ man was nice enough! So he married RosaBates, and I hear their second boy is a hunchback. You are eatingnothing, my dear. Take a scone. Let's hope it's all for the best!"

"Best or worst, it's done now, " I said gloomily. Basil Anderson wascertainly "nice, " and, unlike Aunt Emmeline, my sister Kathleenentertained no doubt that he could fill every gap--home, country, friends, a selection of elderly aunts, and even that only sister who hadso far acted as buffer between herself and the storms of life. At thisvery moment the mole-coloured toque was probably reclining comfortablyon the tweed shoulder, and a smile was replacing tears as a big boomingvoice cried comfortably:--

"Evelyn! Oh, _she'll_ be all right! Don't worry about Evelyn, honey. Think of _me_!"

Following the line of the least resistance, I took the scone and chewedit vacantly. Figuratively speaking, it tasted of dust and ashes;literally, it tasted of nothing at all, and the tea was just a hot fluidwhich had to be swallowed at intervals, as medicine is swallowed ofnecessity. 

Aunt Emmeline helped herself systematically from each of the plates inturn, working steadily through courses of bread and butter, sandwiches, scone, _petits fours_, and wedding cake. She was a scraggy woman, withthe appetite of a giant. Kathie and I used to wonder where the foodwent! Probably to her tongue!

"Of course, " said Aunt Emmeline, continuing her thoughts aloud, as washer disconcerting habit, "Kathleen has money, and that gives a wife awhip hand. I begged her only yesterday to stand up for herself. Thoselittle fair women are so apt to be bullied. I knew a case. Well, mind, we'll hope it mayn't come to _that_! If she is sensible and doesn'texpect too much, things may work out all right. Especially for thefirst years. If anything _does_ go wrong, it will be your fault, Evelyn, for spoiling her as you have done. "

"Thanks very much for the cheering thought, " I said snappily. AuntEmmeline helped herself to a sandwich, and blinked with exasperatingforbearance. 

"Not cheerful, perhaps, but it may be _useful_! If you'd taken myadvice. It's never too late to mend, Evelyn. "

"Even at twenty-six?"

Aunt Emmeline surveyed me critically. She was taking stock, andconsidering just how young, how old, how fresh, how damaged thoselengthy years had left my physical charms. I looked in a long glassopposite, and took stock at the same time. A smart young woman--oh, very smart indeed, for as Kathie had argued, if you can't "blow" expensefor your only sister's wedding, when on earth are you going to do it?Light brown hair, "still untouched by grey, " hazel eyes with very long, very finely marked eyebrows (secretly they are the joy of my life!) goodfeatures, and a sulky expression. The old Evelyn used to be verygood-looking--(she's dead now, so I can say so, as much as I like)--thisnew one is good-looking too, in a disagreeable, unattractive kind ofway. If you saw her dining at the next table in an hotel you would say, "Rather a fine-looking girl!" And the man with you would reply, "Thinkso! Too much of a temper for my fancy. Glad she don't belong to me. "I realised as much as I looked in the glass, and that made me crosserthan ever. If I had been alone, able to cry, or storm, or grizzle, orgo to bed just as I liked, I could have borne it better; but fancylosing your home, and your occupation, and the only person in all theworld you really loved, all in one day, and coming straight from thewreck to have tea with Aunt Emmeline!

The sandwich was finished before the inspection. A piece of sconefollowed. 

"Of course, " said Aunt Emmeline, "you are _not_ in your first bloom. _That_ we can't expect. Your colour is a little harder and more fixed"(the figure in the glass gave a spasmodic jerk. The sulky expressionwas pierced by a gleam of fear. "_Fixed_!" Good gracious! She mightbe talking of those old people who have little red lines over theircheek-bones in the place of "bloom". It's _ridiculous_ to say I am"fixed". It is a matter of indifference to me how I look, but I doinsist on truth!) "and your air of pride and independence is unbecomingin an unmarried girl. Men like to see a girl sweet, clinging, pliant. "

"What men?"

"_All_ men!"

"Oh! And in my case, for instance, to whom would you suggest I shouldproceed to cling?"

"That, " said Aunt Emmeline briskly, "is precisely what I wish todiscuss. " She lifted the last morsel of scone from the plate, stared atit, and popped it into her mouth. "My dear, has it ever occurred to youto think what you are going to _do_?"

"Aunt Emmeline, for the last months it has rarely occurred to me tothink of anything else!"

"Very well then, that's all to the good. As I said to Aunt Eliza, letus leave her alone till Kathleen has gone. Evelyn is obstinate, and ifyou interfere she will only grow more pig-headed. Let her find thingsout for herself. Experience, Eliza, will do more than either you or I. Sooner or later, even Evelyn must realise that you can't run a house, and garden, and stable, in the same way on half the ordinary income. Now that Kathleen is married, she naturally takes with her her ownfortune. "

She looked at me expectantly, and I smiled, another stiff, marionettesmile--and said:--

"How true! Curiously enough, that fact has already penetrated to mydull brain!"

"Now I do hope and pray, Evelyn, that you are not going to argue withme, " cried Aunt Emmeline, with a sudden access of energy which waspositively startling. "It's ridiculous saying that because there isonly one mistress instead of two, expense will therefore be halved. Ihave kept house for thirty-three years, and have never once allowed anorder at the door, so I may be supposed to know. Nonsense! The rent isthe same, I suppose, and the rates, and the taxes. You must sit down toa decent meal even if you are alone, and it takes the same fire to cookfour potatoes as eight. Your garden must be kept going, and if you doaway with one horse, you still require a groom, I suppose, to look afterthe rest. Don't talk to me of economising; you'd be up to your neck indebt before a year was over--if you weren't in a lunatic asylum withnervous depression, living alone in that hole-in-a-corner old house, with not a soul but servants to speak to from morning till night. Youhave a nervous temperament, Evelyn. You may not realise it, but Iremember as a child how you used to fidget and dash about. Dear Kathiesat still and sucked her thumb. I said at the time, `Evelyn isbetter-looking, but mark my words, Kathie will be married first!' Andyou see! It's because I love you, my dear, and you are my dear sister'schild that I warn you to beware of living alone in that house!"

"Thank you so much, " I said nastily. (When people presage a remark bysaying that they only say it because they love you, you may lay longodds that it's going to be disagreeable!) "It certainly sounds agruesome prospect. Not even a choice between bankruptcy and mania, buta certainty of _both_! And within a year, too! Such a short run forone's money! Aunt Eliza had some suggestion to make, then? And youevidently approved. Would you mind telling me exactly what it was?"

"That is what I am trying to do, but you _will_ interrupt. Naturally, your home is with us, your mother's sisters. You shall have the blueroom over the porch. If you wish it, we are willing that you shouldbring your own pictures. The silver and valuables you can send to thebank, and the furniture can be sold. You shall pay us five guineas aweek, and we will keep your horse, and house old Bridget if you don'twant to part from her. She can attend to your room, and sleep in thethird attic. There would be no extras except washing, and a fire inyour room. You know how we live; every comfort, but no excess. Idisapprove of excess. Eliza and I have often regretted that you andKathie have such extravagant ways. Early tea, as if you were old women, and bare shoulders for dinner. You may laugh, my dear, but it's nolaughing matter. One thing leads to another. You can't wear an eveningdress and sit down to a chop. Soup and fish and an _entree_ before youknow where you are. We have high tea. You would save money on eveninggowns alone. A dressy blouse is all that is required. "

Aunt Emmeline paused to draw breath, twitched, jerked, and resolutelybraced herself to say a difficult thing. 

"And--and we shall welcome you, my dear! We shall be p-pleased to haveyou!"

Through all her protestation of welcome, through all her effort atwarmth, the plain, unflattering truth forced its way out. To entertaina young independent niece beneath their roof might seem to the two auntsa duty, but, most certainly, most obviously, it would _not_ be apleasure! I was quite convinced that for myself it would be a fierytrial to accept the offer; but it was a shock to realise that the auntsfelt the same!

I reviewed the situation from the two points of view, the while AuntEmmeline feverishly hacked at the hard sugar coating of the cake. For ayoung, comparatively young woman, to go from the liberty of her ownhome to share the stuffy, conventional, dull, proper, do-nothing-but-fuss-and-talk-for-ever-about-nothing life of two oldladies in a country town would obviously be a change for the worse; butfor the aforesaid old ladies to have their trivial life enriched by theadvent of a young, attractive, and (when she is in a good temper!)lively and amusing niece, this should surely be a joy and a gain! Butit _wasn't_ a joy. The poor old dears were shuddering at the thoughtthat their peaceful routine might be spoiled. They didn't _want_ "abright young influence!" They wanted to be free to do as they liked--sup luxuriously on cocoa and an _egg_, turn up black cashmere skirtsover wadded petticoats, and doze before the fire, discuss the servants'failings by the hour, drink glasses of hot water, and go to bed at teno'clock. --As she hacked at the sugar crust, the corners of AuntEmmeline's lips turned more and more downward. My silence had beentaken for consent, and in the recesses of her heart she was saying toherself, "Farewell! a long farewell to all our frowstings!" I feltsorry for the poor old soul, and hastened to put her out of her misery. 

"It's very good of you, Aunt Emmeline. And Aunt Eliza. Thank you_very_ much, but I have quite decided to have a home of my own, eventhough I can't afford to keep on The Clough. I am going to live inLondon. "

Just for one second, uncontrollable relief and joy gleamed from thewatching eyes, then the mask fell, and she valiantly tried to lookdistressed. 

"Ah, Evelyn! Obstinate again! Setting yourself up to know better thanyour elders. There'll be a bitter awakening for you some day, my dear, and when it comes you will be glad enough of your old aunties' help. Well! the door will never be closed against you. However hard andungrateful you may be, we shall remember our duty to our sister's child. Whenever you choose to return--"

"I shall see the candle burning in the casement window!"

She looked so pained, so shocked, that if I had had any heart left Ishould have put my arms round her neck, and begged her pardon with akiss; but I had no heart, only something cold, and hard, and tight, which made it impossible to be loving or kind, so I said hastily:--

"I shall certainly want to pay you a visit some day. It is very kind ofyou to promise to have me. After living in London, Ferbay will seemquite a haven of rest. "

Aunt Emmeline accepted the olive branch with a sniff. 

"But why London?" she inquired. 

"Why not?" I replied. It was the only answer it seemed possible tomake!

CHAPTER TWO. 

AUNT ELIZA SPEAKS. 

It is two days after the wedding. Kathie has been Mrs Basil Andersonfor forty-eight hours, and no doubt looks back upon her spinsterexistence as a vague, unsatisfactory dream. She is reclining on adeck-chair on board the great ship which is bearing her to her new home, and her devoted husband is hovering by her side. I can just imagine howshe looks, in her white blanket coat, and the blue hood--_just_ theright shade to go with her eyes--an artful little curl, which has takenher quite three minutes to arrange, falling over one temple, and herspandy little shoes stretched out at full length. I know those shoes!By special request I rubbed the soles on the gravel paths, so that theymight not look _too_ newly married. Quite certainly Kathie will bethrowing an occasional thought to the girl she left behind her, a "poorold Evelyn!" with a dim, pitiful little ache at the thought of my barrenlot. Quite certainly, too, for one moment when she remembers, therewill be twenty when she forgets. Quite right, of course! Quitenatural, and wife-like, and just as it should be, and only a selfish, ungenerous wretch could wish it to be otherwise. All the same--

I wrenched myself out of the aunts' clutches yesterday morning on theplea of going home to tidy up. Though the wedding took place from theirhouse, all the preparatory muddle happened here, and it will take daysand days to go through Kathie's rooms alone, and decide what to keep, what to give away, and what to burn outright. 

The drawers were littered with pretty rubbish--oddments of ribbon, oldgloves, crumpled flowers, and the like. It goes against the principlesof any right-minded female to give away tawdry fineries, and yet--andyet--_Could_ I bear to destroy them? To see those little white glovesshrivel up in the flames, the high heeled little slippers crumple andsplit? It would seem like making a bonfire of Kathie herself. 

I tidied, and arranged, and packed into fresh parcels, working at feverheat with my hands, while all the time the voice in my brain keptrepeating, "Now, Evelyn, what are you going to do? What are you goingto do, my dear, with your blank new life?"

To leave the old home and start afresh--that is as far as I have got sofar--but I must make up my mind, and quickly too, for this house is toofull of memories to be a healthy shelter. Kathie and I have lived hereever since we left school, first with father, then after his death withan old governess-companion. Since her marriage a year ago we have beenalone, luxuriating in our freedom, and soothing the protestations ofaunts by constant promises to look out for a successor. Then Kathie metBasil Anderson, and no one was cruel enough to grudge us our last monthstogether. 

Now I am alone, with no one in the world to consider beside myself, withmy own home to make, my own work to find, my own happiness to discover. Does it make it better or worse, I wonder, that I am rich, and thequestion of money does not enter in? Ninety-nine people out of ahundred would answer at once that it is better, but I'm not so sure. IfI had a tiny income, just enough to ensure me from absolute want, hardregular work would be necessary, and might be good for body and brain. I _want_ work! I must have it if I am to keep going, but the mischiefis, I have never been taught to be useful, and I have no idea what Icould do! I can drive a car. I can ride anything that goes on fourlegs. I can dance, and skate, and arrange flowers with taste. I canre-trim a hat, and at a pinch make a whole blouse. I can order a nicemeal, and grumble when it is spoiled. I can strum on the piano andpaint Christmas cards. I can entertain a house-party of big-wigs. 

I have also (it seems a queer thing to say!) a kind of genius forsimply--being kind! The poor people in the village call me "the kindone, " to distinguish me from Kathie, who, poor lamb! never did an unkindthing in her life. But she didn't always _understand_, that was thedifference. When they did wrong she was shocked and estranged, while Ifelt dreadfully, dreadfully sorry, and more anxious than ever to helpthem again. Kathie used to think me too mild, but I don't know! Theconsequences of sin are so terrible in themselves, that I always long tothrow in a lot of help with the blame. The people about here seem toknow this by instinct, for they come to me in their troubles andanxieties and--_shames_, poor souls! and open their hearts as they do tonobody else. "Sure then, most people are kind in patches, " an old womansaid to me one day; "'tis yourself that is kind _all round_!"

I don't know that it's much credit to do what is no effort, andcertainly if I could choose a role in life it would be to play the partof a good fairy, comforting people, cheering them up, helping them overstiles, springing delightful little surprises upon them, just where theroad looked blocked! The trouble is that I've no gift for organisedcharity. I have a pretty middling strong will of my own("pigheadedness" Aunt Emmeline calls it!) and committees drive me daft. They may be useful things in their way, but it's not my way. I want toget to work on my own, and not to sit talk, talk, talking over everymiserable, piffling little detail. No! If I play fairy, I must atleast be free to wave my own wand, and to find my own niche where I canwave it to the best advantage. The great, all-absorbing questionis--_where_ and _how_ to begin?

Advertisements are the orthodox refuge of the perplexed. Suppose, forthe moment, that I advertised, stating my needs and qualifications inthe ordinary shilling-a-line fashion. It would run something likethis:--

"Lady. Young. Healthy. Good appearance. Seeks occupation for aloving heart. Town or country. Travel if required. "

It sounds like an extract from a matrimonial paper. I wonder how many, or, to speak more accurately, how _few_ bachelors would exhibit anyanxiety to occupy the vacancy. I might add "private means, " and _then_the answers would arrive in sacks, I should have the offer of a hundredhusbands, and a dozen kind homes, with hot and cold water, cheerfulsociety, a post office within a mile, and a golf course in theneighbourhood. A hundred mothers of families would welcome me to theirbosoms, and a hundred spinsters would propose the grand tour andintellectual companionship; but I want to be loved for myself, and inreturn to love, and to help--

I am not thinking of marriage. Some day I shall probably fall in love, like everyone else, and be prepared to go off to the Ural Mountains orKamtschatka, or any other remote spot, for the privilege of accompanyingmy Jock. I shall probably be just as mad, and deluded, and happy, andridiculous as any other girl, when my turn comes; but it hasn't come_yet_, and I'm not going to sit still and twiddle my thumbs pending itsapproach. I'm in no hurry! It is in my mind that I should prefer a fewpreliminary independent years. 

Aunt Eliza drove over this afternoon to "cheer me up". She means well, but her cheering capacities are not great. Her mode of attack is firstto enlarge on every possible ill, and reduce one to a state of collapsefrom pure self-pity, and then to proceed to waft the same troubles asidewith a casual flick of the hand. She sat down beside me, stroked myhand (I hate being pawed!) and set plaintively to work. 

"_Poor dear_! I know you are feeling desolate. It's so hard for you, isn't it, dear, having no other brother or sister? Makes it all theharder, doesn't it, dear! And Kathie _leant_ on you so! You must feelthat your work is gone. Stranded! That's the feeling, isn't it? I_do_ understand. But"--(sudden change to major key)--"_she_ is happy!You must forget yourself in her joy!"

I said, "Oh! yes, " and removed my hand under pretence of feeling for ahandkerchief. Her face lengthened again, and she drew a deep sigh. 

(Minor. ) "I always feel it is the last straw for a woman when she has togive up her home in a time of trouble. A home is a refuge, and you havemade The Clough so charming. It will be a wrench to move all the dearold furniture, and to leave the garden where you and Kathie were sohappy together. Wherever you look, poor dear, you must feel a freshstab. Associations!--so precious, aren't they, to a woman's heart?(Major. ) But material things are of _small_ value, after all, dear. Welearn that as we grow _old_! A true woman can make a home wherever shegoes--"

"I--I suppose she can. "

(Minor. ) "But of course the loneliness _is_ a handicap. Having no onewho needs you, no one to welcome you home. So sad! Especially in theevenings! Solitary people are apt to grow morose. You will missKathie's bright happy ways. (Quick change!) Well! Well! No one_need_ be lonely in this world. There are thousands of suffering soulsfainting by the wayside for lack of the very help which it is in yourpower to give. If I could just tell you of some cases I know!"

I pricked up my ears. 

"I wish you would. I like to hear about other people's troubles!"

"My dear! Such a startling way of putting things! You don't mean it. I know your tender heart! Of course the worst cases are in the bigcities. London, now! Every time I go to London, and travel as one isobliged to do from one end of the city to the other, I look out uponthose endless rows and rows of streets of small houses, and at the greattowering blocks of flats at every turn, and feel _appalled_ at thethought of the misery that goes on inside!"

"And the joy!"

"My dear, what kind of joy _can_ there be in such places?"

"Not your kind perhaps, nor mine, but real enough all the same. Peoplelove one another, and have their own pleasures and interests. Littleclerks come home to little wives and tell of little successes. Women inugly houses buy some new piece of ugliness, and find it beautiful, andrejoice. Babies toddle about--fat, pretty things, with curly mops. "

She stared at me blankly. 

"Curly mops! What does it matter whether their hair curls or not? Ah, my dear, in such circumstances children are not all joy. I had a letterfrom a friend the other day--Lady Templar. We were at school together. Her nephew, Wenham Thorold, has lost his wife. Married at twenty-three. So silly! A clergyman's daughter, without a sou. Now, of course, shedies, and leaves him with five small children. "

"Very inconsiderate!"

"Very inconvenient for the poor man! Only thirty-five, and a baby inarms. How will it help him if its hair curls? He puts the elderchildren to bed himself after his day's work. Quite pathetic to hearof! Wouldn't he have been happier with one?"

"Possibly--for the present. Later on the five will help _him_, and hewill be glad and proud. "

"Children dragged up by strangers are not always a credit and pride. Ihope these may be, but--If you'd heard my friend's tales! They live ina flat. Quite a cheap block in some unfashionable neighbourhood. _No_society. He has one small maid and a housekeeper to look after thechildren. Most inefficient, Adela says. Holes in their stockings, andshrieks the moment their father is out of the building!"

"What was he like?"

"He? Who? Oh, the poor father! Handsome, she said, but haggard. TheTemplar nose. Poor, helpless man!"

A horrible feeling surged over me. I felt it rise, swell, crash over myhead like a flood of water--a conviction that I was listening to notale, but to a _call_--that Providence had heard my cry for work, andhad answered it in the person of Wenham Thorold--handsome and haggard--in the person of little Thorold girls with holes in their stockings, oflittle Thorold boys who shrieked, and a Thorold baby with problematichair that might, or might not, curl. 

I cowered at the prospect. All very well to talk of my own way, and myown niche, all very well to dream of fairy wands, and of the soothing, self-ingratiating role of transforming other people's grey into gold, while the said people sat agape, transfixed with gratitude andadmiration, _but_--how extraordinarily prosaic and unromantic theprocess became when worked out in sober black and white. To mendstockings, to stifle shrieks, to be snubbed by a cross housekeeper;probably, in addition, to be sent to Coventry by the handsome andhaggard one, under suspicion of manoeuvring for his affections. Yes, atthe slightest interference he would certainly put me down as a designingfemale, with designs on his hand. At this last thought I sniggered, andAunt Eliza looked severe. 

"_No_ subject for mirth, Evelyn. I'm surprised! _You_ who are alwaystalking of wanting to help--"

"But could I help him? I will, if I can. I have money and time, and amlonging for work. Could I banish the housekeeper, and introduce avariation by paying to take her place?"

Aunt Eliza looked at the ceiling, and informed it obviously, thoughdumbly, that when nieces talked nonsense it was waste of breath toreply. Outraged dignity spoke in her rigid back, in the thin contour ofher cheek. 

"A Wastneys to speak of being a housekeeper!"

I realised that I had gone too far, for to jest at the expense of thefamily pride was an unpardonable offence, so I added hastily:--

"Or I might take a flat hard by, and do good by stealth! Win thehousekeeper's heart, and then take charge of the five when she gadsforth. Some of the other tenants might need help too. In those greatbig buildings, where scores of families live under one roof, there mustalways be _somebody_ who needs a helping hand. It would be rather acharming role to play good fairy to the mansions!"

Even as I spoke a flash of inspiration seemed to light up my dark brain. My own careless words had created a picture which charmed, whichintrigued. It was as though a veil had lifted, and I caught sight ofbeckoning hands. I saw before me a great, grim building, storey afterstorey rising in unbroken line, the dusty windows staring into thewindows of a twin building across the road, just as tall, just asunlovely, just as desolate. I saw a bare entrance hall, in whichpale-faced men and women came and went. I passed with them intoso-called "homes" where electric light burned day and night, and littlechildren played in nurseries about the size of a comfortable bed. Everybody, as it seemed, was worn down with the burden of the inevitabledaily task, so that there was no energy left for beauty, for gaiety, forjoy. Suppose--oh, suppose there lived in that building one tenant whosemission it was to supply that need, to be a Happiness-Monger, a FairyGodmother, a--a--a living bran pie of unexpected and stimulating_helps_. 

For the first moment since that motor car turned out of the gate, bearing away the bride and bridegroom, a glow of warmth took the placeof the blank ache in the place where my heart used to be. It hurt alittle, just as it hurts when the circulation returns to frozen limbs, but it was a wholesome hurt, a hundred times better than the calm thathad gone before. There glowed through my veins the exultation of themartyr. Now farewell to ease and luxury, to personal desires andambitions. Henceforth I lived only to serve the race!

"Oh, Auntie, it's a glorious idea. Why didn't I think of it before? Myvocation is ready and waiting for me, but I should never have found itif it hadn't been for you! Why shouldn't I take a little flat in someunfashionable block, and play good fairy to my neighbours? A free, unmarried woman is _so_ useful! There ought to be one in every family, a permanent `Aunt Mary, ' to lend a hand in its joys and sorrows, itsspring cleanings, and its--jams! Nowadays Aunt Marys are so scarce. They are absorbed in their own schemes. Why shouldn't I take up therole, and be a universal fairy to the mansions--devoting my idle time toother people who need me, ready to love and to scold, to bake and tobrew, to put my fingers in other people's pies, leaving behind sugar forthem, and pulling out plums for myself of soothing, and comfort, andjoy!" My voice broke suddenly. I was awfully lonely, and the thoughtof those figurative plums cut to the heart. The tears trickled down mycheeks; I forgot where I was, and to whom I was speaking, and justsobbed out all that was in my heart. 

"Oh! Oh! To be needed again! To have some one to care for! Thatwould help--that would fill the gap--that would make life worth while. "

Instinctively I stretched out my hands, in appeal for sympathy andunderstanding. 

"Oh, don't be silly!" said Aunt Eliza. 

CHAPTER THREE. 

CHARMION FANE INTERVENES. 

During the next days the idea of making my home in London, and playingfairy godmother to the tenants in a block of flats, took anever-deepening root in my heart. I pondered on it incessantly andworked out plans as to ways and means. 

Bridget should go with me as general factotum, for my method of livingmust be as simple as possible, since the neighbours would be more likelyto confide their troubles to the ear of one who was, apparently, in thesame position of life as themselves. Smart clothing would beunnecessary also, and a hundred and one luxuries of a leisured life. Imentally drew up a list of things taboo, and regarded it with--let me behonest--lingering regret. I was quite, quite willing to deny myself, but it is folly to pretend that it didn't cost a pang. I _like_ goodclothes and dainty meals, and motor-cars, and space, and luxury, andpeople to wait upon me when I'm tired, and unlimited supplies offlowers, and fruit, and hot water, to say nothing of my own little shareof variety and fun. Down at the bottom of my heart, a lurking doubt ofmyself stirred into life, and spoke with insistent voice:--

"All very well, Evelyn, but can you _keep it up_? Are you brave enough, strong enough, unselfish enough to give up all that has hitherto madeyour life, and to be satisfied with living through others? Won't thetime come when nature will rebel, and demand a turn for yourself? And_then_, Evelyn, _then_ what are you going to do? Could you ever respectyourself again if, having put your shoulder to the wheel, you drew backand lapsed into selfish indifference?"

As for Aunt Emmeline, she turned on the cold tap, and kept it on at acontinuous trickle. 

"Exaggerated nonsense! You always _were_ exaggerated, Evelyn, from achild. Be kind, of course; that's only your duty, but I call itofficious and presumptuous to interfere in other people's lives. _You_of all people! At your age! With your looks--"

"What have my looks to do with it?"

"My dear, it is not your fault, but I've said it before, and I say itagain--you are _showy_! There is something about you which makes peoplestare. Dear Kathie could pass along quietly, or sit in a corner of aroom and be conveniently overlooked, but you--I am not paying you acompliment, my dear, I consider it is a misfortune!--you _take the__eye_! Wherever you go, people will notice you and gossip about yourmovements. At twenty-six, and with your appearance, I ask you candidly, as aunt to niece--_do_ you consider yourself a suitable person to livealone, and minister to widowers?"

"Well, if you put it like that, I _don't_! But what of the children whoshriek, and have holes in their stockings? Mightn't they like me betterjust because I _am_ young and look nice?"

I laughed as I spoke, but Aunt Emmeline was so pleased that I showedsome glimmerings of reason, that she said suavely:--

"Wait ten years, dear! Till your hair is grey! You will age early withthose sharp features. In ten or twelve years you can do as you please. "

I thought, but did not say:--

"My dear aunt, but I shall do it _now_!"

A week passed by, while I pondered and worried, and then at last came a"lead" from without. A morning dawned when Bridget brought my letterswith my early tea, and set them down on the table by my bed. 

"Four letters this morning, and only one of the lot you'll be caring tosee. "

Bridget takes a deep interest in my correspondence, and alwaysintroduces a letter with a note of warning or congratulation: "Thatbothering creature is worrying at you again!"

"There's a laugh you'll be having over Master George's fun!"

"You paid that bill before. Don't be letting them come over you withtheir tricks!"

It is, of course, reprehensible behaviour on the part of a maid, presumptuous, familiar, interfering; but Bridget is Bridget, and I mightas soon command her not to use her tongue, as to stop taking an interestin anything that concerns "Herself". As a matter of fact, I don't try. Servility, and decorum, and a machine-like respect are to be hired forcash at any registry office; but Bridget's red-hot devotion, herchild-like, unshakable conviction that everything that Miss Evelyn doesand says, or doesn't say and doesn't do, is absolutely right--ah, thatis beyond price! No poor forms and ceremony shall stand between Bridgetand me!

I lifted the letters, and had no difficulty in selecting the one whichwould "give me joy". Strangely enough, it was written by one of thenewest of my friends, one whose very existence had been unknown to metwo years before. 

We had met at a summer hotel where Kathie and I chanced to be staying, and never shall I forget my first sight of Charmion Fane as she trailedinto the dining-room and seated herself at a small table opposite ourown. She was so tall and pale and shadowy in the floating grey chiffoncloak that covered her white dress, she lay back in her chair with suchlanguor, and drooped her heavy eyelids with an air of such superfineindifference to her fellow-men, that Kathie and I decided then and therethat she was succumbing to the effects of a dangerous operation, and--with care--might be expected to last six or eight weeks. 

We held fast to this conclusion till the next morning, when we met ourinvalid striding over the moors, clad in abbreviated tweeds, and themanniest of hard felt hats. Kathie said that she was plain. I said, "Well, not plain exactly, but _queer_!" At dinner the same night, weamended the verdict, and voted her "rather nice". Twenty-four hourslater she represented our ideal of female charm, and we figurativelywept and rent our garments because she exhibited no interest in ourcharming selves. An inspection of the visitors' book proved that hername was "Mrs Fane, " but that was not particularly enlightening, especially as no home address was given. 

But on the third day, just as we were beginning to concoct dark schemesby means of which we could force acquaintanceship, the "grey lady"entered the lounge, marched unhesitatingly across to our corner, stoodstaring down at us as we sat on the sofa, and said shortly:--

"This is ridiculous! We are wasting time! We three are the only reallyinteresting people in the hotel; we are dying to know each other--and weknow it! Come for a walk!" And lo! in another minute we were on thehigh road, Kathie on one side, I on the other, gazing at her withadoring eyes, while she said briskly:--

"My name is Charmion Fane. I am quite alone. No children. Thirty-two. I don't live anywhere in particular. Just prowl round from one placeto another. If there are any other dull, necessary details that youwant to know, ask!--and get them over. Then we can talk!"

We laughed, and replied with similar biographical sketches on our ownaccount, and then we _did_ talk--about books, and travels, and hobbies, and mankind in general, and gradually, growing more and more intimate(or rather _conscious_ of our intimacy, for we were friends after thefirst hour!) of our personal hopes, fears, difficulties, and mentaloutlooks. 

When we came in, Kathie and I faced each other in our bedroom, almostincoherent with pleasure and excitement. 

"_Well_! What an afternoon! My dear, isn't she--" Kathie waved herhands to express a superlative beyond the power of words. 

"She is!"

"The most fascinating, the most interesting, the most original--"

"And she likes us, too! As much as we like her. Isn't it glorious?"

"She hasn't spoken to another soul. How could we have called her plain!Evelyn, did you notice that she never spoke of her husband? She wearsgrey and violet, so he has probably been dead for some years, but shenever referred to him in the slightest possible way. "

"Would it be likely, Kathie, in our very first talk?"

"Yes!" declared Kathie sturdily. "Not intentionally, perhaps, but withordinary people it would have slipped out. `_We_ went to Italy. Myhusband liked this or that. ' She never advanced even as far as the`we'. She must have been dreadfully, dreadfully fond of him!"

I wondered! The death of a beloved husband or wife is a devastatingblow; but when the memory is beautiful, time softens it into a hallowedsweetness. It is the bitter sorrow which refuses to be healed, whichfills the heart with a ceaseless unrest. Not even to Kathie would Iexpress my doubts, but the conviction weighed upon me that the cloudwhich hung over Charmion Fane was the remembrance of unhappiness ratherthan joy!

For the next fortnight the greater part of our time was spent inCharmion's company; generally we were a party of three, but in every daythere came a precious hour or so when I had her alone, and hugged thesecret confidence that the _tete-a-tete_ was as welcome to her as tomyself. 

Everything that was to be told about my own uneventful life she knewbefore many days were passed, but of her own past she never spoke. Fromincidental remarks we found that she had been the godchild of awell-known politician long since dead, and that at eighteen she had beenpresented at Court, which two discoveries proved useful, as they wereenough to convince the aunts that Charmion was a safe and desirableacquaintance. 

Before she was twenty the scene had apparently shifted to America, whereshe had lived for several years, and presumably--though she never saidso--had met her husband and spent her brief married life. Widowed--childless--thirty-two. Those few words supplied all that I knew ofCharmion Fane, except the obvious facts which were patent to the eye. 

She was oddly undemonstrative, and for all her charm had a manner whichmade it impossible to approach one step nearer than she herself decreed. Even when it came to the moment of saying good-bye, I could not tellwhether she wished to continue our friendship, or would be content tolet it drop as a passing incident of travel; but to my joy she held onto my hand with a grip which was almost an appeal, and her thin, finely-cut lips twitched once and again. She looked full into my facewith her strange eyes, the pupil large, the iris a light grey, ringedwith an edge of black, and said simply, "I'll miss you! But--it will goon. We will always be friends. " That was all, and during the two yearswhich had passed since that day we had met only once, for another shortsummer holiday, and repeated invitations to The Clough had received thesame refusal--"I am not ready for visit-making. "

Letters I had received in plenty, and she had sent Kathie a handsome--really an extraordinarily handsome gift on her marriage, and to me thedearest of letters, understanding everything without being told, entering into my varying moods with exquisite comprehension. In return, I had poured out my heart, telling her of my loneliness, my difficultyabout the next step, and now, at last, here came the reply. 

I sent Bridget away, drank my tea at a gulp, and settled down to read inluxurious enjoyment. It was a longer letter than I had yet received, and I had a premonition that it would clear the way. But I did notrealise how epoch-making it was to prove. 

"Dear Evelyn Wastneys, --I've been through it, my dear, and I know! Itdoesn't bear talking of, so we _won't_ talk, but just pass on. Whatnext? you ask. I have been trying to solve that problem for the lastfour years, and am no nearer a solution, so I can't tell you, my dear, but I have an idea which might possibly provide a half-way house for usboth till the clouds lift. 

"This summer I happened--literally happened!--upon a small country placeabout two hours' rail from town. An agent would describe it as a`desirable gentleman's residence, comprising four entertaining rooms andeight bedrooms, glass, stabling, and grounds of four acres, artisticallylaid out'. But never mind the agent; take it from me that that house isideal. Long, low, irregular rooms just waiting to be made beautiful; noset garden, but a wilderness of flowers, and a belt of real woodland;dry soil, all the sun that is to be had, and an open country-sideagreeably free from villadom. I was tempted--badly tempted, but couldnot face settling down alone. Only last week the agent wrote to meagain. 

"Evelyn, we fit each other; we are friends by instinct. How would youlike to take that house with me for the next two or three years, andfurnish it between us with our best `bits'?

"Understand, before we go any further--not for a moment do I suggestthat we settle down to a definite home, and a jog-trot country life. Icouldn't stand it for one, and I doubt whether you could either, but--wesuit each other, Evelyn; there's that mysterious psychological linkbetween us which makes it good to be together. I have a feeling that wecould put in some good times in that house!

"Financially, it would be an economy--we should save storage offurniture, and have a convenient refuge in case of illness. The placeis cheap, and could be run with quite a small staff, and would be apleasant means of returning hospitalities. We could settle down for aslong as it suited us--three months, two months, a few weeks, as the casemight be--and then, when the impulse to roam came upon us, we shouldsimply rise up and depart. I should never ask where you were going. Ifyou asked me, I should not reply. Probably I should not know. Oncertain months of the year the house might become the exclusive propertyof one owner, when she might invite her own friends, and disport herselfas she pleased. Again, we might devote a certain period to charity, andentertain lame dogs. There's no end to the good and the pleasure thatmight be got out of that house. `Pastimes' is its name; isn't it quaintand suggestive? And on the enclosed sheet you will behold elaboratecalculations of the sum which it would cost to run. The figures are_over_ the mark, for I never delude myself by under-calculating in moneymatters. For my own part, I can pay up, and have enough over to wanderat will. Can you do the same? If not, say no at once, and the projectis buried for evermore. You must not be tied. I refuse to be a partyto shutting you up in the depths of the country for the whole yearround. You have had enough of that. What you need now is movement, andthe jostle of other lives; but if, in addition, you can afford arest-house, a summer lodgment, a sanatorium for mind and body, and ameeting-place with a friend, then pack your box, Evelyn, come and lookat Pastimes with me!

"Your friend, Charmion Fane. "

I threw down the letter and seized the sheet of calculations in an agonyof eagerness. A glance at the final addition brought relief. Yes! Icould do it--pay my full share, and still have a handsome margin leftover. Once satisfied on that point, there could not be a moment'shesitation, for it would be glorious to share a house with Charmion, andto have her companionship for some months of each year. My whole lifewas transfixed by the prospect, and yet she was right! I could not haveaccepted the offer if it had meant a permanent settling down to aluxurious country life. I was too restless, too eager for experience, too anxious to discover my very own work, and to do it in my very ownway. 

The picture of that old English house, with its panelled rooms, set in asurrounding wealth of flowers and green, gripped hold of my imagination;but here was an odd thing. It was powerless to banish another picture, in which there was no rose and no blue, but only dull neutral tints--thepicture of a basement flat in a grey London road, with electric burnersinstead of sun, and for view, a vista of passing feet belonging tobodies cut off from sight. 

I could not, even for Charmion, give up the prospect of that flat, andall that it had come to mean; but--let me acknowledge it honestly--itwas balm and relief to know that I could have a means of escape, andthat at culminating moments of weariness, when everything seemed wry anddisappointing, and the whole weight of seven storeys seemed to bepressing down on my brains, I could bang my door, turn the key, and flyoff to peace and beauty, and a healing pandering to personal tastes!

Woman is a complex character, and I am no better than my kind. I feelit in me to be an angel of self-denial and patience for, say, the thirdof the year! I know for a certain fact that I should have a bad lapseif I tried to keep it up for the remaining thirds. Now, thanks toCharmion, the way was made easy, and I could put my hand to the ploughwithout fear of drawing back. 

I leapt out of bed in a tingle of excitement. Impossible to lie stillwhen things were happening at such a rapid rate. The sun was shining, and, looking at a belt of trees in the distance, I could catch a faintshimmer of green. It is perhaps the most intoxicating moment of theyear, when that first gleam of spring greets the eye, and this specialyear it held an added exhilaration, for it seemed to speak of thebudding of fresh personal life. 

I laughed; I sang; the depression of the last weeks fell from me like acloak, and I faced the future glad and undismayed. With the reading ofthat letter had come an end to indecision. I now knew exactly what Iwas about to do. Write to Charmion, and fix the earliest possible datefor a meeting in town. From town we would inspect Pastimes, the while Iinstituted inquiries for a suitable flat. The two homes secured, Iwould then return to The Clough, and divide my furniture into twobatches, send them off to their several destinations, and follow myself, hot foot. It would take some time to put both dwellings in order, butit would be interesting work. I love the making of interiors, and ifPastimes must be fitted beautifully to do justice to itself, still morewould it be needful to turn the uninspiring "flat" into a haven ofcomfort and cheer. 

At this precise moment my prancing brought me in front of the longmirror, and what I beheld therein brought me up with a gasp. Twenty-sixis quite a venerable age, but at moments of happiness and exhilarationit has a disconcerting trick of switching back to seventeen. Thatsmiling, bright-eyed, pink-and-white-cheeked girl in the glass, with twolong pigtails of hair hanging to her waist, looked really absurdlyjuvenile! Given a small stretch of imagination, you might have believedthat she was a flapper preparing for her last term at school; by nopossible mental effort could you have placed her as a douce maiden lady, living alone in London, devoting herself to good works in a manner asadventurous as it was unusual. 

Mothers of children would insinuate that I was a child myself; troubledmatrons would purse their lips, and say, "I can't tell _you_, my dear. You are too young. " Certainly, oh, most certainly, men of all ageswould put me down as a designing minx! In vain industry, self-sacrificeand generosity--that young face, that bright youthful colouring wouldnullify all my efforts. 

It was true--it was true! I looked, as Aunt Eliza had pointed out, adozen years too young for the part. People would stare, people wouldtalk, people would advise me to go back and live with my aunts, and waitten years. 

In a frenzy of impatience I seized the two long plaits, and twisted themnow this way, now that. Astonishing the difference which hair-dressingcan make! I have read of a heroine who passed successfully as her owntwin sister by the simple device of plainly brushed hair and puritanicalgarments, the sister, of course, sporting marcelle waves and Parisiancostumes. I dipped my brush in the water-jug and dragged back my ownhair in a plastered mass, clamping the plaits to my head. I looked likea Dutch doll! Clean and chubby, and, alas! considerably younger thanbefore. I parted it in the middle, and glued it over my ears. I lookedlike a naughty schoolgirl, who had had her hair dressed by a maidenaunt. I piled the plaits in a coronet over my forehead; I looked like aportrait of a Norwegian damsel dressed for her bridal. I threw down thebrush in disgust, and stamped with impatience. 

No use! Not a bit of use! All the hair-dressing in the world could notmake me look old, or even approximately middle-aged. The ugliestflannel blouse that was ever made, while it would certainly be hideouslyunbecoming, could not add one year, let alone ten, to my age. 

It was a bitter blow. All that morning I went about pondering thedesperate question of how to look old. Aunt Emmeline had prophesiedthat I should know soon enough, "with those beaked features, " but Iwanted to know _now_, not in any permanent, disagreeable fashion, but asa kind of sleight-of-hand trick, by which I could be mature one day andthe next in blooming youth. Elderly in London, young at Pastimes. Adouce, unremarkable "body" in the basement flat, and in Surrey a lady ofleisure, rings on her fingers and bells on her toes!

Aunt Eliza would have cried once more, "Oh, don't be silly!" if I hadconfronted her with such a problem. I said, "Don't be silly!" to myselfmany times over in the course of that day, but I persisted in beingsilly all the same. At the back of my mind lingered the conviction thatif I went on thinking long enough a solution would come. 

_How could I manage to look old_? I asked the question of myself everyhour of the next few days. I asked it of everyone I met, and wasfatuously assured that I demanded the impossible; at long last I askedit of old Bridget, whose sound common sense had come to my rescue timesand again. 

"Sure, my dear, your husband will manage that for you!" was Bridget'sinstant solution. 

"Not the husband I shall choose!" I replied with easy assurance. 

A moment's pause was devoted to the problematical Prince Charming whosemission it would be to keep _me young_, then I asked tentatively:--

"What shall I look like, Bridget, when I am old?"

Bridget folded her arms and regarded me with a critical stare. 

"Your hair will turn grey, and them fine straight brows of yours willgrow thin, or maybe fall out altogether, and leave you with none. An'you'll wear spectacles, and have lines round your eyes. But it'sneither the grey hairs nor the specs that spoils the looks. It's not_them_ that's the worst!"

I stared at her open-mouthed, trembling between shrinking and curiosity. 

"_It's the shape of the cheeks_!" said Bridget darkly. "Yourself now, and the ladies of your age, it's pretty, slim bits of faces you have, going to a peak at the chin. When you're old, it runs to squares anddoubles. Look to your cheeks, miss, if you wants to keep young!" Sheunfolded her arms, stretched them at full length, and comfortably foldedthem again. Her broad chest heaved in a cackle of amused reminiscence. 

"Sure, d'ye reminder Miss Kathleen when she play-acted the ould lady, the last Christmas party?"

Poor old Bridget! She got the surprise of her life in my reception ofthat simple question. Jumping out of my chair, dancing round, whoopingand hurraying "like a daft thing, " as she afterwards described mymovements. Then to find herself at one moment enthusiastically pattedon the back, and at the next to be pushed towards the door, and exhortedto hurry!--hurry!--to mount to the attic, and bring down the old tinbox--well, it was disconcerting, to say the least of it, and Bridget'sdignity was visibly upset. She had forgotten that all the "make ups"which we had used for various Christmas festivals were stored away inthat old tin box, and consequently could not guess that I was fired withan ambition to try on Kathie's disguise forthwith. 

Ten minutes later I was standing before the glass and enthusiasticallyacclaiming the truth of Bridget's statement, as I stared at thereflection of a spectacled dame with grizzled eyebrows, grey hair bandedsmoothly over the ears, and a bulging fullness at the base of eachcheek! It _was_ the cheeks that made the disguise! Spectacles and hairstill left the personality of the face untouched; even the bushyeyebrows were but a partial disguise, but with the insertion of thosesmall india-rubber pads came an utter and radical change. That chubby, square-faced woman was not Evelyn Wastneys. Never by any possibilitycould she see forty again. So far as propriety went, she might roamalone from one end of the world to the other. If she lived in thelargest block of flats that was ever erected, her neighbours wouldregard her comings and goings with serene indifference. Admirablewoman! She did _not_ "take the eye". I met her spectacled glance witha beam of approval. 

"I have it!--I have it! I must _dress_ for the part! In London I'll bea middle-aged aunt; in Surrey, a niece--my own niece and namesake, who, of her charity, consents to receive some of her auntie's _protegees_ andgive them a good time!" The wildness, the audacity of the project madeto me its chief appeal. My life interest had been so sheltered, sohedged round by convention, that at times it had seemed as though therewas a wall of division between me and every other human creature. Itwas so difficult to show oneself in one's _real_ colours, to see andknow other people as they really were. But now!--oh, what a unique andexhilarating experience it would be to taste at the same time theromance of youth and the freedom of age, to witness the different sidesof other characters as exhibited in their treatment of aunt and niece. 

That one illuminating suggestion of Bridget's has cleared the way. Fromthe moment of hearing there had been no real hesitation; before nightfell my plans were made, and a telegram to Charmion was speeding on itsway. A new life lay before me--a dual life, teeming with interest andpossibility. On one hand, my fate must be to some extent bound up withthat of Charmion Fane, the most interesting and, in a sense, mysteriouswoman I had ever met; on the other, I was plunging into the unknown, andtransforming myself into a new personality, to meet the newcircumstances. I stared at myself in the glass and solemnly shook mygrey head. 

"Evelyn, my dear, be prepared! You are going to have an adventuroustime!"

CHAPTER FOUR. 

A TALK IN LONDON. 

The aunts expressed a mitigated approval of Charmion's proposal. MrsFane came of a good family, and was "very well left". Her marriedestate, moreover, gave her the privilege of chaperonage, so that thedual establishment might be quite a good arrangement, all thingsconsidered, "until--"

"_Until_!" echoed Aunt Eliza eloquently, nodding coyly at me, while Istared into space with basilisk calm. I object to references to myproblematical marriage--especially by aunts. The great "until" neverarrived for them, yet they feel quite annoyed because twenty-six hasfound me still a spinster!

I made my journey to London with a sense of great adventure, Bridgetgoing with me in the dual role of maid and mentor. She was the onlyperson who was to accompany me into the new life, and experience hadproved that her sound common sense might be trusted to act as a brake onthe wheels of my own impetuosity. We stayed the morning in town, when Iinterviewed a house agent, and set him on the search for suitable flats, and then we adjourned to the West End to buy a becoming new hat. Italways soothes me to buy hats. In times of doubt and depression it isan admirable tonic to the feminine mind. At three o'clock we leftWaterloo for our two hours' journey, and arrived at the old-fashionedinn, which was to act as rendezvous, before half-past five. 

Charmion was awaiting us in a private sitting-room, long, oak-beamed, spotlessly clean, and a trifle musty, with that faint but unmistakablemustiness which hangs about old rooms and old furniture. Tea was setout on one half of the oak dining-table. The china was of theold-fashioned white and gold order, the cups very wide at the brim andcramped at the handle, and possessing a dear little surprise rose at thebase, which peeped out through a hoar frost of sugar as you drained thelast gulp. Charmion laughed at my delight over that rose, but I was inthe mood to be pleased, to see happy auguries in trivial happenings. Ihailed that rose as a type of unexpected joys. 

Charmion was dressed in business-like grey tweeds, with a soft grey felthat slouched over her head. She looked very pale, very frail, intensely, vibratingly alive. This extraordinary contradiction betweenbody and mind made a charm and mystery which it is difficult to expressin words. One longed to protect and shield her, to tuck her up on asofa, and tend her like a fragile child, at the very same moment thatmentally one was sitting at her feet, domineered by the influence of amaster mind!

I ate an enormous tea, and Charmion crumbled a piece of cake upon herplate; then we had the things taken away, and drew up to the fire, andtoasted our toes, and looked into each other's eyes, and exclaimedsimultaneously--"_Well_?"

Hitherto we had talked on general subjects, Kathleen's marriage, thebreak-up of the old home, my own journey, etcetera, but now we were freefrom interruption for an hour at least, and the great subject could besafely tackled. 

"Evelyn! Do you realise that _nothing_ is settled, and that nothingneed be, unless you are absolutely, whole-heartedly _sure_?"

"I am absolutely whole-hearted about several things already. What sortof things were _you_ thinking about?"

"Well, take the house first. It meets my ideal, but it mayn't be yours. You must promise to give an unvarnished opinion. "

"Make your mind easy! If there is one thing that I may claim to beabove all others, it is `unvarnished'. I have a brutal frankness inexpressing my own opinion. If, through nice feeling, I try to disguiseit, my manner shrieks it aloud!"

"That's all right then. I'm glad to hear it. Next comes the questionof time. We should have to take a lease of three years. I don't knowif you'd care to bind yourself for so long. "

That reminded me of the aunts' "until", and I said solemnly, "Charmion, tell me the worst. _Is_ there an eligible bachelor who owns the next`place' ready to discover me picking his roses, or trespassing on hisside of the stream, and to make love to me forthwith? They always _do_in books, you know, when girls go to live in country houses. "

Charmion smiled her slow, languorous smile. 

"I have amused myself with looking up the names of the people living inall the big houses around: They seem uniformly made up of couples. Tothe best of my belief, there is not a single man, bachelor or widower, within many miles. "

I said, "Oh!" and felt the faint, natural dismay which any human girlwould feel in the circumstances. Charmion herself was enough romancefor the present, and a precipitate "lover next door" would for themoment have been _de trop_, but still--

My expression (unvarnished!) evidently betrayed my feelings, forCharmion smiled, sighed, and stretched out a caressing hand. 

"Let's be honest. It is foolish to set up a partnership in the dark. Is there _anyone_, Evelyn, who may swoop down upon us at a moment'snotice, and carry you off to share _his_ house?"

"To the best of my knowledge there is not a solitary one. I'm quitesure of one thing, and that is, that however wildly he swooped, Iwouldn't go!"

"But there must be--you are so pretty, Evelyn, and so attractive--theremust _have_ been. "

"Oh yes; two. But not real lovers, Charmion, only--_pretendus_. Onewas young and needy and ambitious, and thought that I should look verywell sitting at the head of his table. Incidentally, that my moneywould be useful to provide the table and the things upon it. Theother--he was rather a dear, and he cared enough to give me a pang. Buthe was happily married last year to a girl who is as _un_-like me inevery respect as you can possibly imagine. They are both ancienthistory now. "

"And you? You yourself? You have never been in love?"

If any other woman had asked me such a question there would have beenshort shrift with her. Charmion herself had never before attempted suchpersonalities; but now, when she deemed it necessary, she spoke withouta flicker of hesitation, her grey eyes staring full into mine. It wouldhave seemed ridiculous to take offence. 

"Once. At first sight. Quite bowled over. We met at an hotel. "

She knew what I meant, made a dainty little grimace, and bent her headin a small bow of acknowledgment, which somehow managed to look quiteregal and stately. I longed to put one or two questions in return. Widows _have_ been known to marry again! Why should I not wish to bereassured on my own account? Why should it be wrong for me to forceconfidences, when she herself had led the way? It would _not_ be wrong;it would be right, and prudent, and praiseworthy. The only objectionwas, _I could not do it_. After that little bow of acknowledgment, Charmion threw back her head until it rested on the high cushioned backof her chair. 

"That's settled then, " she said quietly. 

Her heavy lids drooped over her eyes, her fine white hands were foldedin her lap. There was in voice and manner an air of finality, which wasas impervious as a barrier of barbed wire. Not for any bribe in theworld would I have attempted to scale it. 

The next morning, bright and early, we chartered a "fly, " and lumberedalong two miles of country lanes, and then, suddenly turning a corner, found ourselves at the gate of Pastimes. It was a dull, grey day, ofwhich I was glad, for _any_ place can look attractive in springsunshine. I have seen even a third-rate London square look quite friskyand inviting with a shimmer of green over the black trees, and thespring-cleaned windows sending out flashes of light; it's a verydifferent spectacle on a November afternoon. Five minutes'acquaintanceship with Pastimes showed, however, that its predominatingquality was cheerfulness. There was a great deal of panelling on thewalls, but it was of white wood, not oak, and the old, small latticedwindows had been converted into deep bays, filled with great panes ofplate glass--a pagan proceeding from an artistic point of view, butinfinitely cheerful and healthy. There was a large central hall fromeither side of which opened two rooms of medium size, facingrespectively east and west; a quaint descent of two steps led the way toa really spacious drawing-room, through the great windows of which was alovely vista of velvet lawn, and a great cedar drooping its greenbranches to the ground. 

Parallel with the drawing-room, and also facing south, was a longglassed-in apartment which had evidently been used to harbour plants, garden-chairs, and impedimenta, but which revealed itself to our eyes asan ideal sun-parlour for chilly days. Sheltered from draughts by theoutstanding walls, yet with a glass roof and frontage to catch every rayof sun, the parlour would be an ideal refuge for spring and autumn. Sofar as public rooms went, we were well off with five apartments at thedisposal of two people. 

"Mine!--yours!--_ours_!" cried Charmion, waving her hands descriptively, first towards the two smaller rooms, and then to the other three inturn. 

"In the hall we will eat; the big room shall be no ordinary formaldrawing-room, but a living-room _a deux_. The sun-parlour also we shallshare, but the `sulkies' shall be private ground, hermetically sealedagainst intruders! There is a spare room upstairs which can be sparedfor muddles. I have a fastidiously tidy eye. It _offends_ me to seethings scattered about, but my hands _will_ go on scattering them, so itis necessary for my peace of mind to have a muddle-room where I candeposit bundles at a moment's notice, and feel sure that they will notbe tidied away. Well, shall we go upstairs and see the bedrooms?"

"Where _are_ the stairs?" I asked curiously, for from no corner of thehall was there a glimpse of staircase visible. I had not thought aboutit before, but now I realised that it was just this absence which gavethat touch of comfort and privacy which is wanting in the ordinaryentrance "lounge". There was no draughty well, no galleried spaceoverhead, from which curious ears could overhear private confidences. Istared round mystified, till Charmion opened yet another doorway, andbehold! there was the staircase, the oddest, curliest specimen of itskind, mounting up and up within a narrow well, for all the world likethe steps in a church tower, except that these were wide and shallow, and that a thick brass rod had been placed on the outer wall to act as abanister in the case of need. Whoever had built Pastimes had plainlybelieved that stairs were needed for the purpose of transit only, andhad refused to waste space on their adornment. 

On the first landing were several good bedrooms, two of which possessedbig sunny balconies, facing south. 

"That settles it!" I told Charmion. "If I had had any doubts before, the balconies would have decided me, once for all. All my life I haveyearned to have a bedroom opening on to a really big balcony. I'm crazyabout balconies! Think of the happy hours one has spent on balconies inSwitzerland and Italy! To have been in a room without one would havebeen to lose half the joy. And even in England--think of all the thingsone can do on a balcony of one's very own. Sleep out when it is hot. Air your mattress. Hang up your sponge. Grow your pet flowers. Dryyour hair. Cry it out quietly when you feel blue. Sentimentalise overthe railings when you feel _rose_. "

Charmion's fine brows arched, her lids drooped over her eyes. Irecognised the same expression which her face had worn the night before, when for a moment I had seemed on the point of questioning her about herown romance. Once more I felt myself up against an impenetrable wall ofreserve, and hastily switched the conversation to the more prosaic topicof cupboards. The very sound of a balcony bristles with romance, butcupboards may be discussed with safety under the most laceratingcircumstances. There is something comfortably safe and stodgy aboutthem. And Pastimes was so rich in this respect that we spent a happyhalf-hour appointing their future uses, and jotting down notes for theirimprovement. 

Later on we visited the gardens, beautiful even in their sleep, andpromising a very paradise for summer days. The lawns and flower bedsimmediately around the house were exquisitely in order, but by far thegreater part of the grounds was uncultivated. There was a strip of_real_ woodland, where the light filtered down through the branches oftall old trees on to a carpet of dried leaves and bracken, through whichcould be seen the close-growing green shoots which foretold a harvest ofbulbs. Later on no doubt there would be primroses and bluebells, andwhen summer came, if I knew anything about it, there would be twohammocks swinging between spreading branches, and two happy womenreposing therein. It was this _real_ country air which gave Pastimesits chief charm. 

That evening Charmion came to my room, and we sat together by the fireand talked for three solid hours. As a rule, I get fidgety in theevening when talk is the only amusement, but I can sit and listen toCharmion for as long as she chooses to go on. She is--interesting! Shesays things in an interesting way, and has interesting things to say. Ihave met extraordinarily clever and well-informed people who areterrible bores. Charmion would be interesting if she told one how tomake an egg flip! As I watched the delicate play of expression on thetired face, which was yet so thrillingly alive, as I listened to theslow soft drawl of her voice, I felt a sudden rush of thankfulness andexhilaration. 

"Charmion!" I cried suddenly, "aren't you _thankful_ to be rich?"

She flinched as though I had struck her, and turned upon me a wild-eyedlook of affront. 

"Rich? Who says I am rich? Who has been talking about my affairs?Have you--have you been making inquiries to find out what I am worth?"

I stared, deeply offended. 

"I have not. Perhaps it would have been more business-like if I _had_, but I accepted your word. I asked a simple question because at themoment I happened to be feeling particularly thankful that I couldafford to share Pastimes with you, and I imagined that you mightpossibly feel the same. "

I paused, waiting expectantly for words of apology and excuse, but nonecame. Charmion stared at me below knitted brows, and said shortly:--

"Yes, it is true. You ought to have business references. You shall_have_ them! My lawyer shall write to you at once. I was a wretch tospeak so sharply, Evelyn, but--you touched a sore point! Thankful? No, indeed! Money is a curse. The greatest handicap a woman can have. IfI had my life to live again, I should choose to be a penniless workinggirl!"

She had taken off her rings and dropped them in a sparkling little heapon her lap, the while she softly polished her long pink nails. Herpadded kimona was of pink silk, heavily embroidered with roses, her feetwere thrust into slippers of the same shade and material. A moreluxurious figure it would be difficult to imagine. I rolled anexpressive eye, and she shrugged her shoulders in response. 

"Oh, of course, I am an artificial product, and the chains hold fast. Idon't take any particular interest in my appearance, but it is aningrained habit to go through a certain routine. It would annoy me tohave dull nails, so I polish them as you see; also, though I am deadtired, I shall have my hair brushed for half an hour before going tobed, and then steam my foolish face. It bores me profoundly, but itwould bore me more to feel unkempt. So far as that goes, I should doexactly the same on twopence a week!"

"Minus a maid and appliances?"

Charmion shrugged daintily. 

"Soap and water are cheap, fortunately. "

"I beg your pardon! Not _your_ kind of soap. You might find even hotwater a difficulty. I imagine that girls on twopence a week have toconsider the price of boiling a kettle. Their hot water is not `laidon'. Moreover, the poor dears must be `dead tired, ' in a way which youand I cannot even imagine. "

"It is their life, " Charmion said loftily. 

"Excuse me--I mean to _live_! That's why I am thankful to have money, because it gives me more scope to live thoroughly. "

"Poor innocent! What a delusion. Money shuts the door of your cage. Agolden cage, excellently padded, but--_its bars shut out all the bestthings of life_!"

I laughed again, for the statement was so opposed to all acceptedtheories. 

"_What_ best things, for example?"

"Confidence, " said Charmion solemnly. "Trust in one'sfellow-creatures. " She lifted her heavy lids as she spoke, and her eyeslooked into mine. In their grey depths was a blank, empty expression, which once seen is never forgotten, for it speaks of a hurt so deep andkeen that the memory of it breaks the heart. I leapt from my seat andwrapped Charmion in my arms. 

"Oh, my dear, my dear, there is one person you can trust! Whateverhappens, Charmion, you can count on me! Darling! I know you have hadtroubles. I don't ask to hear about them. I only want to be allowed tolove you, and to do all I can to help and to comfort. Never, never beafraid to ask for anything I can do. I would put you before myself, Charmion, if it ever came to a choice between our different interests--Iwould indeed! Don't you believe it is true?"

She laid her two hands on my shoulders and smiled. 

"You dear thing! I believe it is. You would sacrifice yourself for me, and I should accept the sacrifice. It is the way we are made. You togive, and I to demand. Let us pray, my dear, that the day may nevercome when our interests do clash. Of a certainty, poor Evelyn, youwould come off worse!"

CHAPTER FIVE. 

PASTIMES--AND MR MAPLESTONE. 

The next morning, bright and early, we called on the house-agent to signand seal the agreement which should make us the happy owners of Pastimesfor a term of years agreeably elastic. 

Mr Edwards was a small, dapper little man, typically house-agenty inmanner, even to the point of assuring us gravely that another tenant wasurgently in the field, and that we had secured our lease by the veryskin of our teeth. 

Charmion lifted incredulous eyebrows. 

"But, Mr Edwards, you wrote to me a second time, only a fortnight ago, to say the house was still on your hands!"

"Quite so, madam. And it was. But only on Monday Mr Maplestonemotored over from Wembly. Mr Maplestone is Squire there--a veryinfluential gentleman in these parts. He is looking out a house for arelative, and had only just heard that Pastimes was vacant. He droveover, as I say, and telegraphed to his friend that the house was toogood to lose. He expected a reply this evening. "

"When it will be too late!" Charmion said calmly. "You told him, ofcourse, that you were in treaty with another tenant?"

"I did, madam. Quite so. But"--the little man hesitated, and fidgeteduncomfortably--"Mr Maplestone is--er--accustomed to get his own way! Iexplained that I must accept a definite offer, and that you had thefirst option, but I am afraid that he hardly realises--"

Charmion waved an imperial hand. 

"We are not concerned with Mr Maplestone, or what he expects. Pastimesis ours, and that settles the question. To-morrow morning Miss Wastneysand I will meet you at eleven o'clock, to go over the house together. It is in good order, but we shall require a little decoration andpainting here and there. You will be able to advise us how to get itdone well and quickly. When I say quickly I _mean_ quickly! Plenty ofmen must be put on to begin the work and finish it in a few days' time, not one or two who will drag on for weeks. You can get us an estimatefor time, as well as for cost. "

Mr Edwards bowed, murmured, and waved his hands. He looked overcome, poor man, as well he might, for if one would-be client demanded his ownway, the other was obviously determined to have hers. Between the twohis path was not easy! I smiled at him ingratiatingly, just to helpthings along, but he took little notice of me. Obviously, in Charmion'scompany I did _not_ "take the eye!"

On the way home I expressed sympathy for the disappointed MrMaplestone, but Charmion refused to agree. 

"I don't know the man, so his pleasures and disappointments don't enterinto my sphere. Promiscuous universal sympathy is too great a tax onthe nervous system. Why should I distress myself about a man I havenever seen?"

"Not distress yourself exactly, but you might cast a kindly thought. Hewill be disappointed, and the poor little agent will have a badhalf-hour. "

"Now you are asking sympathy for the agent, too! Evelyn, aren't you theleast little bit in the world inclined to wear your heart on yoursleeve?"

"Charmion, aren't you the least little bit inclined to be hard?"

She agreed with unflinching candour. 

"I am. It's the safer plan if one doesn't want to be hurt!"

"But--what about the other people? Mayn't they be hurt instead?"

She looked at me gravely for a moment, then with a smile which grewgradually broad and roguish. 

"We ought to strike a happy mean between us, eh, Evelyn? You are allcredulity and gush, and I refuse to disturb myself about other people, or their affairs. "

"That's not true! You disturbed yourself about me!"

"Because it affected myself. I had grown fond of you, and so youentered into my life. Pure selfishness, my dear!"

"I don't believe it! I won't believe it! It's no good trying todisillusion me, Charmion. I've put you on a topmost pinnacle, and itwould take a mighty effort to tumble you down!"

"Dear thing!" murmured Charmion fondly. "Well--suppose we talk of thedrawing-room walls? I'm a great believer in occupying oneself with thenext step. Revelations of character will follow in due course--I plumpfor white!"

"White certainly. A warm cream white, with not a touch of blue in it. And the prevailing colour?"

"Let's count three quickly, and then each say what we think!"

We counted, and the two words leapt crisply forth. 

"Rose!" said I. 

"Purple!" said Charmion. Then we looked at one another beneath puckeredbrows. 

"Rose lights up better!"

"Purple is more uncommon. "

"Rose is more cheerful in winter!"

"Purple is restful in summer!"

It seemed for a moment as if we had reached an _impasse_, then came anilluminating thought. 

"Why not--both? They harmonise well. Purple curtains and carpet--theplain colour, very soft and subdued, and cushions and shades of theright rose. With our united treasures we ought to have a lovely room. Where _are_ your things, Charmion?"

"Stored, " she said shortly. "I tried a house for a few months, but itwas too lonely an experience. But I have a passion for beautifulfurniture. It has amused me to pick up good specimens here and there. Now we shall enjoy them together! Wait till you see my Spanish leatherscreen!"

"Wait till you see my Chinese cabinet!" I retorted, and we talked"things" industriously for the next hour. 

After luncheon Charmion settled herself to write business letters, drawing a big screen round her writing-table, the better, as sheinformed me, to protect herself against my chatter. 

"You promise to be quiet, but in five minutes' time you begin again!Now please to remember that to all intents and purposes I am in anotherroom, and that until I choose to come forth, I am dead to you andeveryone else! Do you understand? These letters positively must getoff to-night!"

"Dear me! I don't want to talk! I shall be thankful to sit by the fireand enjoy a quiet read, " I said loftily, and promptly drew up an oldarm-chair, and buried myself in the book which I had bought to whileaway the hours of my journey, and then left unread, because my ownaffairs were at the moment so much more absorbing than those of afictitious heroine. Now that my mind was more at ease, I found thestory interesting enough, and had read on for about an hour withundisturbed enjoyment, when suddenly the door was flung open, and avoice announced:--

"Mr Maplestone!"

I leapt up, putting up a hasty hand to smooth my ruffled hair. That wasthe worst of having only one sitting-room! Visitors were hurled in uponone without a moment's warning. Happy Charmion behind the screen! Istared across the room and beheld a tall--very tall--thin man, withshort reddish hair and light blue, angry-looking eyes. He was dressedin riding costume, which, so far as his figure went, became himexceedingly well. He was probably somewhere about thirty-five, and oneglance at his tightly-set lips and firm square chin was enough todemonstrate the truth of Mr Edwards' assertion that he was "a gentlemanwho likes his own way". He had probably heard by now that for once hewas to be thwarted, and had come to tell me what he thought about it. At this moment I forgot to be sorry for his disappointment in myexceeding sympathy for myself! I glanced helplessly at the screen. 

"Mrs Fane, I believe. "

"I am Miss Wastneys. Mrs Fane is engaged. Perhaps it is somethingthat I--"

He laid his hat and stick on the table. 

"May I have a few minutes' conversation? You will allow me to sitdown?"

"Certainly. "

I pushed aside the easy-chair and seated myself on one of the six"uprights" which were ranged about the room. It felt so much morebusiness-like and supporting. Mr Maplestone seated himself opposite tome, and rested his hands on his knees. 

"I am told that you have some idea of renting a house called Pastimes, near here!"

"We have taken Pastimes. Mrs Fane and myself have this morning signedthe lease. "

He waved an impatient hand. 

"This morning! So I am told. Edwards has behaved very badly. I warnedhim that things should not be hurried through. "

"They have not been hurried. It is several months since Mrs Fane firstsaw the house, and three weeks since negotiations were opened a secondtime. "

"I only heard this week that the house was vacant. "

"And should Mr Edwards"--(the innocent inquiry of my voice was growingmore and more marked)--"was it his duty to have told you?"

His eyes sent out a flash. I could see the muscles of his hand clenchagainst his knee. I had scored a point, and his anger wascorrespondingly increased. 

"Perhaps I had better explain, " he began in a tone of elaborateforbearance. "I live at Wembly. Most of the land between here andthere belongs to me. Pastimes happens to be outside the limit, and soit escaped my memory. I have not been over it before. I did not knowthe last tenants. For the last few weeks I have been looking for ahouse for my friend--a member of the family who is returning fromabroad. Invalided!"

He pronounced the last word with emphasis, staring fixedly at me thewhile. I adapted my features to express polite commiseration. 

"It is natural that he should wish to live within driving distance ofhis friends. "

"Oh, quite!"

"The moment that I saw Pastimes I knew for a sure thing that it would bejust his house--"

"I am sorry, but as he has not seen it, he can't be disappointed. Theremust be other houses--"

"I have already said I have been searching round for--the--last--three--weeks, " Mr Maplestone repeated, in the carefully deliberate tone whichdisguises irritation. "Nothing else will suit anything like so well. "

I murmured indefinitely, and glanced at the screen. Mentally I couldsee Charmion leaning back in her chair, smiling her slow fine smile, inquisitively waiting to see just how firm or how weak I could be. Iwas not inclined to be weak. There was something in the personality ofthis big domineering man which roused an imp of contradiction. We satsilent, eyeing one another across the room. 

"I believe you and--er--Mrs Fane are strangers to this neighbourhood?"

"Yes! That is so. "

"You have no--er--special link or attraction?"

I saw the trap, and protested blandly. 

"Oh, yes! We are delighted with Pastimes. It exactly suits ourrequirements. "

Mr Maplestone frowned, and fidgeted to and fro, then suddenly leantforward, straightening his face into what was obviously intended to be asmile. 

"Miss Wastneys! Will you forgive me if I am perfectly frank and honest, and tell you exactly what is in my mind?"

"Of course I will. I am sure, " I declared mendaciously, "there can benothing to forgive!"

He had the grace to look a trifle ashamed, but his resolution did notwaver. Not a bit! He looked straight in my eyes, and saiddeliberately:--

"I want Pastimes! For the moment it has slipped through my fingers, buta couple of hours cannot seriously affect your arrangements. On mycousin's behalf I am anxious to take over the lease. It would be an actof grace on your part if you would agree to this arrangement, and dealwith me as his representative!"

The audacity of it! For a moment I was silent for sheer want of breath, but I could feel the blood rushing into my cheeks, and knew that my eyeswere sending out flashes to meet his own. My appearance must haveprepared him for my answer before it came, uttered in a very calm, veryhaughty, aggravatingly deliberate tone. 

"We are not in the habit of changing our plans in a couple of hours. Pastimes suits us. It is unnecessary to look for another house. Thematter was decided this morning. "

"You understand that my cousin is an invalid, and that he has a specialreason for wishing to live in this neighbourhood?"

"There are other houses. Pastimes is not the only one that is vacant. "

"It is the only one that is suitable, " he repeated doggedly, and therefollowed a silence during which he sat back in his chair, staring at mewith the light blue eyes, which of all eyes in the world can look atonce the coldest and the most angry. If he could have done what hewanted at that moment, he would have taken me by the shoulders andshaken me well. To have made up his mind that a thing must be, and tofind himself thwarted by a bit of a girl--it was unsupportable!--sounsupportable, that even now he refused to believe it could be true. Giving himself a little shake, like a dog who rouses himself to freshefforts, he again made that industrious attempt at a smile, and beganslowly:--

"I am afraid I have made a bad beginning! Please forgive me if I haveseemed discourteous. When we have talked things over quietly, I have nodoubt that we shall be able to reach a satisfactory agreement. "

"I'm afraid I can't see how that can be! There is only one Pastimes, soone of us is bound to be disappointed!"

He pounced on that as if scenting a hopeful weakness. 

"Exactly. Yes; but the disappointment would vary in intensity. That iswhat I am anxious to point out. When Edwards told me that the tenantwas a lady I felt reassured, for it is a matter in which a woman'skindliness and good heart--"

My eyes roved to the screen. Charmion's ears were assuredly open atthis moment, straining to hear my reply. I raised my eyebrows, and saidfrostily:--

"We are speaking of a business arrangement. I am afraid that is theonly light in which we can consider the matter. We shall honourablyfulfil our part of the agreement which we have signed. "

"You refuse to show any consideration for an invalid returning home--after many years?"

"Not at all. If it is ever in our power, as neighbours, to show him anykindness, we shall be eager to do all that is possible--short of givingup our own house for his benefit. Would you do it yourself, MrMaplestone--for the sake of a stranger you had never seen?"

He stood staring at me, his cheeks bulging with the moving lumps whichshow that people are swallowing down words which they dare not allowthemselves to say. With the same air of elaborate patience which he hadshown before, he explained slowly:--

"My cousin has been stationed in India. In a border regiment. He hasserved his country for thirty years. Now he has had a paralytic stroke, and is making his way home by slow stages. A man who has worked andsuffered as he has done deserves a home, and the gratitude of hisfellow-countrymen. "

"There are two sides to every question, Mr Maplestone. If I chose togo into details, I might convince you that Mrs Fane and I have our ownclaims, which seem to us equally strong. "

He leapt from his seat, and advanced until he stood directly facing mychair. 

"That finishes it! It is no use appealing to your feelings. Let usmake it pure business then! I offer you a hundred pounds down for thereversion of the lease!"

So it had come to this. Bribery undisguised! I lowered my eyelids, andsat silent, an image of outraged dignity. 

"You refuse! It is not enough? Two hundred then! Three!"

Still silence. But my listening ears caught a threatening rustle behindthe screen. 

"Three hundred! It is a good offer. You are not bound to thisneighbourhood. You can find other houses to suit you. Still notenough? Name your own terms then. How much will you take?"

"A million pounds!"

The words leapt out of my mouth as it seemed of their own volition. Iwas tired of this farcical bargaining, and determined to put an end toit, once for all. I stood up and faced his blank stare of amazement, without at least any outward shrinking. 

"Surely it is useless to prolong this bargaining. It is very unpleasantand humiliating. "

Mr Maplestone set his square jaw. 

"You are only one partner to this transaction. Mrs Fane is probablyyour senior. If I were to see her, she might be induced to name amore--er--shall I say reasonable (oh, the cutting sarcasm of that tone!)figure. "

"_Two_ millions. "

The high clear tone struck across the room. Mr Maplestone wheeledround and beheld Charmion standing just outside the opening of thescreen, one hand raised to rest lightly on the curved wood coping. Shemight have posed as a picture of graceful, imperturbed ease, so calm, sosmiling, so absolutely unflurried and detached in both manner andbearing did she appear. Mr Maplestone looked at her and--this was acurious thing--at one glance realised his defeat. All my efforts atdignity and firmness had failed to convince him, but behind Charmion'sfrail, essentially feminine exterior, those keen eyes had at oncedetected that strain of inflexibility which I was only slowly beginningto realise. 

It was hopeless to bandy words. The Squire knew as much, and turned tothe table to lift his hat and whip. He gave a short scornful laugh. 

"The terms seem a trifle--high! I am afraid I must retire from thebidding. Pastimes is yours. I hope"--he looked from me to Charmion, and his expression was not pleasant to see--"I hope you may not havecause to repent your bargain!"

We bowed. He bowed. The door opened and shut. Charmion looked at meand shrugged her shoulders. 

"A declaration of war! We have begun our campaign by quarrelling withthe most `influential gentleman in these parts!' Things are gettingexciting, Evelyn!"

I did not speak. Reaction had set in, and I felt a pang of remorse. Idid not want to quarrel with anyone, influential or uninfluential. Iwas sorry I had been ungracious. I felt a pang of sympathy for thepoor, big, bad-tempered man riding homeward after his defeat. 

I wondered when and how we should meet him again. 

CHAPTER SIX. 

HUNTING THE FLAT. 

Leaving the workmen to carry out the necessary decorations at Pastimes, Charmion and I adjourned to London to buy carpets and curtains, and ascore of necessary oddments. We found it a fascinating occupation, andgrew more and more complimentary to each other as each day passed by. 

"Charmion, you have exquisite taste! That's just the shade I had chosenmyself. "

"You have a perfect eye for colouring, Evelyn. I always know that yourchoice will be exactly my own. "

Sometimes we saw the humour of these self-satisfied compliments, sometimes we were so busy and engrossed that we accepted themopen-mouthed. I suppose in every mind personal preference is magnifiedinto the standard of perfection, and all the arguing in the world willfail to convince A that he is--artistically speaking--colour-blind, or Bthat her drawing-room is a bazaar of trumpery odds and ends! All themore reason to be thankful that we agreed. We were convinced that ourtaste was unique; but supposing for one moment that it was bad, weshould at least share a comfortable delusion!

The oak entrance hall was to be ornamented with old delft. The curtainsand chair coverings were to be of the same shade of blue. The parquetfloor was to be supplied with rugs of warm Eastern colours. Exactly theright shade of violet-purple had been found for the drawing-room, and Ishould be ashamed to say how many shops we ransacked for the chaircoverings, until at last we found the identical pattern to satisfy ourdemands. Certainly I should be ashamed to confess what we paid for thepiece. Charmion was appallingly extravagant! That was anotherdiscovery which I had made in the last days. It seemed as if she founda positive satisfaction in paying abnormal prices, not with thepurse-proud bombast of the _nouveau riche_, but rather with the almostsavage relief of a slave who shakes off a few links of a hated chain. Iwas a little alarmed at the total to which our purchases amounted; but Icomforted myself with the thought, nothing new would be required for along, long time, and that, if I found my income running short, I couldalways retire to my flat, and live on a figurative twopence underBridget's clever management. 

Charmion had heard all about the flat by this time, and had hurt myfeelings by treating the whole proposal as a ridiculous joke. She madeno attempt to dissuade me--had we not agreed never to interfere in eachother's doings?--but she laughed, and said, "Dear goose, " and arched herfine brows expressively as she asked how long a lease I proposed totake, "Or, rather, I should say, how _short_?"

Now I had myself inclined to a short lease with the option of stayingon, but opposition stiffened my back, and I there and then decided to goand look at several possibilities which I had hitherto put aside asimpracticable because they had to be taken for a term of three to fiveyears. Bridget would go with me--dear, lawless, laughter-lovingBridget, who entered into the play with refreshing zest. Bridget hadthe real characteristic Irish faculty of looking upon life as an amusinggame, and the more novel and unorthodox the game was, the better she waspleased. "Sure it's your own face! It's for you to do what you pleasewith it!" was the easy comment with which she accepted my proposeddisguise. She undertook to do most of the work of the flat without aqualm, and shed an easy tear of emotion over the sorrows anddifficulties which it was to be my mission to reduce. "Oh, the poorcreatures! Will they be starving around us, Miss Evelyn, and the littlechildren crying out for bread?"

"N-not exactly that, " I explained. "I want to work among gentlefolk, Bridget--poor gentlefolk, who suffer most of all, because they are tooproud to ask for help. But they will probably be short of time, andservice, and probably of strength, too, and when I get to know them, they will let me help them in these ways, though they would not acceptmy money--"

Bridget looked sceptical. 

"I wouldn't put it past them!"

I laughed, and dropped the subject. 

"Oh, well, time will show. Meantime you understand, don't you, Bridget, that they are not _cheerful_ places that we are going to see? Cheerfulpositions in London mean big rents, and I mean to live among people whohave to count every penny several times over, and try hard to make itinto a sixpenny bit. You and I will have sunshine and light atPastimes--you won't mind putting up with dullness for part of the year?"

"What would be the good of minding? You'd go, whether or not, now you'dgot your head set!" returned Bridget bluntly. She added after a pause, "And besides, we'll be getting our own way. I'm thinking we shall beglad of the change. It's not as much as a thought of your own will beleft to you, with Mrs Fane by your side. "

"You are entirely wrong, Bridget, and it is not your place to makeremarks about Mrs Fane. Please don't let me hear you do it again. "

"Yes, ma'am, " murmured Bridget, turning instantly from a friend into anautomaton, as was her custom on the rare occasions when I hardenedmyself to find fault. The words were submissive enough, but her mannerannounced that she had said her say, and would stick to it, thoughHerself, poor thing, must be humoured when she took the high horse. Asusual, I retired from the conflict with a consciousness of coming offsecond best!

The next day I told Charmion that I was "engaged, " and true to ourdelightful agreement, she asked no questions, but quietly disappearedinto space. Then, with a ponderous feeling of running the blockade, Iput on wig and spectacles and the venerable costume which had beenprovided for the occasion. Appropriately enough, it had originallybelonged to an aunt--Aunt Eliza, to wit--who had handed it to me in itsmellowed age, to be bequeathed to one of my many _protegees_. It wasbrown in colour--I detest brown, and it cordially detests me in return--and by way of further offence the material was roughened and displayed amottled check. The cut was that of a country tailor, the coataccentuating the curve of Aunt Eliza's back, while the skirt showed apersistent tendency to sag at the back. When I fastened the last buttonof the horror and surveyed myself in the glass, I chuckled sardonicallyat the remembrance of heroines of fiction whose exquisite grace ofoutline refused to be concealed by the roughest of country garments. Certainly my grace did not survive the ordeal. What good looks Ipossessed suffered a serious eclipse even before wig and spectacles wenton, and as a crowning horror, a venerable "boat-shaped" hat (anotherrelic of Aunt Eliza) and a draggled chenille veil. 

Bridget was hysterical with enjoyment over the whole abject effect, butI descended the stairs and passed through the great hall of the hotelwith a miserable feeling of running the blockade. Suppose I met anyone!Suppose anyone _knew_ me! Suppose--I flushed miserably at thethought--Charmion herself was discovered sitting in the hall, and raisedher lorgnon to quiz me as I passed by!

I need not have troubled. Not a soul blinked an eye in my direction. If by chance a wandering glance met mine, it stared past and through meas though I were impalpable as a ghost. My disguise was a success inone important respect at least--there was no longer anything conspicuousabout me; I was just a humble member of society, one of the throng ofdun-coloured, ordinary-looking females, who may be seen by the thousandin every thoroughfare in the land, but who, as a matter of fact, are notseen at all, because no one troubles to look. By Bridget's side Ipassed through the streets of London as through a desert waste. 

Half an hour's journey by tube brought us to the first of the flats onmy list. It was also the first specimen of its kind which Irish Bridgethad ever seen, and the shock was severe. I found myself in the painfulposition of expecting "a decent body" to live in a kitchen two yardssquare, with a coal "shed" under the table on which she was supposed tocook, and to sleep in a cupboard, screened in merciful darkness, since, when the electric light was turned on, the vista seen through the grimypanes was so inimitably depressing that one's only longing was to turnit off forthwith!

"Preserve us! Indeed, if it was to die in it we were trying, it wouldbe easy enough, but I'm thinking we'd make a poor show of living, MissEvelyn! And used to the best as we are, too, " said poor Bridgetdolefully. 

I sprang a good ten pounds in rent at the sound of her pitiful voice, and ran my pencil through every address below that figure. 

Ten separate flats did we visit in the course of that day, and it was aproof of what Aunt Emmeline would call my stubbornness that I camethrough the ordeal without wavering. Regardless of Bridget's appealingeyes, I led the way forward, always affecting a buoyant hope that ournext visit would be successful, while mentally I was holding a Jekylland Hyde argument with my inner self, as follows:--

"Impossible to live in such warrens!"

"_Other people_ manage to live in them all the year round!"

"But, as Bridget says, I have been used to the best. "

"Quite time, then, that you take your share of the worst!"

"My health might suffer--"

"You have a good chance to recruit. "

"I might lose my looks--"

"Disagreeable--but the world would go on, even if you did. Incidentally, you might improve the looks of other women!"

"It would be awfully dull!"

"At first--yes! Not when you get into stride. Helping other people isthe most exhilarating of tonics. "

"I have never lived in a town. I should feel cramped, prisoned, stifledfor air. "

"But think how you would feel when the day came to return to Pastimes!Wouldn't that first hour in the garden be glorious enough to repay youfor all the exile?"

Bridget's wheedling voice broke in on my argument:--

"Miss Evelyn, dear, I've been thinking--wouldn't it be a duty-like, tobe having a bit of sun? Seems like we could wrestle along a bit betterif we faced the right way!"

Poor dear! Above all the drawbacks, it was the darkness of theinteriors of those small flats which most perplexed the goodcountrywoman: the passages lighted only through the ground glass panelsof bedroom doors; the windows shadowed by walls of other buildings, which towered up at but a few yards' distance; the kitchens staringblankly into a "well, " ornamented with the suggestive spirals of afire-escape. 

"If we could maybe face somewhere where there was a bit of green!"pleaded the eloquent Irish voice. "Sure the leddies and gentlemen youare meaning to help--you'll be more likely to find them in the placeyou'd choose yourself, if you were settling in earnest?" Bridget rolledan eye at blocks E, F, and G of a colossal pile of buildings whichstretched their inky length over the two blocks of a narrowthoroughfare. "Cast your eye over them window curtains!" said shescathingly. "Ye can tell what's inside without troubling to look. Adirty, idle set that will sponge on you, and laugh behind your back!"

I looked, and shuddered, and was thankfully convinced. In my effortsnot to aim too high, my standard had fallen impossibly low, andBridget's keen common sense had been right in prophesying that I wasmore likely to find a congenial type of people in a neighbourhood whichappealed to my own taste. 

No sooner said than done! I escorted Bridget to a restaurant, and fedher and myself with lots of good hot food, and then straightway hired ataxi, and drove back to the agents to demand addresses of flats a littlefurther afield, which should have at least a modicum of light and air. 

It appeared that I had demanded the thing above all others for whichtens of thousands of other women were already clamouring!

"Everybody wants a cheap flat in an open and airy situation. For onethat is to let we have a hundred applicants. Of course, if you areprepared to pay a long price--"

"But I am not. "

"Quite so. Otherwise I have some fine sites in Campden Hill. Lift. Central heating. Every convenience. "

"Seventy pounds is the utmost--"

"Quite so. Then we must rule out Campden Hill, or Hampstead, orKensington. " The agent switched over the leaves of his book, ran hisfinger down a list, and hesitated, frowning. "There is _one_ vacancywhich might suit--a small block of flats on the borders of Hammersmith. The postal address is Kensington. I don't know if you are particular asto address?"

"Not a bit. "

"Ah!" The agent evidently thought small beer of me for the admission. "Most ladies are. In this case we can ask an extra five pounds a yearbecause of the Kensington address, and the class of tenants is muchbetter than in the adjoining blocks a few hundred yards off, where thepostal address is Hammersmith. "

Bridget coughed in an impressive fashion which was intended to say, "Better class! Hark to that now! That's the place for us!" As for me, I was torn between amusement at the rank snobbery of it all, and atender pity for the pathos that lay behind! Poor strugglers, clingingon to the fringe of society, squeezing out the extra pounds so badlyneeded for necessities, for--what? The satisfaction of seeing a certainword written on an envelope, or of impressing a shop assistant with itssound. In some cases no doubt there were deeper reasons thansnobbishness, and it was thought of them which supplied the pathos. Some careworn men and women had weighed that extra rent in the balance, and had considered that it was "worth while, " since a good address mightprove an asset in the difficult fight for existence, or perchance someloved one far away had vicariously suffered in past privations, andmight be deluded into believing in a false prosperity by thehigh-sounding address. My ready imagination pictured the image of aninvalid mother contentedly informing her neighbours: "My daughter hasmoved to Kensington. Yes! Such a charming neighbourhood. The gardens, you know. _And_ the royal palace!" Five pounds a year might beworthily expended on such a gain as this!

Well, there seemed nothing for it but to prospect Weltham Mansions atonce, so we chartered yet another taxi, and hurried off without delay tohave daylight for our inspection. We drove for miles, through streetsat first wide and handsome, then growing ever dingier and more"decayed". Is there anything in the world more depressing than athird-rate English suburb? I can imagine being poor contentedly inalmost every other land--in India, for instance, I know of impecuniouscouples who have lived in two tents beneath two mango trees with comfortand enjoyment, but it takes a super Mark Tapley to enjoy poverty inLondon!

We had left the gardens a long way behind before at long last we reacheda block of dull red buildings, the various doorways of which weredecorated with different letters and numbers. A 1 to 40--C 41 to 80--D81 to 120--etcetera, etcetera. The windows were flat, giving aprison-like effect to the exterior, and I was just saying devoutly tomyself, "Thank goodness, _that's_ not--" when the taxi stopped, and myeyes caught the fateful letters carved on a dull grey stone!

It _was_ Weltham Mansions, and there were two flats to be let. Theporter produced the keys and led us up, up, endless flights of stairs toa crow's nest near the roof, and then down, down again to what wasdescribed as the "sub-basement, " which, being interpreted, meant thatthe level of the rooms was a few feet beneath that of the road. Now Ihad always set my affections on a basement flat, chiefly--let meconfess--because the sound of it appealed to my ears as so suitable andappropriate to my new role. Also, to be able to walk in and out, without mounting the stairs, minimised the risk of discovery, which wasno light point under the circumstances, but it was a distinct surpriseto find that the flat itself appealed to me more than any which I hadyet seen. Why? Not because of the rooms themselves, for they wereordinary and prosaic enough, but because the bank which sloped from thefloor of the area to the street railings was of _grass_, closely-growing, well-conditioned grass, broken here and there by tiny, sprouting leaves of--yes! extraordinary as it seems, there could be nodoubt about it, for both Bridget and I recognised them in one lightningglance--_primroses_! Some former tenant who loved the country hadplanted those roots in a hopeful mood, and they had taken hold, andgrown, and multiplied. When spring came the owner of that basement flatwould have a primrose bank between herself and the world outside thosehigh railings. She had also a strip of cement area in which she couldplace tubs filled with soil which would provide blossom for later days. The exposure was south, and the railings were high, so that the tinygarden would be assured of sun and security. The soot would fall, andthe dust lie thick, but there would be colour and life, and on the airfaint wafts of perfume. 

We went back to the porter's room to hear the particulars of the lease, and on my way I stopped to read the list of names printed on littleslides on a mahogany board. There were forty in all, and they were asilluminating as such names usually are, when suddenly, three parts downthe list, I came upon one which made my heart leap into my mouth. Istood reading the few words over and over, actually _spelling_ theletters in my incredulous surprise, but there it was; there was no doubtabout it--the words plainly printed for every one to see--

"Number 32. Mr Wenham Thorold. "

Well, talk about fate! There are some circumstances under which onerealises at once that it is useless to struggle. This was one! Iturned to the porter with an air of resignation. 

"I will take the flat. Please prepare the necessary papers, and sendthem to me to sign. " Then I gave him my new name. After duedeliberation I had determined to be "Miss Mary Harding, " as Wastneys isunusual, and might draw undesirable attention. Miss Mary Harding, of abasement flat!

CHAPTER SEVEN. 

HOSTILITIES?

Our removal into Pastimes--like every other removal since the time whenman began to live beneath a roof--took far longer than we expected. Iwent back to Ireland to gather my possessions, and say good-bye, andCharmion stayed in London to hurry up tradesmen, and make uninterestingpurchases of pots and pans, and dusters and door scrapers, and the otherneedfuls which every house must have, but which are so dull to buy. 

When I joined her in the hotel, I found her in a state of haughtydispleasure over the extraordinary delay which was attending the work atPastimes itself. In another person this state of mind would have foundvent in "fuming, " but Charmion never fumed. She folded her hands, anddrooped her white lids, and drawled in a tone of incredulous disgust:--

"I can't understand it. I _told_ them to be quick. I expresslystipulated that they were not to potter. "

"Apparently they are not even `pottering'! They have not begun at all!"I said grimly, as I ran my eye down the letter just received from the"man in charge". It was the ordinary, ultra-polite, ultra-servileproduction of the tradesman who has _not_ kept his word. 

"Dear Madam, --Owing to a press of other work, I regret that I have notbeen able to commence--"

"Commence! Odious word. It is adding insult to injury to use it. Andwhat can he mean? He seemed so keen about the order. Said he was soslack that he would be able to put on all his hands!"

"I shall write and tell him to do so at once, " said Charmionmagnificently, and I held my peace and let her do it, knowing that itwould be no use to object, and hoping that at least her letter mightsucceed in extracting some more definite information. 

It did! This was it:--

"Madam, --I beg to inform you that Mr Maplestone having rented the houseknown as `Uplands, ' on behalf of General Underwood, and placed urgentorders with us for its re-decoration, we are regretfully compelled todelay operations at Pastimes for some weeks. We are making all possiblespeed with the present contract, and beg to assure you that your workshall then be finished with all despatch. 

"We have the honour to remain, etcetera. "

Charmion and I looked at one another, and looked, and looked, andlooked. We were both thinking hard--thinking backward, thinking ahead. Exactly what we thought neither of us put into words; we just satsilently and stared, until presently Charmion rose, marched over to herwriting-table, and scribbled a few words on a telegram form. Then sheheld it out for me to read:--

"Order for decorations at Pastimes cancelled herewith. "

"Do you approve?"

"Er--oh, yes, of course--I suppose so. But how shall we--"

"That's easily arranged. Any town firm will be glad of the order. Itwill be more expensive, but will probably be better done. In any casewe have no choice. "

"It's such a tiny village. Where could the men sleep?"

"I haven't the slightest idea. That is their business, not mine. Weshan't have any difficulty about that, " Charmion declared, and she wasright, for the West End firm who received our instructions waved asidethe question with smiling assurance. They were accustomed to sendingworkmen all over the country. To the loneliest places. All could beeasily arranged. We were left with the impression that if it had beenour pleasure to pitch our tent in the Sahara, the frock-coated managerwould have executed our wishes with equal ease. So far, so good; but aswe left the shop Charmion turned to me, and said darkly:--

"I think, under the circumstances, it might be wise to change our mindsabout employing country maids, and to engage London ones instead. "

"You are afraid--"

"I am afraid of nothing, but I think it probable that the local girlswho wrote to us about situations may now be `urgently' bespoken forservice at Uplands. "

"Well, he will need servants, " I said feebly, and fell to thinking ofUplands itself, and of how unfortunate it seemed that General Underwoodshould be settling so near ourselves. We had noticed the house, indeed, we could not fail to do so, as it lay a quarter of a mile along the highroad from Pastimes, on the direct route from Escott, which was MrMaplestone's village. It was a handsome-looking house, but painfullyprosaic, built of grey stone, unsoftened by creepers, and showing a rowof windows flat and narrow, and extraordinarily high. One could justimagine the rooms, like so many boxes, and the hall flag-tiled, and thehouse full of draughts, for the windows of the principal living-roomsfaced perversely towards the north. I hoped the poor General wouldinstal a heating system and a generous supply of rugs; but what chieflyconcerned me at the moment was the thought that every time--every singletime--that cross, red-headed man came over to visit his relative, hemust pass our door!

My imagination immediately conjured up half a dozen irritatingencounters. Evelyn returning home on a wet day, bedraggled, _not_ ather best, toiling along the wet lane, and being splashed with mud by thewheels of a giant car, from the cushioned seat of which the Squire andhis wife regarded her with lofty disdain. There _was_ a MrsMaplestone, and I had drawn a mental picture of her, which I felt surewas true to life. Small, meek, rather pretty, with big brown eyes whichheld a chronic expression of being rather frightened by what had justgone before, and exceedingly anxious as to what should come next. Shewould probably wear handsome furs, and a hat three seasons old. 

Encounter number two represented Evelyn in her best hat and coat, feeling rather spry and pleased with herself, until presently, clinkettyclank, round the bend of the road came the quick, staccato beat ofhorses' hoofs. Mr and Mrs Maplestone cantering past in hunting kit, which at one glimpse killed complacency and substituted disgust for thepoor fripperies of town. 

Encounter number three was most obnoxious of all. It represented Evelyn_solus_ encountering Mr Maplestone _solus_ and on foot. Approachinghim on the unsheltered road, torn by the problem, "Will he bow? Shall_I_ bow? Will he pretend? Shall I pretend?" moving nearer and nearer, and in a final moment of discomfort meeting the stare of blank, angryeyes. Poor man! It must be exhausting to have such a violent temper. I wondered what he looked like when by chance he was happy and pleased!

The West End firm got through their work in record time, and at the endof three weeks Charmion and I took possession, and set to work at thetask of putting our house in order. Every woman delights in this workin _prospect_; in reality, every one comes full tilt against a score ofirritating, aggravating _contretemps_ which baulk her carefully-laidschemes. 

Our _contretemps_ appeared in a very usual form. The cook and gardener, who had been definitely engaged to meet us on our arrival, and whom wehad, therefore, not replaced in town, sent missives instead, to "hopethey didn't inconvenience, but they had changed their minds". The twotown servants who _had_ arrived were immediately plunged into woe, and, looking into their set, dour faces, one could _hear_ the inward thought, "Don't believe anyone ever _was_ engaged! Just one of their tricks toget us down here to do the work alone. " We left them sitting likemonuments of woe in the kitchen, and shut ourselves up in thedrawing-room to consult. 

"Uplands, I conclude, " said Charmion coldly. 

"Oh, no! I don't believe it. He wouldn't condescend to _that_!"

"Why not? He stopped the work in the house. "

"That was different! After all, he _is_ the Squire, and when it was acase of inconveniencing him, or a stranger--a local tradesman couldhardly be expected to put us first. At least, you can _understand_ hisposition. "

"Does the same argument apply to local domestics?"

"It might do; but I don't believe it was used. To give a tradesman anorder for now or never, and to--to stoop to bribe a servant to break anengagement--surely they are two different things! I do _not_ believeMr Maplestone would do it!"

"Well!--we shall see. In the meantime, what about dinner?"

I went back to the kitchen and talked to the Londoners, smilingradiantly the while. I said it was upsetting, but we must expectupsets. No one ever settled into a new house without one. I said therewould be no difficulty in getting another cook--we would telegraph forone to-morrow; in the meantime we would just picnic, and do the best wecould. I looked from one sulky face to another, and askedconfidently:--

"Now, which of you is the better cook?"

The parlour-maid said she was a parlour-maid. She had never been_asked_ to cook. She could make tea. 

I said, "Thank you!" and turned to the housemaid. 

The housemaid said she was a housemaid, and didn't understand stoves. She had always lived where kitchen-maids were kept. 

I said calmly, "Oh, well, it's fortunate that I am a woman, and can cookfor the lot of you until help comes. Perhaps you will kindly bring teainto the hall, and then get your own as quickly as possible. I shallrequire the kitchen by six o'clock. "

They were horribly discomposed, and I left them murmuring vaguely inprotest, very pleased with myself and my fine womanly attitude, thoughat the bottom of my heart I knew quite well that Bridget would come tothe rescue, and never a saucepan should I be allowed to touch. 

As a matter of fact the good soul descended on the slackers like awhirlwind, and the while she drove them before her, treated them to aneloquent lecture upon the future sufferings, privations, rebellions, andretaliations of the prospective husbands of females who had grown towoman's estate, and yet could not cook a meal. Through the green baizedoor I could hear the continuous torrent of invective, broken at firstby protest, later on by soft exclamations of surprise, and finally--oh, the relief of that moment!--by an uncontrollable explosion of laughter. The Cockney mind is keenly alive to humour, and when a racy Irishwomangets fairly started on a favourite subject, the delicious contradictionsof her denunciations are hard to beat! That laughter saved thesituation, and the domestic wheels began to move. 

Charmion wrote to an emergency lady in town. I didn't see the letter, but I diagnosed its tone. Peremptory and--lavish! Wages no object, butspeed essential, or words to that effect. Anyway, in two days' time amarried couple arrived, were pleased to approve of us, and settled downwith the air of coming to stay. She was an excellent cook, and heseemed a rather indifferent gardener, which just suited our views. Ifgardeners are experts they want their own way, insist on bedding-out, carpet-beds, and similar atrocities. We meant to run our garden ondifferent lines!

Hurrah! I am so relieved. The truants have _not_ gone to Uplands. Imet the cook in the village to-day, recognised her, and tackled her toher face. She flushed and wriggled, looked uncomfortable, but not aspenitent as I should have liked to have seen. 

"Was it necessary to wait until we had actually arrived, before lettingus know that you had changed your mind?"

She stood on one foot, and drew circles on the road with the other. 

"Didn't decide myself till just the last minute. "

"You hadn't taken another place then? I understood from your note--"

"I'm staying on with my mother. I may go to a lady at Guildford. "

Silence. One department of my brain felt an immense relief, the otheran immense exasperation. 

"Then you were free all the time! Doesn't it strike you as wrong anddishonourable to show such a want of concern for other people'sconvenience?"

She muttered. I caught the sound of a few words--"_I'm not the OnlyOne_!" and put on my most dignified air. 

"However, it is all for the best. You certainly would not have suitedus. I hope for your own sake you will learn to keep your word. "

I walked on, nose in the air, aggressively complacent in appearance, butthose words rankled!

"_Not the only one_!" Now what did she mean by that? Obviously theinsinuation was meant to go home, but how and where had we been toblame? Not in our treatment of the woman herself. We had offered goodwages, and to pay for the time she had been kept waiting; yet somethinghad happened which had made her willing to lose money and time, and thatsomething was not another place! I felt puzzled, and, at the bottom ofmy heart, _worried_ about it all!

Later on I paid my first visit to the little draper's shop, and ran thefire of a universal scrutiny from the staff. The "young ladies" knewwho I was, and were devoured by curiosity, but it was not a friendlycuriosity! Instead of the eager smiles which usually greet a newcustomer, there was a pursed-up gravity, a stolid attention to business, which was decidedly blighting. At home in Ireland every tradesman wasmore or less a friend, and what they did not know of Kathie's affairsand mine was not worth hearing. 

"Pastimes, I believe!" said the sales-woman with the pasty face, when Idirected the parcel to be sent home. Was it fancy which read a note ofreproach in her intonation?

Coming home, I met General Underwood in a bath-chair, being pushed alongby a man in livery. He has white hair and a yellow face. He lookstired and ill, and lonely and sad. I'm sure he hates the bath-chair, and fights horribly with his doctor, who insists on fresh air. Herolled his tired eyes at me as I passed, and said something in a lowvoice to his attendant. I was misguided enough to turn my head, andbehold! the Bath-chair was tilted round so that he might look after_me_. The man knew me by sight, and was laying bare the whole horribletruth. 

"That's her, sir! The lady from Pastimes!" I felt ruffled, and wentstraight into my "sulky, " where I stayed till lunch-time. We had adelicious _souffle_, and Charmion asked no questions, and went out ofthe way to be particularly sweet. I felt better every moment, and bythe time coffee arrived had quite recovered my spirits. 

If the General _had_ lived in Pastimes, he would have had to use thebath-chair just the same, and his hair would have been quite as white!Pastimes could not have made him young! Charmion is right. I wear myheart on my sleeve. I must learn to be more callous and matter-of-fact!

CHAPTER EIGHT. 

THE VICARAGE CALLS. 

On Sunday we went to the Parish Church. At breakfast, Charmion seemedsilent and depressed; but, true to our agreement, I asked no questions, and she volunteered no explanation. She said she was not going tochurch, but later on she changed her mind. I think she saw that I wasdisappointed, and a trifle shy at going alone, so off we went together--Charmion a marvel of unobtrusive elegance in grey, and I "taking theeye" in sapphire-blue--along the breezy lane, past the closed gates ofUplands, through the shuttered High Street into the tiny square, in acorner of which the church was nooked, with the vicarage gardenadjoining the churchyard. 

The congregation was assembling from different parts, and everybody whopassed stared at us, the men stolidly enough, the women with a curiositywhich, to my mind at least, had something antagonistic in its nature. Their pursed lips, their sidelong glances, reminded me of the assistantsin the draper's shop; of the cook who muttered that she was not "theonly one". I looked at Charmion to see if she felt the atmosphere, buther eyes held the blank, far-off expression which marked her dark hours. She had no attention to spare for village worthies: nothing that theycould do or think was of sufficient importance to arouse her attention. Inside, the church was bare and uninteresting, and the musical servicepoor, but the Vicar himself attracted me greatly. A plain-looking mannearing forty, but with a most expressive and eloquent voice. He readthe service exquisitely--so exquisitely, that words which one knew byheart seemed suddenly filled with new meaning. When the time came forthe sermon I expected great things. It seemed to me that the man whocould so wonderfully interpret the words of others, must be endued withthe gift of eloquence for himself. I even braced myself for a mentaleffort, in case his argument should soar above my head. And then--achild could have followed him! It was absolutely the simplest, plainest, and most intimate address which I had ever heard from a churchpulpit. Incidentally, it was also the shortest!

It was ten minutes to twelve o'clock when he folded his arms on top ofthe open Bible, and leant forward for a long, silent moment, lookingearnestly from side to side into the upturned faces of his hearers. Then he began to talk--to _talk_, not to preach, speaking every wordwith an inflection of the truest sincerity. The text was "Forgettingthe things that are behind, I press towards the mark, " and the "talk"ran pretty much like this:--

"How has this week gone with you, Brothers and Sisters? To some it hasbrought success, to others failure. Bad weather, bad temper, lostcontrol, a host of tiny troubles have sprung upon us unprepared; haveworked their will, and left us discouraged and weak. Thank God forbeginnings! New years, new months, new weeks--after every twenty-fourhours, a new day, with the sun rising over a new world! Last week isdead. All the grieving in the world cannot revive it into life. Buryit! Remember only the lessons it has taught. Forget the things thatlie behind. _Press forward_! This week is alive. This week bringsopportunity. Live! Work! Pray! With God's grace make it the best, the truest, the kindliest week you have ever lived. "

The clock struck twelve, and the sermon was over. A bare ten minutes, but if he had preached for an hour on end he could not have added to itseffect. The congregation listened in tense silence, as though afraid oflosing a word. One _felt_ the electric thrill of hope and courage andhigh resolve which, flooded their hearts; felt it oneself; went out fromthe church braced in heart and soul. 

I want to know more of that man. He could help one along. 

I have got my wish. He called with his wife this afternoon--the firstcallers since we arrived. They were shown into the drawing-room, whereCharmion and I were lolling over our tea. There was fruit on the table, besides a selection of cakes from town, and as we had been gardening inthe earlier part of the afternoon, and got thoroughly grubby and untidy, we had changed into the tea-gowns which we wear in the evening when weare too lazy to put on more elaborate clothes. They are very nicetea-gowns, and, though I say so who shouldn't, we look exceedingly nicein them, but to the eye of a hard-working country clergyman the wholeinterior may have looked _too_ luxurious to be approved! His facelooked very grave as he shook hands. 

Mrs Merrivale is a surprise. The Vicar figures on the church board asthe Reverend John C. Merrivale, but she has her cards printed, "Mrs J. Courtney Merrivale, " and she calls him "Jacky" in public. She is veryyoung--twenty-two or three at the most--and has a very long neck and apretty little face, with huge pale-blue eyes, and a minute mouth withcoral-pink lips. She is dressed in cheap clothes made in the latestfashion, and she asks questions all the time, and doesn't wait for ananswer. When you tell her a definite fact, such as that you have beenplanting tulips in the garden, she says, "Not really!" or as a change, "Fancy!" or "Just think!" _He adores her_. Every time he meets hereyes, his grave, strong face softens and glows in a way which makes onefeel inclined to cry. Lonely women feel so _very_ lonely at suchmoments as these! She contradicts him over the most futile things, andsays, "No, Jacky, it was three o'clock, not four; I was just getting upfrom my rest, " and he smiles, and doesn't mind a bit. 

They had tea, but refused fruit, with an air of being rather outraged bythe offer. Mrs Merrivale surreptitiously studied the details ofCharmion's tea-gown, and the Vicar and I laboured assiduously atconversation. I had liked him so much on Sunday, and had hoped he wouldbe a real friend; but--things didn't go! I had a miserable feeling thathe had paid the call as a matter of duty, that he disapproved of us, that he dreaded our influence on his precious little goose of a wife. There was certainly a restraint in his manner. _Everybody_ seemedrestrained in this funny little place. I wonder if it was something inthe air!

Having made mental notes concerning the tea-gown, Mrs Merrivale nextturned her attention to the room, and stared around with frank curiosityand a barely concealed envy. 

"Your room looks so pretty. Jacky, that's exactly the material I wantedfor our curtains. You have beautiful china. I'm collecting, too;but"--she gave an expressive shrug. "Of course, this room lends itself;it is so big, and get's _all_ the sun. You remember, Jacky"--she lookedat her husband with widened eyes--"Mr Maplestone called it a `SunTrap'. "

It seemed an innocent enough remark, but the Vicar's grave assentimplied a deeper meaning. Mrs Merrivale sighed, and elaboratelylengthened her chin. 

"Uplands is so _bleak_. General Underwood feels the cold so much. Allthe windows of the entertaining rooms seem to look the wrong way. "

"He should have some more put in, facing the sun, " Charmion suggested inher regal way, and Mrs Merrivale looked as much aghast as if she hadsuggested pulling down the whole house and building it afresh. I bursthastily into the conversation. 

"I think I met General Underwood the other day. In a bath-chair. I wasglad that he was well enough to get out. I hope he will soon be quitewell. "

The Vicar said gravely:--

"He will never be well. The most that can be hoped is that he will notgrow worse rapidly. He is a fine man, and has done good service. Weare proud to have him back amongst us, but I am afraid, for his ownsake, it has been a bad move. He ought to have settled in a kindlierclimate. "

"Yes, but--" Mrs Merrivale began impulsively, and pulled herself up, and bit her red lip. "Jacky, " she said hurriedly, "I'm afraid we mustgo. "

They went, and I felt a worm. It was plain to me now that the parish ingeneral, from the Vicar downward, had absorbed the idea that the strangeladies at Pastimes had played a mean trick on their local hero, and werenot inclined to smile upon the ladies in consequence. The Vicar hadprobably heard the Squire's prejudiced story direct, and from the ManorHouse and the Vicarage reports had percolated, as such reports _will_percolate, to the draper's assistants, and the man in the street, downand down to the truant cook herself. 

Now the feudal feeling still lingers in English villages, and noself-respecting tenant chooses to range herself against the Squire. Thecook's mother, no doubt, lived in a cottage owned by the Squire, andenjoyed perquisites of various sorts which she had no disposition tothrow away. Beside the kitchen fire there had, no doubt, been a lengthyconference over that rumour, and the mother had said, "Don't you do it, Mary Jane. If the ladies are across with the Squire, how'll he take itif he hears my daughter's in their service? And half a dozen peoplewith their eyes on this cottage as it is. A nice thing it would be forme if I got notice to quit!" The gardener's mother had probablypresented the same argument to him, and the good people who had eyed usaskance on Sunday morning were probably reflecting to themselves, "They_look_ all right, but you never know! There was evidently something_very_ unpleasant about that lease. Poor General Underwood, too. Well, we won't be in a hurry to call. We will just wait and see!"

I felt horribly depressed, and somehow Charmion's utter indifferencemade me feel worse. I do love to be liked; it would poison me to livein an atmosphere of prejudice and suspicion, but she doesn't appear tocare. I have a curious conviction that to be socially ostracised wouldbe just what she would prefer. Books, the garden, my companionship--these would supply her need. New claims would be rather a bore. 

I am not made like that. I need more. I feel horribly depressed. 

Charmion saw it, and spoke out before we went to bed. 

"You are worrying, Evelyn. That disagreeable autocrat has succeeded inprejudicing our neighbours against us, and it hurts you. Well, nothingis irrevocable. Say the word, and we will leave the house to-morrow, and put up a bill--to let!"

I jumped nearly out of my skin, with horror and amazement. 

"Never! Not for the world. My pride wouldn't let me even if I wantedto do it, and I don't--I don't! I love the house and the life with youeven more than I expected, it's only that I'm sorry about. I _do_ liketo live at peace with all men. Doesn't it worry you, Charmion, to feelyourself unjustly accused?"

"It would have done once. At your age. Since then"--her eyes took theblank, far-away look which always attended even the faintest allusion tothe past--"since then I have lost the power of caring. When one hasborne the one big hurt, the gnats have no power to sting. "

I looked up eagerly, but she rose from her seat, pressing one handgently over my eyes. 

"No! Don't ask me! You have been very sweet, very forbearing. Onegreat reason why my heart went out to you, Evelyn, was that you neverquestioned, never tried to probe. Go on being patient! Some day youshall know. I should like to tell you now, but I can't, I can't! Youmust wait. Some day the impulse will come, then it may be a relief. Till then, Evelyn, you must wait!"

CHAPTER NINE. 

AN ENCOUNTER IN FORCE. 

It is three months since we came to Pastimes, and until last week thedays have slipped by happily and peacefully enough, but without anyhappenings worthy of record. We returned the Vicar's call, and wereasked to tea to meet ourselves, when Mrs Merrivale took the opportunityto ask me the address of my dressmaker! Two staid dames, who lived insmall villa residences, left cards at the door, an attention which weduly returned in kind. The important people in the neighbourhood haveleft us severely alone, whirling past our gates to pay assiduous callson General Underwood. He is the local hero, and we are the hard-heartedstrangers who did _Something_--nobody knows precisely _what_--but_Something_ mean, and underhand, and altogether unwomanly about a lease, and so forced the poor dear General to endure draughts and cold rooms, and seriously retarded his progress towards health! It's no usepretending that I am not sorry about it, for I _am_; but all the same, they have been happy months. Charmion has seemed so much brighter andmore contented, and that itself means much to me, and we have been ashappy as bees in our beloved garden, bullying our one man into preparingwhat he considers absolutely mad effects, and working with him to keephim up to the mark. We have flagged one path, and turfed over another, raised some beds, and sunk others, and contrived a really glorioushot-weather arbour, a good six yards in diameter, and open on threesides, to secure plenty of fresh air and an absence of flies. 

Charmion has hardly gone out of the gate, except to church on Sundays, but I take a constitutional every day, and scour the country-side. 

My first encounter with the Squire came off about the third week we werehere, and my imaginings were wrong in all but two unimportant points. Mrs Maplestone wears voluminous sables and clothes of antique cut; butthey look quite charming and appropriate, for--she is antique herself!

She is the Squire's mother, not his wife. He hasn't got a wife; neverhas had one, and never will. Hates all women and their ways. Avoidsfeminine society, and has never been known to pay a girl five minutes'attention in his life! Such is the village verdict as repeated to methrough Bridget, who has a _flair_ for gossip, and is one of thosewonderful people who cannot walk half a mile along a solitary countrylane, without hearing, or seeing, or mentally absorbing some interestingitem about the lives of her fellow-creatures!

Every night when she brushes my hair she recounts these items to me, andI pretend to be uninterested, and listen with all my ears. 

In any case, Mr Maplestone seems very kind and attentive to his mother. I met them (as fancy painted!) when I was coming home from a trudgealong the damp lanes, and was looking considerably blown anddishevelled. They were getting out of their car just outside the gatesof Uplands--a most malapropos position!--but without the leasthesitation he lifted his hat, and bowed, so that I was spared thetroubled uncertainty which I had imagined. 

I can't say he looked _amiable_, but at least he was polite, and I wasso relieved that I bowed back with quite a broad smile. Mrs Maplestonelooked at me more in sorrow than in anger. I suppose she was thinking, "So young and so unkind!" An hour later, from an upstairs window, I sawthe car whizzing homewards along the road. It did not stop at our gate. I rather wished it would. 

After that we were constantly meeting. There seemed a fate in it. If Idarted into the post office to buy a penny stamp, he was there buyingtobacco. (You _do_ buy tobacco in village post offices!) If I cutacross fields and sat on a stile to rest, he came whistling from theopposite direction, and I had to get up to let him pass. If in leavingthe house I turned to the right, I met him advancing to the left. If Iturned to the left, behold he was striding manfully to the right! Eachmeeting was the result of absolute chance, but Mistress Chance can playcurious pranks at times, and it really seemed as though she was taking amischievous delight in bringing about these unwished-for encounters. Wealways bow ceremoniously to each other; he always frowns, and I alwayssmile. Theoretically I am annoyed and indignant; but at the criticalmoment the comical side of the situation sweeps over me, and out flashesthe smile before I can force it back. It is so absurd to see a biggrown man sulking like a child! Quite a good thing he does not intendto marry. His wife would have a nerve-racking time. 

Well, as I said before, three months have passed by. Spring has turnedinto summer, and every day the garden brings fresh, delightfulsurprises. Uninteresting green sprouts burst into unexpected bloom; therock garden is a blaze of purple and gold; blackened stems of creepershave disappeared beneath festoons of leaves and flowers. 

Charmion and I wear muslin dresses, and eat our meals in the arbour, andlie in hammocks in the little orchard, and rejoice in every moment ofthe long sunshiny days. Down at the bottom of our hearts, I think weboth have a feeling that this is just a little rest by the way. Itwon't last; we don't even wish it to last. Life is too strenuous topass in a summer garden; but we needed a rest and it is very, very goodfor a change. We pack boxes of flowers and send them to the hospitals, and every Saturday afternoon we invite parties of working girls from thenearest towns. They arrive in weird garments, very loud as to colour, and befeathered as to hats, and the village worthies look askance atthem, shrug their shoulders, and think small beer of us for entertainingsuch odd guests. 

For three months our lives have been indeed the "annals of a quietneighbourhood, " and then suddenly, last week, something happened!

I said suddenly--I might have said instantaneously, without anyexaggeration. The position was this. Scene, a sloping roadway justoutside the village area. The stage set with the three principalfigures. Enter from left wing, General Underwood, reclining in hisbath-chair, being taken for a short ride by his affectionate kinsman, Robert Maplestone. Enter from right wing, Evelyn Wastneys, bearing forhome. So far, so good. A similar encounter has happened many timesbefore, but this time the sight of my white-robed figure seemed to upsetthe Squire's equanimity. He stopped the chair, and turned his head overhis shoulder, looking backward over the road along which he had come. It afterwards transpired that the General's valet had been left behindto finish some small duty, and was momentarily expected to follow. Atthat moment he did appear, and involuntarily Mr Maplestone lifted hishands to wave an imperious summons. 

I have said that the road is sloping; just at this point it is verysloping indeed, therefore the bath-chair darted forward, and spundownward with incredible speed. I have a kaleidoscopic picture in mybrain which seems to consist of a lot of waving arms--the poor General'sarms waving for help, the Squire's arms sawing the air as he raced inpursuit, further back in the road the valet's arms thrown to the sky inan agony of dismay, while down towards me, ever faster and faster, spunthat runaway chair. 

I had to stop it somehow! There was no one else to do it, so it was "upto me" to do my best. There was no time to be nervous, no time even tothink. I stood braced in the middle of the road, and caught at thesteering handle as it flashed by. My weight was light, and the Generalwas heavy. I expected to have to hold hard, but what really happenedwas startling and unexpected, for the steering handle whirled straightround, struck me a severe blow on the arm, and--toppled me right over onto the foot of the chair! I sat down heavily on the General's feet, andthe front wheel tore whirling streamers from the bottom of my skirt. The chair swayed, jerked, slackened its speed; two strong handsstretched out and checked it still further; a second pair of handsgripped hold, and brought it to a stand. 

Now came the moment when I ought to have been acclaimed, and overwhelmedwith grateful acknowledgments as an heroic rescuer, who had risked herown life to save a feeble and suffering old man; but not at all! Quitethe contrary! No sooner was his flight safely stopped than the Generalturned and roared at me with furious voice:--

"You sat on _my feet_! You are sitting on my _feet_!--I, with the gout!Get up! _Get up_!"

Then he turned to Mr Maplestone, and roared at him:--

"What on earth did you _mean_ by letting go?"

Then Mr Maplestone turned to the valet, and roared at him:--

"Why the dickens couldn't you _come_, instead of hanging about all day?"

Then they all turned on me, and chorused, "Get up! _Get up_!" and Itried to get up, and the caught streamers of my dress held me fast, andI sat down heavily again--_plop_, right on top of the poor gouty feet. The General roared more loudly than before, the two other men calledout, "Oh, oh!" and I felt as if I should go into hysterics myself. Itwas a most lacerating scene. 

Mr Maplestone took out his penknife and hacked at the ends of my skirt;the valet, who was the only calm and sensible one of the party, liftedme up, and supported me in his arms till I was set free. Then he let gosuddenly, and I was so weak and giddy that I nearly fell down a thirdtime. The General closed his eyes and emitted heart-rending groans, andthe valet nipped hold of the handle of the chair and made for home asfast as he could go. I stood in the midst of my rags and tatters, andMr Maplestone stood by my side. 

"I hope you are not hurt. "

"Oh, not at all!" I said bitterly. I was aching from head to foot. Tojudge from my sensations, my right arm was paralysed for life. In somemysterious way a wheel seemed to have passed over my feet, and my toesburned like fire. Perhaps they were broken--I could not tell. I hadlikewise several scrapes and a whole army of bruises, and the skirt ofone of my nicest afternoon frocks was torn into ribbons. And not oneword of thanks or appreciation. No wonder I was riled. "Oh, not atall. I _like_ it! I am only sorry that I have contrived to hurtGeneral Underwood. Perhaps you will kindly convey my apologies. "

He looked at me critically. Aches don't show on the surface, and Iexpect I looked rather red than pale. The only visible signs of damagewere the ends of muslin and lace which strewed the road. He looked atthem and said solemnly:--

"Your dress is spoiled! I'm afraid it was partly my fault. I had toget you free, and it was not a moment for deliberation. I'm sorry!"

He really _sounded_ sorry, and that smoothed me down. I murmured thatit didn't matter--only a muslin dress--not his fault, while he went onstaring fixedly. Then at last he spoke, and what he said gave me anelectric shock of surprise. 

"It's a good thing, " he said, "it wasn't the one with the frills!"

_The one with the frills_! For a moment my mind was a whirling void; Iwas too stupefied to think. Then gradually it dawned upon me that hemust be alluding to a dress the skirt of which was composed entirely oftiers of flounces. It was a new and favourite possession, and I alsowas glad that it was spared. But--why should Mr Maplestone--

I gaped at him, and said:--

"_Why_?"

And he said lucidly:--

"Well, there would have been more to catch, wouldn't there? Besides--"He flushed, and lapsed into silence. Evidently it was inadvisable tocontinue the subject. 

I gathered together my jagged ends, and turned to walk homeward, ratherwondering what was going to happen when I began to move. I found I_could_ walk, however, which proved that no bones were broken; but itwas a halting performance, and hurt more than I chose to show. If Ilimped _too_ much, in common politeness Mr Maplestone would be obligedto offer help. I had a vision of Charmion's face if she looked out ofthe window and beheld us walking arm in arm up the drive!

"Why do you smile?" cried the voice by my side. There was positiveoffence in the tone, and, as I looked my amazement, he continuedaccusingly, "You always smile. Every time we meet. It must be anannoyance to stumble against me wherever you go. Yet you smile! Andto-day you are hurt, and you still smile!"

"I smile at my thoughts, " I said grandiloquently. "And you are wrong, Mr Maplestone. It doesn't annoy me at all. Why should it? You are asfree to walk about as I am. I have no right to complain. And myconscience is clear! _I_ have done nothing of which I have reason to beashamed. "

"You mean, " he cried, "you mean that?--"

Then his voice broke off sharply, and his forehead wrinkled in dismay. "_What's that_? That mark on your arm. _Blood_?"

He pointed. I looked, and sure enough a dull red patch was spreadingover the muslin sleeve of my dress. The blow had evidently cut theskin, and this was the result. I felt dreadfully sorry for myself, andrather faint, and altogether considerably worse than I had done before, as a result of beholding these visible signs of injury. So, I wascontent to see, did Mr Maplestone himself. He really looked horriblyworried and distressed, and kept glancing at me with anxious eyes, as ifevery moment he expected me to collapse. 

But he never offered his arm! He came with me as far as the gate, andthen held out his hand in farewell. It would have been churlish torefuse, so I put my own hand in his just for a moment. 

"Don't shake it, please, " I said. "It hurts. " And then, because it_did_ seem such an odd thing to say, I smiled again, a feeble waterysmile. 

He dropped my hand like a hot coal, and fled. 

I limped into the house and told Charmion all about it, and criedquarts. I was mottled all over, black and blue. 

CHAPTER TEN. 

MRS MERRIVALE CONFESSES. 

Next morning a groom came over with kind inquiries from the Hall. Mrand Mrs Maplestone were anxious to hear if Miss Wastneys had recoveredfrom the shock of yesterday. Miss Wastneys returned thanks for kindinquiries. She was suffering a good deal of pain, but her injuries werenot serious. 

Recovered, indeed! When I was a mass of bruises and aches, to saynothing of jumpy nerves. I was not inclined to make light of myinjuries to Mr Robert Maplestone. 

Later on the General's valet made his appearance. 

"General Underwood was anxious to hear how Miss Wastneys was thismorning. He was distressed to hear that she had been hurt. "

That was more tactful! Moreover, on receiving the bulletin, the maninformed our maid that the old gentleman was rarely upset because he hadbeen rude to the young lady. As soon as he was able he was coming inperson to apologise. 

Charmion listened quietly to the repetition of this announcement. Whenthe maid left the room, she turned to me as I lay on the sofa, beingvery sorry for myself, and lifted inquiring brows. 

"Well, Evelyn. You know what this means?"

I did, or thought I did, but prevaricated, feeling self-conscious. 

"What?"

"You have cut the knot with your heroic rescue! The Squire will call;the General will call; the neighbouring sheep will follow in theirtrain. We shall be graciously `forgiven' and admitted into the fold. Our quiet, sent-to-Coventry existence is at an end. "

I looked at her anxiously. From voice and manner it was impossible totell what she was really feeling. Above all things I wanted to pleaseher. But still--

"Are you sorry, Charmion? Would you be sorry? I suppose they _will_come, but there is no necessity to receive them, if you would rathernot. After ignoring us so long, they could not complain. I will leaveit to you to decide. "

"Then they shall come, " she said firmly. "You've been a brick about it, dear, but I'm not blind. I know that it has been a trial for you to becut off from general society. You are a sociable creature, and needfriends around you. We have had a happy _tete-a-tete_, and I've enjoyedit thoroughly, but it couldn't go on. I should not have _allowed_ it togo on. I am a selfish woman in many ways, but not selfish enough tomake a hermit of you at twenty-six. So!--let them all come. In anycase, we shall probably be making a move before very long, so we can'tbe drawn very deeply into the rustic maelstrom!"

"_We shall be making a move_. "

The words gave me a jar. My "Kensington" flat is now in order, andready to receive my furniture whenever I care to send it in. I am stillin love with the Pixie scheme; but, while summer lasts, and the gardengrows more beautiful every day, I want to stay here! In my own mind Ihad settled down till September at least. I had believed that Charmionwas as happy as myself, but now the old restlessness sounded in hervoice. I looked at her, and saw her eyes staring wearily into space. Oh dear, oh dear, the narcotic of the new life is already losing itspower; the grim spectre of the past is casting its shadow between us!

They have called! This afternoon, when we were having tea in thegarden, General Underwood's bath-chair appeared suddenly on the scene. First came a crunching of gravel, and when we turned our heads todiscover the cause, the front wheel was already turning the corner ofthe path, and the next moment there was the General smiling benevolentlyupon us, the valet pushing the handle, and walking by his side theSquire himself, very red in the face and puckered about the brow, exactly like a naughty boy who is being dragged forward to say he is"sorry. "

Fortunately there was no time to consider the situation. We shookhands, and found a chair for Mr Maplestone, and ordered more tea, anddiscussed the weather in its various branches, all with the utmostpropriety, until gradually the ice thawed. Charmion is a gracioushostess, and the General is as genial and simple in manner as most menwho have spent their lives "east of the Suez". After five minutes inhis society one understands why he is the idol of the neighbourhood. Helooks ill, poor dear, but his blue eyes are still clear and alert, andhe twinkles them at you in such a shrewd, kindly fashion. 

Not a word did he say about the accident until tea was half over and Ihanded him some cake, when he looked full at me, and asked slyly:--

"How is the poor arm?"

"Progressing beautifully, thank you. _And_--the poor feet?"

"Ah, " he said eloquently, "that was a moment! I am ashamed of myingratitude; but, my dear young lady, if you could have felt--"

"I know, " I said humbly. "Eight stone six. But I had no choice; and atthe worst, it was not so bad as being spilt into the road. "

"Indeed, yes. I am under the impression that I owe you a great deal. It is difficult to express--"

"Please don't!" I said hastily. "I could hardly have done less, but Icould very easily have done it in a less clumsy way; and--it's soembarrassing to be thanked! Let us talk of something else. Would youcare to see our garden? We have worked very hard at it all spring, andare so proud of our effects. We love showing people round!"

Then I suddenly remembered and blushed, and glanced guiltily at theSquire, to discover that he was doing exactly the same at me, and we allthree got up in a hurry, and disputed who should push the bath-chair. The Squire did it, of course, and Charmion and I walked one on each sideand played show-women, and the dear old man admired everything he saw, and asked for seeds in the autumn, and offered _us_ seeds in return, anddid everything nice and polite that nice polite people do do on gardenvisits. 

As for the Squire, he kept on saying nothing. 

Our tour ended at the gate, and when we said our final good-byes, General Underwood explained he was not up to calling, as he was oftenunable to go out, but that at any time, if we could spare half an hourto visit _him_, it would be doing a kindness to a lonely old man. "Andwill you allow me to wish you much happiness and prosperity in yourbeautiful home?"

Charmion thanked him with serene unconsciousness, and the Squire and Istared elaborately into space, so elaborately that on parting we madetwo separate dives before we succeeded in finding each other's hands. Then the valet came forward, and the little procession turned out of thegate. 

"Charmion, " I said solemnly, "I feel a worm. That dear, heroic old man!I wish we had let him have `Pastimes' ten times over. "

"Mistaken heroism, my dear. He can be still more heroic at `Uplands'. "

"Er--what do you think of--the other one?"

"Er--honestly, Evelyn, I don't think of him at all!"

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Mrs Maplestone has called, and the three or four other county magnates, none of them particularly interesting from our point of view. We arenow formally and definitely "received, " and the first result has been aviolent increase of intimacy on the part of the Vicar's wife. I thinkshe has always "hankered" to know us, but not having enoughindividuality to act for herself, she has waited for a lead beforetaking the plunge. 

Now it appears that she is organising a garden fete and wants us tohelp. It is her own idea, and she says it is for the organ fund. Idon't want to be uncharitable, but I think it is equally designed forthe amusement and diversion of Delphine Merrivale! I am uneasy aboutthat girl. Nature never designed her for a clergyman's wife; she isrestless and bored, while that dear, good, fine man, who loves her somuch, is as blind as a bat, and believes that all is well. To-day shesent for me to come to tea, and he came into the room while she wasvolubly discussing various plans, which struck me as likely to cost moremoney than they were ever likely to gain. When he appeared she gave alittle shrug of impatience, and for a few moments lapsed into silence, but her self-control being soon exhausted, she took up her tale andbabbled on as enthusiastically as before. 

It appears that every summer a "Sale" is held in the vicarage garden todispose of the articles manufactured by the "Working Party" throughoutthe winter session. They consist of serviceable garments for the poor, which are eagerly purchased by the members of the Needlework Guild, andalso of a selection of "fancy" articles which nobody wants, such asbrush and comb bags of pink and white crochet, shaving paper cases withembroidered backs (first catch the man who uses them!) and handkerchiefsachets of white satin, on which are painted (badly) sprays of wildroses and maidenhair fern!

The parish has always meekly assembled itself together for the fray, paid threepence for a plain tea, and departed peacefully on its way; butthis year--_this_ year, there is to be a band, and a man to cut outsilhouettes, and ices, and strawberries and cream, and quite a varietyof excitements. 

"A treasure hunt for one, at an entrance fee of a shilling a head. Thetreasures to be supplied as voluntary offerings by the ladies of theneighbourhood. "

Mrs Merrivale paused and cocked an interrogative eye at me, and herhusband said gently:--

"Dear, aren't you too ambitious? Our ordinary quiet sale has done verywell until now. Why land yourself with a great deal of extra work andfatigue, to say nothing of expense, for an altogether problematicalresult!"

"Oh, Jacky, " she cried deeply. "It is not problematical. We shall makepounds and pounds. I don't mind the work. I like it. Think how lovelyit would be if we could clear off the whole debt!"

He smiled at her with the tenderest appreciation. Oh, if any man lookedat me like that, I would work my fingers to the bone to help him. Honestly and truly, he believed that she was bracing herself to the frayout of the purest, most disinterested motives. Never for one moment didit occur to him that a grown woman could hanker after such ploys for herown amusement. There is much in his unconsciousness which is beautiful, but--there is danger, too! Surely, surely when two people live togetherin such a terribly close relationship as husband and wife, before allthings it must be necessary to understand!

"Then I leave it to you, dearest, " he said. "Arrange as you think best. And now, if Miss Wastneys will excuse me, I must say good-bye. PoorMrs Evans is worse this afternoon. They fear that an operation may benecessary. She has had terrible pain. "

Mrs Merrivale threw out her hand impulsively. I was amazed to see thatshe had grown quite white. 

"Don't, Jacky--don't! You know _I_ can't bear it. _Why_ will you speakof such things when I have begged you not?"

"I'm sorry, darling. I forgot. My mind was so engrossed. " He laid hishand on her shoulder as he passed, and said to me, in an apologeticvoice, "This poor child is so sensitive. The pain of the world woundsher tender heart. I am inconsiderate in bringing my burdens to her. "

The door shut behind him, and we stared at one another for a long tensemoment. I _knew_, and she knew that I knew, and suddenly the longstrain of pretending to be what she was not reached the snapping point, and she spoke out in a burst of impotent irritation:--

"It's not true! I'm _not_ tender-hearted. They don't wound me at all, all these sordid miserable details; they just irritate and disgust andasphyxiate. Oh, I'm so tired of it all--so _tired_--and he doesn't see, doesn't understand! He puts me on a pedestal, and burns incense at myfeet, and believes that I am as interested as himself, and all thetime--all the time I am smothered with boredom and impatience. I don'tknow why I am saying all this to you. Yes, I do. I saw in your eyesthat you saw through me, and knew what I really felt. Now I suppose youare horribly shocked?"

"Not a bit. I don't understand enough to judge you one way or another;but I wish, as you have begun, you would tell me a little more. I'myoung myself, you see, so I should probably understand. Lots of peopletell me their secrets, and I'm always sorry, and very rarely shocked. We all have our own faults. Why should we be so very hard on otherpeople because theirs are a different brand from our own?"

She stared at me with her big blue eyes. 

"What are your faults?"

"Well, " I laughed, "the list would take a long time! Shall we leave itfor another day? What I want to know now is, why, with yourtemperament, did you come to marry a country parson?"

"Because I loved him, of course, " came the ready reply. "He came totake duty in our church while our own clergyman was ill, and he stayedin our house. He was so much older than I--fifteen years--that I neverthought of him--like that! I just thought he was a dear, and liked totalk to him, and show him about the garden, and get him to help me inlittle odd ways. He was so learned and serious and staid that all theothers were in awe of him, but I ordered him about, and made him wait onme, and teased him because he did it so badly. It was such fun! Ienjoyed myself frightfully. Mother read me a long lecture one night, and said Mr Merrivale would be pained to see father's daughter was sucha frivolous girl. But he wasn't. He fell in love with me instead. Doesn't that seem queer?"

I didn't think it was queer at all. Imagination conjured up scenes inthe summer garden where the gay pretty girl had held her little court, and queened it over the grave, silent man. It was a thousand to one onhis falling under the spell. The mischief of it was that he hadexpected the marriage ceremony to convert a butterfly into a staid, parochial wife. John Courtney Merrivale had a thousand virtues, butimagination was not his strong point. 

"I think it was extremely natural. Just what I should have expected tohappen. You are very pretty, you know, and I expect you made a charmingtask-mistress. And, of course, any sane girl must have been interestedin him. But--what did you think about the life in this little place?"

"Oh! I didn't think about it at all, " she said calmly. "I was sohappy, and--excited. And so busy getting my clothes, and the presents, and arranging for the wedding. I had a lovely wedding. Eightbridesmaids carrying rose-staves. And Jacky took me to Switzerland forthe honeymoon, and was so young and gay himself. Like a boy. I had aperfectly glorious three months, and then--"

She paused, and the pink and white face puckered into a grimace as shecast an expressive glance to right and left. 

"We came _home_! That was the first shock, seeing all this dingy, hideous furniture, and realising that it had to stay. Jacky likes itbecause it belonged to his mother, and he thinks it would be wickedwaste to sell it for nothing, and buy new. I tried to brighten thingsup, but--if you look round this room you will realise that a few newthings made the effect _worse_! I gave it up in despair, and all mypretty cushions and embroideries, and pictures and ornaments are hiddenaway in boxes in the attic. "

"Oh, that's hard! You have my unbounded sympathy. I should hate tolive in uncongenial surroundings. Isn't there _any_ room in the houseyou could have for your own, and furnish just exactly as you like?"

"All the rooms are full. I've given up trying to change things _now_, but they irritate me all the same. When I've been out all the day atmeetings and guilds, it would be a rest to come home to a pretty room. I look at those maroon curtains, and this hideous patterny carpet, andfeel all nervy and on edge; then Jacky thinks I am tired, and brings mehot milk. " She opened her speedwell blue eyes to their fullest width, and stared at me dolefully. "Oh, Miss Wastneys, it is so strenuous tohave to live up to an ideal!"

"It would be still more strenuous to--_fall short_, " I said curtly, andshe gave a start of dismay. 

"Oh, goodness, yes! Anything rather than that! I wouldn't for theworld have Jacky find me out. "

I felt like an aged grandam admonishing a silly child. Of course in thelong run he was bound to find out, for Delphine's discontent wasobviously increasing, and the hour was at hand when her self-controlwould come to a sudden and violent end. Then there would be hasty wordsand recriminations, the memory of which no after remorse could wipeaway. I was sure of it, and said so plainly, qualifying my prophecywith a big "unless. "

"Unless you can make up your mind to be honest _now_, and tell yourhusband the whole truth. There is nothing to be ashamed of in beingyoung and needing variety in life. Tell him frankly that too muchparish gets on your nerves, and that you could do your work better ifyou went away for a few weeks every three or four months. There must befriends whom you could visit, and who would be glad to have you. Aftera change of scene and occupation you would come home braced andrefreshed, and ready to make a fresh start. And you might speak aboutthe room at the same time. You need not suggest selling any furniture, but just storing some of it away in an attic or cellar, so that youcould have a little boudoir of your own. Do be sensible, and tell himto-night. He loves you. He wants you to be happy. He wouldunderstand. "

She shook her head. 

"No. He would be kind and patient. He would agree at once, and neversay a word of reproach, but--he wouldn't understand. That's just it. His whole idea of me would be shocked out of existence. He would bedisappointed to the bottom of his soul. I--I can't do it, MissWastneys; but it's been a relief to grumble to you. Thank you forletting me do it. Things have been just a little better since you andMrs Fane came to `Pastimes'. I haven't seen much of you, of course, but I have enjoyed watching you. You wear such lovely clothes, and youare young and interesting. Most of the people are so dull and settleddown. I wish you would call me `Delphine, ' and come to see me as oftenas you can. Just run in any time you are passing, and let me come toyou in the same way. I've been so bored. Well, never mind, " shebrightened suddenly; "the fete will be a little excitement. I _am_looking forward to that. "

An idea flashed into my head. I was sorry for the girl, and intensely, forebodingly sorry for her husband. If one could help to avert thethreatened tragedy. 

"I am just wondering, " I began tentatively. "Of course I can make nodefinite offer without consulting Mrs Fane, but--would you like it ifwe lent our grounds for the fete? The extra space might be anadvantage, and we could save you trouble by arranging for the tents andrefreshments, and perhaps organise some little stall on our ownaccount. "

I really thought that might save a good deal of expense, and so add tothe profit of the afternoon, and also that with our wider experience wemight run the fete on more advanced lines, and so give her, as well asthe rest of the parish, a more amusing time; but to my disappointmentshe flushed, and looked far from pleased. 

"Oh, thanks, but--really, this is my affair! If I have all the duty andresponsibility of being the Vicar's wife, I don't see why I should giveup the fun of being hostess and arranging my own fete in my own way. It's very sweet of you, of course, and I'm very grateful. I hope youwon't be offended. "

I began to laugh. 

"Offended! Why--Delphine, I was thinking entirely of you. I'mimmensely relieved, if you want the real truth. That's settled then, and we'll give you some treasures for the Hunt. What would you like?Make up an appropriate list and send it along. Anything you like, upto--say five pounds!"

"Oh, you angel! Will you really?" she cried ecstatically. I had risenthis time, and she slid her hand through my arm, and accompanied me tothe door. Seen close at hand, her face looked almost child-like in itsclear soft tints. I noticed also that her blouse was very fine anddelicate, a very different thing from the cheap lace fineries which shehad worn when I first saw her. She followed the direction of my eye, stroked down an upstarting frill, and coloured furiously. "Ah, myblouse! Do you admire it? I wrote to town for it, to your dressmaker, and I've ordered a lovely frock. You'll see. For once in my life Ishall be really well dressed! Seeing you and Mrs Fane has made mediscontented with my dowdy old rags!"

CHAPTER ELEVEN. 

THE GARDEN FETE. 

The garden fete came off yesterday, and on the surface was a roaringsuccess. The weather was ideal; the vicarage garden proved all that wasnecessary in the way of a background, and the arrangements were soextraordinarily complete that my practical mind was constantlyconfronted with the question, "Won't this _cost_ far more than itgains?" In a big city a charity entertainment may throw out expensivebaits with a fair chance of catching a shoal of fat and unwary fish; butin a small village the catch can be calculated to a sou. The big fishof the neighbourhood will heave a sigh of duteous resignation, put afive-pound note in the purse, and start for the fray prepared to spendit all, but not one penny more! The smaller fry carry out the samepolicy with ten or fifteen shillings. The minnows take half-a-crown, with which they pay for tea, and purchase soap at the provision stall, reporting to their husbands at night that, after all, the money was notwasted. The Vicar might just as well have it as the grocer. All theattractions in the world cannot worm shillings out of a public which isso prudent and canny that it has self-guarded itself by leaving its cashat home!

Many times over yesterday afternoon I saw the flicker of longing infeminine eyes as they gazed upon the tempting novelties displayed uponthe stalls, but the next moment the lips would screw, the feet pass by. Guild garments must be bought; tea paid for; tickets bought for thenovel Treasure Hunt, wherein--with luck!--one might actually _gain_ bythe outlay. The visitors lingered to gaze at the pretty china, andglass, and embroideries with which Delphine had filled her stall; butthe afternoon wore on, and it looked as full as ever--horribly full!There were none of those bare, blank spaces which stall-holders love tosee. At five o'clock we marked off the odd sixpences; at six o'clock wedropped a whole shilling, but still--hardly a sale!

Delphine looked--a vision! At the first glimpse of her in her cobwebfineries, I was ill-bred enough to gape, whereat she blushed and saidhurriedly:--

"_Your_ dressmaker! Yes! Isn't it a duck?"

And knowing the prices which Celeste charges for ducks with suchfeathers, I wondered, and--feared! Did the Vicar know? Was it possiblethat with his small stipend he could afford such extravagances? Had thesilly little thing ordered, and never _asked_? Was it my fault forhaving given the address? Could I have helped doing so, when I wasasked? I _had_ said she was expensive. It was some small comfort toremember that, and Charmion would say it was no concern of mine. Adozen such disconcerting thoughts raced through my mind, but I shookthem off, and said heartily:--

"It is lovely! _You_ are lovely! I had no idea you were such a beauty. What does your husband say?"

Her face clouded. 

"Nothing. Doesn't notice. Likes me as much in an old print. ButI--_love_ it! Oh, you don't know what bliss it is to feel `finishedoff'. Everything new, good, pretty, and to match!" She gave a rapidswirling movement of the hand to call my attention to such details asshoes and stockings, embroidered bag, and glorified garden hat. "It'snothing to _you_. You have had them all your life, but I have onlylonged and--_starved_!"

She spoke with a passionate emphasis, which to many people would seemout of all keeping with the subject; but I am young, and a girl, so Iunderstood. There are many empty-headed women in whom the craving forpretty things is as strong as the masculine craving for drink and cards. Circumstances have compelled these women to wear the plainest, mostuseful of clothes, while every shop window shows a tantalising displayof colour and beauty, and other women not half so pretty as themselvesbloom with a borrowed radiance!

No mere man can understand the inborn feminine joy in the feel of finesmooth fabric, nor the blending of delicate colours, the dainty rufflingof lace. To the rich these things come as a matter of course, and theworking classes are satisfied with garish imitations; it is the poorgentlewoman with the cultivated taste, the cultivated longing forbeauty, to whom temptation comes in its keenest form. It had come toDelphine, and she had succumbed. I devoutly hoped and prayed that theshock of the coming bill would prevent further extravagances!

Charmion and I took charge of the Treasure Hunt. We had given thetreasures, which were laboriously chosen with a view to suitability. Umbrellas (lashed flat to the trunks of trees!) bags, photograph frames, writing cases, boxes of handkerchiefs, chocolate, cigarettes, scent, and--this was a cunning idea!--cash orders on a big London store. 

There was a great rush for tickets, and the Vicar--very flurried, andout of his element, poor man!--dragged in the Squire to help us. TheSquire had arrived with his mother an hour before, and had sat under acedar, drinking tea with a selection of old ladies and gentlemen, looking as though he liked it quite well. Whenever he met my eye, heglowered, as if to say, "How dare you look at me!" and I smiled back, asthat seemed to annoy him most. Now, as the Vicar brought him up, Icould hear his muttered protests: "Rather not! Can't _you_--isn't theresomething else?" Pleasing thing, I must say, to have a man forced tohelp you against his will!

Well, it was no use making a fuss before a score of curious eyes, so forthe next half-hour we stood side by side, selling tickets, explainingthe rules of the Hunt, marshalling the seekers in readiness for thesignal to start. He is capable enough, I will say that for him, and hasa patent knack of silencing garrulous questioners. It was the funniestthing in the world to stand at the end of the lawn, and watch theserustic backs--young, old, and fat middle-aged--all poised on one leg, swaying to and fro, straining to be off! Excruciatingly funny to watchthe stampede, after the loud "One--two--three--and away!" The plunges, the waddles, the skelter of flying heels! One might have thought thegold of Klondyke was hidden in the kitchen garden. I laughed, andlaughed, in a good old Irish paroxysm of merriment, until the tearsrolled down my cheeks. Mr Maplestone stared, turned on his heel, andstalked away. 

I strolled back to the upper lawn, and the first person I saw was oldGeneral Underwood sitting in his bath-chair, which had been drawn underthe shade of a tree, so that he might see everything, and yet be wellout of the way. He was too much out of the way, poor old dear! to judgeby his looks, and agreeably pleased to see my approach. 

"Well, young lady, and how are you to-day? You look very fresh andcharming!"

"That's very nice of you, General! I do like to be admired. Isn't thisrather a dull corner for you? Wouldn't you like to be moved?"

He looked around with his old, blue eyes. 

"Everyone seems to have gone. There was quite a crowd here a fewminutes ago. I sent my man to the village to post some letters. "

"We can manage without him. There is a Treasure Hunt going on at theother end of the garden. That is why this part is so empty. MrsMerrivale has hidden a lot of parcels among the trees and shrubs, andeveryone who pays a shilling can go and search for a treasure. "

"Ha!" His face lit up with the hunting instinct, which seems dormant inus all. "Treasures--I see! A good idea. Worth more, I presume, thanthe entrance shilling?"

"Oh, much, much more. " The pride of the donor sounded in my voice; thenI looked at the poor, old, tired, wistful face, and had a brilliantidea. "General, shall _we_ go hunting--you and I? I'll push and you'llsteer, and we'll both look, and if it's a man's present, it's yours, andif it's a woman's, it's mine, and if it's neutral, we'll toss! They'veonly just started, so we're in time. "

He gripped the handle involuntarily, then loosened it to say:--

"My dear, I'm too heavy. Wait till my man--"

"Nonsense! I'm as strong as a horse. Who waits is lost. To the right, please, General. Straight down this path, and into the herbaceousgarden. _Quite_ slowly, and keep a sharp eye between the branches. "

He quite chuckled with delight. Viewed from the vantage ground of abath-chair, a Treasure Hunt was delirious excitement, but he _was_heavy! I remembered a sharp upward curve some way further on, and had avision of myself pushing, with arms extended to full length, and feet ata considerable distance between the arms, as I have seen smallnursemaids push pram-loads of fat twins. How undignified it would be ifI slipped half-way, and the chair backed over my prone body! Then, ofcourse, the thing happened which I might have been sure and certain_would_ happen under the circumstances. We came face to face with MrMaplestone, and the General called out:--

"Hi, Ralph! There you are. Just the man we want. Miss Wastneys and Iare hunting. Come and give a hand. "

"Oh, if you have the Squire, you won't need me. I'll go off on my own, "I cried quickly; but it was no use, the old man wanted both, and both hewould have. The Squire was to push behind; I was to take the handle andpull in front; he himself must be free to hunt, since he washandicapped by old eyes. He issued orders with the assurance of aCommander-in-Chief, and we listened and obeyed. 

I started by feeling annoyed and impatient, but honestly, after thefirst few minutes, it was great fun. The Squire was an abominablepusher; first he pushed too little and left all the work to me; andthen, being upbraided, he pushed too hard and tilted me into a run; thenwe changed places, and he took the wrong turnings, wheeled past plaingrass beds where nothing could possibly be hidden; then we _both_ tookthe back, and the General peered from side to side, and saw nothing, andgrew discouraged, and sighed, and said his luck had gone. No treasuresfor him any more!

I will say for Ralph Maplestone that he is sweet to that old man! Hetreats him just in the right way, as deferentially as though he were infull health and strength, a martial figure riding gloriously toconquest! We cheered him up between us (I did it rather nicely, too!)and became quite friendly in the process. Two people can't join inpushing a bath-chair and remain _de haut en bas_. The thing isimpossible. I was most nice to Ralph Maplestone, and he appeared to benice to me. 

Suddenly, in the middle of a bush, I saw a glint of brighter green, thetissue-paper wrapping of a treasure, and instantly my fingers grippedthe chair. Mr Maplestone would have pushed on, but I frowned andgrimaced, and he looked and saw too, and we both puffed and panted, anddemanded a rest, during which I stood elaborately at one side of thebush, and he stood at the other, so that the old dear could hardly missseeing the paper. 

Even then I had to give, it a surreptitious push before discovery came;but he had no suspicions, not one, and was as pleased as a boy at thethought that his old eyes had been sharper than our young ones. We alltook a turn at opening the parcel, and it turned out to be a vanity bag, fitted with a mirror and other frivolities, so of course it waspresented to me, and I arranged my hair in the mirror, and powdered mynose with the puff, just to shock them, which, by the way, it fullysucceeded in doing. 

"Girls didn't do that in my day!" croaked the General. 

"_All_ girls don't do it now!" grunted the Squire. 

"My dear, you look far nicer without it. " This was the General's secondventure. I turned to the Squire and asked solemnly, "_Do_ I?" and hegave one quick look, and then stared past me--through me--blankly intospace. 

"I am no judge, " he said curtly. 

Well, let me be honest! It _was_ flirtatious of me, I knew it was, andhurried to rub off the powder, and get back to my briskest, mostbusiness-like manner. As we had paid three entrance fees, we wereentitled to a treasure apiece, if we could find them, and I insistedupon keeping up the search to the very last moment. It amused theGeneral; it amused me; I honestly believe that it amused Mr Maplestone, as far as he was capable of being amused. He was quite human; once ortwice, as we rushed after a "scent, " he was even _lively_. I began tothink he might really be quite nice. 

We found one other parcel--a box of cigarettes--and then made our wayback to the lawn, where the General's valet was waiting, and took overthe chair. Delphine came up to me and slipped her hand through my arm. 

"Evelyn, you have managed beautifully, but you must be dead tired andlonging for tea. I'm going to stand over you and make you rest. Stupidof Jacky to send the Squire to help you! You'd have been happier withanyone else, but he's so dense, so in the clouds, that he doesn't noticethese things. Evelyn, isn't it strange how he dislikes you?"

"Who? Your husband?"

"Nonsense. No. You know quite well--Mr Maplestone. At first, ofcourse, one can understand he was prejudiced; but _now_! And when youhave been so nice!"

"Thank you for that. I'm glad you appreciate me. Why are you so surethe Squire does not?"

"Because, " she said imperturbably, "he tells me so!"

Curiosity is a terrible thing. It's bad enough when it concerns itselfabout other people, but when it comes to oneself, it's ten times worse. I _ached_ to ask, "When?" and "Where?" and "How?" and exactly in whatwords Mr Maplestone's dislike had been expressed, but pride closed mylips, and I would not let myself go. Of course I had known before, butI had imagined that after the chair episode--What stings is not thedislike itself, but the putting it into words to such a confidante asDelphine. No, let me be honest; the dislike itself _does_ sting. Ihave my own petty feminine craving, and it is to be liked, to havepeople appreciate and approve of me, if they do nothing more. Evenindifference is difficult to bear, but _dislike_--Well, thank goodness, I have lived in a warm-hearted country among warm-hearted people whohave loved me for my name if for nothing else. Really and truly, Ibelieve this ugly, red-headed man is the first person who has ever daredto speak openly of dislike for Evelyn Wastneys!

I pity and despise him. I wouldn't have his approval if I could. Henceforth I shall never think of him, nor mention his name. To me heis dead. All is over between us before anything ever began! It isfinished. This is the end. The fete ended at nine o'clock, andCharmion and I, with the other stall-holders, went into the vicarage toenjoy a supper of scraps. As a rule I adore scrap suppers aftereveryone has gone, and the servants have gone to bed, and the guestsmake sorties into the pantry, and bring out plates of patties and fruit, and derelict meringues, and wobbling halves of jellies and creams. Theytaste so _good_, eaten in picnic fashion before the fire, with ashortage of forks and spoons, and a plate as a lucky chance. Butsomehow last night things didn't go! I think perhaps there were toomany "scraps" which should by rights have been sold and paid for in goodhard cash. The Vicar was full of hospitable zeal, and evidently enjoyedpressing the good things upon his guests, but there was something inDelphine's pale glance which checked merriment. She had had her fun, the interest of planning, the excitement of playing hostess to thecountry-side, the satisfaction of knowing herself to be thebest-dressed, most admired woman present, and of queening it over womenwho had hitherto patronised herself. Poor little butterfly! she hadenjoyed her hour, but now the sun had gone down, and she was countingthe cost. The treasurer added up the coins handed in from the variousstalls and announced the total. There was a little pause. 

"Ah!" said the Vicar slowly. "More than last year, but not so much aswe hoped. How will it work out, dear, after paying expenses?"

"Oh, Jacky, I'm _tired_! Can't we have supper in peace, before worryingabout money!" she cried pettishly. 

Not another word was said. 

When we were driving home, Charmion gave me a shock. 

"I rather like Mrs Maplestone, " she said dreamily. "She is stiff andconventional, and it has never even occurred to her that anyone candisagree with her views, and still have a glimmering of right, but, atleast, she is sincere. If one could burrow deep enough beneath thesurface, she'd be worth knowing. "

"I don't like people who have to be burrowed. Life is too short. And Iam perfectly certain that I should shock her into fits. Personally, Idon't intend to take the trouble of excavating!"

"That's unfortunate, for she wishes to know you. She has invited us todinner next Wednesday to meet some friends. "

"Charmion! You didn't accept?"

"Certainly I did. Wasn't it your express desire to be sociable, and toknow your neighbours?"

"Oh, not them--not there! It's pleasant knowing a few people, but oneis at liberty to choose. I think you might have consulted me!"

In the soft dusk she laughed, and stretched out a caressing hand. 

"Tired, dear, and--cross? I thought you'd be pleased. Why andwherefore? Tell me the truth?"

"Oh, don't be so tiresome, Charmion. Of course I am tired. I've beenon my feet all day long. Cross! Why should I be cross? Only--I don'tchoose to accept hospitality from that man. I tell you plainly I won'tgo. "

She bowed her head, deliberately, once and again. 

"Oh, yes, Evelyn, you will! I gave you your choice, and having made ityou will play fair. I should have preferred to remain peacefully atCoventry, but having taken the first step at your request, I don'tpropose to allow you to force me into society _alone_. "

What could I say? What was it _possible_ to say? There is no way outof it. I shall just have to go!

CHAPTER TWELVE. 

A REVELATION. 

The Vicar has called to tell us that Delphine has made up her accounts, and that the fete has cleared fifty pounds more than the smaller affairlast year. He seemed pleased and proud, and I was delighted, too, andimmensely relieved, because I had really been horribly afraid therewould be no profit at all! Curious to think where all the money camefrom to pay heavy expenses, and still clear so much! It just shows howsmall sums add up. I asked if Delphine were very pleased, and hehesitated, and said:--

"She seems tired. Feeling the reaction, no doubt. She worked so hard. "

An imp of curiosity tempted me to see if he were really as blind as heappeared. 

"She made a splendid hostess. And didn't she look charming, too? I amsure you were proud of her in that lovely new frock!"

His eyes softened with a deep _glowey_ look, which was reserved forDelphine alone. 

"I am always proud of her. She always looks charming; but the dress--Iam afraid I must plead guilty. I know nothing about her dress. "

"Really? Truly? You couldn't tell what it was like?"

"Not for a thousand pounds!"

I stared at him, frowning. 

"If I had a husband I should _like_ him to know. I should be furious ifI made a special effort, and he didn't even notice that I had anythingnew. "

He smiled with a forbearing air. 

"Surely not! I think better of you, Miss Wastneys. Dress is altogetherunimportant. "

"Not to me. Not to your wife. There are some women to whom it is thegreatest temptation in life. "

He looked outraged, disgusted, and changed the subject with a resoluteair, but I was glad that I had spoken. A husband can be too unworldly, and lost in the clouds. It would be the best thing in the world forDelphine if he _did_ notice, and that in more ways than one!

In the afternoon Charmion and I called at the vicarage to congratulateDelphine, and found her distinctly the worse for wear. Pale, heavy-eyed, and inclined to snap, a very different creature from theradiant butterfly of three days ago. She was glad to see me, however, Iwas someone to snap at, which was what she wanted most at the moment, and she worked off quite a lot of steam, hectoring me about things Imight have done better, or not done at all, and impressing on me _for_future occasions that I should be less independent, and take moreadvice. She likewise informed us, quite incidentally and "by the way, "that Mrs Ross had disliked my hat and Mrs Bruce had asked if Charmionwere anaemic--such a colourless skin!--and Mrs Someone Else thought itso "queer" that we should live together! Altogether she behaved like aspoiled, ill-tempered child, but she looked so young and worried andpretty through it all, that on the whole I felt more sorry for her thanmyself. As for Charmion, she smiled, with an air of listening from anillimitable distance, which I can quite understand has an exasperatingeffect on people who do not understand and care. It exasperatedDelphine now. I saw the blue eyes flash, and the pink lips set, with apeevish desire to "hit back!"

"Mrs Bruce said her family know the Fane family quite well. They comefrom the same county. She was telling them about you, but, of course, not knowing your husband's Christian name made it difficult. Shethought it so queer to have your own Christian name printed on yourcards--"

"Did she?" said Charmion blandly. 

"It is an American custom, " I put in hastily. "I should do the same ifI had such a fascinating name. "

"I wouldn't!" Delphine said--"it's so queer. Unless, of course, one'shusband had a hideous name--Elisha, or Jonathan, or something like that. Even then one might leave it out. "

"I shouldn't dream of marrying anyone called Elisha. "

"What was--is--your favourite man's name?"

"Jacky, " said Charmion naughtily. 

Delphine's eyes flashed. 

"Was that your husband's name?"

"Oh no. "

The pink lips opened to ask a further, more definite question, but itdied unsaid. The steady gaze of Charmion's eyes prevented that. Shewould be a bold woman who could defy that silent challenge!

We made our escape, and walked home in silence. Charmion seemed verydepressed, and went to bed at nine o'clock. Next time I see DelphineMerrivale, I shall tell her plainly that I will--not--have Mrs Faneannoyed with questions about the past!

Last night we dined at the Hall. Last night things happened. Westarted feeling quite festive and excited, for, after a strictlydomestic life for nearly five months, it becomes quite thrilling to dinein another house, and to eat food which one has not ordered oneself. Aswe drove along the lanes, we amused ourselves like schoolgirls, guessingwhat we "would have, " and who would "take us in". Charmion, as themarried woman, would obviously fall to the Squire. I hoped I should beat the other end of the table, with a partner who was sweet tempered andappreciative. Bridget had come back from posting a letter, bearing thethrilling news that the Squire's car had been to the station to meet aparty of guests. Two fine, upstanding ladies, and a gentleman with afigure like a wooden Noah in the Ark. The shoulders of him!--thatsquare you might have cut them with a knife! It was refreshing to knowthat we were to meet people who did _not_ live within a radius of fivemiles. I rather hoped those shoulders would fall to my share!

They did. He is an American. I might have guessed that by thedescription, and one of the "fine upstanding ones" is his bride, andthey have been "doing" England for a few weeks, before starting on ayear's honeymoon in the East. The explanation of their appearance atthe Hall is that they "chanced" to have met the Squire years ago inAmerica, and wished to renew the acquaintance. So things came about!Mr Elliott is an interesting man, and, like all Americans, loves totalk about his own country. He was pained and shocked to hear I hadnever crossed the Atlantic, until I told him that half myself, in theperson of an only sister, had gone in my place. I was just going to addthat Charmion also had spent a great part of her life in the States, when--something stopped me--one of those mysterious impulses which, attimes, lay a finger on our lips, and check the coming words. 

Charmion sat on one side of the Squire, Mrs Elliott on the other. Iwas half-way down the table, sandwiched in between a dozen comfortable, middle-aged worthies, who were all intimate friends, if not actuallyrelated to each other, and their conversation, though interesting tothemselves, was not thrilling to an outsider. I saw the American'squick eye dart from one to the other, and hoped he was not classifyingthe company as typical English wits! The dinner itself was long, heavy, and unenterprising; a Victorian feast, even to the "specimen glass"decorations. One rose and one spray of maidenhair, in a tall thinglass, before each separate diner. Charmion and the Squire talked andlaughed together, and seemed quite happy. She is a lovely creature whenshe is animated; there is a dainty charm about every movement whichmakes her seem of a different clay from human creatures. Even to seeCharmion _eat_ is a beautiful thing!

All the same, that dinner was a trial of patience, and I was thankfulwhen it was over. In the old-fashioned way, we left the men to theirsmoke, and wandered through the drawing-room into a big domedpalm-house, which in its fragrant dimness, with the giant palms reachingto the very roof, looked much more inviting than the drawing-room withits glaring incandescent lights. 

The American bride attached herself to me and chatted amusingly enough. Before her marriage she had lived "out west, " so I plied her withquestions about ranch life. Kathie writes regularly enough, but she isa wretch about answering questions, and is not half detailed enough tosatisfy my curiosity. We stood leaning against one of the tieredflower-stands, enjoying the scent and the beauty, chatting together solightly and calmly, blankly unsuspicious, as we so often are in the bigmoments of life, of what lies immediately ahead. Between the spreadingbranches I caught sight of Charmion looking at me with raised, inquiringbrows. She had noted my eagerness, and was wondering what point ofinterest had been discovered between the wordy American and myself. Iraised my voice, and cried happily:--

"Oh, Charmion! Mrs Elliott knows Kathie's home. She has stayed thereherself. I am asking her all about it. "

She smiled, and moved forward as if to join us. Mrs Elliott gave alittle start, and repeated curiously, "_Charmion_! Is Mrs Fane calledCharmion? That's a very unusual name. I have only heard it oncebefore. Very sweet, isn't it, but association goes for so much!"

"It does. In this case it makes the name all the more charming. "

"Why, yes, that is so. Mrs Fane is a lovely woman. But I guess I wasless fortunate in my specimen. I never met her myself, but she marrieda man I knew well, and--ran away from him on their honeymoon!"

I laughed. I am so glad I laughed. So glad there was time to saylightly, "She _was_ soon tired!" before, between the spreading leaves ofa palm, I caught Charmion's eyes--my Charmion!--staring into mine, andknew that she had overheard--knew more--knew, in a blundering flash ofintuition, that the words which had just been spoken referred to nostranger, but to herself! Fortunately for us both, Mrs Elliott wasfacing me, so she did not see, as I did, the sudden pause, the blanchingface, the dumb appeal of the stricken eyes. 

I flashed back reassurement, and at once led the way forward--out of theconservatory, back to the drawing-room, affecting to be tired, to wantto sit down. Mrs Elliott followed, unperturbed. It didn't matter toher where she went, the one indispensable necessity was to talk, and tohave someone to listen. She continued her history with volubleemphasis. 

"I should think it _was_ soon! Well, I guess she might have thought itout before she went so far. Too hard on a man to be treated like that. Kind of humiliates him before his friends, that a woman couldn't put upwith him one month--"

"I shouldn't worry about _his_ pride, " I said curtly. "What about hers?It would be worse than humiliating for a woman to be _obliged_ to go!He must have been a poor thing!"

"Well, I don't know. He was a real popular man. He may have been a bitcareless and extravagant; quite a good many young men are that, but theysettle down into staid, steady-going husbands if the right woman comesalong to help. Doesn't seem to me, Miss Wastneys, that it's _possible_for any man to be so bad, that in three weeks the woman who had promisedto stick to him till death should throw up the sponge!"

It did not seem so to me, either, so I made no comment. I should nothave been human if I had not burned to ask questions, but I would notallow myself to do it. What Charmion wished me to hear, she would tellme herself. The time had come when she _would_ tell me. I knew that. This chance encounter had decided the moment when her silence should bebroken. 

Mrs Elliott smothered a yawn, and straightened a diamond bracelet onher wrist. The diamonds were massed together so heavily that the weightdragged them to the inside of her arm, leaving only the plain gold bandin sight, a hiding of treasures which did not please the owner. 

"Well, " she said deliberately once more, "I guess it was a real crueltrick. Whatever he'd done, she put herself in the wrong that time. Thepoor fellow's not done a mite of good ever since. "

I had to hold myself tight to prevent a start. _Not done_! She talkedof the man in the present case, as though he were alive, as though--stupefying thought!--_Charmion was not a widow after all_! The thoughtwas stupefying, but even as it passed through my brain, I realised thatno word of her own had been responsible for my conviction that herhusband was dead. It was rather because she never _did_ mention himthat Kathie and I had made so sure that he did not exist. My thoughtsdived into the past, recalling faded impressions. I remembered howKathie had said, "She must have loved him dreadfully not to be able torefer to him even now!" And how I had been silent, fighting theimpression that it was the ghost of sorrow, rather than of joy, whichsealed Charmion's lips. 

The door opened, and the men came into the room. The different groupsbroke up and drifted here and there; into the palm-house to look at theflowers, back into the drawing-room to talk, drink coffee, and glancesurreptitiously at the clock. In this old-fashioned household, no onethought of providing any other amusement for a dinner party than thedinner itself. Having been well fed, the guests were expected to amusethemselves for the hour that remained. In an ordinary way I could havetaken my share in the amusing; I like talking, and am never troubled bynot knowing what to say. Given people to listen, and look appreciative, I can monologue for an indefinite time. But--to-night!

Inside the palm-house I could see Charmion's grey figure reclining in awicker chair, her face ivory-white against the cushions. She was wavingher fan to and fro, and listening with apparent attention to theconversation of her companions. I guessed how little she would hear;how bitter must be the dread at her heart; how endlessly, interminablylong the moments must seem. 

"Miss Wastneys, would you care to see the picture we were talking aboutat dinner?"

It was Mr Maplestone's voice. I looked up and saw him standing by myside, and rose at once, thankful for any movement which would pass thetime. We left the room together, walked to the end of the longcorridor, and drew up before the picture of an uninteresting old manwith several chins, and the small, steel-blue eyes which seem a familyinheritance. This was a celebrated Romney, which had been the subjectof a protracted law-suit between different branches of the family, whichhad cost the losing party over a thousand pounds. I thought, but didnot say, that I would have been obliged to anyone who would have takenhim away, free, gratis, for nothing, rather than that he should hang onmy walls. Spoken comment, under the circumstances, was a littledifficult and halting!

"This is the Romney. "

"Oh yes. "

"My grandfather. "

"I see. Yes. How interesting. "

He laughed--a short, derisive bark. 

"That's the last thing you can call it! A more uninteresting productionI never beheld. What right had he to waste good canvas? That is onepoint in which we do show more common sense than our ancestors. We donot consider it necessary to inflict our portraits on posterity. "

"No. We don't. At least--"

He swung round, facing me, with his back to the open drawing-room door, his face suddenly keen and alert. 

"Miss Wastneys--never mind the picture! I brought you out as an excuse. I wanted to ask--_Whats the matter_?"

The question rapped out, short and sharp. I looked at him, made a bigeffort to be bright, and natural, and defiant, and realised suddenlythat I was trembling; that, while my cheeks were hot, my hands were coldas ice; that, in short, the shock and excitement of the last half-hourwas taking its physical revenge. For two straws I could have burst outcrying there and then. It is a ridiculous feminine weakness to be givento tears at critical moments, but if you have it, you have it, and sofar I have not discovered a cure. I could have kept going if he hadtaken no notice, and gone on talking naturally; but that questionknocked me over, so I just stared at him and gulped, and pressed myhands together, with that awful, awful sensation which comes over onewhen one knows it is madness to give way, and yet feels that the momentafter next you are just going to _do_ it, and nothing can stop you!

I thought of Charmion, sitting calm and quiet in the palm-house; Ithought of that first horrible interview in the inn parlour; I thoughtof my heroic ancestors. It was no use; every moment I drew, nearer andnearer to the breaking-point. I still stared, but the Squire's face wasgrowing misty, growing into a big, red-brown blur. Then suddenly a handgripped my arm, and a voice said sharply:--

"Don't cry, please! No necessity to cry. You are tired. I will orderthe car. It shall be round in five minutes. You can surely pullyourself together for five minutes?"

The voice was like a douche of cold water. I shivered under it, butfelt wonderfully braced. 

"Oh, thank you, but we ordered a fly. "

"That's all right. I'll see to that. No one shall know anything aboutit. You will leave earlier than you expected--that's all. I'm sorry"--his lean face twitched--"the time has seemed so long!"

"It's not"--I said feebly--"it's not that!" But he led the way back tothe drawing-room, taking no notice. Five minutes later "Mrs Fane'scarriage" was announced, and we bade a protesting hostess good-night. 

Charmion and I sat silent, hand in hand, all the way home. She feltcold as ice, but she clung to me; her fingers closed over mine. Just aswe reached our own door she whispered a few words. 

"I'll come to your room, dear. Wait up for me. "

The time had come when I was to hear Charmion's story from her own lips!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN. 

MORE BITTER THAN DEATH. 

Charmion came to my room in her white dressing-gown, with her long hairhanging plaited down her back. Remembering the icy hands I had held inmine, I had lit the gas fire, and she cowered gratefully over itswarmth. 

"Kind of you, dear! Warmth is comforting. Well, Evelyn, so the timehas come. I have waited, screwing up my courage; but the hour has beendecided for us. "

"Not unless you choose, " I cried hastily. "I would far rather neverhear--"

She checked me with a wan smile. 

"I _do_ choose. When it is over, it will be a relief. I want you toknow. You will understand better, and I shall not pain you so much, dear, kind Evelyn, by my harsh ways. So all this time you have believedthat I was a happy widow?"

The expression jarred. She saw the shrinking in my eyes, and smiledagain, in the same wan, hopeless fashion. 

"Oh, I _mean_ it. Death comes like a sword, but in the end it ismerciful, for it brings peace. The one who is left suffers many pangs, but in time--in time, learns to be thankful for all that the beloved isspared. It is the living troubles which sear the heart. I have enviedthe widows who could look up and say, `It is well with him. We shallmeet again. ' With me it has been all bitterness, all rebellion. "

I sat silent, not daring to interrupt, and after a moment's pause shebegan again, speaking in a still, level tone, with hardly any variety ofexpression. 

"I am an orphan like you, Evelyn. Both my parents died before I wasfourteen, and I was sent over to America to live with a grandmotheraunt. I was an heiress, unfortunately--you know my views aboutriches!--and by my father's will I came into my money at eighteen. Myaunt was a wise woman, and even to her intimate friends she never gave ahint of my fortune. She was a wealthy woman herself, and had nodaughter, only one son, so it seemed natural that she should give me agood time, dress me prettily, and take me about. She had a horror offortune-hunters, and wanted me to be loved for myself, and be as happilymarried as she had been before me. When I came out she brought me overto London for a season, and I was presented; but that was my one andonly visit to England in fifteen years. I was glad to go back to NewYork, for my real friends were there. We had grown up together, and hadthe associations of years. In England I had only acquaintances. Well!So it went on, the happiest of lives, till I was twenty-four. Severalmen wanted to marry me, but I never met anyone whom it was possible tothink of as a husband until--"

"Your husband?"

"Yes. We were away for the summer--a whole party of us--camping in themost delicious spot. I wish you could join an American camping partysome time, Evelyn. It's just the happiest, freest, most ideal of lives!He came down as the guest of some other people. The daughter was oneof my own friends. I thought at first that she cared for him herself, but he never paid her any attention--not the slightest; rather avoidedher indeed, even before--"

"He cared for you. Did it begin--_soon_--Charmion?"

"I cared for him the first moment we met. I was sitting at a longtea-table set out in the open, and my friend brought him up to a seatright opposite to mine. She said, `Charmion, this is Phil--Phil, thisis Charmion!' It was one of the rules of the camp that we called eachother by our Christian names. The life was so informal that `Mr' and`Miss' seemed out of place. I looked up and met his eyes, and--it wasdifferent from anything I had felt before. 

"He came for a week, but he stayed on and on until it was nearly amonth. I can't talk about it, Evelyn. Such times can never last. Evenat the best it is impossible that they can last. Perfect happiness isnot for this world. It was all beautiful. The place where we campedwas like another Garden of Eden; the weather was exquisite, such days, such mornings! Oh, Evelyn, such nights! The sky a dome of deepestblue, with the stars shining as you never saw them in this damp, mistyatmosphere. And he and I--"

Her voice broke. Her hand went up to her face to hide the quivering ofher lips. It was a petrifying thing to see Charmion break down. Iturned away my eyes, unable to bear it. There was silence in the roomfor several moments, then she began again. 

"Nothing was said in words. I didn't want him to speak. I wasperfectly happy, perfectly sure, and I dreaded the publicity of anengagement. Every one talking, questioning, teasing. It would haveseemed profanation. Besides--if Marjorie had really cared as Isuspected, it would have been painful for her. I wouldn't _let_ himspeak until we got back to New York, and then, the very night I arrived, Aunt Mary was taken dangerously ill. She lingered a few weeks, butthere was never any hope. Then she died and I was left alone, for herson, my cousin, lived in India. 

"All that time he--my husband--had been coming to see me every day. Thedoctor insisted that I should go out to be braced by the fresh air, sohe took me long drives, long walks, and then sat by me indoors, comforting me, helping, advising. He was everything to me, Evelyn!Aunt Mary was dying, and she had been like a mother, but when he waswith me I was satisfied; I was content. When she died, he urged animmediate marriage, and I was quite ready. She had left no money to me, but I told him I had some of my own. He kissed me, and"--again her handwent up to hide that quivering lip--"he said that did not concern him. He could keep his wife. What money I had I must keep for myself, to payfor `little extravagancies'. 

"I was thankful that he did not know, thankful that he did not care. Ilooked forward to telling him after we were married, and seeing his faceof surprise. We had planned to live in an apartment until we had timeto choose a house for ourselves. I laughed to think how much bigger andfiner it would be than the little house of his dreams. He was not atall rich--did I tell you that? He had had a pretty hard struggle allhis life, and had only quite a moderate income. I went to my lawyer andsettled a fourth of my income on him for life. I knew if we lived in abigger way there would be calls upon him which he would not otherwisehave had. Calls for subscriptions, for charities, a dozen other claims. I hated to think that he should have to come to me for money, or thatcheques should be drawn in my name. He asked me what I was going togive him as a wedding present, and I laughed, and said, `Nothinginteresting. Only a little note!' The settlement was to be my gift. "

Silence again. I felt for her hand and held it tight? Tragedy wascoming; I knew it. I waited, tense with suspense. 

"We were married very quietly. Only two or three people in the church. He called for me. It was unconventional, but I was nervous and weak, and he knew he could give me strength. We went up the aisle together, hand in hand. The man who was to give me away followed behind. Manypeople in America are married in their own homes, but I preferred achurch. I've been sorry since. It has seemed a profanation. To standbefore the altar in God's house and take those solemn vows, while allthe time--all the time--"

She shuddered, and paused to regain self-possession. 

"Well, Evelyn--well! I had two weeks' happiness, two weeks in my fool'sparadise, and then--the end came! He had gone over to New York for aday. Some important business had arisen and he was obliged to go. Hesaid good-bye. " She paused again, struggling for composure. "It _was_good-bye--good-bye for ever. He did not know that, but he parted fromme as--a husband might from the wife of his heart. It was impossible todoubt. I was as sure of him, Evelyn--as sure as that the sun is in thesky!

"After he had gone a letter was handed to me. I did not know thewriting, but inside--I could not understand it--was a letter in his ownwriting. Nothing else, just this one sheet, with one long passageunderscored. I did not stop to think; the words leapt at me, my ownname first of all; and after I had begun to read there was no stoppingshort. It was the second sheet of a letter, so I could not tell to whomit had been written; but evidently it was to a man to whom money wasowing, and who had been pressing for a settlement. It was full ofapologies for having failed to pay before; and then--then came thepassage that had been underlined. Perhaps, he said, in a few months'time things would look up. _There was a girl_. In a roundabout way, through an English acquaintance, he had heard that she had a pile ofmoney, though the fact had been kept dark in America. There was nodoubt about it, since his informant was a member of the legal firm whohad wound up her father's estate. By a stroke of good luck the girl wasstaying at a summer camp with some of his own friends. He hadengineered an invitation, and was there at the moment of writing. 

"Think of it, Evelyn--at that very moment I was, perhaps, sittinginnocently by his side. We used to scribble our letters together, sitting out in the woods, and break off every few minutes to laugh andchatter. Probably, after it was finished, we walked together to thenearest post, and as we went he looked at me--_he looked_. Oh!"--shewinced in irrepressible misery--"is it _possible_--is it _possible_ thatany man could act so well? Can you wonder that I am hard and cold--thatI have so little sympathy for outside troubles? I was once as lovingand impetuous as you are yourself, but that shock turned me to stone. It killed my faith in human nature!"

She was silent, struggling for composure, and I laid my hand on herknee, and sat silent, not daring to speak. What was there to say? Irealised now how infinitely more bitter than death was the loss whichCharmion had to bear. 

"Well, "--she roused herself to go on with her story--"you can imaginethe rest. `The heiress was, ' he wrote, `_quite a possible girl_, ' andseemed `_agreeably disposed_'. There was evidently no previousentanglement, and the circumstances were propitious. It was hisintention to go in and win. If it came off he would be in a position topay up old scores and to start life afresh. It would be worth giving uphis liberty, to end the everlasting worry of the last ten years. Theletter ended with more promises and his signature. No loophole of doubtwas left, you see. There could be no mistaking that signature. I hadbeen married exactly two weeks, and had believed myself the happiestwoman in the world. I now discovered that I had been tracked down by anadventurer, who had married me only because, unfortunately, it wasimpossible to get hold of my fortune without putting up with me at thesame time. "

"What did he say, how did he look, when you told him about your moneyand the settlement? Of course, you _had_ told him by that time. "

"Not much. Very little indeed. I thought at the time that he wasoverwhelmed, and a little sorry that the wealth was on my side. Lookingback, I do him the justice to believe that he was ashamed! Even such adeliberate schemer might well feel a pang under the circumstances. Iremember that he put his elbows on the table, and hid his face in hishands. He never alluded to the subject again, neither did I. Thereseemed plenty of time. I loved him all the more because he was notwildly elated. All my life I had been trained to dread fortune-hunters, to value sincerity above every other virtue. "

"But during those two weeks _after_ you were married, he still seemedto--_care_? You believed in him still?"

"Absolutely! Utterly! I must be easily duped, Evelyn, for with all myheart I believed that that man loved me as deeply as I loved him. Everyword--every look! Oh, he was a finished actor! It all seemed so real--so real--"

"Charmion, after you had read that letter and understood all that itmeant, what did you do?"

"I went to my room, packed a bag with a few changes of clothing, collected all the money I had with me, quite a large sum in notes, andcaught the afternoon train for New York. I had no idea where I wasgoing. My one longing was to escape before he came back, but thingswere decided for me. The shock made me faint, and in the heat of thetrain I felt worse every hour. When we stopped at a half-way station Istepped out on to the platform in the same dull, dazed way, hardlyrealising what I was doing, and carried my bag out into the street. Half a mile away I saw a notice of rooms to let in the window of a smallhouse, and I knocked and went in. 

"I stayed in that house for over six months, Evelyn. The woman was asaint--the kindliest, gentlest creature I have ever met. I told herthat I was ill and in trouble, and wanted to rest, and she put me to bedand nursed me like a child. I was a long time in getting well. Thevery strings of my being seemed to have snapped. I lay torpid weekafter week, and the good soul took care of me and asked no questions. She was one of those rare spirits who pray to God to guide them day byday, and mean literally what they ask. God had sent me to her in myneed--that was her firm belief--and what she did for me she did for Him. I had left no message behind--only that terrible letter sealed up, tobe given to my husband on his return. I heard afterwards that he hadsearched for me far and wide, had even crossed over to England, thinkingI must be here. When I was well enough I sent for my aunt's lawyer andtook him into my confidence. He let me know when my husband returned toAmerica, and as soon as possible after that I came to England myself, under another name. I was no longer his wife in heart. Why should Ikeep a name which was given to me under false pretences? Five yearshave passed since then. It seems like a century, and--here I am!"

"And all this time you have heard nothing? Nothing has happened?"

"Yes. I have heard. He seems to have--felt it a good deal! It isalways painful to be discovered, and for a man's wife to leave himbefore the honeymoon is over is hurtful to his pride. He makes periodicefforts to find me, but my lawyers are loyal, and will give no clue. "

"And the settlement? The money you made over to him? Does he draw thatstill?"

She flushed and frowned. 

"No. It appears not. He tells the lawyers that he will never touch it. I suppose if he changed his manner of living it would be remarked, andpeople might guess something of the truth. His object is, of course, tothrow all the blame on me. "

The bitterness of her voice hurt me so that I ventured a timid protest. 

"Charmion, I am not taking his part. I think he was contemptible beyondwords; but--_isn't_ it possible that he has regretted, that he has nottaken the money because he was _ashamed_?"

"Possible, of course; but I should say extremely improbable. However, Iam no longer concerned in his motives. He gave up his liberty for acertain price, and the price is his. The money accumulates at the bank. Some day, no doubt, he will find it convenient to draw it. "

I felt a movement of revolt, and cried quickly:--

"There is one person I despise even more than the man himself, and thatis the creature who kept that letter, and sent it to you too late toprevent the marriage! If it were to be done at all, why could it nothave been done before?"

Her lips curved. 

"Yes. It was very cruel. That was another disillusion, Evelyn. I havealways been convinced that Marjorie was the sender. Probably the letterhad been written to her brother, or to some near relation, and in someway had come into her possession. She behaved very strangely about ourengagement. But I had been her friend--how she could find it in herheart! If there had been any possibility of doubt I would have gonestraight to her, and demanded the truth, but--what was the use? Theletter was _there_. I should only have brought more suffering uponmyself. She wanted him for herself, and could not forgive me for takinghim away; but if she had come to me at the beginning, when she saw howthings might go, I should have gone away myself and left the coastclear. Even if it hurt myself, I should have been loyal to anotherwoman who had _cared first_! Even now I have done my best for her. Ioffered, through my lawyers, to make no objection if he chose to freehimself legally. It _could_ be done in America, you know. I explainedthat it would make no difference to the settlement. That was made, andshould remain unchanged!"

I looked at her sharply, for the sneer in her voice hurt me more thanthe pain. 

"Charmion! Forgive me, dearest. You have been cruelly treated, but--don't be vexed--aren't you in the wrong, too, in feeling so bitter afterall these years?"

To my surprise she assented instantly. 

"Oh, yes; very wrong. More wrong than they, perhaps, for I have had solong to think; and what they did was done on an impulse. Don't think Iexcuse myself, Evelyn. I don't! I see quite well how hard and bitter Iam, but--"

"You can't forgive?"

She hesitated, her grey eyes gazing into space. 

"What exactly _is_ forgiveness? If by lifting a little finger I couldmake him suffer as he has made me, nothing would induce me to do it. Ifby lifting a little finger I could bring him happiness and success, Ithink--no, I am _sure_ that I would not hesitate. But to purge my heartof bitterness, that is beyond me! It's always there, deep down, a hard, hard wall, hiding the light, shutting me out from man--and from God!"

The last words came in a whisper. I knew the effort with which theywere spoken, and sat silent, clinging to her hand. What could I say?I, with my easy, sunshiny life; how dared I dictate to her great grief. And yet I knew--I knew only in one way could peace come back. 

The remembrance of the Vicar's first sermon came back to my heart like abreath of fresh air. 

"Forgetting the things that are behind!" I said softly. "Couldn't youtry that, Charmion? Forgetting, and--pressing forward! If forgivingseems beyond you for the moment, couldn't you take the first step?"

For the first time since she entered the room her face lightened intosomething like her own natural smile. 

"Ah, Evelyn, that's like you! Thank you, dear, for the reminder. Thatwas the text on our first Sunday here. There is one thing I would likeyou to know. _You_ have helped me more than anything else. Youattracted me because you possess to excess the very qualities which Ihave lost--trust, faith, overflowing kindliness and love. It has been atonic to be with you. There have been times--working in the garden byyour side, seeing all the live green things springing out of darkness--when I've been happy again, better than happy--_at peace_! But now--this upheaval--it has renewed it all. Evelyn, do you think shesuspected? Do you think she will talk?"

"I am sure she won't. Absolutely sure. She had not a flickering doubt. The name is different, you see, and she is too much absorbed in herselfand her own affairs to waste any thought upon us. In a few days theysail for India. "

"Yes. " She drew a sigh of relief. "That's good. I'm thankful. Itwould have been so hard to be uprooted again. But you can understand, Evelyn, that for a time--" She rose, stretched herself to her fullheight, and threw out her arms restlessly. "The roving fit is on me. Imust be off into the wilds and fight it out by myself. "

I had known it was coming--subconsciously had known it for weeks, but itwas hard all the same. We had been so happy, and in six short months myroots seemed to have gone down surprisingly deep. I hated the idea ofleaving "Pastimes, " but I reminded myself that it was only for a time--only for a time. 

"_Of course_" Charmion assured me heartily. "It is August now. We willmake a rendezvous for Christmas. Perhaps I may turn up before that, like a bad penny, but you may depend on me for Christmas. You--you willgo to your flat, Evelyn?"

I nodded silently. The Pixie scheme had for the moment lost its charm, but I would not give in. 

"Silly one!" murmured Charmion fondly. "You dear goose! Well, goodluck to you. May you make other people as happy as you have made me. "

CHAPTER FOURTEEN. 

A YOUNG WIFE'S DILEMMA. 

Not another word about herself did Charmion say, but she began at onceto make preparations for going abroad, and before a week is over shewill be off. She has friends in Italy, it appears, and will probablyspend some time near them, but even I am only to have an officialaddress, from which letters are to be forwarded. She warns me that Imay hear very seldom, since when a "dark mood" is on, the very essenceof a cure seems to be to hide herself in utter solitude. 

Well, I also am going to hide, and to shelter myself behind an officialaddress, so I ought not to complain; but all the same I do feel lorn andlone. First Kathie torn away to another continent, and now Charmion, who is so wonderfully dear! The next thing will be that Bridget willannounce, some fine morning, that she is going to marry the gardener! Itold her so, in a moment of dejection, and she petrified me by replyingcalmly:--

"Indeed, and he's been after pestering me to do it since the moment weset foot. There's a deal worse things I might do!"

"_Bridget_!" I gasped; and I lay back in my chair. I had spoken in themost absolute unbelief. There were no illusions between Bridget and me, each knew the other's age to an hour, and Queen Anne herself had notseemed to me more dead to romance than my staid maid. I stared at herbroad, worn face, her broad, elderly figure in a petrified surprise. 

"Bridget, do you really mean--do you honestly mean that you like him, too?"

She simpered like any bit of a girl. 

"And why wouldn't I be liking him, Miss Evelyn? Isn't he the finefigure of a man, and as pleasant a way with him as if he'd been Irishhimself?"

"But, Bridget, you're forty-five! Do women--can women--is it possibleto--to _care_ at forty-five?"

Bridget chuckled; not a bit offended, but simply amused and superior. 

"What's forty-foive, but the proime of life? _Care_--are you asking?'Deed, it's not forty-five that's going to see a heart frozen stiff. Yemind me of the old dame of eighty, who was asked what was the age when awoman stopped caring about a man. `'Deed, ' says she, `I can't tell yethat. You'll have to be asking someone older than me!'"

She laughed again, and I took my turn at looking superior. 

"Then, of course, under the circumstances, you will not be inclined tocome with me to town?"

"'Deed, and I will then. I'd rather be with you than any man thatwalks. And besides, " added Bridget shrewdly, "won't he be all thekeener for doing without me a bit?"

I jumped up and marched out of the room, feeling jarred and irritated, and utterly out of sympathy. That's the worst of being a spinster, youcan never count on your companions as a continuance! Kathie left me atthe invitation of a man she had known a few months; Charmion regards meas a narcotic to distract her thoughts from another man, and flies offthe moment his memory becomes troublesome; and now even Bridget! Menare a nuisance. They upset everything. 

I've come to the vicarage. When Delphine heard of our departure from"Pastimes" she developed a sudden and violent desire to have me for avisitor for a short time before I left. She is nervy and depressed("tired out after her hard work!" the dear Vicar translates it), and hasgot it into her head that my society is the one and only thing that canset her right. It is flattering, and convenient into the bargain, forwe are lending "Pastimes" to the widow of a poor clergyman, and it willbe a help to her to have me at hand until she has settled down. Itseemed a waste of good things to leave the house empty through all thelovely autumn months. This poor soul is delighted to come; we aredelighted to have her; the cook and housemaid are--_resigned_ to thechange of mistress; more one cannot expect. 

I've been here a week, and am already endorsing the theory that you cannever really know a person until you have lived together beneath thesame roof. Before I came, I thought the Vicar as nearly perfect ahusband as a man could be, and Delphine about as unsatisfactory a wife. Now, after studying them for one short week, I have modified bothopinions. She is a lovable, warm-hearted, well-meaning, weak, vain, dissatisfied child! He is a very fine, a very noble, a very blind, andirritatingly inconsiderate man! On Wednesday he ordered dinner an hourearlier for his own convenience, and he never came home at all. OnFriday he said he would be out all day, and walked in at one o'clock, bringing three visitors in his train, demanding a hot lunch. He also, it appears, is difficult about money, which is not in any sense meant toimply that he is mean, but simply that he wishes to give away as much aspossible to other people, and to deny his own household in order to beable to do it. I was in the room one day when Delphine presented themonthly bills, and his face was a network of worry and depression. Thegrocer's book was not included; he asked for it, and said it had beenmissing some time. Delphine prevaricated. I knew as well as if I'dbeen told that she was afraid to show it!

After he had gone out her mood changed. She lifted the little red booksfrom the table, flung them one after the other to the ceiling, caughtthem with an agile hand, and sent them spinning into the corner of theroom. This done, she danced round the table, came to a standstill infront of my chair, and defiantly snapped her fingers. 

"I--don't--care! I don't care a snap! I've done my best, and now Ishan't worry any more. It isn't as if it were necessary. He couldallow me more if he chose. Why should a man stint his wife to give themoney away to outsiders? Charity begins at home. He expects me tomanage on a pittance, yet there must always be plenty of everything--soup to send at a moment's notice to anyone who is ill, puddings andjellies. And all the stupid old bores coming to meals. Could _you_keep house for this household on--"

I was startled at the smallness of the sum she mentioned; horrified whenI contrasted it with our own bills at "Pastimes. "

"My dear--no! My opinion of you has gone up by leaps and bounds if youcan keep anywhere near that. You manage wonderfully. I had no idea youwere so clever!"

"Oh, well!" she said uncomfortably. "Oh, well, perhaps not so clever asyou think. One gets tired of struggling after the impossible. In for apenny, in for a pound! Life is too short to worry oneself overhalfpennies. I shall tell the men to send in the books quarterly afterthis. I'm tired of being hectored every month. Better get it over inone big dose. "

I thought of the Vicar's pensive "Darling, isn't this very high?" andlaughed at the idea of "hectoring"; but the quarterly bills seemed adangerous remedy. 

"Won't your husband object? Men hate bills to run on. "

"Oh!" she waved a complacent hand, "I'll put him off. He'll rememberevery now and then, and then it will float out of his mind. It's alwaysan effort to Jacky to come down to mundane things. Evelyn, be warned byme, and never, never marry an unworldly man. It's impossible to livewith them with any peace or comfort. "

"Well, if I do, I'll see to it that he is worldly enough to understandhousehold bills. I'll keep house for a month within his own limits, andlet him see how he likes the fare. "

Delphine stared. 

"Jacky wouldn't mind. So long as there was enough to give away, he'deat cold meat, and mashed potatoes, and contentment withal, every day ofthe week, and never complain. I should punish myself, not him, Evelyn. "She subsided on the floor at my feet, laid her hands on my knee, andlifted her flushed, childish face to mine. Such a delicate rose-leaf ofa face, more like a child's than that of a grown-up woman. "Now thatyou've stayed here, and seen for yourself what it's like, truthfully, aren't you just a little sorry for me? Week after week, month aftermonth, always the same routine of meeting and parish work, and keepinghouse. It is Jacky's work--his vocation; but for me, a girl oftwenty-two, do you think it is quite _fair_?"

"I don't think you ought to ask me such questions. I would rather notinterfere, " I said feebly. I knew it was feeble, but it is a very, verydelicate business to interfere between husband and wife, and moreoverthe blame seemed fairly evenly divided. The Vicar had undoubtedly madea mistake in marrying a young girl for her beauty and charm, withoutconsidering if she were a true helpmeet for his life's work. Delphinehad undoubtedly made a mistake in "never thinking" of her future as aclergyman's wife; and now he was blindly expecting a miraculoustransformation of the butterfly into a drone, while the butterfly waspoising her wings, impatient for flight. I sat silent, and Delphinesaid pettishly:--

"I don't ask you to interfere. Only to sympathise. Is this a life fora girl of my age?"

"It depends entirely upon the girl and her ideas of `life'. Some girlswould--"

"What?"

"Love what you call `parish'. Find in it her greatest interest. "

She stared at me, the colour slowly mounting to her face. Her voicedropped to a whisper. 

"Yes, I know. If I were good, and really cared! Evelyn, I am going toconfess something dreadful. At home, when I had no responsibility, Icared far more than I do now. I thought it would be the other wayabout, but the feeling that I _must_ do things, _must_ go to meetingsand committees, _must_ go to church for all the services, makes me feelthat I'd rather not! I daren't say so to Jacky. He'd be so grieved. I'm grieved myself. I daren't tell anyone but you. Do you think anyclergyman's wife ever felt the same before?"

I laughed. 

"I'm sure of it! Thousands of them. It's not right to expect aclergyman's wife to be an unpaid curate--plus a housekeeper, and itneeds special grace to stand a succession of committees. How would itbe to drop some of the most boring duties and concentrate upon thethings that you could do with all your heart? You'd be happier, andwould do more good!"

"Do you think I should?" She clutched eagerly at the suggestion. "Really, I believe you are right. As you say, I have not the strengthto play the part of an unpaid curate. "

But that misquotation roused me, and I contradicted her sharply. 

"Excuse me! I said nothing of the sort. You are strong enough to doanything you chose. It is not strength that is wanting, but--"

"Go on! You might as well finish, now you've begun. But what?"

"_Love_!"

She gave a little gasp of astonishment. 

"Love! For whom?"

"Your neighbours. Your husband. God!"

"Oh, _it you_ are going to preach next!" she cried impatiently. Shejumped up from her seat, whirled round, and flounced from the room. 

Mr Maplestone came in to tea. He is quite a frequent visitor here Ifind. Besides the fact that he is a vicar's churchwarden, it appearsthat he has known Delphine since she was a child, so that he isabsolutely at home with her, and evidently very fond of her, too, in acousinly, elder-brotherly, absolutely matter-of-fact way. The firsttime I saw him was quite early one morning when, hearing unusual soundsof merriment from the dining-room, I opened the door, and beheld theVicar seated in an arm-chair, looking on with much amusement, while theSquire held a box of chocolates in one upraised hand, and Delphinecapered round him, snatching, and leaping into the air like an excitedlittle dog. It was a festive little scene until my head came peepinground the corner of the door, and then the fun collapsed like thepricking of a bubble. The Squire's face fell, likewise his hand; hejerked stiffly to attention, stiffly handed over the chocolates, stifflybowed to me, stared at my uncovered head. 

"Oh, I didn't tell you! Evelyn is staying here for a fortnight beforegoing away. "

He mumbled. I mumbled. The Vicar rose from his seat and made for thedoor. 

"Well, we shall see you to lunch to-morrow, Ralph. I have severalpoints to discuss. Delphine, we shall meet at the Parish Room attwelve?"

"Oh! That committee? I suppose so, " Delphine said ungraciously. Shetore open her box, helped herself to the largest chocolate in the centrerow, and offered me the next choice. Ralph Maplestone took up his hat. 

"Oh, for goodness sake, don't you run away, too! _You_ haven't acommittee. There are heaps of things I want to say still. Ralph"--shewent to his side and stared eagerly in his face--"did you mean what yousaid the other day, about teaching me to ride?"

"Why not?" he said easily. "If you'd care about it, I'd be only tooglad. Bess would carry you well, and she's as safe as a house. Youcould come up and practise in the park. If I were busy, Jevons couldtake you round. He'd teach you quite as well, or better, than I shouldmyself. "

"Oh!"--she beamed at him, a picture of happiness--"it will be fine!I've always longed to ride. And afterwards, when I'm quite good--I feelit in my bones that I _shall_ be good--will you still--"

He laughed good-naturedly. He is extraordinarily good-natured toDelphine. 

"Lend you Bess? Certainly. As often as you like. Do her good to havethe exercise. "

"And when I'm _very_ good--very good indeed--will you--"

He shook his head. 

"Ah, hunting is a different matter. Rather a responsibility. What? Wemust see what John says. In the meantime, you'll get a habit?"

"Yes. " She glanced at me quickly, and glanced away. "Where shall I go?Would Matthews--"

Matthews was the local tailor. The Squire waved aside the suggestionwith masculine scorn. 

"Certainly not. Do the thing properly when you are about it. Nothingworse than a badly-cut habit. Better go up to town!"

Again Delphine glanced at me. The obvious thing was for me to returnher invitation and invite her to stay with me for the transaction, butobviously I couldn't do it. Moreover I did not _want_ to, so I staredblankly before me, and resigned myself to being thought a mean thing. 

"Oh, well--I'll manage somehow, " Delphine said in a tone of finality, which was obviously intended to stop the discussion. 

Mr Maplestone looked at me and said:--

"Mrs Fane has already left, I believe. I suppose you will join herlater. "

"I think not. She has gone abroad. I shall remain in England. "

Delphine gave a short, irritable laugh. I had annoyed her, andchild-like, she wished to hit back. 

"Abroad, and England! That's all the address we are vouchsafed. MrsFane and Miss Wastneys evidently wish to shake off the dust of thisvillage as soon as they drive away from `Pastimes'. Even if we wish tocommunicate with them, we shall not be able to do it. "

"Oh, yes, Delphine, you will, " I contradicted. "I have told you thatletters will always reach us through our lawyers. "

"Lawyers!" she repeated eloquently. "As if one could send ordinaryletters in a roundabout way like that! I wouldn't dare to write througha lawyer, unless it were a matter of life and death. I must say, Evelyn, you are queer! When we have got to know each other so well, too!"

"You thought it `queer' that Charmion and I should live here together;and now you think it `queer' when we go away. Isn't that a littleunreasonable?"

"It is `queer' to be so mysterious about where you are going. Peopleordinarily--"

"Very well, then! We are _not_ ordinary. Let us leave it at that. Itis much more interesting to be mysterious. Perhaps we are really twoauthors of world-wide fame, who but ourselves in the country for a shortrest now and then between our dazzling spells of industry. "

Delphine gaped, hesitated, then laughed complacently. 

"Oh, well, Mrs Fane is the sort of person who might be _anything_. Butnot you, Evelyn; certainly not you! You are not--"

"What?"

"Clever enough!" she cried bluntly. The next minute, with one of theswift, child-like impulses which made her so lovable, she threw her armsround my neck and kissed me vehemently. "But you are good--good andkind. That's better than all the cleverness. Forgive me, Evelyn; I'm arude, bad-tempered thing. Kiss and be friends!"

Ralph Maplestone seized his hat and marched out of the room. 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN. 

A STARTLING PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 

His afternoon the Squire, in his capacity of churchwarden, spent an hourwith the Vicar in his study, and then joined us for tea on the lawn. Itwas a hot, airless, summer afternoon, and we were all rather silent anddisinclined to eat, and I felt my eyes wandering to the big grey carwhich stood waiting outside the gate and wishing--many things!

I wished that I had a car of my own. I wished I had my dear old Dinah, on whose back I had been wont to roam the country-side. So long asCharmion and the garden had absorbed my attention I had been contentedenough, but now an overwhelming restlessness seized me. I was tired ofthe slow movement of my own feet. I longed to move quickly, to feel therefreshing rush of air on my cheeks once more. I wished thewoman-hating, unappreciative Ralph Maplestone, had been a kind, considerate, understanding, put-your-self-in-her-place sort of man, whowould have offered his time, and his car, and his services as chauffeur. 

"Delphine, would you like to have a run in the car for a couple of hoursor so before dinner?"

We jumped on our chairs, Delphine and I, automatically, likemarionettes, the one from pleasure, the other from surprise. Had heseen? Had he noticed? The light blue eyes stared coolly ahead. Forpure callous indifference their expression could not have been beaten. Coincidence! Nothing more. 

"Oh, Ralph, you dear! How angelic of you! I should love it of allthings. It's so close and stuffy in this garden. It will be perfectlydelicious to have a blow. Which way shall we go?"

"If you are not in a hurry we might get as far as the ponds. " Hepaused, frowned, glanced hesitatingly towards me. "Perhaps MissWastneys--Is there any special place you would like to see?"

"Dearest!" the Vicar's voice broke gently into the conversation, "I'msorry, but was not it this afternoon you arranged to meet Mrs Rawlinsat the `Hall, ' to discuss the new coverings for the library books? Ithink you said half-past five. It is nearly five now. You would nothave time. "

"I can send down word that I can't come. I'll meet her to-morrow at thesame time. "

"I think not. " The Vicar's face set; his voice did not lose its gentletone, but it was full of decision. "I think not. Mrs Rawlins is abusy woman, and she has a long distance to come. You would not wish toinconvenience her for the sake of a trifling pleasure!"

Delphine gave him a look, the look of a thwarted child, flushed to theroots of her hair, and turned hastily aside. Open rebellion wasuseless, but it spoke in every line of her body, every movement of thesmall, graceful head. I was sorry for her, for being young and femininemyself, I could understand how dull was the claim of linen covers forinjured bindings, compared with that swift, exhilarating rush. I lookedat the Vicar, and began pleadingly, "Couldn't I--"; then the Squirelooked at me, pulled out his watch, and said sharply:--

"Ten minutes to five. Hurry up, Delphine! If you put on your hat atonce you can have half an hour. It will freshen you up for your duties. I'll land you at the `Hall, ' and"--he switched his eyes on me with akeen, gimlet-like glance--"take Miss Wastneys a little further while youare engaged. "

I blinked, but did not speak; Delphine frowned; the Vicar said happily, "That will do well. That will do very well! Now, darling, we shall allbe pleased!"

Deluded man! Two less-pleased-looking females it would have beendifficult to find, as we made our way to the house, and up the narrow, twisting staircase. Delphine was injured at the prospective shortnessof her drive; I was appalled at the length of mine. Why had he askedme? Why hadn't I refused, and what--oh! what should we ever find tosay?

"It's always the same thing; if a bit of pleasure comes along, there'sbound to be a committee meeting in the way! Half an hour! Pleased, indeed! I've always been longing for Ralph to take me drives, and nowthat he has been disappointed like this, the very first time, is helikely to try again? Of course, Evelyn" (tardy sense of hospitality!)"I am glad for you to have the change. It's awfully good of him. "

"Quite heroic, isn't it?" I said tartly, as I turned into my room. Nodoubt the poor man was disappointed, but she need not have rubbed it in!I leave it to psychologists to decide whether or no there was anyconnection between my natural annoyance at the slight, and the fact thatI went to the trouble of opening a special box in order to put on mybest and newest motor bonnet and coat; but there it is, I did do it, andthey were all the more becoming for the accompaniment of flushed cheeksand extra bright eyes. The colour was a soft dove grey, the bonnet adelicious concoction of drawn silk, which looked as if it had begun lifemeaning to adorn a Quaker's head, and had then suddenly succumbed to thefascinations of a pink lining and a wreath of tiny pink roses. WhenDelphine came into the room a moment later, she stopped short on thethreshold, and gasped with astonishment. 

"Goodness!" Her face flushed, she stared with wide, bright eyes;admiring, critical, disapproving, all at once. "Evelyn, what a get up!I never saw anything like it. You look--you look--"

"Well! How do I look?"

There was an edge in my voice. She felt it, and softened at once, inher quick lovable fashion. 

"You look a duck! Simply a duck. But, my dear, it's too good! Whywaste it here? Any old thing will do for these lanes. There's time tochange!"

"I don't intend to change, " I said obstinately, and at that very momentthere sounded an imperious whistle from below. Without another word wemarched downstairs and out to the front gate, where the two men stoodwaiting beside the car. Automatically their eyes rolled towards mybonnet; the Vicar smiled, and bent his head in a courtly little bow, which said much without the banality of words. The Squire had noexpression! Whether he approved, disapproved, or furiously disliked, heremained insoluble as the Sphinx. Oh, some day--somehow--some one--Ihope, will wake him into life, and whoever she is, may she shake himwell up, and ride rough-shod over him for a long, long time before shegives in! He _needs_ taking down!

After a faint--very faint--protest, Delphine took her seat in front, while I sat in solitary state inside, leaning back against the cushionswith an outward appearance of ease, but inwardly uncomfortably consciousof a heart which beat more quickly than necessary. This was all verywell, but what next? What was to happen when the half-hour was up, andDelphine went off to her library books and left us alone?

Could I sit still where I was? It would seem absurd, not to saydiscourteous. Would he ask me to change seats? Would he expect me tosuggest it? Suppose he did? Suppose he didn't? And when we weresettled, what should I find to say? My mind mentally rehearsed possibleopenings. "How beautiful the country is looking. "

"English villages are so charming. "

"How was the General when you saw him last?" On and on like a whirligigwent the silly, futile thoughts, while before me the two heads wagged, and nodded, and tossed, and a laughing conversation was kept up withapparently equal enjoyment on both sides. Delphine had a child'scapacity for enjoying the present; even when the car pulled up and shealighted before the door of the "Parish Hall, " the smile was still onher face. The little treat had blown away the cobwebs; she wasrefreshed and ready, if not precisely anxious, for work. 

"Thanks awfully, Ralph. That was as good as a hundred tonics! I dothink a car is a glorious possession. " Then she looked at me and noddedencouragingly. "Now it is your turn! It's ever so much more fun infront. Ralph will be quite proud of sitting beside your bonnet!"

So after all neither of us said it, and I should never have thesatisfaction of knowing if he had meant--

He opened the door, and I meekly got out and took the other seat. Whatwas the use of making a fuss? Delphine disappeared behind the oak door, the engines whirled, and we were off again, steaming out of the village, and down the sloping road which led to the lovely sweep of the heath, the speed steadily increasing, until we were travelling at a good fortymiles an hour. Four milestones flashed past before either of us spoke aword; then in desperation I made a beginning. 

"She needs change, doesn't she? It's quite touching to see how itcheers her up. "

"She?" he repeated. "Who?" He turned his eyes on me as he spoke, andthey were absolutely, genuinely blank. Astounding as it appeared, hereally did not know. 

"Delphine, of course! Who else could I mean?"

"Oh-oh. Yes, I had forgotten all about her. "

He might have been talking of a fly that for a moment had buzzed by hisside. The cruel indifference of his manner stung me into quick retort. 

"Yet you seemed very kind--you _were_ very kind to her a few minutesago. Do you always forget so quickly?"

A movement of his hand reduced the speed of the engine. We had left thevillage far behind, and the wide high road stretched before us like abrown ribbon, sloping gently up and down the grassy slopes. For milesahead there was not a soul in view. Ralph Maplestone stared at me and Istared back at him. Seen close at hand, his plain face had anattraction of its own. It looked strong and honest; its tints were allfresh and clean, speaking of a healthy, out-of-door life. No littlechild had ever clearer eyes. They didn't look so stern as I hadbelieved. 

"What have I to remember? Delphine came for a drive; I'm glad sheenjoyed it, but it is over. Why should I think of her any more?"

"Oh, no reason at all!" I said testily. I felt testy, as if from apersonal injury. "Only when one has a friend, it is agreeable tobelieve that out of sight is not immediately out of mind. But, ofcourse, I am a woman. Women's memories are proverbially longer thanmen's. "

The speed slackened still further. Now we were rumbling along at aspeed which made conversation easy. The blue eyes gave me another keenglance. 

"Women burden their memories with a thousand trivialities. Men brushthem aside, and keep to the few that count. In the big things of lifethey are less forgetful than women!"

I smiled, a slow, superior smile, and spoke in a forbearing voice:--

"Do you think you--er--_really_ understand very much about women?"

"No--I don't. How can I? I don't know any, " he replied bluntly, andthe answer was so surprisingly, illogically different from what Iexpected, that involuntarily I laughed, and went on laughing while hestammered and tried to explain. 

"Of course I have my opinion--every fellow has. One has eyes. Onecan't go through life without _seeing_. But, personally, it's quitetrue. I _don't_ know any. Never have done!"

"Your mother?"

"You would think so, but we are too much alike--tongue-tied--can't saywhat we feel. She is more at home with my sister, who chatters frommorning till night, and has no reticences, no susceptibilities. We carefor each other; to a point we are good friends, but beyond that--strangers. "

I didn't laugh any more. 

"Your sister, then. Don't you two--?"

"No. She was educated abroad. She married the year she came out. Shelives in Scotland. Nominally we are brother and sister; actually themerest acquaintances. She's a nice girl--generous, affectionate. Butwe don't touch. "

"Delphine?"

"That child!" His shoulders moved with a gesture of dismissal, as ifthe suggestion was too absurd for discussion. Poor Delphine, how hervanity would have suffered if she had been there at the moment! Isuppose my face was expressive, for he added in quick explanation:"She's a nice child. I'm fond of her, but she is still waiting to growup. It's perfectly true, Miss Wastneys, I know no women. They havebeen a sealed book to me. "

I was sorry for the big lonely thing. It must be hard to be born with atemperament which keeps one closed, as it were, within iron doors, whileall the time the poor hungry soul longs to get out. I felt glad that Iwas made the other way round. At the same time it seemed a goodopportunity to put in a word for my own sex. I straightened my back, and tried to look solemn and elderly. I spoke in deep, impressivetones:--

"Mr Maplestone, I'm sorry, but you are illogical. You acknowledge thatthis is a subject about which you know nothing, yet almost in the samebreath you criticise and condemn. Men blame women for having no senseof justice, but they are just as bad. They are worse, and with lessexcuse. Women's perceptions are so keen that they see every side of asituation, so it happens sometimes that they get confused, and appearcontradictory. Men are so blind that they only see _one_ side--theirown side--and in utter ignorance of all the others they proceed to laydown the law. For my part, I prefer the woman's standpoint. "

Such a blankly amazed face stared into mine! The blue eyes widened, aglimpse of strong white teeth showed between the parted lips. He gapedlike a child, and said vaguely:--

"Yes, but--I don't understand! That may all be quite true, but what onearth has it got to do with what we were talking of last?"

I bridled. Nothing on earth is more exasperating than to enlarge onone's own pet theories, and then to find that they have fallen flat. Imade my voice as chilling as possible. 

"To me the connection seems obvious. "

"Sorry. My stupidity, I suppose. I fail to grasp it. Will youexplain?"

"You said that Delphine was not a woman. If that is so, it's herhusband's fault--and yours! And every other man's with whom she comesin contact. You all treat her like a child, and expect her to behave asa child, and then turn round and abuse her because she dances to yourtune. "

"Excuse me. Who abuses her?"

"You did. You said--"

"I said she was a charming child of whom I was very fond. Is thatabuse?"

"In the--er--the connection in which you used it--in the way in whichyou said it, and meant it, and avoided saying something else--yes, itis. "

For a moment he looked as if he were going to laugh, then met my eyes, thought better of it, and grunted instead. 

"Sorry. Again I don't quite follow. But no doubt it is my illogicalmind. I should be interested to know in what way you hold meresponsible for Delphine's shortcomings?"

"I have just told you. You treat her as a child who must be fed onsweetmeats, and bribed with treats and diversions; conversationally youtalk down to her level. It never occurs to you to expect her to be inearnest about any one thing. "

"Well?"

"Well! Isn't that enough? Can't you see how such an attitude mustaffect her character and development?"

"No, I can't. To my mind it wouldn't matter what the whole worldthought. For good or ill, I stand for myself. What other peoplehappened to think about me wouldn't affect me one jot. "

I said loftily:--

"You are a man. Women are different. We _do_ care. We _are_ affected. That's why it is so dreadfully important that we should be understood. I know it by experience. In different surroundings, with differentpeople, I myself am two or three totally different women--"

He asked no questions, but looked at me, silent, expectant, and lured bythat fatal love of talking about oneself which exists in so manyfeminine hearts, I fell into the trap, and prattled thoughtlessly on:--

"At home with my younger sister, I was the one who had all theresponsibility and management. She depended on me. I was the Autocratof the Household, and everything I said was law. "

"You would like that?"

I gave him a withering glance. 

"Pray what makes you think so?"

"You like your own way, don't you? I--er--I have received thatimpression. "

"I was about to add, " I said coldly, "that, since I have lived at`Pastimes, ' I have not had my own way at all. I have not wanted it. Mrs Fane's character is stronger than mine. I have been content toabdicate in her favour. If you asked her opinion of me, she wouldprobably tell you that I was too pliable--too easily influenced. "

Silence. The blunt, roughly-hewn profile stared stolidly ahead. Agranite wall would have shown as much expression. I was seized with animmense, a devastating curiosity to discover what he was thinking. Ifixed my eyes steadily upon him, mentally willing him to turn round. 

He knew I was doing it. I could see the red rise above his collar rim, and mount steadily to his ears. 

He was determined that he would not speak. I was equally determinedthat he should. 

"Mr Maplestone! I am waiting for a remark. "

"Miss Wastneys, I--er--I have no remark to make. "

"You don't recognise me in the latter _role_?"

"I--er--I can't say that I do! On the few occasions on which we havemet, you have appeared to me to be abundantly--er--to be, in short, theruling spirit. "

I thought of that first interview in the inn when the brunt of thebargaining had fallen on me; I thought of the tragic evening at the"Hall, " when I had arranged a hurried departure, without apparentlyconsulting Charmion's wishes. Appearances were against me, and it wasimpossible to explain them away. I said, in a cross, hurt voice:--

"Oh, of course, you think me everything that is disagreeable anddomineering. It is just as I said--men see only one thing, and itcolours their whole view. If I lived a lifetime of meekness andself-abnegation, you would never forget that affair of the lease. Andit was your own fault, too! You were the unreasonable one, not I; butall the same, you have never forgiven. Delphine told me how much youdisliked me. "

His eyes met mine, frankly, without a flicker of shame. 

"Did she? That was wrong of her. She had no business to repeat--"

"You acknowledge it, then! You _did_ say so?"

"I did. Oh, yes. It's quite true. "

It was a shock. At that moment I realised that, in my vanity, I hadnever really believed Delphine's statement. The Squire had made somecasual remark which she had misunderstood, misquoted--such had been thesubconscious explanation with which I had assuaged my complacency; butnow out of his own lips, openly, unhesitatingly, the verdict wasconfirmed! I felt as if a pail of water had been emptied over my head. 

"And you--you really meant--"

"If I had not meant it, I should hardly have said--"

"I can't think why! What had I done? If it was that affair of thelease--"

"It was not. I was amazed at the time, but I got over that. It wasjust--"

"What?"

"It is difficult to say. It's not an easy subject to discuss. Need wego on?"

"I think so. I think it is my right. In justice to myself, I think youought to tell me how I have made myself so disagreeable. It might beuseful to me in the future!"

For all answer he steered the car to the side of the road, brought it toa standstill, and descended from his seat. There was an air ofdeliberation about the proceeding which sent a shiver down my spine. The inference was that the enumeration of my faults was so lengthy abusiness that it could not be undertaken by a man who had other work inhand. I sat in nervous fascination, watching him slowly cross to myside of the car, lean forward, and place both hands on the screen. Hisface was quite close to mine. It looked suddenly white and tense. Heopened his lips and spoke:--

"Evelyn, will you be my wife?"

If I live to be a hundred, never--no, never shall I forget the electricshock of that moment! To be prepared to listen to a lecture on one'sfaults and failings, and to hear in its place a proposal of marriage--could anything be more paralysing? And to have it hurled at one with nowarning, no preliminary "leading up, " and from Ralph Maplestone of allpeople--the most reserved, the most unsusceptible, the most woman-hatingof mankind! I sat petrified, unable to move or to speak, unable to doanything but stare, and stare, and stare, and listen with incredulousears to a string of passionate protestations. Half of what he said waslost in the dazed bewilderment of the moment, but what I _did_ hear, went something like this:--

"You are the first woman--the only woman. Before you came I wascontent. Since we met, I have been in torment. You woke me up. When aman is roused from a trance it gives him pain. You brought pain to me--sleeplessness, discontent, a craving that grew and grew. I wished wehad never met--you had upset my life; I believed that I hated you forit. Delphine questioned me. It was then I told her that I dislikedyou. I meant it--I _thought_ I meant it! I longed for you to disappearand leave me in peace, yet all the time I thought of you more and more. Your smile! Whenever we met, you smiled, and the remembrance of itfollowed me home. Wherever I went your face haunted me. I planned togo away, to travel, to break myself loose; but it was no use, I couldnot go. I dreaded to see you, but I dreaded more to go away. I hungabout the places you might pass. That dress with the flounces! I couldsee the blue of it coming toward me through the branches. That nightyou were ill! All the colour went out of your cheeks. I would havegiven my life--my life! I have never loved before. I did not know whatlove meant, but you have taught me. You have waked me from sleep. I'mnot good enough--a surly brute! Couldn't expect any girl to care; butfor seven years--twice seven years--I'd serve, I'd wait. Oh, mybeautiful, my beautiful--if you could see yourself! How can I stayhere, and let you go? Marry me! Marry me! This week, to-morrow--whatare conventions to us? I'll be good to you. All the love of my life iswaiting--I've never squandered it away. It has been stored up in myheart for you. "

I held up my hand, imploring him to stop. 

"Oh, Mr Maplestone, don't! It's all a mistake. It must be! How canyou care? You know so little of me; we have met so seldom. How can youpossibly know that you would like me as a wife?"

He gave a quick, excited laugh. 

"It's all true what those poet fellows write about love! I used tolaugh and call it nonsense; but when it comes to one's own turn, it'sthe truest thing in the whole world! How do I know? I can't tell you, Evelyn; but I _do_ know. It's just the one certain fact in life. Iwant you! I'm going to have you!"

He stretched out his arms as if to seize me then and there, and I shrankback, looking, I suppose, as I felt, frightened to death, for instantlyhis manner changed, his arms dropped to his side, and he cried in thegentlest, softest of tones:--

"Don't be frightened of me! Don't be frightened! Forgive me if I seemrough. Rough to _you_! Oh, my sweet, give me a chance to show what Icould be! You have done enough caring for other people; now let me takecare of you! Be my wife, _Evelyn_!"

It was all too painful and miserable, and--yes, too beautiful to putinto words. I cried, and said, No! no! I was sorry, but I didn't lovehim; I had never thought. There was no one else--oh, no; but it washopeless all the same. I could never--never--Oh, indeed, I was notworth being miserable about. He must forget me. On Wednesday I wasgoing away. He would find when I was not there that he would soonforget. 

He looked at me with sad, stern eyes. 

"That's not true! You know it's not true. I am not the sort to forget. And if there is no one else, why should I try? Evelyn, you don't knowme, if you think one `no' will put me off. I said I would wait sevenyears, and I meant what I said. If you go away, I shall follow. What'sthis nonsense of leaving no address? Do you imagine, if I choose tolook for you, you can hide yourself from ME?"

He looked so big and masterful that for a moment I felt a qualm ofdoubt; then I comforted myself with the reflection that it would beimpossible to discover what did not exist. For a period of time EvelynWastneys was about to disappear from the face of the earth. Thespinster of the basement flat was about to take her place. 

"I don't love you! I don't love you!" I repeated helplessly. "I havenever once thought of you except as a--a rather cross, overbearing manwho had taken a dislike to me at first sight. How can I turn round allin a moment and look upon you as a--a lover? And I have my friend andmy work--and we have just taken our house. I don't want to be married!I couldn't be married even if I cared!"

"You are going to be married. You are going to marry me! What is this`work' of which you talk? A woman's work is to make a home, and to helpa man to find his soul. Evelyn, do you imagine for one moment that I amgoing to let you go?"

He was himself again: self-confident, resolute, overbearing. I tookrefuge in silence, and argued no more. 

"Have you enjoyed your drive?" Delphine asked. "Was Ralph civil? Itwas unfortunate that I had to leave you alone. Where did you buy yourbonnet, Evelyn? I must get one like it for myself. Does your headache, dear? You look quite pale. "

I said it did. _Something_ ached! It kept me awake all night with adreary, heavy pain. I lay and thought, and thought, until my brain wasin a whirl. Had I been to blame in the past? Honestly I could not seethat I had. What was I to do in the future? Must I tell Charmion? Howcould I ever return to "Pastimes"? Round and round the questionswhirled in a never-ending circle, but no solutions came. Then I said myprayers, with a special plea for guidance for a very lonely, veryworried girl, and gradually, surely, I grew calmer. I reminded myselfthat there was no need to worry over the future; and that all I had todo for the moment was to decide on my duty for to-morrow. Foreverybody's sake it appeared best that I should excuse myself toDelphine and escape to town, since nothing could be gained by anotherinterview with Ralph Maplestone. I would send him a letter, repeatingmy protestations that I could never be his wife, and begging him toforget me with all possible speed. When he called at the Vicarage toanswer it, he would find that the bird had fled. 

The early morning sunlight was stealing in at the window. I closed mytired eyes and fell asleep. 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN. 

A GLORIOUS THING. 

The first day after taking possession of my flat, I paid a visit to acelebrated expert in theatrical "make up, " and paid for his help andadvice. It is not an easy thing for a young woman to transform herselfinto an old one, and I have a weakness for doing a thing well, when Iset about it. He was a delightful man! I remember him with theliveliest appreciation. I was nervous and embarrassed, but in twominutes he put me at my ease. From his manner you would have supposedthat my errand was as ordinary and conventional as buying a postagestamp, while his keenness, his cleverness, his professional zest wererefreshing to behold. He stared at, and criticised my face, with asmuch impersonality as if it had been a picture on the wall. 

"Always look for the predominant factor--the feature, or features, whichgive personality to the face. In your case they are undoubtedly theeyebrows and the curve of the upper lip. A few judicious touches tothese will alter the whole expression to a surprising extent. A fewmore lines will give age. The wig and spectacles are the refuges of theamateur. In themselves they can do little, but with the touches Isuggest, and a deep-toned powder to darken the skin, your disguise willbe complete. You shall see--you shall see!"

He motioned to a chair before a mirror, and set to work, explaining eachdetail as he went along. It was marvellous to see how beneath the sweepof a tiny brush my youth and good looks faded and disappeared! Then hemade me wash it all off, and do the same thing for myself. Three timesover the process was repeated before I "passed" to his satisfaction. Tomy relief he laughed at the idea of the india-rubber pads, and indeedthey were no longer required, but he gave me a small appliance whichcould be used when I especially desired to alter my voice. Then he sentme to a woman expert, who designed a nice little pad to round myshoulders. I can't say that it was exactly a hilarious afternoon! Andnow a month has passed by. For a whole month Mary Harding hasresolutely ignored Evelyn Wastneys, and devoted her time to the serviceof others. I was just going to say "her whole thought" also, butstopped short just in time. The plain truth is that the ignoring ofEvelyn engrosses many thoughts. She is a regular Jack-in-the-box, whois no sooner shut in, than up bobs her head again, wailing miserably:--

"I'm lonely! I'm lonely! I want to go home!" Then Mary, the aunt, snaps the lid more tightly than ever, but through the chink a persistentwhisper makes itself heard: "I'm lonely! I'm lonely! I want some oneto think of me. "

The flat is comfortable enough, and I am well served with Bridget ashousekeeper, and a clean young orphan of seventeen to work under her andopen the door. The orphan was procured as much as a safety-guard formyself, as an assistant to Bridget. In case anyone who knows me in mytrue _role_ should by any possibility discover my hiding-place, andappear suddenly at the door, it is better to keep Bridget in thebackground, and as Emily knows me only in the character of aunt, I amnecessarily kept up to the mark in the matter of disguise. 

I wear elderly clothes, tinted spectacles, and a dowdy wig, and with afew touches alter the shape of my upper lip. That is all that isnecessary for ordinary life. The cheek pads are reserved for occasionsof special need! Emily considers me a "nice old lady, and young in myways". She likewise confides to Bridget that she shouldn't wonder ifI'd been quite good-looking in my day. Why did I never marry? Was it adisappointment like?

In outdoor dress especially I look genuinely middle-aged. Young womenget up in the Tubes and offer me their seats! Volumes could say nomore. 

As regards my work, I have discovered that in London it is as difficultto get to know one's neighbours as it is to avoid knowing them in thecountry. In my rustic ignorance I had imagined that all the inhabitantsof the "Mansions" would be keenly interested in the advent of a newtenant, and curious about her personality. I imagined them talkingtogether about me, and saying, "Have you seen the new lady in thebasement? What does she look like? When shall you call?" but inreality no one cared a jot. There has been another removal since Icame, and I overheard one or two comments in the hall. "Bother theseremovals. They make such a mess!"

"Those tiresome vans block the way for my pram!" Not one word ofinterest in the removal itself! Not one word of inquiry as to thenewcomers. So far as interest or sympathy went, each littleshut-in-dwelling is as isolated as a lighthouse. For the past few weeksI have been haunted by a vision of myself beating an ignominiousretreat, after having altogether failed in my mission. To consolemyself I began a second course of Red Cross training, to revive what Ihad learnt two years before. Perhaps some day one of the tenants willbe ill, or have an accident, which will give me a chance. Watching thestream of children coming in and out of the "Mansions, " I almost foundit in my heart to wish that one of them would tumble down and break, nothis crown, but just some minor, innocent, little bone, so that hismother could behold how promptly and efficiently I could render firstaid!

A month passed by--four long, lonely weeks. Not a line from Charmion. Not a line from Delphine. Not a line from the big, blustering lover whohad vowed never, no, never, to give up the pursuit. With one and all, out of sight was apparently out of mind, and I am the sort of woman whoneeds to be remembered and appreciated, and who feels reduced to thelowest ebb when nobody takes any notice. I wondered what Charmion wasdoing, I wondered how Delphine was faring, I wondered--did he reallycare so much? Would he go on caring? Suppose I had cared, too? Thenanother long, lonely day came to an end, and I crawled into bed andcried. Whatever my virtues may be, I am afraid I am not strong-minded!

But at the end of a month--hurrah! I started full tilt into a new andengrossing profession, a profession which I may really claim to haveinvented, and which offers a wide field for idle women. It is healthy, moreover, and in its pursuit its followers can be of immense service totheir overtaxed sisters. The vocation is called "Pram-Pushing forPenurious Parents, " and it consists simply of taking charge of Tommy, orBobby, or Baby for his morning or afternoon promenade, and therebysetting his mother free to take a much-needed rest!

The way it began was natural enough. I smiled at a pretty baby in thehall, and the baby smiled back at me, and threw a ball at my feet. Ipicked it up, and gave it back to a worried-looking little mother whowas endeavouring to arrange the wrapping in the perambulator with onehand, while with the other she clutched firmly at the arm of anobstreperous person of three. She smiled at me in wan acknowledgment, and I said, "May I help?" and tucked in one side of the shawl. Twomornings later I met the same trio returning from their morning's walk, a third time I picked the small boy out of a puddle, and helped to wipeoff the mud. That broke the ice, and the mother began to bow to me, andto exchange a passing word. She is a delicate creature, and has theexhausted air of one whose life is all work and no play. One day wewalked the length of the block together, and she told me that she hadbeen married for four years, had had three children and lost one; thatshe kept only one maid, and so had to take the children out herself. Itwas tiring work, pram-pushing for four or five hours a day, but theymust have fresh air. Nowadays doctors insisted that children shouldnever stay in, even on wet days. She smiled mirthlessly. 

"They are covered up and protected from damp. It's different for thepoor mothers!"

She coughed as she spoke, and then and there the great idea leapt intomy head. I did not disclose it; she would probably have put me down fora baby-snatcher at once; but I made a point of meeting her on her dailyoutings, and of ingratiating myself with the children, and waitedeagerly for an opportunity, which came in the shape of an increasingcough and cold. Then I pounced. 

"Why shouldn't _I_ take the children out this afternoon, and let you gohome and rest? You are not fit to push this heavy pram. "

She gaped at me, amazed and embarrassed. 

"You? Oh, I couldn't possibly! Why should _you_--"

"Because I should love it. I have nothing to do, and the days seem solong. I'd be very careful. "

"Oh, it's not that! I am sure you would! And the children would loveit. They are so fond of you already; but--"

"Well?"

"I couldn't! It is too much. But I do thank you all the same. It'ssweet of you to have thought of it!"

For the moment it was plainly tactless to urge her further, so I justrepeated:--

"Well, I _mean_ it! Please send for me if you change your mind, " andretreated forthwith. 

Behold the reward of diplomacy. That very evening Mr Manners, thepapa, knocked at my door and requested to see Miss Harding. I wasreading comfortably, _sans_ wig and _sans_ spectacles, behind the lockeddoor of my bedroom. The little maid, having been repeatedly instructedthat all callers were to be shown into the drawing-room, was no doubtelated to have an opportunity of turning precept into practice. Iarose, hastily made myself look as elderly and discreet as possible, andsallied forth to greet him. 

It was the funniest interview! He had brought down a copy of _Punch_ (aweek old), with his wife's compliments "in case I should like to seeit". That was the excuse; the real reason was obviously to survey theextraordinary spinster of the basement flat, and discover if she werequite mad or just innocently eccentric. I could see him peering at meout of his tired, worried eyes, and if ever I worked hard to worm myselfinto a man's good graces, I did it during the next half-hour. 

I pricked my ears, listening for "clues, " and when one came, I played upto it with all my skill, agreeing with him, soothing him, hanging on hiswords. He looked almost as tired as his wife; there were shiny patcheson his coat; his hair was turning white above the ears; he had the lookof a man driven beyond his strength. I made him a cup of coffee, goodcoffee! over which he sighed appreciatively. I told him I liked thesmell of smoke. I offered him the _Spectator_ in exchange for _Punch_. At the end of half an hour he was looking at me wistfully, and saying inquite a natural, boyish voice:--

"I say, it was nailing good of you to offer to take out the kiddies tosave my wife. She was quite touched. She does need a rest, poor girl, but, of course--"

"Don't say `of course' you cannot accept! The only `of course' is totake me at my word. Mr Manners, may I say exactly what I think?"

He looked startled and said, "Please do!" (Mem. I must try to rememberthat an impulsive manner is not suitable to grey hairs!)

"Well, it's just this; if you won't allow me to help your wife to have alittle rest now, she will be obliged to take a longer one later on!That cough needs care. I know something about nursing, and I'm surethat if she goes on as she is doing now, she'll break down altogether. "

"I know it, " he said miserably. "I've been feeling the same myself. That was why--to-night--when she told me, I--"

"Came down to see for yourself if I could be trusted!" I said laughing. "And what is your verdict, Mr Manners? Do I look as if I would kidnapbabies? Do I look as if I had strength enough to push a pram?"

He glanced at my grey locks, and said tactfully:--

"Bobby could walk part of the time. Kensington is fortunately flat. Miss Harding, I--I am very grateful. It's most awfully good of you toworry about such perfect strangers. If you _will_ relieve my wife for afew days, I shall be most awfully grateful!"

So it was arranged. I danced a jig of joy when I went back to my room, and caught sight of my elderly reflection doing it in the glass, andlaughed till I cried. My work had begun. The thin end of the wedge hadwormed its way in. Now to push forward. 

Mrs Manners has another malady besides her cough. It's an obscuredisease, but I have diagnosed it as "chronic inflammation of theconscience". For four long years she has been kept incessantly at work, looking after house and children, and has been unable to have oneundisturbed hour, either by day or by night. Now, when she gets thechance, her conscience is horrified at the prospect. The first time Itook the children for their afternoon walk I found, on my return, thatshe had used the time to turn out a cupboard, and looked more tired thanever. The next day I sent the maid downstairs to settle the children inthe perambulator, when I produced a hot-water bottle from under my coat, and had a heart to heart talk with her there and then. 

"Mrs Manners, I am going to take you into your bedroom, tuck you upunder the quilt, give you this hot-water bottle to cuddle, pull down theblinds, and leave you to rest there till we come in. "

She positively shook with horror. 

"Oh, Miss Harding, I _can't_. It is quite impossible! All that time?If you knew all I have to do. There is another cupboard--"

"Mrs Manners, if you think I am taking charge of the children out ofconsideration for your cupboards, you are mistaken. I am doing it sothat you may rest. A bargain is a bargain, and you are not playingfair. Now, are you coming, or are you not?"

She came, not daring to refuse, but protesting all the way. 

"Well, if I must--For a little time. For half an hour. I couldn't_possibly_ rest more than half an hour. "

"You've got to try. If I'm on duty for two hours, so are you. Don'tdare to move from this bed till I give you leave. "

It was pathetic to see her thin little face peering at me over the edgeof the eider-down, quite dazed, if you please, at the idea of a twohours' rest! I felt as happy as a grig as I ran downstairs; happierstill when we re-entered the flat two hours later, and not a sound camefrom behind that closed door. I undressed the children, and the maidtiptoed in with their tea with the air of a conspirator in a dark andstealthy plot. 

"Not a sound out of her since you left! Poor thing! First chance of abit of peace and quietness she's had for many a long day. "

"Well, Mary, you and I are going to give her plenty more!" I saidgraciously, and Mary made me a slice of buttered toast on the spot toseal the partnership. 

Tea was over when the door opened, and a sleepy, flushed face peepedround the door to look at the clock. When she saw the hands pointing tofive, she looked as guilty as if she had robbed the bank. 

Oh, it's a glorious thing to be able to help other people! It gives onea warm, glowey feeling about the heart which comes in no other way. These last days I have just lived for the moment when I could tuck thatpoor little woman in her cosy bed, and the other moment when I saw herrested, freshened face on rising. Even at the end of one week shelooked a different creature, and felt it too. 

"Actually, dear Miss Harding, I begin to feel as if I--I should like anew hat!" she said to me one day over tea. "Do you know the feeling? Ithink it is the best sign of convalescence a woman could have. Formonths, almost for years, I have not cared what I wore. Something tocover my head--that was all that was needed. To be always tired--deadly, hopelessly tired--takes the spirit out of one. "

"No one should go on being too tired. It's very wrong to allow it. "

She looked at me; a long look, affectionate, grateful, reproachfullyamused. 

"My dear, you live alone, and you have two maids. Evidently--excuseme--you have a comfortable income. My husband's business has beensteadily falling off for the last two years. It is not his fault; heworks like a horse; no man could have done more, but circumstances havebeen against him. We keep one maid, who washes, bakes, and cooks, whileI tend the babies, make their clothes and my own, knit, and mend, andpatch, and darn, take the children out, bathe them, put them to bed, attend to them through the night, do the housekeeping by day, andstruggle over the bills when they are in bed. Bobby is three years anda half old, and has had bronchitis and measles. Baby is eleven months, and cuts her teeth with croup. Between them came the little one whodied. And then you sit there and tell me I ought not to be tired!"

"I beg your pardon. I'm sorry. I spoke without thinking. You arequite right--I know nothing about it. People who preach to others veryoften don't. Forgive me!"

"Don't be so penitent! It is really almost a relief to meet a woman who_doesn't_ understand. All my friends are in pretty much the same caseas myself, and they haven't got"--she stretched out her hand and timidlypatted my arm--"my kind neighbour to help. Miss Harding, I think youmust have been a fascinating girl!"

"Oh, I was!" I said warmly, and then made haste to change theconversation. "What about that hat? I'm quite a good amateur milliner. Look out your oddments and let me see what I can do. "

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. 

NEIGHBOURS--AND REAL WORK. 

The fame of me has gone abroad. I have been observed taking theManners' infants in and out, and the result has been a simultaneousincrease of interest, and--loss of prestige. Number 22, like MrsManners, pushes her own "pram, " but there the resemblance ends. She isa healthy, full-blown young woman, smartly--and unsuitably--attired inthe very latest fashion of Kensington High Street. She wears largeartificial pearls round her neck, and wafts a strong odour of lily ofthe valley perfume. Never for the fraction of a second did it occur tome to offer to relieve _her_ of any of her duties; but she cast apale-blue eye at me, and wove her own little schemes. One afternoon, asI was tucking the coverings round Baby Margaret's feet, she came up tomy side, and said in an exceedingly casual manner:--

"Oh, good afternoon. You are Miss Harding? I was just wondering--haveyou any engagement for the mornings?"

I looked at her calmly, and said I had. Several! Most householdershad. She jerked her head, and said impatiently:--

"I didn't mean that. You take Mrs Manners' children out, I see. Imight be glad of a little help myself. It's such a bore pram-pushingevery day. How much do you charge?"

It is difficult to look haughty through blue spectacles, and while I wastrying, it occurred to me that it was a waste of time. It was a plainbusiness question. She did not mean to be insulting, so I smiledinstead--rather feebly, I confess--and said:--

"I don't charge. Mrs Manners is not well. It is a pleasure to me totake charge of the children, so that she may have a little rest. "

She "begged pardon" hastily, and with repetition, staring the while withincredulous eyes. Quite evidently she considered me a benevolentlunatic, and marked me down as a useful prey. I might not be willing topush her pram, but--The very next evening a small servant knocked at thedoor with Mrs Lorrimer's compliments, and could Miss Harding lend her afresh egg? (Her name is Lorrimer, and the children are called Claudia, Moreen, and Eric, and look it. ) A fortnight has passed since thatencounter, and the tale of her indebtedness to me is now as follows:--

One egg. 

A cup of sugar. 

Two lemons. 

"A bit of butter, as we're run out. "

A box of matches and a candle. 

"One scuttle of nice cobbles, please. We have only slack left. "

Three stamps. 

"Just a pinch or two of tea, as we forgot to order over Sunday. "

Bridget opines that it will go from bad to worse, and recommends puttinga foot down. Gossip from the "Well" has it that if you "give in tothem, they'll take the very dinner off the table". When it comes tothat point, I shall certainly stamp hard; but in the meantime I letthings slide. I suspect Mrs Lorrimer of being too much engrossed inherself to trouble about such a detail as providing meals for herspouse. Without my aid he would probably have eaten his pancakeswithout any lemons, and feasted on dry bread by a smouldering fire. Ilike myself in the _role_ of an unknown benefactor!

Number 19, who lives directly overhead, does not borrow my food or hiremy services, but she does something far worse. Whenever I dare to pokea fire, or play on the piano, or shut a window, or let a door bang, asany ordinary domestic door is bound to bang in the course of a windyday, rap, rap, rap comes a premonitory knocking on the floor, as if tosay, "Inconsiderate and selfish worm! How dare you attend to your owncomfort at the expense of your neighbours overhead? Have the goodnessto be quiet at once!" It's awfully unfair, because when they stoketheir anthracite stoves, or throw their boots on the floor at 1 a. M. Over my sleeping head, I could only retaliate by climbing to the top ofmy wardrobe, and knocking the whitewash off my own ceiling. Such arethe ironies of life for the tenants of basement flats. 

Besides the shoe-dropping, I am often kept awake at night by the soundof angry voices. I sadly fear that Mr and Mrs 19 do not live togetherin the peace and harmony which could be desired. Subjects of dissensionseem generally to arise about 10 p. M. , and thereafter deep masculinegrowls and shrill feminine yaps alternate until the small hours. Onthese occasions I make up my mind never, never to marry. Especially abad-tempered man. Especially _one_ bad-tempered man! But, of course, that question was settled long ago. 

Hurrah! I am getting on. A most exciting thing has happened. TheManners know Mr Thorold, and last night, when I was sitting with thenafter dinner (by request!) he came in to call, and we were introduced. He is a delicate, wearied-to-death, and wish-I-were-out-of-it-lookingman, but when he smiles or gets interested his face lights up, and he ishandsome and interesting. He looked profoundly bored at finding meinstalled by the fire, but thawed later on, and asked my advice onvarious domestic problems which lie heavily on his soul. 

"My housekeeper has such sensitive feelings. If I find fault, or evenmildly suggest an improvement, she collapses into tears, and thechildren have a poor time of it for the rest of the day. Sometimes Ithink I must send her away, but I might get some one worse; and I ambusy in the city, and have no time to look round. "

I did not feel capable of giving advice on this subject, but saidsoothingly:--

"I wish you would allow the little girls to come to tea with mesometimes. I have seen them coming in and out, and have longed to knowthem. I'm fond of children, and Mrs Manners will tell you that I canbe trusted. "

His face lit up; he actually beamed. 

"It is good of you! They get so few changes. It would be the greatesttreat! If I may I'll bring them myself next Saturday. "

Shades of Aunt Eliza! For a moment I felt quite guilty; then I raisedmy eyes to the Chippendale mirror hanging on the opposite wall, andbeheld the douce figure of Miss Harding with a Paisley shawl draped overher black silk shoulders, and I breathed again, and said primly that Ishould be very pleased, and were the dear little ones allowed currants, or were they limited to plain sponge cake? He said impatiently:--

"Oh, poor kiddies! Anything you like. If they're ill afterwards, it'sworth it. I'm afraid I am not much of a disciplinarian, Miss Harding. Life takes that _role_ out of one's hands. Let them be happy--that'swhat I ask. "

His face puckered; he looked so sad, so helpless, so baffled, poor, big, helpless thing, that my heart just ached for him. Aunt Eliza wasright--Evelyn Wastneys is _not_ a suitable person to play good fairy togood-looking widowers! If this one looked particularly helpless andharassed for an hour at a stretch, and then asked her to marry him onTuesday week, she would not have the strength of mind to say no, howevermuch she dreaded the prospect. As he is a susceptible, appealing typeof a man, and tired to death of that housekeeper, and Evelyn has--shereally has!--a "way with her, " it would probably have come to that inthe end. But Evelyn Harding may serenely do her best. She will neverbe put to the test. 

The little girls are called Winifred and Marion. They have long palefaces, long fair hair, and charming dark-lashed eyes. Winifred looksdelicate, and has an insinuating little lisp; Marion, when amused, has adeep, fat chuckle, which makes one long to hug her on the spot. Theyare badly dressed, badly shod, their stockings lie in wrinkles all theway up, but they look thorough little ladies despite of all, and "behaveas sich". They came to tea on Saturday, and we had hot scones, and jamsandwiches, and cake, and biscuits, and a box of crackers containinggorgeous rings and brooches and tie-pins and bracelets, and of the wholeparty I honestly believe "Father" enjoyed himself the most. He had fourcups of tea, and ate steadily from every plate; and we all played gamestogether afterwards, in the most happy, domestic fashion. Quiteevidently he is a home lover, a man whose deepest interests will alwayscentre round his own fireside. 

Poor little dead wife! It seems sad that she should be taken away, while unhappy women like Mrs 19 live on and on. If the issues of lifeand death were in mortal hands, how differently we should arrangethings! I know at this moment half a dozen weary old creatures whoselives are no pleasure to themselves or to anyone else, but they live on, while the young and the happy fall by the way. Oh, how many mysteriesthere are around us! How wonderful, how absorbingly interesting it willbe, when the time comes, to hear the explanation of all that seems sotangled to our present understanding! When I realise how uncertain lifeis, I am all in a tingle to be up and doing, to make myself of real, real use while I am still here. A married woman has her work cut out tomake a home; a real happy home is as big an achievement as any one canwish, but when one is single and lonely--

Pause to shed a few self-pitying tears. Pause to wonder if it might notbe better to make a man happy rather than to live alone, even if onewere not really in love?

Pause to decide. Certainly not! Don't be weak-minded. A graveinjustice to him, as well as to yourself. 

Pause to dream of Charmion and Kathie, and feel lone and lorn becausethey don't write. 

Grand decision. Always to be kind and considerate. To write regularlyto lonely friends. Never to wax cross or impatient, neglect a duty, norfail to render a service. To devote special attention and lavishspecial sympathy on spinsters in basement flats. 

The orphan came into the room just as I was in the full flush of myresolutions. I snapped her head off, and found fault for five minuteson end. She departed--in tears. 

Three weeks have passed by. I have written to Charmion, a letter fullof love, and without one complaining word. I have written to Kathie, taking an interest in all the details of her new life; I have written toDelphine, dropping words in season. I have worked hard for the RedCross classes. I have wheeled out the small Manners, and dispensedvarious teas to Winifred and Marion Thorold. I have met their fatherseveral times at the Manners' flat, and have likewise--low be itspoken--received two evening calls from him in my own domain. He saysit is such a comfort to find a kind, motherly woman with whom to talkover his difficulties! He hesitates to trouble Mrs Manners, who isalready overworked. Winifred holds one shoulder a little higher thanthe other. Does that mean anything wrong with the spine? Ought she tolie down flat? Billie, the curly two-year-old, is always catching cold. Do I think his perambulator gets damp in the basement store-room? Thegrocer's bill was nineteen shillings last week. In "my girl's time" (Ilove to hear him say "My girl!") it was never above thirteen. MissBrown, the housekeeper, is hinting that she needs a holiday. It wouldbe a relief to be rid of her, but--who would take charge while she wasaway?

"Why not make it a general holiday? Lend me the little girls, farm outthe babies to relations, throw off responsibilities, and have a reallaze yourself. You know you would love it!" I said. "Haven't you aman friend who would take you away?"

"Oh, rather. The best of fellows. We were boys together. He's had astiff time, too, so he understands. Miss Harding, what a brick you are!Will you really take the girls? I say"--his face lit up with theboyish smile--"it would be a chance to buy them some clothes. Would youdo it? Miss Brown has no taste. It's been one of my trials. My girlwas so dainty. A pretty hat apiece, and a frock, and stockings tomatch--that wouldn't break the bank, would it? Do you think fivepounds--"

I waved a protesting hand. 

"Heaps! Heaps! Leave it to me. I'll make them as pretty as pictures. When--er--when I was young, I was fond of dress. I was considered tohave good taste. "

He smiled at me in the kind, forbearing manner in which people do smileat elderly women who exploit their own youth, and said vaguely:--

"Yes, I am sure--I am quite sure. Well, I must be off. Thank you forall your kindness. "

He departed, but the very next night the maid brought a message to askif Miss Harding had a thermometer. If so, would she be so very kind asto take Billie's temperature, as he seemed restless and feverish? Idraped myself in the Paisley shawl in which I flatter myself I look myplainest and most ancient, ran upstairs, and was shown into Billie'sbedroom. He was sitting up in his cot, looking so pretty with hisdishevelled golden curls, his big bright eyes, and the fever flush onhis cheeks. I guessed 102 at sight; but it was worse than that--closeon 103. I gave the thermometer the professional shake, looking, as Ifelt, pretty serious and troubled, whereupon Miss Brown took alarm atonce, being evidently the useful kind of woman who loses her head inillness. 

"Is he going to be ill? I don't understand poultices and fomentations;couldn't take the responsibility! As things are, there is more workthan I can get through. I hope you will tell Mr Thorold that if Billieis going to be ill, it is absolutely necessary to have help. "

I calmed her, and went into the dining-room to report. The air was fullof smoke, and Mr Thorold was sitting at one side of the fireplace, talking to another man who was facing him from another big leatherchair. They both sprang up at my entrance, and Mr Thorold said:--

"This is my friend, Mr Hallett, of whom I spoke to you lately. We arediscussing the possibility of a short trip. Edgar, this is MissHarding, a very kind neighbour. She has come up on an errand of mercyto see one of the babies, who is a bit off colour. How do you find thesmall man, Miss Harding?"

He was not a bit anxious. In the interest of the talk with an oldfriend, the baby ailment had faded from his mind. I hated to bring theshadow to his face, but it had to be done. 

"Billie has a high temperature, Mr Thorold. I think a doctor ought tosee him. "

He looked shocked--incredulous. 

"To-night! Wouldn't to-morrow morning--?"

"I should advise you to see him to-night. It may be nothing but afeverish cold, but it is half the battle to start treatment in time. Heis nearly 103. "

"I will telephone at once, " he said shortly, and marched out of theroom. 

The tenants of Heath Mansions do not, as a rule, run to the extravaganceof possessing a private telephone, but down in the basement there is aspecies of ice cupboard, where, in surroundings of abject dreariness, wedeposit our pence and shout messages, to the entertainment andenlightenment of the maids at "Well" windows. Mr Thorold was bound forthis haunt, and the nice Mr Hallett and I sat down to entertain oneanother during his absence. 

He is nice! I liked him the moment I saw him, and I went on liking himmore and more. He is a big, powerfully-built man, but his face is thin, the fine moulding of the bones showing distinctly beneath their slightcovering. The clean line of his jaw is a joy to behold; his eyes aredark and unusually deep-set--I would say "cavernous, " if I had not aparticular dislike to the word. He has large, expressive hands, and alow-pitched, unusually deliberate way of talking. 

"I hope the youngster is not going to develop anything serious!"

"I hope not. He is a dear little fellow. It is so sad to see a childill. "

"It is; but--frankly!" he said, with a slow, grave glance, "I wasthinking more of my friend. He has had more than his share of trouble, and another spell of anxiety would be hard luck. It's a big strain on aman to play father _and_ mother to a growing family. "

"There is one thing which would be harder! To have no growing family tolook after, and to take his mind off himself. "

He looked at me sharply, and as sharply looked away. I had a lightningimpression that I had touched a tender spot, but it passed the nextmoment at sound of the perfectly calm, perfectly controlled voice:--

"You think that is so? I should be glad to agree, but Frank has lost anideal companion. I did not imagine that such young children could fillthe gap--"

"In a sense they never can, but they fill so many smaller gaps that itis impossible to think of the big one all the time. If you had any ideawhat it is to live in a flat this size, with five small childrentumbling over each other all day long, laughing and quarrelling andgetting into mischief on every conceivable occasion, behaving likeperfect little fiends one hour and angels straight from heaven thenext--well, you would realise that there isn't much time left over tosit down and nurse a private woe!"

He smiled. He smiles, as the Scotch say, "with deefficulty". The linesof his face are all set for gravity and reserve. 

"That is so. But at night? After such a tornado the solitary eveningsmust seem lonelier than ever. "

"I don't imagine there is much time for reflection. There is generallysome work to keep him going. Rupert has a weakness for dropping thingsdown the sinks. Last week, for a change, he drove a nail into agas-pipe. And there are the bills to pay, and new things to order, andendless notes of inquiry and arrangements to be written. His eveningsare well filled up. "

"I see you are a believer in counter-irritants. " The deep-set eyesrested on me with a speculative glance. A practical, unimaginativewoman, who has neither understanding nor sympathy for romance--that wasobviously the verdict. If he only knew! If he only knew!

Presently Mr Thorold came back and said the doctor would come roundalmost at once. Would I be so very good as to stay to hear his verdict?Miss Brown was not much use in cases of illness. She lost her head. The trouble to me seems to be that she has lost her heart--if she everhad one to lose!

The doctor said that Billie had bronchitis, and that his lungs were notquite clear. Someone must sit up with him, keep a bronchitis kettlegoing, and see that he did not kick off the clothes. His temperaturemust be taken at certain hours. A great deal might depend upon the nextfew hours. He was afraid it might be difficult to get in a nurse beforemorning. Was there anyone who could--

Miss Brown promptly put herself out of the running, so what was thereleft for me to do but modestly to confess that I had passed two RedCross examinations, could flick a thermometer with the best, and bafflethe tricks of the most obstinate bronchitis kettle that everoverbalanced itself, or spat hot water instead of steam. 

The three men stood round looking at me with big, grateful eyes, andthough I was honestly sorry about Billie, deep down at the bottom of myheart I _glowed_. This was in very deed being of use! Here was realwork lying ready at my hand!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. 

A STRUGGLE FOR A LIFE. 

Billie has been desperately ill. For three weeks he has lain at thepoint of death, his little life hanging by a thread. Two trained nurseshave been in attendance, and a third unofficial one, in the person ofold Miss Harding! Winifred and Marion are living in my flat; Bridgetlooks after them, and does our own housekeeping, and also supplementsMiss Brown's efforts, which are, to put it mildly, inadequate for theoccasion. She does not seem to realise that when people are torn withanxiety they don't appreciate boiled mutton; and that when they sit uphalf the night, waiting in sickening suspense to hear the nexttemperature, a hot cup of chocolate can be more precious than rubies. 

Therefore Bridget and I manufacture dainties, and carry them upstairs tosupplement the supplies. 

For the first few days the illness took a normal course, and anxiety, though real, was not acute; but on the fourth day strength failednoticeably, and oxygen was ordered to help the clogged lungs to work. At first it was given every two hours, then hourly, then everyhalf-hour, and every woman who knows anything about nursing understandswhat _that_ means, plus doses of brandy, struggles to pour as much milkas possible down an unwilling throat, and a constant taking of pulse andtemperature, to say nothing of hypodermic injections at those awfulmoments when there seems no pulse to feel. It means that no one woman, be she ever so competent, can keep up the fight single-handed for twelvehours at a stretch, and that an understudy to work under her may meanthe very turning of the scale. I have been understudy by night, andproud I am to record that Nurse proclaims me unusually "handy" for amember of the "laity". Hour after hour we have fought together for thelittle darling's life, while he lay unconscious against the piledcushions, a waxen image, unrecognisable as the bonnie curly-headedBillie we had loved. We racked our brains to think of new means and newcontrivances to fight the ever-increasing danger. With the aid ofscreens and a sheet we contrived a tent over his cot, through a hole inwhich the elongated cardboard funnel of the steam-kettle could enter andgive increased relief to the breathing. We made mustard poultices withwhite of egg instead of water, to save needless irritation of the skin;we used the French expedient of putting quinine pads under the armpitsto reduce the terrible temperature. Nurse was indefatigable--a miracleof energy and resource--but through all her anxiety and tenderness forthe little patient, it was impossible not to recognise the keenprofessional zest in a "good case. "

"Give me a bad pneumonia, and I'm happy!" said she, frankly, and shemeant what she said. 

At those rare intervals when Billie fell into a fitful sleep, I used tosteal out of the room and pay a visit to the dining-room, where, on twoarm-chairs on opposite sides of the fire, the poor father and his friendsat drearily smoking, and waiting until the small hours of the morning. It was useless to tell Mr Thorold to go to bed. His wife had breathedher last at two o'clock in the morning, and he was possessed by a dreadthat Billie would do the same. At three or thereabouts he might bepersuaded to move, but until then it was but a waste of breath to askit. Poor fellow! To have his old friend by his side was the bestcomfort that was left, but how he must have missed his wife, and howendlessly, breathlessly long the hours must have seemed, sitting withfolded hands, with nothing to do but to wait! Even I--an outsider--wasoppressed by the difference in the atmosphere of the two rooms. In thesick-room there was suffering indeed, but there was also a constant, earnest fight; here, the heavy, smoke-filled air seemed to breathe ofdespair!

On those midnight visits, the first thing I did after giving my report, was to open the window, and the second to make a jug of chocolate, beating the powder in the milk till it foamed, in tempting continentalfashion. The men shivered and protested. They were in a draught; theywere not hungry; they wanted neither chocolate nor sandwiches; but Iwent on with my preparations in an elderly, persistent fashion, and saidif they didn't--well, I did, and I hoped they would not grudge me alittle refreshment in the midst of my labours. By the time that thelittle meal was prepared, the smoke had cleared away and left a littleair to breathe, so then I made a favour of shutting the window andpoking the fire, and we would sit down together, and--it was wonderfulhow much we could eat! If Aunt Eliza could have seen me then, what--oh, what would she have said! How I blessed the grey wig and thespectacles, and the few deft, disfiguring touches which made my presenceso easy and comfortable, not only for myself but for those two poor, sad, helpless young men. However much one may rail against convention, it remains an unalterable fact that youth and good looks are _not_ thebest qualification for indiscriminate work among one's fellow-creatures. I must remember this fact when I grow really old, and apply it as balmto my wounded vanity. 

Over the chocolate and sandwiches we would talk--not about Billie, ifpossible; and I learnt that the two men had first met at Harrow, hadthen been separated for many years, and had renewed the old friendshipduring the last two years. 

There is evidently a strong sympathy between them--a sympathy ofsuffering, I think, for with all his charm, it is evident that MrHallett is not a happy man. He says little about himself, but I gatherthat he travels a great deal, that he writes for various reviews, andthat--to say the least of it--he is not overburdened with wealth. Henever mentions any "belongings, " and is evidently unmarried. I wonderwhy, for he is certainly unusually attractive. Sometimes when we havebeen sitting talking together, I have been so conscious of thisattraction that I have had quite a violent longing to be Evelyn Wastneysonce more, and to meet him, so to speak, on his own ground!

He is most nice to me--oh, most nice! He thinks me a kind, sensible, generous old dear; says I deserve a Victoria Cross, and that no block ofmansions is complete without me. One night he asked me smilingly if Iwould come and nurse him if he were ill; another time he said he couldalmost find it in his heart to wish that my money would disappear, sothat he could engage me as a permanent housekeeper. Then Mr Thoroldinterrupted, and said that the first claim was his, and that if myservices were to be bought, no other man should have them unless overhis own dead body. They argued jestingly, while I blushed--a hot, overwhelming blush, and seeing it, they paused, looking mystified anddistressed, and abruptly changed the conversation. Did they think meridiculous and a prude, or did that blush for the moment obliterate thesham signs of age, and show them for the moment the face of a girl? Ishould like to know, but probably I never shall. 

For four long weeks Billie's life hung in the balance, for after thepneumonia crisis was passed, unconsciousness continued, and the terribleword "meningitis" was whispered from lip to lip. There wereheart-breaking days to be lived through, when the terror was no longerthat he might die, but that he might live--deprived of speech, ofhearing, possibly of reason itself. Never while I live shall I forgetthose days; but looking back, I can realise that they have taught me onegreat lesson, branded it on heart and brain so that I can never, neverforget. The lesson is that death is not the last and worst enemy whichwe are so apt to think it when our dear ones are in its grasp. Oh, there were hours of darkness in which death seemed to us a lovely andbeautiful thing, when we blamed ourselves for shrinking from the wrenchof giving back a little child into God's tender care. Who could comparea darkened life on earth with the perfected powers, the unimaginableglories of eternity? There were times when our prayers were reversed, and we asked God to take Billie home!

But he lived; he spoke; he opened his dark eyes and smiled upon us; hedemanded a battered "boy stout" doll, and hugged it to his pneumoniajacket; he drank his milk, and said "More!" he grew cross andfractious--oh, welcome, gladdening sign!--and said, "Doe away! No moredaddies! No more nursies! Don't want nobodies! Boo-hoo-hoo!" and wewent and wept for gladness. 

Illness, the really critical touch-and-go illness which nurses call "agood case, " turns a home into an isolation camp. The outer worldretreats to an immeasurable distance, and the watchers stare out of thewindows, and behold with stupefaction hard-hearted men and women walkingabroad on two legs, with hats on their heads, and umbrellas in theirhands, talking and laughing and pursuing their petty avocations, not inthe least affected by the fact that the temperature had again soared upto 104, and the doctor spoke gravely about heart strain. It seemsinconceivable that human creatures, living a few yards away, areactually going to parties, and attending theatres, trying on newclothes, and worrying about cracked cups. 

It was with much the same shock of incredulity that, on descending to myflat one afternoon, I was met with the news that a gentleman was in thedrawing-room waiting to see me. Bridget was out walking with the littlegirls, and the orphan, as usual, had opened the door. I demanded to betold "all about it, " upon which she inhaled a deep breath, and set forthher tale after the manner of a witness in the police court. 

"He says to me, `Is Miss Harding at home?' I says, `Yes, sir, she's athome, but she's out at the moment nursing a little boy upstairs'. Hesays to me, `Is Miss Evelyn Wastneys at home?' I says, `She don't livehere, sir. There has some letters come--' He says, `When will MissHarding be in?' I says, `She generally gives us a look, as it might be, about six, before the young ladies settles to bed'. `Then I'll wait!'he says, takes off his hat, and walked in. I said, `What name shall Isay, please?' He said, `It doesn't matter about my name. She doesn'tknow it. '"

I stood silent, digesting the news. 

"What sort of a gentleman is he? What does he look like?"

The orphan considered, silently chewing the cud. 

"He looks, " she opined deliberately, "as if he could give you _whatfor_!"

At that, without one second's pause, I scuttled into my own room andlocked the door behind me. (I would have "locked and double locked" it, as heroines of fiction do on such occasions, but it has always remaineda mystery to me how they manage to do it!) That being done I fell intoa chair, and breathlessly confronted--the worst!

It was the Squire! I knew it without a doubt. If the orphan haddevoted an hour to her description, she could not have been more apt. In some mysterious way he had tracked me to my lair. I might have knownhe would do it! He was not the sort of man to be daunted by a closeddoor. He would put out the whole of his big, indomitable force, till byhook or by crook it flew open, and the secret was revealed. Mercifully, however, it was so far only Miss Harding whom he had discovered; EvelynWastneys still eluded his grasp, and if I could summon enough nerve andcourage to carry through one final interview, all might yet be well. Itwas useless to say I would not see him. He would simply wait until Idid. The only result would be to arouse his suspicions. I rose slowlyand confronted myself in the glass. 

The disguise was good, but was it good enough? I hastily opened my"make up" case, and accentuated the lines which the expert had shownwere most telling--the curve of the upper lip, the kink in the eyebrow, the long wrinkle from nose to chin. I wrapped my Paisley scarf round myshoulders, took my courage in both hands, and opened the door. Idecided to go into the dining-room, draw the casement curtains, seatmyself with my back to the light, and--send the orphan to summon him tomy presence! I was nervous and scared, but--let me confess it--themoment was not without a fearful joy! My heart was beating with quick, excited throbs. It was the oddest, most inexplicable thing, but I--Ireally wanted to see him. If a wish could have spirited him away, Icould not have brought myself to breathe it. It seemed suddenly as if, unknown to myself, I had missed him, been missing him for a long, longtime--

The door opened and he came in. 

CHAPTER NINETEEN. 

A DOUBLE EXCITEMENT. 

He wore a dark suit, and carried a silk hat in his hand. Theconventional dress made a great difference in his appearance; it alwaysdoes when one is accustomed to see a man in the easy, becoming garb ofthe country. He looked older, more imposing; in the dim light it seemedto me that he was thinner too, had lost some of his deep tan. 

I rose from my chair and bowed. He bowed too, and said:--

"Miss Harding, I believe?"

Long might he believe it! I waved him to a chair, and said suavely, "Pray sit down. "

"I--er--I called to ask if you would be kind enough to give me MissWastneys' address. I believe her letters are sent to this address. "

"May I ask who gave you that information?"

"I'm sorry; but I'm not at liberty to say. It was a discovery which hasgiven me considerable difficulty to make. "

"Excuse me, Mr--er--" I stopped short with an admirable air of inquiry. 

"My name is Maplestone. "

"Thank you! I presume, Mr Maplestone, that you are aware of MissWastneys' wish to keep her address private for the moment. Do youconsider yourself justified in acting in direct opposition to herwishes?"

"I do, " he said sturdily. "I warned her that I would do everything inmy power to find her. I am only sorry that I have been so long in doingit. "

"I am afraid she would not share your regret. In any case, I cannottake the responsibility of helping you any further. "

"You refuse to tell me where to find her?"

"I am sorry to appear discourteous, Mr Maplestone, but I have nochoice. "

He looked at me, a cool, casual glance, and impatiently frowned. Therewas no flicker of recognition in his look. To him I was obviously amere figure-head, an obstinate, elderly woman who stood as an obstaclein his path. He hesitated for a moment, and then said emphatically:--

"My business is imperative. It is absolutely necessary to see MissWastneys. "

"I think she must decide this point. "

"Madam!"--he glared at me reproachfully--"you are probably not awarethat I have asked Miss Wastneys to be my wife?"

"I was not aware, Mr Maplestone, that Miss Wastneys had accepted thatoffer. "

"She has not. That is just the point. If she had, I should not needhelp. But she is going to! That is why I am so anxious to find her--toprevent further waste of time. "

Braced against my cushions, I gasped in mingled exasperation and dismay. That tone of certainty impressed me against my will. It required aneffort to preserve an unruffled appearance. 

"I cannot give you any help, Mr Maplestone. To the best of my belief, you are wrong in your expectations. "

"Evelyn--Miss Wastneys is your niece, I believe?"

I bowed, mentally quoting the orphan's qualification:--

"Sort of!"

"May I ask if she has confided in you--told you the history of ouracquaintance?"

For one moment I hesitated, then:--

"I think I may say that I know practically all that there is to tell. "

He leant forward suddenly, rested an arm on the table, and fixed me witheager eyes. 

"Miss Harding, I want a friend! I want an ally. I came here to-day, hoping to find one in you. Will you be on my side?"

I drew back; but, before I had time to protest, he hurled another crisp, sharp question at my head:--

"Do you love your niece?"

The question appealed to me. I answered promptly, as it were mentallylicking my lips:--

"I _do_! I may say I am much attached to Evelyn. She has faults(judicially), but she is a pleasant, well-meaning girl. She has been(unctuously) very kind to me. "

"She is kind to everyone, " he said shortly, "except myself! Of courseshe has faults! Plenty of them. You could not know her without seeingthat. "

I glared, outraged. Oh, indeed! If my faults are so many and soobvious, why on earth does he--?

"You are very keen-sighted for a lover, Mr Maplestone, " I said coldly. "If I were Evelyn, I should prefer the idealism which is usual under thecircumstances. But perhaps you do not pose as an ordinary lover. "

"I don't know, " he said shortly--"I don't know. This is a newexperience to me. I can only say one thing"--his voice softened, swelled into deep, low notes--"she is my life. She means everything--the beginning and the end. I shall fight on and on until she is mine. "

Miss Harding coughed, and twitched at her shawl, and blinked at theceiling, and feebly shook her grey head. 

"It is a pity, " she said weakly, "to make too sure! In these mattersforce is--er--is out of place. Evelyn must decide. She should not becoerced. If I know her nature, coercion will do no good. She isinclined to obstinacy. "

"Coercion would fail, but _love_--Your niece is very feminine. Shewould be unhappy alone. She needs to be loved. I have love to giveher--enough to satisfy any girl--more than enough! At the bottom of herheart she knows it. She ran away because she was afraid. Left noaddress. "

"Mr Maplestone, I am sorry to appear unkind, but Miss Wastneys' planswere made before she guessed your wishes. "

That was true, and hit him hard. His face fell, and he looked soquelled, so dejected, that my heart ached with remorse. What foolishthing I might have said I don't know, but at that moment the door burstopen, and Winifred and Marion precipitated themselves into my arms. Taking no notice of the strange man, they proceeded to confide theadventures of their walk. It was "Miss Harding, this; darling MissHarding, that; Miss Harding, dear, the other, " while I undid theirmufflers, and smoothed their hair, and smiled in benevolent interest. What could be a finer testimony to Miss Harding's verisimilitude thanthe blandishments of these sweet innocents?

For some minutes Mr Maplestone's presence was ignored, but when Ilooked at him again it was to realise with surprised curiosity that hisbearing had undergone a startling change. His cheeks had flushed, theweary lines had disappeared, he looked young, brisk, assured. Nothinghad happened to account for it; nothing had been said, bearing in theremotest sense on his affairs. I had made no slip of any kind, but hadbeen laboriously elderly and restrained, and yet, there it was--anunmistakable air of satisfaction and relief. 

He rose, held out his hand. 

"I see you are busy. I won't detain you longer. If you will allow me Iwill call again. "

"Mr Maplestone, excuse my want of hospitality, but it is quiteuseless. "

He retained my hand in his; he spoke in a pleading voice. 

"I am a very lonely man. I have no one else to whom I can speak. Itwould be a pleasure just to see anyone who belonged--I will promise notto be a nuisance. Please let me come!"

"Well!" I said helplessly. "Well!"

Short of being absolutely brutal, what else could I say? Besides--itmay be a pleasure to me, too!

That same evening a letter arrived from Charmion. Nothing like havingall one's excitements at the same time. It was good to see the dearwriting again, and I was in the mood when I badly needed some words ofcomfort. I tore open the envelope, hoping to find them inside. 

This is the letter:--

"Evelyn, Dear, --How is it faring with you, I wonder, in your grey Londonworld, while I laze beneath Italian skies? It is a rest to know thatyou understand my silence, and don't need to be reminded that it doesnot mean forgetfulness. That big heart of yours can be very patient andforbearing. I have good cause to know that, but I also know that no onein the world more keenly enjoys a word of love and appreciation, sohere's a confession for you, dear. Read it, lock it up in your heart, and never, never refer to it in words! This is it, then. During theselast weeks, when I have been fighting the old battle of the last sixyears, I have discovered to my surprise, and--let me confess it--dismay, that my point of view has strangely altered. I still consider that Ihave been the victim of one of the cruellest deceptions which a womancould endure; I still believe that in that first ghastly hour ofdiscovery, flight was justified and natural, but--Well, Evelyn, dear! Ihave been living for months in very close intimacy with a little girlwho thinks no evil, and is always ready to find a good explanation forwhat may on the surface appear to be unkind, and it has had its effect. 

"I keep asking myself, `In my place, what would Evelyn have done?' andthe answer disturbs my sleep. You are impulsive, my dear, and yourtemper is not beyond reproach. If you loved deeply you would beexacting, and would fiercely resent deceit. You would have run awayeven more impetuously than I did myself, but--but--you would not havekept up your resentment for six long years, or refused the offender aright to speak! If I know my Evelyn, before a month had passed herheart would have softened, and she would be turning special pleader inhis defence, racking her brain for extenuating explanations. And ifthere had been none--I can imagine you, Evelyn, shouldering your burdenwith a set, gallant little face, going back to your husband, and sayingto yourself, `Am I a coward to be daunted by the failure of one littlemonth? He married me for my money--very well, he shall have his price!I will give it to him, freely and willingly, but I will give him otherthings too--companionship, interest, sympathy, so that in time to comehe shall love me for myself! I am young and pretty and intelligent--Ican do it if I care enough to be patient and unselfish. I married himfor better or worse. With God's help, I will turn this "worse" into"better" before our lives are done!'

"Oh, I assure you, my dear, I cut a poor figure in my own eyes, when Icontrast my conduct with what yours would have been in my place. If wehad met years ago things might have gone differently, but now it is toolate. Too late for apologies and recantations, that is to say, for theywould not be acceptable, even if I could bring myself to the point ofoffering them. This sounds as if your example had had no real effectafter all, but it is not so. Outward circumstances may remain the same, but some of the inward bitterness has gone! Do you remember the oldfairy story about the unfortunate king who had three iron bands clampedtightly round his heart? It was the result of a spell, of course, andthe only thing which could break their hold was when some mortal didsome really fine and noble deed, then with a great bang one of the bandsbroke loose and conveniently disappeared. 

"Well, dear little girl, if your present crack-brained mission is notworking out to your satisfaction, if your neighbours in the `Mansions'(?) are unappreciative or appreciative in objectionable ways--comfortyourself with the reflection that your sweet example has burst one ofCharmion's iron bands. I think on reflection one might almost say_two_, and that she daily blesses you for the relief!

"I can't send you an address. I have no idea where I am going next, butbefore very long you will see me again. I'll burst in upon you someday, with a Paris hat on my head (and another in my box for a prettyfriend!) and snatch you away from your fads and fancies, and carry youoff to `Pastimes, ' to gloat over, all to myself! Don't have anything tosay to any presumptuous man who may try to lure you away. For theperiod of our lease you belong to me, and I am not going to give you up. 

"Charmion. "

I smiled, wiped a furtive tear, and carefully folded up the sheet. It_did_ comfort me to know that I had helped Charmion. I thought happilyof seeing her again, of all the long interesting talks we would havetogether. 

Incidentally I thought of our lease. If we paid a penalty, we couldbreak it at three years. 

CHAPTER TWENTY. 

STRANGE CONVERSATIONS. 

Billie is slowly recovering. He is sitting up in his cot, languidlypermitting himself to be adored, waited upon by obsequious attendants, and fed upon the fat of the land. This is the period when outsiders crygushingly to an invalid's relations, "How happy you must be!" But as acold matter of fact they usually feel very depressed and snappy andbored. This sounds thankless, but it is nothing of the sort; thethankfulness is all there, stored up for later realisation, but for themoment tired nerves are in the ascendant, and pay one out for thelong-drawn strain. 

Relieved from acute anxiety, Mr Thorold began to think of the cost, count up doctors' visits, and sigh like a furnace; Miss Brown gavenotice. "She wasn't blind and she wasn't deaf. She was aware that shewas not giving satisfaction, and it would be better for both parties--"The general servant, who had been quite heroic during the time when workwent on the twenty-four hours round, now took to banging dishes andmuttering as she left the room. Old Miss Harding, having lost muchsleep, and spent her few leisure hours in reading aloud to her smallguests, exhibited a tendency to tears and self-pity. Mr Hallett, disappointed of a hoped-for holiday with his friend as companion, shrugged his shoulders, and inquired dismally: "What can you expect?Things always go wrong in this miserable world!"

Each man in turns paid visits to my flat, and discussed his troubles atlength. Mr Thorold's were mostly financial. What could he do to cutdown expenses? Would I recommend sending the children to live in thecountry? Ridiculously cheap houses could be had, if one did not mindliving miles from a station. He himself must, of course, remain intown; but in a cheap boarding-house he could manage to live on verylittle--say a hundred a year--and when he took a holiday he could "rundown to the country". It would be good for the children. 

"While it lasted, " I said drily. "Their father might live--with luck--for a year or eighteen months. It seems hardly worth while having theexpense of a removal for such a short time. "

He sighed, looked for a moment as if he were going to declare that hewould be glad to be out of it, then pulled himself together and said:--

"Well, but I must pull in somehow to pay for all these extra expenses!Have you anything to suggest?"

"You might let this flat furnished for a few months in spring. Theporters tell me there are tenants to be found at that time. Odd, isn'tit, that the season should affect `Weltham Mansions'? It's the lap ofthe waves, I suppose, but it seems a long way to flow. I could help youto find cheap country quarters, and you could fit in your own holiday atthe same time, and so save travelling expenses. Lazing about in agarden may not be exciting, but it's the rest you need. I knew a verytired man who went off for a golfing week with a friend. His wife toldme he took a fortnight to recover. She said so to the doctor, and hesaid, `Of course! What did you expect? It would have been better if hehad gone to bed. '"

He shrugged impatiently. 

"Maybe it is quite true. I suppose it is. But when a man has only onefortnight in the year, he might be allowed to enjoy it in his own way!It's an idea, though--letting the flat. Thanks for the suggestion. I'll speak to an agent. "

Mr Hallett rested his big shoulders against my cushions, and said inhis low, grave tones:--

"You are a woman--you understand these things. Is there any way inwhich I can help? It's pretty tough to see an old friend worried todeath, and just sit and look on--but Thorold's proud, and it's difficultto interfere. It seems a cruel thing that illness should fall soheavily upon the middle classes. The rich are independent, the poorhave hospitals; but a man in Thorold's position is no sooner throughwith the mental torture than he is up against an army of bills. Itseems that Billie is bound to keep his nurses for several weeks longer. That's a big item in itself. "

It was! Often during these last weeks I had thought to myself what agrand occupation it would be for an independent woman to train as anurse, and then give one or two doctors leave to call her in to serve--without payment--in cases like the present, where need was great andmeans were small. I went off into a day-dream in which I saw myself, incap and apron, acting as ministering angel to the suffering middleclass, to be roused by Mr Hallett's voice saying tentatively:--

"I'm a poor man, but I am alone in the world, so there's no object insaving. Why shouldn't I settle a few of the bills for Billie's illnessand say nothing about it?"

I shook my head. 

"Mr Thorold would find out and be furious. You must help openly, ornot at all. You have helped by keeping him company all these weeks. "

He hitched his shoulders, and made a grimace of disparagement. 

"It's a long time since my company could be called cheering, I'm afraid. Thorold is `down and out' himself, and he ought to have happy peopleabout him. " He turned his dark eyes upon me with sudden interest. "Like _you_!" he said emphatically, "like _you_! Excuse a personalremark, Miss Harding, but you seem to have an eternal flow of vitality. Thorold and I were talking about you last night, comparing you withother women of your--er--your generation. We agreed that you left anextraordinary impression of youth!" He looked at me with wistful eyes. He was a lonely man, and I was a woman, conveniently at hand, andpossessed of a "feeling heart". An impulse towards confidence struggledto birth. In his eyes I could see it grow. 

"I suppose, " he began tentatively, "you have had an easy life?"

"In a material sense--yes! But I have had my trials. " A wave ofself-pity engulfed me and quivered in my voice. "I have been separated, by death or distance, from all my relatives. My best friend is abroad. "

"Death--or distance!" he repeated the words in his deep, slow tones, asthough they had struck a note in his own heart. "But distance _is_death, Miss Harding! The worst kind of death. Desolation withoutpeace! Thorold thinks himself brokenhearted, but there are men whowould envy him his clean, sweet grief. His sorrow is for himself alone. She is at peace!"

"Ah, " I said quickly, "I know what you mean. When we are quite young, death seems the crowning loss, but there are worse things--I'vediscovered that! I realised it in those terrible days when we fearedfor Billie's brain. When you love people very much, it would be a dailydeath to know that they were suffering. "

He gazed gloomily into the fire. 

"It is extraordinary--the capacity for suffering of the human heart!Physically we are so easily destroyed. An invisible germ will do it, the prick of a finger, a draught of cold air; but a man can live on, suffering mental torture, month after month, year after year, and hisweight will hardly decrease by a pound. You read of broken hearts, butthere are no such things! Hearts are invulnerable, torture-proof, guaranteed to endure all shocks!"

It occurred to me that it was time that Miss Harding exerted hervitality and stopped this flow of repining. The poor man had evidentlyhad some tragedy in his life which had warped his outlook. He neededcheering--we all needed cheering; proverbially the surest way ofcheering yourself is to cheer other people; therefore the sane andobvious way of spending his money was in providing cheer for thecompany. I said as much, and he said, "Certainly; but how? It waswinter time. A winter's day in London holds an insuperable barrieragainst any possibility of enjoyment. " I said, "Not at all! There wereheaps of things--heaps of ways. " He said, "Would I kindly specify oneor two of the `heaps'?" I said, "Certainly not! The essence of a treatlay in its quality of surprise. It was for him to think. " He smiled atme with whimsical amusement, and cried, "You said that just like a girl. You are a girl at heart, Miss Harding, in spite of your grey hairs. What a pity you did not marry, you would have given some man and somekiddies such a thundering good time. I know, of course, that it wasyour own doing. There must have been--"

"Oh, there were!" I cried glibly. "Several!"

"But you couldn't--You were never tempted?"

"No, never. At least--" Suddenly I found that it was necessary toqualify that denial. "There are two things which are always tempting toa woman, Mr Hallett--love and strength! Every woman would be glad tohave a strong, loving man to take care of her--if he were the rightman!"

"Well!" he sighed, and rose heavily from his seat. "No doubt you knewbest, but--I hope you gave him his chance! We men have many sides, butthe best side is apt to remain hidden until some woman brings it out. If he loved you, you owed him something. I hope you played fair andgave him his chance!"

He turned towards the door; we shook hands, and he left without anotherword. I turned back to the fire, sat me down, and thought. 

Ralph Maplestone had demanded his chance, and I had thought myself nobleand brave in refusing to give it. He was strong and he was loving; hehad asked nothing better than to take care of me. Would the time evercome, when I was really old, when I should sit by a lonely hearth andlook back and regret? I thought of Mr Hallett's voice as he spokethose last words, and saw a vision of his face. It is a beautiful face, and I dearly love beauty. What a satisfaction it would be to go throughlife looking at the curve of that nose and the modelling of that chinand jaw! I thought of the Squire's stern voice, and his blunt, plain-featured face. Always, always, so long as I lived, I should longto take a pair of pincers and tweak that nose into shape, and nip littlepieces of flesh from the neck, and pad them on the hollows beneath thecheek-bones. Suddenly I began to laugh. I imagined myself doing it--saw the expression in the blue, startled eyes. 

Strange how plain faces can fascinate more than beautiful ones! Mylaughter died away. It is difficult to keep on laughing by oneself. Iwas tired, and had been giving out sympathy all day; depression clutchedme, and a restless irritability. At this auspicious moment the orphanknocked at the door and announced that Number 19 would be glad to speaka few words. 

"Show her in!" I said, and in she came--a pretty, thin, little woman, with a tempery eye. 

"I am sorry to intrude, but you must really understand that this is toomuch! When people live in flats, it is essential that they show someconsideration for their neighbours. Will you kindly listen to that?"

I listened. Winifred and Marion were playing at "bears, " and chasingBridget to her death. Engrossed in my own thoughts, I had paid noattention, beyond a subconscious satisfaction that they were enjoyingthemselves. The roars did not annoy me, but they were certainly fairlyloud. I tendered a civil explanation. 

"It's Mr Thorold's little girls. Their brother has been dangerouslyill. They are staying with me. "

"Is there any necessity for them to shriek at the pitch of theirvoices?"

"They are out for hours every day. This is their play-time before theygo to bed. They go at seven. "

"And wake at six! For the last fortnight we have been disturbed everymorning. My husband wishes me to say that if it goes on he willcomplain to the landlord. I have complained before, as you know, butwithout effect. Ever since you came we have been annoyed. "

I was furious. Whatever had happened during the last fortnight, no onecould have been quieter before. "And what about themselves?" I saidcoldly. "Do you imagine that the landlord will be able to make childrensleep beyond their usual hour?"

"Certainly not, but they can be kept quiet. When people go to bedlate"--she stopped short, arrested by my expression, stared for amoment, and then concluded--"they naturally object to being disturbed inthe morning. We breakfast at nine. This morning we were kept awake byquarrelling voices for over an hour. "

I bowed politely. 

"I am sorry. It is most disagreeable. I have had the same experiencemyself, but at the beginning of the night. "

The words jumped out. The moment I had said them I was sorry, and whenI saw her poor startled face I could have cried. The slow red rose inher cheeks; we stared into each other's eyes, and both spoke at the sametime. She said:--

"Oh-oh! Can you _hear_?"

I said:--

"Oh, I'm sorry! I should not have said it. Forgive me! I'm tired andcross after nursing upstairs. I want to quarrel myself. I'm sorry!I'll keep the children quiet. They will soon be going home. Pleasealways let me know if I'm a bother. I'll do everything I can!"

She looked at me--a puzzled look--and mumbled cold thanks. This was acase when my apparent years were against me. If I had been Evelyn--agirl like herself--we would have clasped hands and made friends. As itwas, she distrusted the elderly woman who showed an impulsivenessforeign to her years. She departed hurriedly, leaving me plunged infresh woe. 

A nice person _I_ am, to blame a man for having a bad temper! I havehurt a sister woman, who has the hardest lot which any woman can have inlife--a loveless home!

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. 

MR MAPLESTONE IS PLEASED. 

As a result of my suggestion, Mr Hallett has taken Mr Thorold toseveral concerts, and as a crowning effort actually lured him to aweek-end at Brighton. That was last week; and as the day was mild and--almost!--sunny, I suggested to the little girls that we should goholiday-making on our own account, and pay a visit to the Zoo. 

The proposal excited great enthusiasm, and an early lunch was ordered sothat we could set forth in good time, so as to have a couple of hourswith the animals before adjourning to a confectioner's for tea. Iremembered my own childhood too well to suggest returning home for themeal. To drink tea out of strange cups, in a strange room, to have apractically unlimited choice of strange cakes--this is a very orgie ofbliss to anything "in one figure, " and when the tea is followed by adrive home in a taxi, satisfaction approaches delirium. I rememberedMr Thorold's pathetic "Make them happy!" and determined that, if itwere in my power, this should be a day to be remembered. 

Lunch was finished, I dressed the little girls in their new hats andcoats, wriggled their fingers into new gloves, saw to it that there wasnot a crease in their stockings nor a chink in the lacing of theirboots, and had just settled them on the sofa in the drawing-room to waitquietly until I rushed through my own hasty toilette, when--the dooropened, and who should walk in but Ralph Maplestone himself!

For different reasons his appearance struck consternation into thebreasts of all three beholders. I was naturally overcome withembarrassment as to what he had come for now; the little girls wereseized with a devastating fear lest his arrival should interfere withtheir treat. They leapt to their feet, and rent the air withprotestations. 

"Oh, oh! It's the Same Man!"

"We're going out! We're going out! We've got on our hats. "

"To the Zoo! So's Miss Harding. She's just going to put on her hat. "

"It's our treat. Father's away. He's having a treat, and shepromised--she promised we could go!"

Tears sounded in the voices, showed in suspicious redness round theeyes. Mr Maplestone smiled--like many grave people he has a beautifulsmile--he laid one big hand on the top of each little hat, and swayedthem gently to and fro. 

"Well, and why not? Of course you are going! All good little girls goto the Zoo, and ride on the elephants, and throw buns to the bears. Youare extra good little girls, and so you can see something else--a littlebird, not much bigger than a canary, who can talk and say words almostas well as you can yourselves. And think of the monkeys!"

He withdrew one hand and held it out to me across the children's heads, smiling and apologetic. 

"I'm afraid I am looked upon as an obstacle. Please don't let me detainyou. I would not disappoint them for the world. I can call anotherday. "

But by this time fear had given place to gratitude and the quickaffection which children show to grown-ups who understand! Winifred andMarion leapt at his arms, clung, wheedled, and implored. 

"You come too! You come too! Show us the bird that talks. We wantyou. We want you to come with us. Miss Harding wants you. You _do_want him, don't you, Miss Harding?"

The leap of my heart showed that I did! The very suggestion had beenenough to give an altogether different aspect to the expedition; toinvest it with a spice of adventure, not to say romance, which was mostrefreshing to a spinster living in a basement flat! I fought down aninclination to laugh, _hoped_ that I conquered an inclination to blush, and said primly:--

"My dears, you must not be exacting. Mr Milestone has no doubtengagements--"

"Not one!" he contradicted eagerly. "Not one! Please let me come, MissHarding. It would be a charity, for if you turn me away I shall be at aloose end all the afternoon. I am like a fish out of water in town!"

"You should return to the country, " I said sternly. "It is wasting timeto remain here. "

The children caught at the last sentence, naturally applied it to theirown plans, and pranced with renewed impatience. 

"Yes! Yes! You said directly after lunch. Put on your hat, MissHarding--do put it on! We want to see the bird. "

He looked at me, lifted his eyebrows, and smiled as if to say thatfurther protest was useless, and indeed it seemed that it was. Therewas nothing for it but to retire to my room, and put on the boat-shapedhat, the thick, unbecoming veil, and the badly-cut coat, which aided myoutdoor disguise. 

I looked plain to a degree. Nothing in the world can disfigure a womanmore successfully than an unbecoming hat and a cheap black veil, whichimparts a dingy, leaden tint to the complexion. I had every reason tobe satisfied with my disguise that afternoon, but I wasn't. Not a bit!I felt cross, and irritated, and balked!

We took a taxi and drove straight to the Albert Road entrance, made ourway down the steep incline, under the bridge, and up again towards thelion houses. Marion and Winifred hung, one on each of Ralph's arms, chattering in a continuous stream. Child-like, they ignored me in thefascinations of a new friend; also--and this interested me very much!--he was charming with them, hitting just the right combination of senseand nonsense, entering into their ideas, and adapting himself with anenjoyment which was obviously real, not feigned. I reminded myself thatthis was the first time I had seen him in the company of children. 

_Mem_. Every woman ought to see a man in several circumstances beforeshe accepts him as a husband. 

1. In his own home. 

2. With his dependents. With children and old people. With his bestfriend. 

3. When he is angry. 

4. Tried by the money test. 

5. Flirted with by a woman prettier than herself. 

We visited the larger animals in turns, and whenever there was a seatthe Squire thoughtfully pressed me to sit down, while the childrenpranced about to let off the steam of their enjoyment. After a fewminutes he invariably joined me, and led the conversation to the sametopic. Above the roar of the lions, above the jabber of the monkeys, heshouted in my ears to know if I were still obdurate. Wouldn't I helphim? Why wouldn't I help him? If I really loved Evelyn, and cared forher welfare, how could I stand aside? I must see--surely I must seethat she belonged to the essentially feminine type of women who needed ahome!

"I believe there are many women nowadays who are honestly satisfied withan independent career, but she is not one. She is made to love and beloved. She needs a man to look after her. "

"The right kind of man!" I said primly. "I agree with your diagnosis, Mr Maplestone, but Evelyn's nature makes it peculiarly essential thatshe should make a wise choice. If her marriage was a failure, she wouldsuffer greatly. No one but herself can decide who is the Right Man. "

Feeding hour was approaching; a furious outburst of roars proclaimed thelions' knowledge of the fact. Mr Maplestone leant his arm on the backof the seat and shouted into my ear:--

"But you know her so well; she has spoken to you. There could be noharm in giving me some hints. Some things might be altered, thoughothers could not. Does she think me an ugly brute?"

His face was close to mine. I looked at the blunt features, the clear, healthful tints, and found nothing that offended my eye. 

As I had realised in Mr Hallett's presence, expression counts for morethan mere correctness of outline. I turned aside and shook my head. 

"The question of appearance does not count. In that respect you havethe one qualification which a woman demands. "

"Which is?"

"Manliness--strength. Evelyn would care little for handsome features. "

He sighed relief. 

"Disposition then! I made a bad impression at our first meeting. Mytemper is hasty. I dislike opposition, but if we loved one another weshould agree. There would be no opposition. "

I smiled at his innocence. It is astonishing how guileless these big, strong men can be. I was about to undeceive him, but before I had timeto speak the children were back with a rush, dragging at our arms, anddemanding to move on. For the next half-hour we had no privateconversation, but at the first chance he began once more. 

"Evelyn has been accustomed to the country. I could give her the lifeshe likes. If she wished it I would take a house in town for theseason. To a certain extent I believe in women's rights. I should notinterfere with her pursuits. I should want her to be happy in her ownway. "

"Always providing that her husband was the chief consideration, and camebefore everything else?"

"Of course!" he cried loudly. "Why, of course! What else could youexpect?"

I waved my thick dogskin gloves. 

"Oh, Mr Maplestone, what is the use of arguing? It all comes back tothe one thing. If she loved you the other things would adjustthemselves. Without love, without sympathy, all would go wrong. "

"There is sympathy. She may not realise it, perhaps, but if she thinks, if you ask her to think, she must acknowledge that, in spite of smallsurface disagreements, our real selves have drawn together, closer andcloser. Ask her if she feels to me as she does towards other men? Ifthere seems no difference between us? I know she does not loveme--_yet_; but if she gave me my chance, I could make her. No, shewould not need to be made. You can at least tell her that. "

Mr Hallett's words sounded warningly in my ears. I hesitated, weaklycompromised. 

"Yes--I might go so far. She shall hear what you say, and judge forherself. And now we have really talked enough. Suppose we hear yourbird for a change?"

An hour later we drove to Fuller's and indulged in tea. It wascuriously enough the sight of one of the well-known angel cakes whichrecalled Delphine Merrivale to my memory, for she had shown a child-likeappreciation of these dainties when they had appeared on our tea-tableat "Pastimes". Poor little Delphine! I felt a pang of compunction whenI remembered what store she had set on my friendship, and how little, how very little, I had concerned myself about her during the lastmonths! With due caution I proceeded to seek information. 

"I hope the tenants at `Pastimes' are well, and the Vicar and his wife--that pretty little `Delphine' of whom Evelyn is so fond?"

"The Vicar is not well; been ailing all autumn, but Delphine is goingstrong. Quite launched out this autumn. Become quite a leader offashion in our small world. "

I felt another pang--of foreboding this time, and said sharply:--

"How very unsuitable! Are you speaking figuratively, Mr Maplestone?Surely a clergyman's wife--"

"Clergymen's wives differ, Miss Harding, as greatly as the wives ofother members of society. They are not turned out by a machine, andthis particular one is very young, and not particularly wise. "

"Apparently not. In what way has she `launched out'?"

"Oh-oh--" he vaguely waved his hands. 

"Smart clothes, you know. Lots of 'em. Dinner parties. Luncheons. Less parish work, and more amusement. Always trotting over to the`Moat'. "

The present owners of the "Moat" were rich City people who gave lavishentertainments, and obviously chose their friends with a considerationof how much amusement could be counted upon in return. Pretty, gayDelphine was a valuable addition to a house-party, and would no doubtreceive as many invitations as she cared to accept; but the influencecould not be good. Continual association with smart, worldly peoplewould of a certainty heighten her discontent, and lure her intoextravagance. 

I munched my cake in gloomy silence, which was not lightened by the nextremark. 

"I'm sorry for Delphine's sake that--she--is away! If you worry it out, this development is her doing. She ought to be there to put on thebrake!"

"What do you mean? In what possible way is Evelyn to blame?"

"Who spoke of blame? I didn't! It is natural to her to be dainty andbeautiful. She has the money, and she has the taste. What is wrong forthe wife of a poor man is a virtue in a rich woman. Even I--a man--whonever noticed such things before, found pleasure in her clothes. Shehad one blue muslin--"

He looked at me with dumb, awed eyes. Surely never did a muslin gown atsomewhere about a shilling a yard, reap such a harvest of appreciation. I shall preserve that dress in lavender and rose leaves for evermore. 

"Until She came, Delphine had the field to herself in our littlevillage. Any comparisons must have been in her favour. Then suddenlyshe found herself up against a new standard. Being young and--er--_vain_, she evidently felt it necessary to her peace of mind tofollow the leader. From a spectacular point of view the effect isgood. "

Spectacular indeed! I was too perturbed, too anxious to speak. Evidently Delphine had been going in for an orgie of extravagance; apretty serious one too, since it had attracted the attention of a mereman; and some of the responsibility seemed to fall on my own shoulders!I determined to write her a letter that very night, and in absent-mindedfashion began to compose its sentences as I poured out second cups oftea. "Although I have not written, you must not think that I haveforgotten you. I am leading a busy life, and have little time to spare, but if you should ever need me; if there ever comes a time when you feelI can be of real help, write to me through my lawyers, and I could meetyou in town, or even run down for the day. "

Yes, that would do! That would open the way for confidences, if shewere in a mood to make them. In any case, I should feel more satisfiedin my own mind when I had sent off the message, and shown that I was tobe found if needed. 

Looking up suddenly from the tea tray I beheld Ralph Maplestone smilingto himself across the table, with precisely the same mysteriousaccession of complaisance that I had noticed on his first visit to theflat. Our eyes met, and he turned aside, drawing in his lips to hidethe smile, but the light danced in his eyes, and refused to be quenched. 

Most mysterious and perplexing! His moods are evidently very variable. I am glad he was pleased, but I should very much like to know why!

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. 

MRS MERRIVALE'S APPEAL. 

Every one has noticed that the thought of a friend after a spell offorgetfulness is frequently the harbinger of a sudden meeting, or of thereceipt of a letter or message. Such happenings are called "curiouscoincidences"; but personally I don't consider them curious at all, orat least no more curious than it is to send a message by telephone, andto hear in reply a familiar voice speaking across the space. When theheart sends forth a wireless message of love and goodwill, surely, if wehave in any sense grasped the wonderful power of thought, we mustbelieve that the message reaches its destination, and calls forth aresponse! Right thoughts--thoughts of love and pity and helpfulness--are prayers winged to heaven and earth; bad thoughts--mean and grudgingand censorious--well, they injure the person who thinks them so much, that there can't be much poison left for the recipient. In any case, such leaden things can't rise. 

This moralising leads up to the fact that while my own letter toDelphine lay unfinished on my desk, a note arrived from RalphMaplestone, to give me grave news of her husband. 

"I am summoned home, " he wrote, "in my capacity of vicar's warden. While I have been in town, poor Merrivale has had an attack ofinfluenza, which has been pretty serious, and has left him ratheralarmingly weak. I insisted upon calling in a consultant from B--, whose verdict is that the lungs are seriously threatened. I have fearedit for some time, and am glad that he is now forced to take care. He isordered complete rest, and is to get out of England for the springmonths. I shall be kept busy here for some weeks, but expect to run upto town for a day's business now and then, when I will give myself thepleasure of calling on you. Meanwhile, will you kindly pass on the newsto Miss Wastneys. I know she will be interested. I rely on you tofulfil your kind promise. " By the same post came a letter fromCharmion, tentatively breaking the news that she would not return forChristmas. Several minor reasons had contributed to this decision, butthe big one was that she was still "working out her cure" and could doit better in solitude. What about me? Would I go to Ireland? Could Iwork in a visit to friends? Rather than think of me sitting alone in mydreary little flat, she would put everything on one side, and comerushing home. 

"Dreary little flat, indeed!" I looked round the dainty, rose-lit room, and laughed a derisive laugh. It was strange. I did not feel a bitdepressed. Life in the basement flat was very full, very interesting, of late days thrillingly exciting into the bargain. I was not at allsure that I wanted to go back to "Pastimes" so soon. Christmas in theflat offered endless possibilities. I would have a tree! Mrs Mannersshould help me. Her children would come, and all the Thorolds, andtheir father, and Mr Hallett. There should be lots of toys, and lotsof baubles, but useful things too! Things which should truthfully be"just what I wanted!" Perhaps I would be noble and forgiving and askEric and Claudia and Moreen. Poor mites, it wasn't their fault thattheir mother wore false pearls! The tree should be on Christmas Eve, and on Christmas night I would invite the grown-ups to dinner, and givethem a light, dainty feast, with never a shadow of roast beef or plumpudding! They could do their duty by convention at the midday meal. 

In two minutes' time I had thought out the whole menu, even thedecorations on the table. What fun it would be! How they would allenjoy it! How little Mrs Manners would revel in the shoppingexpeditions! Her present should be a pretty blouse--something pretty, bought with a view to what is becoming, and not to what will be useful, and wear for several seasons, and then cut up into dusters. Anoccasional extravagance _is_ such a tonic to a feminine mind! As forthe men, Mr Thorold should have a box of cigars. Mr Hallett shouldhave the same. And in the deadliest secrecy I would commission each tobuy for the other. Then they would be sure to get the right brand. 

As for "Pastimes"--our guest tenant would be delighted to have her stayextended. I wondered if the gardener would pine for Bridget! Iwondered if--_anyone_--would pine for me! Personally the prospect ofoccasional "calls" pleased me better than the thought of meetings in thecountry, under the Argus eye of village gossips. In the latter case onewould be self-conscious and restrained; in the former, safe fromobservation, doubly sheltered behind wig and spectacles, there could beno doubt as to which position afforded the better opportunity of gettingto know a man's character. 

I wrote a letter to Charmion, reassuring her as to Christmas in my"dreary flat"; I tore up the unfinished note to Delphine, and sentanother, assuring her of my sympathy, repeating my offers of help. Poorlittle girl! Her real love for "Jacky" would be in the ascendant now, and all the pleasure and vanities for which she had pined would seemtrivial things, compared with his dear life. 

I did not write to Mr Maplestone. The difficulty of handwriting camein, and there was no real necessity to answer his note. If I knewDelphine, she would find it a relief to pour forth her woes on paper. Iwaited confidently for a letter to appear. 

Two days passed by, three; I was growing anxious, and debating if Ishould write again, when there came a loud rat-tat at the door, and areply-paid telegram was handed in, addressed to Miss Wastneys:--

"Letter received. Need urgent. Unable to leave. Can you cometo-morrow. Beg you not to refuse. Delphine. "

I seized a pencil, scribbled a hasty "Expect me by train arrivingtwelve, " and having despatched the promise, sat down to consider how Iwas to keep it. What an excitement to think of feeling young again, andbeing able to devote my attention to looking as nice as I could, insteadof laboriously contriving disfigurements! Under my bed lived a boxwardrobe on wheels, in which, carefully stretched and padded to avoidcreases, reposed a selection of garments which were certainly not suitedto old Miss Harding's requirement. Mentally I reviewed them, selectedthe prettiest and most becoming, saw a vision of myself putting the lasttouches before the glass, with Bridget's beaming face watching everystage. Oh, it would be an exhilarating variety, and easy, too--perfectly easy. I would give the orphan leave of absence for two days, and send her rejoicing to stay with "me aunt". Then in leisurelyenjoyment I would make my toilette and march complacently into thestreet. We possess no porter in our modest mansions; ten to one Ishould pass through the hall unseen, and even if I had the ill-luck toencounter a neighbour--well, if my disguise is good enough to deceiveRalph Maplestone, it can surely defy less interested eyes!

Bridget was as excited as I was. She hustled the orphan out of theflat, and superintended my toilette as eagerly as though I were dressingfor a wedding, instead of a country visit. 

"Praise the fates, we'll see you looking yourself again! I never was infavour of this dressing up, and playing tricks with a face which anyoneelse would be proud to have, and to take care of. Not that you hadn'tmore sense than I gave you credit for! We've been a godsend to thisplace, and if anyone doubts it, let 'em look at the kitchen book, andsee the pounds of good meat I've made into beef tea with me own hands. And you running about by day and by night, waiting on 'em all in turns. There's no doubt but we've done good, but what I say is--why not do itwith your own face?"

"Don't be foolish, Bridget! I couldn't do it! Look at me now!"--Iswirled round to face her, with a rustle of silk and a flare of skirts. "_Do_ I look the sort of person to wheel out prams, and give tea partiesto widowers, and be looked upon as a prop and support by my neighbours?"

Bridget chuckled. 

"Go away wid you then!" said she, and that was the end of thediscussion. 

I met no one in the hall. I met no one in the street. I jumped into ataxi at the corner and drove off to the station without running theremotest chance of detection. It was so easy that I determined to do itagain! Every now and then just for a change--just to remember what itwas like to look nice! I arrived at the station and took my ticket. There was no one I knew upon the platform. I walked to the further end, and took a seat in an empty first-class carriage. The collector cameround and looked at the tickets; there was a banging all down the lengthof the train, a sharp call, "Take your seats, please; take your seats!"The door of my compartment opened and shut. Ralph Maplestone seatedhimself in the corner opposite mine!

"How do you do, Miss Wastneys, " said he, as cool as a cucumber. 

"How do you do, Mr Maplestone, " said I, as red as a beetroot. 

Was it chance? Was it coincidence? Was it a deep and laborious plan?Had he heard from Delphine of my coming and rushed to town for theexpress purpose of returning in my company? It looked very like it. Mywire could not have arrived at the Vicarage until after five in theafternoon, and the next train to town left at nine p. M. There was alsoan early morning one at eight-thirty. My brain seethed with curiousquestions, but there seemed only a moment's pause before I spokeagain:--

"Have you been staying in town?"

"Er--" his eyes showed a faint flicker of amusement--"not long. You aregoing down to see Delphine, I suppose. That's good of you. She needsbucking up. The Vicar's pretty bad, but with rest and change there's noreason why he shouldn't pick up. We are arranging to make things easyfor them. It will do him no good if she makes herself miserable. "

"That's the sort of futile remark that outsiders generally make on theseoccasions. They make me furious!" I cried, glad of an excuse to workoff my self-consciousness in a show of indignation. "Perhaps it won't;but as he belongs to her, and she loves him, she can hardly be expectedto be happy! In illness all the sympathy is lavished on the invalid. In reality, the relations are more to be pitied. It's far easier to liestill and bear physical pain than it is to be wracked with anxiety, andfatigue, and responsibility all at the same time. "

He said, looking at me with an air of the most profound attention:--

"You are thinner than you were. Your face is thinner--"

"We were not talking about my face. How long has Mr Merrivale reallybeen ill?"

"It's difficult to say. He is the sort of fellow who never thinks abouthimself, and Delphine is not--not exactly noticing! I fancy she blamesherself now; but he never complained, and always went on working at fullpressure, till this attack came on, and he went down with a crash. "

"And now? How does he seem now?"

His forehead wrinkled into lines. 

"Depressed. Nervous. Inclined to be jumpy. He has lived for his work, and hates the idea of giving up, even for a time. He has overtaxed hisstrength for years, and his nerves are bound to play up. However, oncewe get them off to the sun, he'll soon pull round. "

"And when do they--"

"As soon as possible. It is Delphine who is putting things off. So faras Merrivale himself is concerned, the sooner he starts the better. He'll not grow any stronger where he is. When are you coming back to`Pastimes'?"

"It's uncertain. Not before Christmas. Is your mother quite well?"

"Quite, thanks. You know that I have made Miss Harding's acquaintance. She is a charming old lady. "

"I'm so glad you like her. I knew you had called. Nice little flat, isn't it?"

He growled, his face eloquent with disapproval. 

"If you call it `nice' to live burrowed underground! How sane peoplecan consent to live in town, herded together in a building more like aprison than a home--"

"`The goodness and the grace' did not make us _all_ country squires!" Isaid shortly, whereat he laughed--quite an easy, genial laugh, andtwinkled at me with his blue eyes. It was extraordinary how natural andat his ease he appeared; so different from the stiff, silent man I hadknown at Escott!

The journey takes exactly sixty minutes, and we talked the whole way. For the first twenty minutes I was on my guard, nerving myself to say"No" for the second time, with due firmness and finality. For the nexttwenty I was friendly and natural. He was behaving so well that hedeserved encouragement. During the third twenty I said less, stared outof the carriage window, and felt a disagreeable feeling of irritationand depression. He went on talking about books and gardens and parishdifficulties, and I wasn't interested one bit. One may not wish a manto propose to one for the second time; but, with the echo of vows ofundying devotion ringing in one's ears, it _is_ rather daunting to gothrough an hour's _tete-a-tete_ without one personal remark! He hadsaid that I was thin. Perhaps he found me changed in other ways. Perhaps on meeting me again he found he did not like me as much as hehad believed. Perhaps he was glad that I had said "No". We parted atthe Vicarage gate; he apparently quite comfortable and composed, I inthe lowest depths. What a change from last time!

The door opened, and before I had time to blink Delphine's arms wereround me, and a hot, wet cheek pressed against mine. She was sobbing ina hard, breathless way which made my heart leap; but even on the way toher sitting-room I gathered that my first fear was unfounded. 

"Jacky was--the same! In bed. So tired--always so tired! Seems tocare for nothing. Hardly even"--the blue eyes opened in incredulousmisery--"for _me_!"

"When people are very weak, they can't care. It takes strength even tolove--at least, to realise that one loves. I never knew a man whoadored his wife more than Mr Merrivale does you; but I expect it suitshim better just now to lie quietly and snooze rather than to hold yourhand and watch you cry. "

She looked guilty at that, and tossed her head with a spice of her oldspirit. But the next moment her breath caught in a sob, and she crieddesperately:--

"Oh, Evelyn, it's all awful! Other things--everything--far worse thanyou know. I'm the most miserable creature in the world. I think Ishall go mad. I sent for you because--"

"Hold hard for one moment! I'm hungry! I need my lunch! So do you, bythe look of you. Shall we have it first, and tackle the seriousbusiness afterwards in your room, where we shan't be interrupted. Therewill be plenty of time; I needn't leave till five. "

"I ordered cutlets, and an omelette, and coffee afterwards. All thethings you liked best when you were here. But I can't eat a bite. Itwould choke me. I hate the sight of food. "

"Very well then--you can watch me eat mine, " I said, with thecallousness of one who had heard dozens of people declare the samething, and then watched them tuck into a square meal. Delphine provedanother protester to add to the list. She ate her share of the mealwith no sign of choking, and brightened into acutest interest at hearingof my escort from town. The fork stopped half-way to her mouth; hereyes widened to saucer size. In the sheer surprise of the moment sheforgot her grief and anxieties. 

"But--but--how _could_ he be there? He was here last night. Quitelate. Ten o'clock. Walked down after dinner to hear how Jacky was!"

I made a vague sweeping gesture, which was designed to express a lack ofall responsibility concerning the Squire's eccentricities, butDelphine's suspicions were aroused, and she was not to be easily putoff. 

"He must have gone up by the workman's train. And yours left at eleven. How very peculiar! And he said nothing last night. . . . Did I tell himyou were coming?" She wrinkled her brows in the effort to remember. "Yes, I did. He said something about taking me for a drive to freshenme up, and I said you would be here before lunch. Evelyn, he couldn'tpossibly have gone to meet you!"

Evidently she suspected nothing. I tried to look composed and natural, and said lightly:--

"It seems preposterous, doesn't it. He certainly did not say so. "

She stared at me curiously. 

"What did you talk about? About us? Did he say anything about me?"

"Of course. What do you suppose? We had quite an argument, because heseemed to think it a pity that you should injure yourself by fretting, and I said I didn't see how you could do anything else. "

She smiled, and tilted her head, her complacency restored. 

"That was it, I suppose! He wanted to talk to you before you saw me. He is good. And you argued with him, you say? Disagreed, I suppose. Oh, well--men are always more tender-hearted than women. "

I felt annoyed, and munched in silence, staring fixedly at my plate. Ifthis particular man was so much more understanding, why had she summonedme from town?

After lurch Delphine ran upstairs to see her husband for a few minutes, and then returned to me in her little sitting-room. He was tired, shesaid, and hoped to sleep until tea. She had not told him of my visit;he was so listless and apathetic that it worried him to talk, or to havepeople talk to him. "I don't believe he will ever be the same again!"

"People always say that in the middle of an illness, but they find theirmistake later on. After a long rest the Vicar will be better than hehas been for years, and it will be your business to see that he neverworks so hard again. You were always longing for a change, Delphine. Think how you will enjoy Switzerland, sitting out in the crisp clearair, looking at those glorious mountains, with no house or parish toworry over--nothing to do but wait on your dear man, and watch himgrowing stronger every day!"

She looked at me dumbly, while the colour faded out of her cheeks, andthe pretty curved lips twitched and trembled. I saw her clasp herhands, and brace herself against her chair, and knew that the moment forconfession had come, and that it was difficult to find words. 

"No worry!" she repeated slowly. "No worry! But that's just what iskilling me. I'm so worried, so worried that I feel sometimes, Evelyn, as if I were going out of my mind!"

"You mean--about your husband?" I asked, but the question was reallyput as a lead; I knew she was not referring to illness. 

Delphine shook her head. 

"That is bad enough, but it is not the worst. The worst is that throughme--through my wretched, selfish, vain, discontented folly, I--I havemade it difficult for him even to get well. I--I have got into ahorrible mess, Evelyn, and when he hears of it--when he has to hear, hewill be so worried, so miserable, so disappointed, that it will bring ona relapse, and he will probably be worse than before. We can neither ofus be happy again--never, never, any more!"

"Sounds pretty bad!" I said, startled. "But there must be some wayout, or you would not have sent for me to help you. You are going totell me the whole truth, Delphine! Half confidences are no use. Youwill speak honestly, and--let me speak honestly to you?"

"Oh, yes! You _will_ do, whether I allow you or not. I know you!"

"Well, then"--I bent forward, staring full in her face--"let's get tothe point. Is it another man?"

Her face answered, without the need of words. Amazed resentment blazedout of her blue eyes. 

"Another man! I should think not! How hateful of you, Evelyn! I'mdespicable enough, but I love Jacky. There's no other man in the worldfor me. Of course, " she paused, and faintly smiled, as at a soothingrecollection, "people admire me. I can't help that, and there's no harmso long as I don't flirt. There's the Squire. I think if I were notmarried, he might want--but I _am_ married, and it's the honest truththat I've never said a word to a man since our marriage that I shouldn'tbe willing for Jacky to hear. No! it's not that--"

"It's money, then, " I said quickly. (So the Squire would "want, " wouldhe? Oh, indeed!) "Delphine! you have been getting into debt?"

"Oh, how did you guess?" She turned her head over her shoulder, asthough afraid some one might overhear. "Oh, Evelyn, nobody knows butyou. I think I have been mad. Goodness knows what I expected to happenin the end. I was in a crazy, rebellious mood, tired to death of beingdull and careful, and I had a wild spell of extravagance, orderedwhatever I wanted, ran up bills in town. I went to your dressmaker. Iwas sick of making my own clothes, and looking a frump. I'm young, andI'm pretty, I wanted to look nice while I could. Every one said I _did_look nice; but she is a terror, that woman of yours! I had no idea ofthe bill!"

"You did not ask for estimates in advance?"

"How could I? I didn't even know what to order. I just said, `A prettydress for the afternoon. ' `A hat with roses. ' `An evening cloak. 'Descriptions like that. And there was the habit, too, and littlethings--oddments. They grow into mountains! And I bought furniture tomake my room look pretty and homelike. You remember you said I deservedto have one nice room!"

Apparently this extravagance also could be traced to my influence! Itwas useless to waste any more words. I went straight to the point. 

"How much?"

"Oh!" she started and shivered. "I'm ashamed to say. And now--we aregoing away, and the bills have to be paid. I'm a new customer, and theykeep sending them in. And the house books! They have run on. Jackygave me some money. I _meant_ to pay them, honestly I did, Evelyn, butsomehow the money frittered away till there wasn't enough left. I paidsome--but there are others left. Jacky would hate it, if we left theparish in debt. "

"How much?" I repeated, and she flushed to the roots of her hair. 

"Over--a hundred! Nearer--_two_, I'm afraid, Evelyn!"

It was more than I had expected. I had to make fresh calculations, andrevise several plans. Subconsciously, I had known that the trouble wasmonetary, and had made a special study of my pass book before leavingthe flat. 

"I can let you have a hundred at once, and settle the rest of the billsfor you next month, if that will do. "

She looked at me with tear-filled eyes. 

"Do you think I deserve it?"

"I'm not sure that you do, but Mr Merrivale _does_! He shan't have anynew worry just now, if I can prevent it. You are sure you have told meeverything, Delphine? That is _all_!"

"I'll show you the bills. I knew you would help. You were the onlyperson I could bear to ask; but you did not wait to be asked. I do loveyou, Evelyn, and I shall never forget! You understand, don't you, thatit is only a loan? I shall pay you back!"

"I know you will, when you can. It's a comfort that you need not hurry. I can wait for years. "

"You will have to, I'm afraid. Three years! I hadn't a penny of my ownwhen I married, but an old aunt left us all two hundred and fiftypounds, to be paid when we were twenty-five. That's my fortune! Jackyteases me about it, for I was always planning what I will do when itcomes. I had decided to buy a tiny two-seater, and learn to drive. Itold him that it would be useful in the parish, but really I wasthinking of the fun for myself. Are you shocked?"

"Not a bit!"

"Well, it would be a waste of energy if you were, for I shall never haveit now. The money will go to repay you--and to pay interest on theloan. I shall pay five per cent. "

"I only get four. "

"I insist upon five! I should like to feel that you had made a goodinvestment. " She waved her hand with a lordly air which made me laugh. And she laughed, too, with obvious enjoyment. "Oh, my dear, what arelief! I shall sleep happily to-night for the first time for weeks. Ican never tell you how wretched I've felt; so worried, and guilty, andtrapped! Honestly it will be a lesson for life. You have helped me forthe moment, but my worst punishment is to come. When he is well again, quite strong and fit, I must tell Jacky!" Her face clouded. "He won'tsay much, but his face! It will be an awful ordeal, but I suppose itwill be good for me!"

I thought--but did not say--that it would be good for him too. Theshock might teach him to be more understanding in his treatment of hisgirl wife. 

Soon after that I suggested paying a flying call on the General, andDelphine assented eagerly, no doubt feeling, as I did myself, that itwould be a relief to be spared a further _tete-a-tete_. The dear oldman was delighted to see me, and was eager to hear when Charmion and Iwere coming back to "Pastimes". Something in his manner, in the way hisold eyes searched my face, made me suspect that he knows. 

I travelled to town alone, and arrived at the flat feeling tired anddispirited. Bridget wanted to know if I had seen anything of her man. She also seemed a trifle out of temper. 

"Some people, " she said darkly, "don't know when they are well off!"

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. 

A BRUTE--AND A REVELATION. 

Christmas has come and gone. The little girls left us a fortnightbefore, and the flat felt very quiet without them, but I busied myselfarranging for the fray. The tree was a huge success; so was the dinnernext day. Nevertheless, I shed tears on my pillow when I went to bed, for if a solitary woman is ever justified in feeling "lone and lorn, " itis certainly at the season when everybody who possesses a family rushesto it as a matter of course. 

It was very gratifying to have made other people happy, but I had ahungry longing to be made happy myself. By an unfortunate coincidence, neither Kathie's greeting, nor Charmion's, nor Delphine's, arrived untilthe twenty-seventh, and Aunt Eliza's turkey never arrived at all, havingpresumably lost its label, and been eaten by the postman as treasuretrove. The one and only parcel from a distance came from--MrMaplestone! He had called the week before, and asked permission to sendevergreens from the "Hall". He said it was so difficult to get hollywith berries on it in town, and all children loved red berries. Presumably his trees grew crackers as well as berries, for about a dozenboxes of the most gorgeous varieties were enclosed in the crate. Therewas no letter, but just a card with "For the children, " written in acorner. 

On Boxing Day I made Winifred and Marion write letters of thanks--aweary process from which they emerged splattered with tears and ink. 

"Why are you laughing, Miss Harding?" they inquired resentfully. I didnot tell them that I was chuckling at my own cleverness in avoiding apersonal acknowledgment. I did not know that the Squire had ever seenmy writing, but he might have done. No risks should be run. 

Delphine and her husband are settled at Davos, and he is beginning toimprove. She writes sweet little letters, and I'm sure this illness hasarrived at a providential moment. The shock of realising that herJacky's life was in danger was like a lightning flash lighting up a darklandscape. In its blaze she saw revealed the true value of things, andthe sloping path on which her feet were set. I don't expect her to growup all at once, settle down to all work and no play, and behave asthough she were forty instead of twenty-two; I don't expect the Vicar togive up being absent-minded and exacting; but I do honestly believe thatit will do him good to have his shock, and that he is just enough torealise his own share of the blame. Then they will kiss and beginagain, and things will go better, because there will be understanding toleaven love. 

Talking of understandings, there was a marvellous calm in the flatoverhead for some nights in early January, and Bridget informed me thatMr Nineteen had been taken to a nursing home to have an operation. Since our tragic encounter, Mrs Nineteen (her real name is Travers) andI have exchanged furtive bows when we have met in the hall. I alwaysfelt guilty, and anxious to "make it up, " and had an instinct that shefelt the same, though neither had the courage to speak; but, of course, after the operation I had to stop and inquire. She flushed, and said, "Pretty well, thank you. The doctors are satisfied, but it will be along cure. " A week later I met her coming in with a book under her arm. She had been "reading aloud. Her husband felt the time so long. Foran active man, it was a great trial to lie in bed. " To judge by herface, it was an exhausting experience to his wife to sit by his side. Isaid impetuously: "If Mr Travers would allow me, I should be so glad toread aloud to him sometimes, when you are not able to go. I am fond ofreading aloud; I believe I do it pretty well. "

"I don't, " she said dejectedly. "It makes me yawn. John says Imumble. " She looked at me sharply, distrustfully. "You are very kind, but--it's too much! Why should you--"

"I'd like to, if you will let me. I--I was rude to you--that day! I'vebeen remorseful ever since. If you'd allow me to do this, I should feelthat I was forgiven. "

"You spoke the truth, " she said shortly. "And I brought it on myself. I had no business to complain about those poor children, knowing whythey were here; but there are some moods in which one is bound to have avent. You hurt my pride, of course, but--it's not the first time!" Shebit her lip, turned aside for a moment, then added quickly, "I didn'ttell John!"

"Thank you. I'm glad of that. He'll be more willing to let me come. Please tell him that I'm so sorry to have disturbed him, and want to`make up' by helping him while he is ill. My time is my own. I can goany day--at any time--to read any book. "

She made no promise, and for several days seemed to avoid meeting meface to face, then one morning she came to the door and asked to see me. Some business had arisen which necessitated a day out of town. Herhusband dreaded being left alone. Did I really mean my kind offer, andif so would to-morrow afternoon--

I went. He is a dark, sharp-featured man, with thick eyebrows and achronic scowl. He also looks shockingly ill, and is growing a beard. The combination is enough to strike terror into the feminine soul. Thevery maid who opened the door looked pityingly at me when I pronouncedhis name; as for his nurse, she fairly bounced with relief when I wasannounced. Her expression said as plainly as words, "I've had my turn--now you can have yours!"

"Harding?" he said graciously. "Oh, yes! You are the woman who bangsthe doors. " He let me read for two hours on end, and then said, "Stupidbook. I can't think how they ever get published!" but when I left, heasked, "When will you come again?" which was as far in the way of thanksas it is possible for him to get. 

For the next three weeks I went constantly to the Home, and never oncedid that man say a gracious word. If I arrived late, he growled andsaid, "Thought you were never coming! Hardly worth beginning at all. "If I was early, his greeting was, "I was just having a nap! Haven'tclosed my eyes since two this morning, and now you have roused me up!"If I read a book, he preferred a newspaper. If I read a newspaper, itcrackled, and worried his head. If I made a remark, he disagreed; if Iwas silent, "Was there _no_ news?--_nothing_ going on to tell a poorwretch tied to his bed?" If I said he looked better, he would have meto know that nurses and doctors alike were deluding him with lies. Heknew for a fact that he was dying fast. If I said he looked tired, hefelt better than he had done all the week. It was impossible to pleasehim--impossible to win a smile or a gracious word. Never have I met ahuman being so twisted and warped in mind. To go into his room is likeentering a black tunnel--one leaves it with the feeling of breakingbonds. The matron of the Home is a brisk, capable woman, with a facefull of kindly strength; we generally met and exchanged a few words onstairs or landing, and it was easy to see that her patience was wearingthin. There came a day when she met me with a red face, beckoned meinto her private room, and poured forth a stream of angry confidences. 

"I really must speak to some one about Mr Travers. His poor wife hasenough to bear. I can't trouble her. The man is insufferable; heupsets the whole house. His nurse has just been to me in tears. Nothing will please him. He rings his bell all day, and half the night, and for nothing--literally nothing! Just an excuse to give trouble. Wehave honestly done our best--more than our best. With such a patient itis easier to give in than to protest, but I'm beginning to think we'vebeen wrong. He is not getting on as quickly as he should. I believehis temper is keeping him back. "

"I'm sure of it! You are an expert at healing, and I'm a beginner, butI'm a great believer in the power of the mind. He is poisoninghimself. "

"He is poisoning every one else! I can't submit to have my whole houseupset. If he were fit to be moved, he should be out of it to-day. It'sall I can do to be civil, and not blaze out, and tell him what I think!"

"I shouldn't try!"

"What?" She looked at me sharply. "Ah! You agree? You feel the same?You think I dare?"

"I do. I go a step further, and say it's your duty. He is a bully, andprobably no one has ever dared to show him how he appears to otherpeople, but for the time being you are in command; while he is here, heis supposed to obey. Give it to him hot and strong! Tell him that heis injuring himself, and is a misery to every one else--that you areonly keeping him, because it would do him harm to be removed. "

"It's true!" she cried. "It's every word true. The man is a miasma. "She stared at me in sudden amaze. "Why do you laugh?"

"Oh, I was just thinking! Thinking of a man whom I used to denounce asbad-tempered! A dear, kind, thoughtful, unselfish Englishman with a--abluster! I can never call it temper again, after knowing Mr Travers!He has taught me a lesson. "

She laughed, too, and shrugged her shoulders. 

"Oh, that! I like a man with a will of his own, and the pluck to speakout. A `bluster, ' as you call it, clears the air, and is quite ahealthful influence; but this other!--Well, Miss Harding, you have giventhe casting vote. When are you coming again?"

"Thursday afternoon, I think. Mrs Travers is busy then. Has to go outof town. "

"That's all right! Then I'll have it out with him before lunch, andleave you to calm him down in the afternoon. "

"Oh--_mean_!" I cried, but she only laughed, opened the door, andhustled me into the hall. Evidently her mind was made up. 

When Thursday afternoon arrived, it found Miss Harding entering theogre's bedroom with a smile tightly glued on her lips, and a heartbeating uncomfortably fast beneath her ugly flannel blouse. From thebed a pair of gimlet-like eyes surveyed her sharply, pale lips twisted, and showed a snarl of teeth. He volunteered no remark, however, and Iwasted not a second in opening my book, and beginning to read as arefuge against conversation. I could feel the scrutiny of his eyes onmy face, but I read on steadily, never looking up for nearly an hour, when the story came to an end. 

"Have you had enough reading for to-day, or would you care to hear oneof the articles in this review?"

He glared at me, and said coldly:--

"So you are in the conspiracy, too! Women are all alike! Sitting here, all smiles and flummery to my face, and then going away to abuse mebehind my back!"

"That's not true!"

I cried hotly. "At least, it's a very unfair representation. There wasno necessity for me to come here at all. I have done it because youwere a neighbour, and ill, and I wanted to help you--and even more tohelp your wife. As for `smiles and flummery, ' as you express it, therehas been no chance of anything so friendly. You have allowed nochance!"

"You don't deny, I suppose, that you joined with matron in abusing me asa monster of wickedness?"

"I said you had the worst temper I had ever met. So you have. I said Ibelieved that you poisoned yourself, as well as every one near you. SoI do. All the more credit to me for giving you so much of my time. "

He lay silent, staring into my face. It was plain that the man hadreceived a shock. For once in his life he had been shown a picture ofhimself as others saw him, and in the seeing _something_ had been hurt--conscience, vanity, _amour-propre_--it was impossible to say which, andnow his brain was at work, trying to assimilate the new thought. Allthe time I had been reading, he had been pondering and raging. Probablyhe had not heard a single word. 

"You women, " he began again. "You women! Talk of ministering angels--all very fine for a few days, while the novelty lasts--after that a poorbeggar can suffer tortures, and get nothing but revilings for badtemper. Would you be an angel of meekness if you had to go through whatI am bearing now?"

"I should probably be exceedingly difficult and fretful. At times!There would be other times--especially when I was getting better--when Ishould feel overflowing with gratitude, and should say so, to the peoplewho had been patient with me through the bad times!"

"Words! Words!" he snarled scornfully. "Men judge by deeds. If youwant my character, you can hear it from the men with whom I have had todo. I am a Churchman. I go to church every Sunday of my life. I wasonce Vicar's churchwarden for three years. "

Poor Vicar! What those three years must have been! I have known wholeparishes "set by the ears" by just one warped, self-opinionated man, whoput his own pet theories before anything else, and went about sowingdissension--splitting up a hitherto united people into two opposingcamps. I said, with an air of polite inquiry:--

"And--did you part good friends?"

He did not answer, but the expression on his face was eloquent enough. I _knew_, without being told. Suddenly he broke out at a fresh tangent. 

"I suppose my wife--"

I held up my hand authoritatively. 

"No, please! Don't blame your wife. She has never _mentioned_ you, except to pity and sympathise. Her one thought has been for you--how tohelp, how to please. Of course, Mr Travers, the people here and myselfhave only known you lately, and this illness must have been coming onfor some time. Probably it has--well, it has made you bad-tempered, hasn't it? But your wife knew you before, when you were loving andgentle, so her judgment must be more true. "

With my usual "softness" I was beginning to pity the poor wretch, and totry to let him down gently; but once again his face was eloquent. Atthe words "loving and gentle, " an involuntary grimace twisted the grimfeatures. Memory refused to reproduce the picture. He said abruptly:--

"My wife is a good woman. That virago of a matron told me this morningthat if she'd been in her place, she'd have run away years ago. Well, Mary has stuck to me. She doesn't want to go! It's not always thesoftest-spoken men who make the best husbands. That Hallett fellow, whom Thorold is so thick with--he belongs to my club; I knew somethingabout him when I lived in America long ago. How do you suppose _he_treated his wife?"

"His wife? He hasn't got a wife!"

"Oh, hasn't he? Not now, perhaps. But he had! A little of him went along way. She ran away from him on her honeymoon. What do you think ofthat? What kind of a man can he have been to make a woman leave him ina month?"

Something happened inside my head. There was a shock, a whirl, ablinding darkness, followed by a flash of light. Mr Travers had said"America, " and the word had a terrible significance. I sat stunned intosilence, and Mr Travers obviously gloated over my discomfiture. 

"Pretty condemning, eh? She was an heiress--pots of money. Fine-looking girl, too. I saw her once. Too pale and washed out for mytaste, but with an air. Forget her name--something high-flown andromantic, like herself. Well, she left him, and that was the end of it. Never heard a word of her since. "

Romantic name--an heiress--fine-looking--pale. One by one the cluesaccumulated--step by step the evidence mounted up. I said faintly:--

"Has he tried?"

"Tried to find her? Searched the world! Almost went off his head, Ibelieve. He'd made a mess of it, of course, but he was crazy abouther--broken his heart ever since. You can see it in his face. My wifehas no patience with her. She'd married for better or worse. Whateverhappened, she was a poor thing to throw up the sponge in a month. What's the matter? You look faint. "

"I--I am! I must go. Some other day, " I gasped vaguely. I went outinto the passage, and sat down on an oak chest. The world seemedrocking around me. I was so stunned that I could _not feel_!

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. 

IT'S A QUEER WORLD. 

Edward Hallett and--Charmion! Charmion and--Edward Hallett! Thecombination of those two names struck me dumb. Oh, it was madness--themost inconceivable, the most preposterous madness. And yet, and yet--the more I thought, the more the links seemed to "fit in". He was ofthe right age, the right nationality: the few words of description whichhad fallen from her lips applied accurately to his appearance. 

I went home, and sat in stunned silence, staring into space. I went tobed and lay awake for hours, still pondering, still puzzling. I rose inthe morning, and wandered about the flat like a lost dog, unable towork, unable to rest, unable to eat. By evening I was in such a stateof nerves that it seemed impossible to endure the suspense a momentlonger. The prospect of another wakeful night gave the final touch tomy impatience. I scribbled a note to Mr Thorold, begging him to comedown at once, and sent the orphan upstairs to deliver it. 

He came at once; quite anxious and perturbed. Was I ill? Had I had badnews? Was there anything he could do? I motioned him to a chair, andbegan vaguely:--

"Not bad news--at least--a shock! I've had a shock! It has distressedme terribly! I couldn't sleep. It was Mr Travers. I was reading tohim again yesterday, and he said something about Mr Hallett. Itappears that he knew him years ago. "

Mr Thorold's face hardened. I had seen him in almost every phase ofsadness and anxiety, but never with that flash in the eye, thatsternness of the lips. His voice was cold and sharp. 

"Travers? Indeed! And what had Travers to say? Nothing good, if Iknow the man. "

"He--he spoke of Mr Hallett's wife--"

"And you were not aware that he had a wife? It is an old story, MissHarding; an old sore. Is it necessary to tell one's whole life historyto--er--an--"

"An acquaintance? No, no--of course not. Don't think me presumptuousand inquisitive. I should never have mentioned it, if I had not areason--a good reason. Have I ever seemed to pry into your affairs?"

He softened at that. 

"Never! Never! You have been all that is tactful--all that is kind. Ido trust you, Miss Harding, but this affair of Hallett's gets me on theraw. He has suffered tortures. I have seen his suffering, and I can'thelp feeling bitter against that woman. She--left him! That's what youheard, I suppose?"

"Yes. And so soon! It was a tragedy indeed. Mr Thorold, will youanswer just one question? It can do no harm; it can give away nosecrets. What was her Christian name?"

He looked at me keenly for a moment, and then said quietly:--

"Charmion. "

I lay back in my chair, and shut my eyes. Never in my life have Ifainted, but I think I must have come very near it then. Everythingturned black; for a moment my very heart seemed to stop. Mr Thorold'svoice sounded far away, as he cried anxiously:--

"You are ill--faint! I'll open the window--give you more air. " Thenwith an eagerness which could not be suppressed, "You know her?Hallett's wife? Is it possible? You have met her; or--have you onlyheard--"

His anxiety made his voice shake. He was as much overcome as I wasmyself. 

"For six years, " he added tragically--"six years he has searched theworld--. "

"I--I know a Charmion. She left her husband. It may be a coincidence, but it seems strange. She had good cause--"

"Oh, I don't deny it. Enough to alienate any woman. I don't wonder ather going--at first--but, it was cruel to give him no chance toexplain. "

"It was about money. He pretended to love her for herself, to knownothing about her fortune, and afterwards--a letter came. That is myCharmion's story. Is it his?"

"Yes! yes! this is a wonderful thing! That the discovery should havecome through you, and that you should have appealed to me of allpeople--the only man on this side who can tell you the truth! Is itcoincidence, Miss Harding?"

I clasped my hands to still their trembling. 

"Better than coincidence! It is Providence. We have prayed for them, you and I, for the friends we love most, and now--now it seems as ifthrough us--Oh, Mr Thorold, explain! Explain! You believe in himstill, yet you confess that he was wrong. What `explanation' can hegive!"

"I love Hallett, " he said solemnly, "like a brother--more than abrother! I believe him to be, at this moment, the best man I know. Wewere at school together. He was the only son of a wealthy man. Untilhe was twenty-one he was brought up in an atmosphere of such luxury aswe in England can hardly imagine. Americans are fond of going `onebetter' than the rest of the world. In some cases the extravagance oftheir moneyed classes amounts to profligacy. Hallett's father was anotorious example for many years, then--just as Edward came of age, there was a colossal smash; he lost everything, practically frettedhimself to death, left the lad to fight his own way. 

"To expect the boy to understand economy after such an upbringing waspreposterous. He literally did not understand the value of money. Hegot into debt, more and more deeply into debt, as the years went on. Iam not defending him as blameless; of course, he should have pulled up, faced the worst, and started afresh; but I do say that it was a hardtest, and that he had many excuses. "

I nodded. Ideas of economy, like most other ideas, are comparative. Ihave never known fabulous riches, but I should manage badly as a poorwoman. Up to this point I could sympathise with Edward Hallett. MrThorold continued eagerly:--

"Well! just when matters were at their worst, a casual acquaintancehappened to speak of a young English heiress, and it occurred to Edwardfor the first time that marriage might cut the knot. He arranged tomeet the girl--it was a deliberate plan. Ah! I see you have heard herstory; but what she evidently _did_ not, would not, understand, was, that when they did meet, he fell in love with her for herself! She washis mate, his ideal, the one woman in the world who had power to awakehis best self; to make him selfless, and in earnest about life. He wasovercome with shame at the remembrance of his own scheming. At one timehe believed it to be his duty to punish himself by leaving her withoutsaying a word, but his passion was too strong, and circumstances hurriedon the marriage. Her aunt died--"

"Yes. She told me. Oh, but _why_ did he pretend? _Why_ didn't he tellher that he knew about the money?"

His face fretted into lines. He looked terribly distressed. 

"Ah! that hits me hard. He wrote to me, Miss Harding--we had kept up acorrespondence at intervals since our school days--and he had anexaggerated faith in my advice. His conscience was torturing him. Heput the whole case to me. Should he tell her--should he confess? Hehated the idea of marrying under false pretences. On the other hand hehated, as any lover would hate, to lower her opinion, perhaps to plantthe seeds of future suspicions. Her silence as to her own wealth seemedto show that she had dreaded a mercenary love, that it was sweet to herto feel that he was in ignorance. He guessed that she was storing upthe news as a sweet secret to be revealed to her husband. Well, as Isay, he put the whole case before me, and I--I advised him to keepsilent. He had wronged her in intent, but not in deed, for no man couldlove more deeply, more disinterestedly than he then loved her. Everyword proved that. It was a wonderful letter, written straight from theheart--"

I interrupted in breathless haste:--

"Have you got it? Did you keep it? Can you find it now?"

To my unspeakable relief he nodded his head. 

"I can. It's not often that I keep letters, but this was an exception. I was naturally anxious about giving the right advice. I put the letterin my pocket-book, to read and re-read. Then, just the day before thewedding, I caught a chill, was in bed for a month with pleurisy. Thefirst news I heard on getting up was--that she had gone! At once Ithought of the letter, and was thankful I had kept it; I locked it awayin my safe. I felt that some day, when she was found--Later on I wroteto her lawyers, and tried to bully them into giving me her address. Imeant to send it to her myself, and force her to believe. But theyswore that they knew no more than I did myself. Liars!"

"No! It was true. She was ill for months; in bed! absolutely cutoff--"

"Ah, well!" He shrugged helplessly. "We were all at cross purposes, itseems. I believed that they were lying, and would continue to lie. Inever tried them again. But the letter is there in my safe, and it ishis best witness, Miss Harding. Where is she? How do you come to knowher?"

"She's in Italy. She's coming home. To me. She's my friend. We--welive together. Not here, but in the country. We share a house--"

He stared. I realised how incongruous the arrangement must appear. Irealised something else, too, and that was that the time had come whento this man, at least, Miss Harding must show herself in her truecolours. Charmion must hurry home. I must wire to demand her presence. Happiness was waiting for her, and not one day, one hour, should thedarling wait in ignorance. The dreary little flat was about to becomethe scene of blissful reconciliation; of a new radiance of life andhope. It was not conceivable that I could mar the sacredness of such atime by masquerading in an assumed character. As Mr Thorold was boundto know, it would simplify arrangements if he knew at once!

I jumped up; tingling with excitement, almost too impatient to speak. 

"Mr Thorold--this is a most adventurous afternoon! I have something totell you about myself. It will explain how it comes about that Charmionand I--Wait for me here for a quarter of an hour. I'll come back, --butthere is something I must do first. You'll understand when I come back. Please wait!"

I hurried out, rang for Bridget, ordered her to get rid of the orphan, and come back to help. The wardrobe was pulled from beneath the bed, off came spectacles and wig, my face was washed free from thedisfiguring marks, my hair was coiled, a dainty blue gown slipped overmy head. The quarter of an hour grew into a half, the sound of pacingfootsteps sounded through the wall. I laughed, slipped my feet intosatin slippers, and threw open the drawing-room door. 

He had his back towards me at that moment; he wheeled round, started, stared, made a curious jerking bow. His face showed no sign ofrecognition, only surprise and a veiled impatience. 

"Mr Thorold, I believe?" I said smiling. 

His forehead knitted into lines; he stared more closely. 

"Billy's father, I believe?" I said, smiling more broadly. "The manwho ate up my sandwiches!"

"Oh! you--you--you minx!" he gasped loudly. 

Oh! it was gloriously amusing! Edward Hallett and Charmion were nowherefor the moment; he could do nothing but gasp and stare, walk round me, examine me from one point of view and then another, gasp and exclaimagain. 

"You--; _you_ are Miss Harding! Miss Harding was you! Am I dreaming, or is this real life? How did you do it? _Why_ did you do it? Butyour mouth is a different shape! This beats anything I ever knew! Youused to look round-shouldered. Why? Why? _Why_? How could you be somad?"

Then I made him sit down, and told him the whole story from thebeginning; and, like every one else, he disapproved violently at first, and then, by slow degrees, came round to my own point of view. LikeBridget, he wanted to know why I couldn't play fairy godmother to the"Mansions" with my own face; but when I asked him if I could have doneso much for _him_, he acknowledged hastily that I could not. Hisexpression, half horrified, half shy, spoke more eloquently than hiswords. 

"No! you see it would not have worked. Old Miss Harding had a pull overEvelyn Wastneys. My name is Evelyn Wastneys, by the way, but that is asecret between us for the moment. And I am Charmion Fane's friend, justas you are Edward Hallett's, and the good, good God is going to give usthe joy of seeing them happy together again. Mr Thorold! they haveboth been to blame, they have both had a share in spoiling their ownlives--we won't give them another chance! You and I, as staid, level-headed outsiders, are going to stage-manage their reconciliation. "

"How are we going to manage it?"

"Listen!" I said. "Listen!"

It's a queer world. It's a very queer world! People have said sobefore, but I wish to say it again, to shout it aloud at the pitch of myvoice. 

Hardly had I changed back into Miss Harding, and finished my eveningmeal, when a knock came to the door, and there entered Mrs Travers. Furious! She had returned from her day in the country; had seen herhusband that afternoon; had heard from his lips what I had dared tothink and to _say_! If she had been defending a homing dove, she couldnot have been more outraged, more aflame. She wished me to understand, once and for all, that for the future _no_ communication, noacquaintance of any kind was possible between us. She would pass me byin the street without a glance. 

Oh, very well!

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. 

TWO GLORIFIED BEINGS. 

I wired to Charmion, "Return at once. Urgently needed, " and her replycame back with all possible speed, "Meet me Euston--Thursday". I knewshe would come! She would imagine that the need was mine, and, blessher! would speed night and day to my aid. And what would she find? Myreeling brain refused to realise the dramatic scenes which lay ahead!

After much cogitation I determined to close the flat, and take a smallsuite of rooms at an hotel for the next week. Under the circumstances, it would be a relief to be among strangers, and away from interestedneighbours who might take it into their heads to pay a call at the mostcrucial moment, to say nothing of the orphan and her friends inadjoining flats, who would be exercised about the strange doings in thebasement flat!

So it was as Evelyn Wastneys that I sallied to Euston on that eventfulThursday, and a somewhat tired and sleepy Charmion was obviously atrifle disappointed to find that she was not to be taken "home. "

"I have had such a dose of hotels!"

"Darling, you talked of my `dreary little flat!'"

"And you wrote back that it was a bower! It has suited you--it is easyto see that, and your mad scheme has been a success. You were veryvague in your reports; gave me no particulars. "

"You didn't want letters. For a long time you didn't write at all. "

"Oh, well! Now we can talk. You must tell me all your adventures. Youlook well--very well! What's the trouble, Evelyn?"

"I never said it was trouble. "

She looked at me sharply, fearfully. Instead of being reassured, myanswer seemed to have excited her fears. 

"Not trouble! Then--Evelyn! what is it? Tell me quickly. Don'tquibble! Are you in love--engaged?"

"Don't be absurd. I've been Miss Harding, remember! Wait till you seeme! I had lessons in making up, and I really look the part. In love, indeed!"

But I knew that my colour was mounting, I could feel the burn of it inmy cheeks. Charmion's lips twitched, and her dear eyes grew misty andsad. 

"It's hateful of me, but--I don't want to lose you! I'd be a lonelysoul!"

I put my hand over hers, but said nothing. Her words had saddened me, for they accurately described my own feelings. 

"You are well--there is no trouble--you are not in love. Then what wasthe urgent need?"

"Are you sorry to be here?"

"Yes! if you are going to prevaricate and hedge. I've thrown every planto the winds to come tearing back. The least you can do--"

"I know!--I know! And I _will_--after dinner. Give me till eighto'clock, to enjoy you, and to calm my nerves. It's good news, but--itupsets our plans. I needed you here to talk over and to arrange. Can'tyou leave business, and just be `homey' with me for an hour or two, after all this time?"

She laughed. How good it was to hear that soft, low laugh, and to feastmy eyes on her exquisite self! Even after a two days' journey Charmionlooked elegant. I believe she would look well groomed on a desertisland. Some women seem born with this gift. It wasn't given to me. Ican be untidy on the slightest provocation!

"Indeed I can. There's any amount of chit-chat to get through, apartfrom serious problems. You have done me out of my Paris shopping, Evelyn, but I've a box full of trophies for you all the same. WhereverI went, I picked up some token to prove that I remembered you all thetime. "

"Oh! cheers! cheers!" I cried fervently. "That's a good hearing! It_is_ more blessed to give than to receive, but now and then, as avariety, it is refreshing to have an innings one's self!"

She laughed at that, gripped my arm, and said:--"Oh, Evelyn, you are adear! It's good to be with you. It's good to be back. " And we chattedin great contentment for the rest of the drive. 

There were several hours to spare before dinner. I made Charmion take abath, and then go really and truly to bed, until seven o'clock, when Iwoke her and issued orders for her prettiest, most becoming frock, grey, of course, a mist of silver and cloudy gauze. When she came into thelittle sitting-room she looked fresh and radiant--younger than I hadever beheld her. Looking at her, I was suddenly reminded of a line inone of dear Robert Louis Stevenson's beautiful prayers--"Cleanse fromour hearts the lurking grudge!" How can any immortal being, made inGod's own image, expect to be happy and healthful while he or she ischerishing bitter grudging feelings against a fellow-man? Charmion'sbattle had been a long, up-hill fight, but it was won at last. The signof victory was in her face. Now for the victor's crown!

Dinner was cleared away. The waiter placed coffee on a small table anddisappeared. Charmion piled up the cushions at one end of the sofa, nestled against them, and said smilingly:--

"_Now_! I've been very patient, but not another moment can I wait. There's an air of mystery about you, Evelyn, a muffled excitement whichintrigues me vastly. Oh! you've tried very hard! you kept up thechatter, but it's been hard work. Your thoughts have strayed; half thetime you have not heard my replies. Your eyes are dark and big--dilated, like an excited child's! If you had not denied it so stoutly, I should feel convinced that there was a man--"

"My dear, this concerns you, not me. Charmion, can't you guess? It iswonderful, wonderful news. Can't you imagine whom it is about? Youtold me your story, but not his name--your name! When I heard it, itconveyed nothing to me. When I met him--"

She held out her hands, as if to ward off a blow. After all my fencing, the great news had come blurting out, without preface or preparation. White as a sheet, she stared at me with anguished eyes. 

"Met! You? Edward? You have met, and--spoken?"

"I know him well. He is a close friend, almost a brother of the manwhose child was ill, and whom I helped to nurse--another tenant in theflats. I think I mentioned him--a darling child. We thought he woulddie. We grew intimate, comforting one another, waiting day after day--"

"You mentioned me? He recognised the name?"

"No! I was Miss Harding. Evelyn and her life were things apart. Ihave never spoken of them to my neighbours. It was pure chance--pureProvidence!"

"But he knows? You have told him. He knows I am here?"

"Not yet. You had to know first, and to hear--to _read_ his defence;but he is to know to-night. His friend will tell him. It will breakyour heart, Charmion, for you have done him a wrong, and have wasted allthese years; but it will fill you with joy as well, for at last you canbelieve--you _must_ believe in his loyalty. It is there for you to see, in a letter to his friend, received just before you were married. MrThorold has kept it--he gave it to me, so that you might see it withyour own eyes. "

But still she sat motionless, half paralysed, it would appear, by thesuddenness, the unexpectedness of the revelation, making no effort totake the letters which I held out. I put them into her hand, speakingin slow, gentle tones:--

"Read, darling--read! There are two letters, for Mr Thorold hasdrafted out the substance of his own reply. He feels that much of theresponsibility lies on his shoulder. It is such a joy to him--such ajoy!--to feel that he has this chance to `make good'. It's not a dream, darling--it's true! The long, long nightmare is over; read your lettersand--wake up!"

I pressed the envelope into her slack hands, kissed her cold cheek, andhurried from the room. She must be alone when she read those healingwords; even the dearest friend would be an intruder at that moment!

My own heart was beating at express speed as I descended the stairs, andwalked along the corridors which led to the drawing-room. I did nothurry, but rather intentionally lingered by the way. The great mirrorson the walls reflected a bright-eyed, eager girl, whom even at thisengrossed moment it was a pleasure to recognise as myself. I am sotired of the reflection of old Miss Harding!

In a far corner of the room the two men were waiting. Mr Thorold camequickly forward. I nodded, and he took his friend by the arm, and ledhim towards the door. Edward Hallett's face was fixed--tense withemotion. He glanced neither to right nor to left--was oblivious of theouter world. Mr Thorold was to lead him to the room where Charmionsat, close the door, and leave them face to face. Hardly would she havefinished reading the letters than her husband would stand before her. Oh, what a meeting--what a meeting! What a rolling away of the stone!Thank God for giving me my share in bringing it about!

Wenham Thorold came back, and sat by my side. We were both shaking withexcitement, but we talked resolutely to pass the time. I asked him ifMr Hallett had been told of my dual personality, and he smiled, andsaid:--

"Oh, yes, he was interested--as much interested as he could be inanything outside! But not surprised! He and I were constantly puzzledby your extraordinary youth! The get-up was excellent, but your manner, your movements--they did not belong to an elderly woman. Circumstancesfavoured you, of course! You were naturally quiet and reserved on ourfirst meeting, and then Billy's illness cast a gloom over us all. Everyone seems older in a period of anxiety; but as soon as the cloud liftedyour vitality asserted itself. " He looked at me anxiously. "This--thisreunion will make a difference to your life? It will take away yourfriend. "

"Yes, it will. My friends all go, " I said a little bitterly. "I amtrying not to think of myself, but only to rejoice for her; but it ishard!"

"That house in the country! You shared it together? Couldn't you makeit your home instead of the flat? It would be more--suitable. Thisfairy godmother scheme is possible for a few months, with a home in thebackground, to which you can return at any moment, but now that you willbe alone, you are too young. It does not seem right. Couldn't you"--helooked at me apologetically--"carry on the same work in the country inyour own name? Make the house a country resort for lame dogs who need arest, for example? There would be plenty of applicants. "

"It's impossible! I can't explain. I can never return to `Pastimes'alone. " I spoke shortly. The subject was difficult. So far, I had notthrashed it out even in thought. Mr Thorold shot a quick, keen glance. Instinctively, I knew where his thoughts were wandering. He wasthinking of the bluff country Squire who had been so kind to his ownlittle girls, remembering that he came from the same neighbourhood; thatEvelyn Wastneys and he had been friends. 

The stupid colour flamed in my cheeks. I made haste to turn theconversation from myself. 

"It will make a difference to you, too. You will miss your friend!"

"Yes, but--I have borne the great loss, Miss Wastneys; I can spare himgladly, to _his joy_. When one has known the completeness of a realmarriage, and then been left alone, it would be impossible to grudge--Myfriends urge me to marry again; my girl herself said she wished it. IfI had been less completely happy, I might have done it for thechildren's sake. As it is, I can never put another in her place. But Ineed a woman in my life. I feel that--but I want a mother, a sister, not a wife. Can't you evolve a _real_ Miss Harding, who will look afterme and my poor bairns?"

It was an hour later when the message came summoning us to return to thesitting-room. The two were standing to receive us--glorified beings, exalted above the earth. Oh, I can't write about it! We clungtogether. They spoke glowing words of love and thanks and appreciation;they looked past us into each other's eyes. It was wonderful, wonderful; but, oh, it made me feel desperately, desperately lonely!

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. 

LOVE'S A NEW LIFE. 

Late that night, after the two men had left, Charmion and I sat togetherover the bedroom fire, and talked and talked. Her lips were opened now, and she could talk without the old restraint. It seemed a relief to herto talk. I asked if "Edward" had ever discovered who was the sender ofthe fatal letter. "No, " she said, "not actually. He is practicallycertain, but he did not trouble to bring it home. The mischief wasdone. Anyone who had a heart must have been sufficiently punished bythe knowledge of the misery she had caused. He left her to that, but, oh! Evelyn, what a conception of _love_! to try to poison a man's homebecause he had chosen another woman as his wife! Not that I am muchbetter! I have no right to speak. "

Her lips quivered. She confessed to me that, on reading the twoletters, she had been overcome with sorrow and remorse, but that Edwardhad refused to listen to her laments. They had both been wrong; eachhad an equal need of forgiveness, the suffering in either case had beenintense--not another moment must be wasted! Away with bitterness, awaywith remorse, the future lay ahead, it should not be wasted in vainregrets. Then, blushing and aglow, she told me her plans. "To-morrow--to-day, " she raised her eyes to the clock, and glowed anew, "we aregoing by train to a sunny bay in Cornwall, to spend a second honeymoon. Edward's writing engagement could be fulfilled better in the countrythan in town. He had lingered in London for Thorold's sake, not hisown. One month, two months to themselves, they must have, and then"--she straightened herself as in eager anticipation--"America! I musttake him back, Evelyn! Back to his old home, and his old friends--tolet them all see! Oh! all my life must be spent in making good theshame I have brought upon him, the misery and blame!"

I laid a restraining touch on her arm. 

"Remember you are not to grieve! You have promised. That is forbiddenground!"

"Yes--yes, I know, but my heart, Evelyn! My heart will alwaysremember. " She turned to me tenderly. "Darling girl! we talked aboutyou--it is through you that this happiness has come. We cannot beparted. When we are settled in our new home we want you to come over, to pay us a long, long visit. You could see your sister, too. Youwould enjoy that?"

I felt a momentary rising of bitterness, a momentary impulse to saycaustically that it would indeed be soothing for a lonely woman to visittwo devoted married couples, but there was a wistful tone in her voicewhich showed that she understood. I made a big effort to laughnaturally, and made a vague promise. This was Charmion's night. Ishould be a poor thing if I damped her joy!

"And about `Pastimes, '" she said slowly. "The agreement stands, ofcourse. I pay half expenses for the next three years. Live in it, lendit, rent it as you think best. I should love best to think of youliving there, until you come to us. You could find some friend--"

"Oh, yes! I have made enough friends at the `Mansions' to keep mesupplied with visitors for months to come. _If_ I go back. But I'm notsure. This has come upon me with a rush, Charmion. I shall have to sitdown, and think quietly. I shall see you again before you sail?"

"Of course. " She looked at me with reproach. "You are the dearestperson in the world to me, Evelyn--except _one_. Do you suppose I couldleave England without seeing you again? We'll arrange a meetingsomewhere, and have a week together. You and I, and Mr Thorold, andEdward. " She turned a sudden scrutinising glance upon me. "Evelyn, Ihave a haunting conviction that you are changed; that some man has comeinto your life. You aren't by any possibility going to marry WenhamThorold?"

"Indeed I am not. He hasn't the faintest desire to marry me, or I tomarry him. We are excellent friends, but nothing more. I honestlybelieve he regrets Miss Harding. You are growing too personal, my dear. I shall go to bed. "

She laughed, kissed me, but refused to move. 

"I'm not tired. I don't want to sleep. Sleep means forgetfulness, " shesaid. "It will rest me more to remember!"

I left her leaning forward, with hands clasped round her knees, gazinginto the fire. 

Charmion left the next morning, and I prepared, with the strangestreluctance, to turn back into Miss Harding, and return to the basementflat. For the last week I had been living in an atmosphere of romance, which had put me out of tune with ordinary life. Bridget showed herusual understanding. "'Deed, I always _did_ say a wedding was the mostupsetting thing in life!" she declared. "A funeral's not in it forupsetting your nerves, and setting you on to grizzle, the same as awedding. Not that Mrs Fane's--Hallett, I suppose--was a weddingexactly, but it sort of churned you up more than if it was. To see herall a-smiling and a-flushing, and looking so young! Her as always heldherself so cold. And now to have to go back to live underground, withyou mumping about in a shawl!"

"Cheer up, Bridget dear, " I said soothingly. "It won't be for long. Ifeel myself that I need a change. Perhaps we'll go to Ireland. TheAunts are grumbling because I don't go. Just a few weeks more, while Ithink things over and make my plans. Make the best of it, there's agood soul!"

She looked at me, more in sorrow than in anger. 

"I'll make the best of it, _with_ the best, when there's a call to doit, " she said firmly; "but you'll only be young once, my dear. You maythrow away things now as you'll pine to get back all the days of yourlife. When you're thinking things over just remember that!" Shestumped from the room, leaving me to digest her words. 

The next week passed heavily. I saw little of Mr Thorold, andsuspected that the revelation of Evelyn would work against furtherintimacy. It was impossible that he could feel the same freedom andease; impossible that he should commandeer my help as he had done indays past. There was no blame attached to the position, it was naturaland inevitable; but the loss of the easy, pleasant intercourse left agap in my life. 

Mrs Manners had gone with her children to visit her mother; MrsTravers cut me in the hall. Poor Miss Harding was having a bad time!Nobody needed her; her absence had passed unnoticed; her return awoke nowelcome. Bridget besought me to go out and amuse myself, but Iobstinately refused to go, and stayed glued in the flat. Not for worldswould I have acknowledged it to a living creature, but--I was afraidthat while I was out some one might call. Ralph Maplestone had saidthat business would bring him to town. Now that the Merrivales were inSwitzerland, and that anxiety was off his hands, he could come when heliked. If he did not come it must be because he did _not_ like!

The reflection did not help to raise my spirits, nor to pass thelong-houred days; but it did give me an insight into my own heart. Forthe first time I was honest with myself, and acknowledged that I_wanted_ him to come! I faced the possibility that I might wait invain, and felt suddenly faint and weak. It had come to this, that I_needed_ his strength, that I felt it impossible to face life withouthim by my side. I determined, if he _did_ come, to show signs ofweakness in my resolution; possibly to go so far as to arrange a meetingwith my niece. 

He came one afternoon when I was darning stockings by the dining-roomtable, and the disobedient orphan showed him straight in on the domesticscene. I hurriedly hitched round my chair and drew the casementcurtains, making an excuse of "too much sun, " then folded the shawlround my shoulders, and sat at attention. He said he was pleased to seeme. Was I quite well? The weather was very bright. Good news fromSwitzerland, wasn't it? General Underwood was suffering from gout. What were Miss Wastneys' plans for the summer?

"She--she doesn't know herself!" I sighed vaguely. "Circumstanceshave--er--altered. Her friend Mrs Fane"--(I realised that Escott wouldhave to hear some explanation of Charmion's departure, but was loth toset tongues wagging)--"has decided to return to America. She has spentmost of her life there, and has many ties. "

He looked supremely uninterested. Mrs Fane might go to Kamtschatka forall he cared!

"And will Miss Wastneys keep on the house alone?"

"Nothing is yet decided; but I think--not!"

He looked unperturbed. Showed none of the agitation I had hoped to see. 

"Does she intend to join Mrs Fane in America?"

Now I felt hurt! Obviously, oh, quite obviously, he did not like me somuch as he did! It was nothing to him where I lived--nothing to himwhere I went! A terrible feeling of loneliness overwhelmed me. Nobodycared! I pressed my lips together to prevent their trembling; behind myspectacles I blinked smarting eyes. A big brown hand stretched out andwas laid over mine; a big soft voice asked tenderly:--

"_Evelyn! How long is this tomfoolery to go on_?"

We were standing facing one another across the table. I had dartedbehind its shelter in that first moment of shock and dismay. His facewas lit with a mischievous smile; his hands were thrust into his trouserpockets; his eyes surveyed me with a horrible, twinkling triumph. 

"Oh! Oh! Oh! You know!"

"Of course I know!"

"You have known all the time? From the very beginning?"

"Not just at first! I'll give you credit for taking me in for a shorttime--a very short time! Then you gave yourself away. "

"How? How?"

"When you do a thing at all, you ought to do it thoroughly. Yourdisguise was incomplete. "

"Incomplete? But I had lessons. I paid to be taught. "

"Then your instructor, whoever he may be, omitted one important item. The moment I noticed it, the whole thing became plain. I knew I wastalking to Evelyn Wastneys, and not to her aunt. "

I remembered the sudden flashes of complacency which had mystified me socompletely. This was the explanation! I was devoured with curiosity. 

"What was it? You must tell me!"

"Your hands!" He smiled, showing his strong, white teeth. "Your prettyhands, with the dimples, and the pink nails, and--the sapphire ring!"

"Ah!" I looked down at the big square stone in its setting of diamonds, and felt inclined to stamp with rage at my own forgetfulness. It was mymother's engagement ring, and for years I had worn it every day. To mynew friends, of course, it had no associations; but for this man who hadnoticed it on Evelyn's finger, who had gazed with a lover's admirationat Evelyn's hand, the clue was unmistakable! So far as Ralph Maplestonewas concerned, all my care, all my pains, had been rendered useless bythat one stupid little omission!

I stood dumb and discomfited, and the Chippendale mirror on the oppositewall reflected a round-shouldered figure, a spectacled, disfigured face. I felt a sudden, overwhelming impatience with my disguise. 

"For pity's sake, Evelyn, run away and turn into yourself!" came thecommand from the big voice. (It is extraordinary how he follows mythoughts!) "I can't make love to you in those things. "

"I don't want you to make love to me!" I said--and lied!

"But I do, you see, and it's my turn! I've waited long enough. "

He crossed the room, opened the door, and stood with the knob in hishand, waiting for me to pass through. I stiffened my back and stoodstill. I told myself that to give in--_after that_--meant that Iagreed--practically gave my consent. I would _not_ do it! I would_not_! I would stand all day rather than move an inch. Nothing shouldinduce me. He rattled the knob, and stared steadily in my face. Iturned and--_went_!

"Evelyn Wastneys, will you take this man to be your wedded husband?"

I had come back again--in my blue dress!--and he met me on thethreshold, where I verily believe he had been standing waiting, all thetime I changed. He took both my hands in his, and asked the question sodeeply and seriously that it brought the tears to my eyes. 

"I think I--will!" I said shakily. "But you must not be too suddenwith me, please, because I was so certain that I never would. You mustgive me time to get used to the idea. "

"You can really love me? You can really manage to care?"

"I can! The difficulty lately has been--the other way! When you didn'tcome I was afraid. I had a horrible conviction that you'd changed yourmind. "

He laughed, and drew me closer, wrapping me close in his strong arms. Ilay still, and felt as if all my burdens were rolling away, and a bigstrong barrier hedged me in and protected me from the buffets andresponsibilities of life. It was a blissful feeling--full of joy, fullof rest. Now it seemed worth while having been a lonely woman. Nosheltered, home-living girl could possibly have rejoiced as I rejoiced. 

"You are mine! I'll take care of you. No more rushing about, andliving in disguise. "

"I don't want to ramble. Never did! I want a home, and my own man. Doyou remember when you said you would give me my own way--in reason?"

"And you objected that I would wish to come first? I do. "

"Bless your lonely heart! So do I. I'm afraid I shall spoil you, Ralph!"

"Oh, do!" he cried, and there was a hunger in his voice that sank deepin my heart. He needed me! How good it was to know that, to realisethat in all the teeming millions in the world no woman could be to himthat I was!

Later on--after a blissful interlude--I began to ask questions:--

"What will your mother say? Will she be surprised?"

"She'll be delighted, for my sake, and her own! At the bottom of herheart she has always longed to be with her girl. And she's prepared. She recognised the signs. "

"As Charmion did in me. Why? Do we show it in our faces?"

"Of course we do. Why not? Love's a new sense, a new life. If one hasany expression at all it _must_ show. I've gone about feeling as if Iwere labelled `Evelyn Wastneys. By express route, ' for a year past!Now I've got you! You're coming back to take care of me at the `Hall'!"

I rather liked the idea of myself as mistress of that old house! Withmy head on his shoulder I devoted several moments to the considerationof how I should arrange the drawing-room. It was amazing that I couldnot conjure up one pang of regret for dear "Pastimes!"

"There's a lot to be done first, " I told him. "Two homes to break up. I shall have to find new tenants. "

"What about General Underwood for `Pastimes'?" he asked. 

I raised my head and looked at him. He was manfully trying to smile. 

"Wretch!" I exclaimed. "So you've got your way after all!"