A LAODICEAN: A STORY OF TO-DAY

By Thomas Hardy

CONTENTS. 

 PREFACE CHAPTERS BOOK THE FIRST. GEORGE SOMERSET. I - XV. BOOK THE SECOND. DARE AND HAVILL. I - VII. BOOK THE THIRD. DE STANCY. I - XI. BOOK THE FOURTH. SOMERSET, DARE, AND DE STANCY. I - V. BOOK THE FIFTH. DE STANCY AND PAULA. I - XIV. BOOK THE SIXTH. PAULA. I - V. 

PREFACE. 

The changing of the old order in country manors and mansions may beslow or sudden, may have many issues romantic or otherwise, its romanticissues being not necessarily restricted to a change back to the originalorder; though this admissible instance appears to have been the onlyromance formerly recognized by novelists as possible in the case. Whether the following production be a picture of other possibilities ornot, its incidents may be taken to be fairly well supported by evidenceevery day forthcoming in most counties. 

The writing of the tale was rendered memorable to two persons, at least, by a tedious illness of five months that laid hold of the author soonafter the story was begun in a well-known magazine; during whichperiod the narrative had to be strenuously continued by dictation to apredetermined cheerful ending. 

As some of these novels of Wessex life address themselves moreespecially to readers into whose souls the iron has entered, and whoseyears have less pleasure in them now than heretofore, so "A Laodicean"may perhaps help to while away an idle afternoon of the comfortable oneswhose lines have fallen to them in pleasant places; above all, of thatlarge and happy section of the reading public which has not yet reachedripeness of years; those to whom marriage is the pilgrim's Eternal City, and not a milestone on the way. T. H. 

January 1896. 

BOOK THE FIRST. GEORGE SOMERSET. 

I. 

The sun blazed down and down, till it was within half-an-hour of itssetting; but the sketcher still lingered at his occupation of measuringand copying the chevroned doorway--a bold and quaint example of atransitional style of architecture, which formed the tower entrance toan English village church. The graveyard being quite open on its westernside, the tweed-clad figure of the young draughtsman, and the tall massof antique masonry which rose above him to a battlemented parapet, were fired to a great brightness by the solar rays, that crossed theneighbouring mead like a warp of gold threads, in whose mazes groups ofequally lustrous gnats danced and wailed incessantly. 

He was so absorbed in his pursuit that he did not mark the brilliantchromatic effect of which he composed the central feature, till it wasbrought home to his intelligence by the warmth of the moulded stoneworkunder his touch when measuring; which led him at length to turn his headand gaze on its cause. 

There are few in whom the sight of a sunset does not beget as muchmeditative melancholy as contemplative pleasure, the human decline anddeath that it illustrates being too obvious to escape the notice ofthe simplest observer. The sketcher, as if he had been brought to thisreflection many hundreds of times before by the same spectacle, showedthat he did not wish to pursue it just now, by turning away his faceafter a few moments, to resume his architectural studies. 

He took his measurements carefully, and as if he reverenced the oldworkers whose trick he was endeavouring to acquire six hundred yearsafter the original performance had ceased and the performers passed intothe unseen. By means of a strip of lead called a leaden tape, whichhe pressed around and into the fillets and hollows with his finger andthumb, he transferred the exact contour of each moulding to his drawing, that lay on a sketching-stool a few feet distant; where were also asketching-block, a small T-square, a bow-pencil, and other mathematicalinstruments. When he had marked down the line thus fixed, he returned tothe doorway to copy another as before. 

It being the month of August, when the pale face of the townsman and thestranger is to be seen among the brown skins of remotest uplanders, not only in England, but throughout the temperate zone, few of thehomeward-bound labourers paused to notice him further than by amomentary turn of the head. They had beheld such gentlemen before, notexactly measuring the church so accurately as this one seemed to bedoing, but painting it from a distance, or at least walking round themouldy pile. At the same time the present visitor, even exteriorly, wasnot altogether commonplace. His features were good, his eyes of the darkdeep sort called eloquent by the sex that ought to know, and with thatray of light in them which announces a heart susceptible to beauty ofall kinds, --in woman, in art, and in inanimate nature. Though hewould have been broadly characterized as a young man, his face borecontradictory testimonies to his precise age. This was conceivablyowing to a too dominant speculative activity in him, which, while ithad preserved the emotional side of his constitution, and with it thesignificant flexuousness of mouth and chin, had played upon his foreheadand temples till, at weary moments, they exhibited some traces of beingover-exercised. A youthfulness about the mobile features, a matureforehead--though not exactly what the world has been familiar within past ages--is now growing common; and with the advance of juvenileintrospection it probably must grow commoner still. Briefly, he had moreof the beauty--if beauty it ought to be called--of the future human typethan of the past; but not so much as to make him other than a nice youngman. 

His build was somewhat slender and tall; his complexion, though a littlebrowned by recent exposure, was that of a man who spent much of his timeindoors. Of beard he had but small show, though he was as innocent asa Nazarite of the use of the razor; but he possessed a moustacheall-sufficient to hide the subtleties of his mouth, which could thus betremulous at tender moments without provoking inconvenient criticism. 

Owing to his situation on high ground, open to the west, he remainedenveloped in the lingering aureate haze till a time when the easternpart of the churchyard was in obscurity, and damp with rising dew. When it was too dark to sketch further he packed up his drawing, and, beckoning to a lad who had been idling by the gate, directed him tocarry the stool and implements to a roadside inn which he named, lying amile or two ahead. The draughtsman leisurely followed the lad out of thechurchyard, and along a lane in the direction signified. 

The spectacle of a summer traveller from London sketching mediaevaldetails in these neo-Pagan days, when a lull has come over the study ofEnglish Gothic architecture, through a re-awakening to the art-forms oftimes that more nearly neighbour our own, is accounted for by the factthat George Somerset, son of the Academician of that name, was a manof independent tastes and excursive instincts, who unconsciously, andperhaps unhappily, took greater pleasure in floating in lonely currentsof thought than with the general tide of opinion. When quite a lad, inthe days of the French Gothic mania which immediately succeeded to thegreat English-pointed revival under Britton, Pugin, Rickman, Scott, andother mediaevalists, he had crept away from the fashion to admire whatwas good in Palladian and Renaissance. As soon as Jacobean, QueenAnne, and kindred accretions of decayed styles began to be popular, hepurchased such old-school works as Revett and Stuart, Chambers, and therest, and worked diligently at the Five Orders; till quite bewilderedon the question of style, he concluded that all styles were extinct, andwith them all architecture as a living art. Somerset was not old enoughat that time to know that, in practice, art had at all times been asfull of shifts and compromises as every other mundane thing; that idealperfection was never achieved by Greek, Goth, or Hebrew Jew, andnever would be; and thus he was thrown into a mood of disgust withhis profession, from which mood he was only delivered by recklesslyabandoning these studies and indulging in an old enthusiasm for poeticalliterature. For two whole years he did nothing but write verse in everyconceivable metre, and on every conceivable subject, from Wordsworthiansonnets on the singing of his tea-kettle to epic fragments on the Fallof Empires. His discovery at the age of five-and-twenty that theseinspired works were not jumped at by the publishers with all theeagerness they deserved, coincided in point of time with a severe hintfrom his father that unless he went on with his legitimate profession hemight have to look elsewhere than at home for an allowance. Mr. Somersetjunior then awoke to realities, became intently practical, rushed backto his dusty drawing-boards, and worked up the styles anew, with a viewof regularly starting in practice on the first day of the followingJanuary. 

It is an old story, and perhaps only deserves the light tone in whichthe soaring of a young man into the empyrean, and his descent again, isalways narrated. But as has often been said, the light and the truth maybe on the side of the dreamer: a far wider view than the wise oneshave may be his at that recalcitrant time, and his reduction to commonmeasure be nothing less than a tragic event. The operation calledlunging, in which a haltered colt is made to trot round and rounda horsebreaker who holds the rope, till the beholder grows dizzy inlooking at them, is a very unhappy one for the animal concerned. Duringits progress the colt springs upward, across the circle, stops, fliesover the turf with the velocity of a bird, and indulges in all sorts ofgraceful antics; but he always ends in one way--thanks to the knottedwhipcord--in a level trot round the lunger with the regularity of ahorizontal wheel, and in the loss for ever to his character of thebold contours which the fine hand of Nature gave it. Yet the process isconsidered to be the making of him. 

Whether Somerset became permanently made under the action of theinevitable lunge, or whether he lapsed into mere dabbling with theartistic side of his profession only, it would be premature to say; butat any rate it was his contrite return to architecture as a calling thatsent him on the sketching excursion under notice. Feeling that somethingstill was wanting to round off his knowledge before he could take hisprofessional line with confidence, he was led to remember that his ownnative Gothic was the one form of design that he had totally neglectedfrom the beginning, through its having greeted him with wearisomeiteration at the opening of his career. Now it had again returned tosilence; indeed--such is the surprising instability of art 'principles'as they are facetiously called--it was just as likely as not to sinkinto the neglect and oblivion which had been its lot in Georgian times. This accident of being out of vogue lent English Gothic an additionalcharm to one of his proclivities; and away he went to make it thebusiness of a summer circuit in the west. 

The quiet time of evening, the secluded neighbourhood, the unusuallygorgeous liveries of the clouds packed in a pile over that quarter ofthe heavens in which the sun had disappeared, were such as to makea traveller loiter on his walk. Coming to a stile, Somerset mountedhimself on the top bar, to imbibe the spirit of the scene and hour. Theevening was so still that every trifling sound could be heard for miles. There was the rattle of a returning waggon, mixed with the smacks of thewaggoner's whip: the team must have been at least three miles off. Fromfar over the hill came the faint periodic yell of kennelled hounds;while from the nearest village resounded the voices of boys at play inthe twilight. Then a powerful clock struck the hour; it was not fromthe direction of the church, but rather from the wood behind him; and hethought it must be the clock of some mansion that way. 

But the mind of man cannot always be forced to take up subjects by thepressure of their material presence, and Somerset's thoughts were often, to his great loss, apt to be even more than common truants from thetones and images that met his outer senses on walks and rides. He wouldsometimes go quietly through the queerest, gayest, most extraordinarytown in Europe, and let it alone, provided it did not meddle with himby its beggars, beauties, innkeepers, police, coachmen, mongrels, badsmells, and such like obstructions. This feat of questionable utility hebegan performing now. Sitting on the three-inch ash rail that had beenpeeled and polished like glass by the rubbings of all the small-clothesin the parish, he forgot the time, the place, forgot that it wasAugust--in short, everything of the present altogether. His mind flewback to his past life, and deplored the waste of time that had resultedfrom his not having been able to make up his mind which of the manyfashions of art that were coming and going in kaleidoscopic changewas the true point of departure from himself. He had suffered from themodern malady of unlimited appreciativeness as much as any living manof his own age. Dozens of his fellows in years and experience, who hadnever thought specially of the matter, but had blunderingly appliedthemselves to whatever form of art confronted them at the moment oftheir making a move, were by this time acquiring renown as new lights;while he was still unknown. He wished that some accident could havehemmed in his eyes between inexorable blinkers, and sped him on in achannel ever so worn. 

Thus balanced between believing and not believing in his own future, he was recalled to the scene without by hearing the notes of a familiarhymn, rising in subdued harmonies from a valley below. He listened moreheedfully. It was his old friend the 'New Sabbath, ' which he had neveronce heard since the lisping days of childhood, and whose existence, much as it had then been to him, he had till this moment quiteforgotten. Where the 'New Sabbath' had kept itself all these years--whythat sound and hearty melody had disappeared from all the cathedrals, parish churches, minsters and chapels-of-ease that he had beenacquainted with during his apprenticeship to life, and until his wayshad become irregular and uncongregational--he could not, at first, say. But then he recollected that the tune appertained to the oldwest-gallery period of church-music, anterior to the great choralreformation and the rule of Monk--that old time when the repetition ofa word, or half-line of a verse, was not considered a disgrace to anecclesiastical choir. 

Willing to be interested in anything which would keep him out-of-doors, Somerset dismounted from the stile and descended the hill before him, tolearn whence the singing proceeded. 

II. 

He found that it had its origin in a building standing alone in a field;and though the evening was not yet dark without, lights shone from thewindows. In a few moments Somerset stood before the edifice. Being justthen en rapport with ecclesiasticism by reason of his recent occupation, he could not help murmuring, 'Shade of Pugin, what a monstrosity!'

Perhaps this exclamation (rather out of date since the discovery thatPugin himself often nodded amazingly) would not have been indulged inby Somerset but for his new architectural resolves, which causedprofessional opinions to advance themselves officiously to hislips whenever occasion offered. The building was, in short, arecently-erected chapel of red brick, with pseudo-classic ornamentation, and the white regular joints of mortar could be seen streaking itssurface in geometrical oppressiveness from top to bottom. The roof wasof blue slate, clean as a table, and unbroken from gable to gable;the windows were glazed with sheets of plate glass, a temporary ironstovepipe passing out near one of these, and running up to the height ofthe ridge, where it was finished by a covering like a parachute. Walkinground to the end, he perceived an oblong white stone let into the walljust above the plinth, on which was inscribed in deep letters:--

 Erected 187-, AT THE SOLE EXPENSE OF

 JOHN POWER, ESQ. , M. P. 

The 'New Sabbath' still proceeded line by line, with all the emotionalswells and cadences that had of old characterized the tune: and the bodyof vocal harmony that it evoked implied a large congregation within, towhom it was plainly as familiar as it had been to church-goers of a pastgeneration. With a whimsical sense of regret at the secession of hisonce favourite air Somerset moved away, and would have quite withdrawnfrom the field had he not at that moment observed two young men withpitchers of water coming up from a stream hard by, and hastening withtheir burdens into the chapel vestry by a side door. Almost as soon asthey had entered they emerged again with empty pitchers, and proceededto the stream to fill them as before, an operation which they repeatedseveral times. Somerset went forward to the stream, and waited till theyoung men came out again. 

'You are carrying in a great deal of water, ' he said, as each dipped hispitcher. 

One of the young men modestly replied, 'Yes: we filled the cistern thismorning; but it leaks, and requires a few pitcherfuls more. '

'Why do you do it?'

'There is to be a baptism, sir. '

Somerset was not sufficiently interested to develop a furtherconversation, and observing them in silence till they had again vanishedinto the building, he went on his way. Reaching the brow of the hill hestopped and looked back. The chapel was still in view, and the shadesof night having deepened, the lights shone from the windows yet morebrightly than before. A few steps further would hide them and theedifice, and all that belonged to it from his sight, possibly for ever. There was something in the thought which led him to linger. The chapelhad neither beauty, quaintness, nor congeniality to recommend it: thedissimilitude between the new utilitarianism of the place and the scenesof venerable Gothic art which had occupied his daylight hours could notwell be exceeded. But Somerset, as has been said, was an instrumentof no narrow gamut: he had a key for other touches than the purelyaesthetic, even on such an excursion as this. His mind was arrested bythe intense and busy energy which must needs belong to an assembly thatrequired such a glare of light to do its religion by; in the heaving ofthat tune there was an earnestness which made him thoughtful, and theshine of those windows he had characterized as ugly reminded him of theshining of the good deed in a naughty world. The chapel and its shabbyplot of ground, from which the herbage was all trodden away by busyfeet, had a living human interest that the numerous minsters andchurches knee-deep in fresh green grass, visited by him during theforegoing week, had often lacked. Moreover, there was going to be abaptism: that meant the immersion of a grown-up person; and he hadbeen told that Baptists were serious people and that the scene was mostimpressive. What manner of man would it be who on an ordinary ploddingand bustling evening of the nineteenth century could single himself outas one different from the rest of the inhabitants, banish all shyness, and come forward to undergo such a trying ceremony? Who was he thathad pondered, gone into solitudes, wrestled with himself, worked up hiscourage and said, I will do this, though few else will, for I believe itto be my duty?

Whether on account of these thoughts, or from the circumstance thathe had been alone amongst the tombs all day without communion with hiskind, he could not tell in after years (when he had good reason to thinkof the subject); but so it was that Somerset went back, and again stoodunder the chapel-wall. 

Instead of entering he passed round to where the stove-chimney camethrough the bricks, and holding on to the iron stay he put his toes onthe plinth and looked in at the window. The building was quite full ofpeople belonging to that vast majority of society who are denied theart of articulating their higher emotions, and crave dumbly for afugleman--respectably dressed working people, whose faces and forms wereworn and contorted by years of dreary toil. On a platform at the endof the chapel a haggard man of more than middle age, with grey whiskersascetically cut back from the fore part of his face so far as to bealmost banished from the countenance, stood reading a chapter. Betweenthe minister and the congregation was an open space, and in the floor ofthis was sunk a tank full of water, which just made its surface visibleabove the blackness of its depths by reflecting the lights overhead. 

Somerset endeavoured to discover which one among the assemblage was tobe the subject of the ceremony. But nobody appeared there who was at allout of the region of commonplace. The people were all quiet and settled;yet he could discern on their faces something more than attention, though it was less than excitement: perhaps it was expectation. And asif to bear out his surmise he heard at that moment the noise of wheelsbehind him. 

His gaze into the lighted chapel made what had been an evening scenewhen he looked away from the landscape night itself on looking back;but he could see enough to discover that a brougham had driven up tothe side-door used by the young water-bearers, and that a lady inwhite-and-black half-mourning was in the act of alighting, followed bywhat appeared to be a waiting-woman carrying wraps. They entered thevestry-room of the chapel, and the door was shut. The service went on asbefore till at a certain moment the door between vestry and chapel wasopened, when a woman came out clothed in an ample robe of flowing white, which descended to her feet. Somerset was unfortunate in his position;he could not see her face, but her gait suggested at once that shewas the lady who had arrived just before. She was rather tall thanotherwise, and the contour of her head and shoulders denoted a girl inthe heyday of youth and activity. His imagination, stimulated by thisbeginning, set about filling in the meagre outline with most attractivedetails. 

She stood upon the brink of the pool, and the minister descended thesteps at its edge till the soles of his shoes were moistened with thewater. He turned to the young candidate, but she did not follow him:instead of doing so she remained rigid as a stone. He stretched out hishand, but she still showed reluctance, till, with some embarrassment, hewent back, and spoke softly in her ear. 

She approached the edge, looked into the water, and turned away shakingher head. Somerset could for the first time see her face. Though humanlyimperfect, as is every face we see, it was one which made him think thatthe best in woman-kind no less than the best in psalm-tunes had goneover to the Dissenters. He had certainly seen nobody so interestingin his tour hitherto; she was about twenty or twenty-one--perhapstwenty-three, for years have a way of stealing marches even uponbeauty's anointed. The total dissimilarity between the expression ofher lineaments and that of the countenances around her was not a littlesurprising, and was productive of hypotheses without measure as tohow she came there. She was, in fact, emphatically a modern type ofmaidenhood, and she looked ultra-modern by reason of her environment: apresumably sophisticated being among the simple ones--not wickedly so, but one who knew life fairly well for her age. Her hair, of goodEnglish brown, neither light nor dark, was abundant--too abundant forconvenience in tying, as it seemed; and it threw off the lamp-light ina hazy lustre. And though it could not be said of her features that thisor that was flawless, the nameless charm of them altogether was onlyanother instance of how beautiful a woman can be as a whole withoutattaining in any one detail to the lines marked out as absolutelycorrect. The spirit and the life were there: and material shapes couldbe disregarded. 

Whatever moral characteristics this might be the surface of, enoughwas shown to assure Somerset that she had some experience of things farremoved from her present circumscribed horizon, and could live, and waseven at that moment living, a clandestine, stealthy inner life which hadvery little to do with her outward one. The repression of nearly everyexternal sign of that distress under which Somerset knew, by a suddenintuitive sympathy, that she was labouring, added strength to theseconvictions. 

'And you refuse?' said the astonished minister, as she still stoodimmovable on the brink of the pool. He persuasively took her sleevebetween his finger and thumb as if to draw her; but she resented this bya quick movement of displeasure, and he released her, seeing that he hadgone too far. 

'But, my dear lady, ' he said, 'you promised! Consider your profession, and that you stand in the eyes of the whole church as an exemplar ofyour faith. '

'I cannot do it!'

'But your father's memory, miss; his last dying request!'

'I cannot help it, ' she said, turning to get away. 

'You came here with the intention to fulfil the Word?'

'But I was mistaken. '

'Then why did you come?'

She tacitly implied that to be a question she did not care to answer. 'Please say no more to me, ' she murmured, and hastened to withdraw. 

During this unexpected dialogue (which had reached Somerset's earsthrough the open windows) that young man's feelings had flown hither andthither between minister and lady in a most capricious manner: it hadseemed at one moment a rather uncivil thing of her, charming as she was, to give the minister and the water-bearers so much trouble fornothing; the next, it seemed like reviving the ancient cruelties of theducking-stool to try to force a girl into that dark water if she had nota mind to it. But the minister was not without insight, and he had seenthat it would be useless to say more. The crestfallen old man had toturn round upon the congregation and declare officially that the baptismwas postponed. 

She passed through the door into the vestry. During the excitingmoments of her recusancy there had been a perceptible flutter among thesensitive members of the congregation; nervous Dissenters seeming to beat one with nervous Episcopalians in this at least, that they heartilydisliked a scene during service. Calm was restored to their minds by theminister starting a rather long hymn in minims and semibreves, amid thesinging of which he ascended the pulpit. His face had a severe andeven denunciatory look as he gave out his text, and Somerset began tounderstand that this meant mischief to the young person who had causedthe hitch. 

'In the third chapter of Revelation and the fifteenth and followingverses, you will find these words:--

'"I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot: I would thouwert cold or hot. So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither coldnor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth. .. . Thou sayest, I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and knowest not thatthou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked. "'

The sermon straightway began, and it was soon apparent that thecommentary was to be no less forcible than the text. It was alsoapparent that the words were, virtually, not directed forward inthe line in which they were uttered, but through the chink of thevestry-door, that had stood slightly ajar since the exit of the younglady. The listeners appeared to feel this no less than Somerset did, fortheir eyes, one and all, became fixed upon that vestry door as if theywould almost push it open by the force of their gazing. The preacher'sheart was full and bitter; no book or note was wanted by him; neverwas spontaneity more absolute than here. It was no timid reproof ofthe ornamental kind, but a direct denunciation, all the more vigorousperhaps from the limitation of mind and language under which the speakerlaboured. Yet, fool that he had been made by the candidate, there wasnothing acrid in his attack. Genuine flashes of rhetorical firewere occasionally struck by that plain and simple man, who knew whatstraightforward conduct was, and who did not know the illimitablecaprice of a woman's mind. 

At this moment there was not in the whole chapel a person whoseimagination was not centred on what was invisibly taking place withinthe vestry. The thunder of the minister's eloquence echoed, of course, through the weak sister's cavern of retreat no less than round thepublic assembly. What she was doing inside there--whether listeningcontritely, or haughtily hastening to put on her things and get awayfrom the chapel and all it contained--was obviously the thought of eachmember. What changes were tracing themselves upon that lovely face: didit rise to phases of Raffaelesque resignation or sink so low as to flushand frown? was Somerset's inquiry; and a half-explanation occurred when, during the discourse, the door which had been ajar was gently pushed to. 

Looking on as a stranger it seemed to him more than probable that thisyoung woman's power of persistence in her unexpected repugnance to therite was strengthened by wealth and position of some sort, and wasnot the unassisted gift of nature. The manner of her arrival, and herdignified bearing before the assembly, strengthened the belief. A womanwho did not feel something extraneous to her mental self to fall backupon would be so far overawed by the people and the crisis as not toretain sufficient resolution for a change of mind. 

The sermon ended, the minister wiped his steaming face and turned downhis cuffs, and nods and sagacious glances went round. Yet many, even ofthose who had presumably passed the same ordeal with credit, exhibitedgentler judgment than the preacher's on a tergiversation of which theyhad probably recognized some germ in their own bosoms when in the lady'ssituation. 

For Somerset there was but one scene: the imagined scene of the girlherself as she sat alone in the vestry. The fervent congregation roseto sing again, and then Somerset heard a slight noise on his left handwhich caused him to turn his head. The brougham, which had retiredinto the field to wait, was back again at the door: the subject of hisrumination came out from the chapel--not in her mystic robe of white, but dressed in ordinary fashionable costume--followed as before by theattendant with other articles of clothing on her arm, including thewhite gown. Somerset fancied that the younger woman was drying her eyeswith her handkerchief, but there was not much time to see: they quicklyentered the carriage, and it moved on. Then a cat suddenly mewed, andhe saw a white Persian standing forlorn where the carriage had been. Thedoor was opened, the cat taken in, and the carriage drove away. 

The stranger's girlish form stamped itself deeply on Somerset's soul. Hestrolled on his way quite oblivious to the fact that the moon had justrisen, and that the landscape was one for him to linger over, especiallyif there were any Gothic architecture in the line of the lunar rays. Theinference was that though this girl must be of a serious turn of mind, wilfulness was not foreign to her composition: and it was probable thather daily doings evinced without much abatement by religion the unbrokenspirit and pride of life natural to her age. 

The little village inn at which Somerset intended to pass the nightlay a mile further on, and retracing his way up to the stile he rambledalong the lane, now beginning to be streaked like a zebra with theshadows of some young trees that edged the road. But his attention wasattracted to the other side of the way by a hum as of a night-bee, which arose from the play of the breezes over a single wire of telegraphrunning parallel with his track on tall poles that had appeared by theroad, he hardly knew when, from a branch route, probably leading fromsome town in the neighbourhood to the village he was approaching. He didnot know the population of Sleeping-Green, as the village of his searchwas called, but the presence of this mark of civilization seemed tosignify that its inhabitants were not quite so far in the rear of theirage as might be imagined; a glance at the still ungrassed heap of earthround the foot of each post was, however, sufficient to show that it wasat no very remote period that they had made their advance. 

Aided by this friendly wire Somerset had no difficulty in keeping hiscourse, till he reached a point in the ascent of a hill at which thetelegraph branched off from the road, passing through an opening in thehedge, to strike across an undulating down, while the road wound roundto the left. For a few moments Somerset doubted and stood still. Thewire sang on overhead with dying falls and melodious rises that invitedhim to follow; while above the wire rode the stars in their courses, thelow nocturn of the former seeming to be the voices of those stars, 'Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim. '

Recalling himself from these reflections Somerset decided to follow thelead of the wire. It was not the first time during his present tour thathe had found his way at night by the help of these musical threads whichthe post-office authorities had erected all over the country for quiteanother purpose than to guide belated travellers. Plunging with itacross the down he came to a hedgeless road that entered a park orchase, which flourished in all its original wildness. Tufts of rushesand brakes of fern rose from the hollows, and the road was in placeshalf overgrown with green, as if it had not been tended for many years;so much so that, where shaded by trees, he found some difficulty inkeeping it. Though he had noticed the remains of a deer-fence furtherback no deer were visible, and it was scarcely possible that thereshould be any in the existing state of things: but rabbits weremultitudinous, every hillock being dotted with their seated figures tillSomerset approached and sent them limping into their burrows. The roadnext wound round a clump of underwood beside which lay heaps of faggotsfor burning, and then there appeared against the sky the walls andtowers of a castle, half ruin, half residence, standing on an eminencehard by. 

Somerset stopped to examine it. The castle was not exceptionally large, but it had all the characteristics of its most important fellows. Irregular, dilapidated, and muffled in creepers as a great portion of itwas, some part--a comparatively modern wing--was inhabited, for a lightor two steadily gleamed from some upper windows; in others a reflectionof the moon denoted that unbroken glass yet filled their casements. Overall rose the keep, a square solid tower apparently not much injured bywars or weather, and darkened with ivy on one side, wherein wings couldbe heard flapping uncertainly, as if they belonged to a bird unableto find a proper perch. Hissing noises supervened, and then a hoot, proclaiming that a brood of young owls were residing there in thecompany of older ones. In spite of the habitable and more modern wing, neglect and decay had set their mark upon the outworks of the pile, unfitting them for a more positive light than that of the present hour. 

He walked up to a modern arch spanning the ditch--now dry andgreen--over which the drawbridge once had swung. The large door underthe porter's archway was closed and locked. While standing here thesinging of the wire, which for the last few minutes he had quiteforgotten, again struck upon his ear, and retreating to a convenientplace he observed its final course: from the poles amid the treesit leaped across the moat, over the girdling wall, and thence bya tremendous stretch towards the keep where, to judge by sound, itvanished through an arrow-slit into the interior. This fossil offeudalism, then, was the journey's-end of the wire, and not the villageof Sleeping-Green. 

There was a certain unexpectedness in the fact that the hoary memorialof a stolid antagonism to the interchange of ideas, the monument of harddistinctions in blood and race, of deadly mistrust of one's neighbour inspite of the Church's teaching, and of a sublime unconsciousness ofany other force than a brute one, should be the goal of a machine whichbeyond everything may be said to symbolize cosmopolitan views and theintellectual and moral kinship of all mankind. In that light the littlebuzzing wire had a far finer significance to the student Somerset thanthe vast walls which neighboured it. But the modern fever and fret whichconsumes people before they can grow old was also signified by the wire;and this aspect of to-day did not contrast well with the fairer sideof feudalism--leisure, light-hearted generosity, intense friendships, hawks, hounds, revels, healthy complexions, freedom from care, and sucha living power in architectural art as the world may never again see. 

Somerset withdrew till neither the singing of the wire nor the hisses ofthe irritable owls could be heard any more. A clock in the castle struckten, and he recognized the strokes as those he had heard when sittingon the stile. It was indispensable that he should retrace his steps andpush on to Sleeping-Green if he wished that night to reach his lodgings, which had been secured by letter at a little inn in the straggling lineof roadside houses called by the above name, where his luggage had bythis time probably arrived. In a quarter of an hour he was again at thepoint where the wire left the road, and following the highway over ahill he saw the hamlet at his feet. 

III. 

By half-past ten the next morning Somerset was once more approachingthe precincts of the building which had interested him the night before. Referring to his map he had learnt that it bore the name of StancyCastle or Castle de Stancy; and he had been at once struck with itsfamiliarity, though he had never understood its position in the county, believing it further to the west. If report spoke truly there wassome excellent vaulting in the interior, and a change of study fromecclesiastical to secular Gothic was not unwelcome for a while. 

The entrance-gate was open now, and under the archway the outer ward wasvisible, a great part of it being laid out as a flower-garden. This wasin process of clearing from weeds and rubbish by a set of gardeners, andthe soil was so encumbered that in rooting out the weeds such few hardyflowers as still remained in the beds were mostly brought up with them. The groove wherein the portcullis had run was as fresh as if only cutyesterday, the very tooling of the stone being visible. Close to thishung a bell-pull formed of a large wooden acorn attached to a verticalrod. Somerset's application brought a woman from the porter's door, whoinformed him that the day before having been the weekly show-day forvisitors, it was doubtful if he could be admitted now. 

'Who is at home?' said Somerset. 

'Only Miss de Stancy, ' the porteress replied. 

His dread of being considered an intruder was such that he thought atfirst there was no help for it but to wait till the next week. Buthe had already through his want of effrontery lost a sight of manyinteriors, whose exhibition would have been rather a satisfaction to theinmates than a trouble. It was inconvenient to wait; he knew nobodyin the neighbourhood from whom he could get an introductory letter: heturned and passed the woman, crossed the ward where the gardeners wereat work, over a second and smaller bridge, and up a flight of stonestairs, open to the sky, along whose steps sunburnt Tudor soldiers andother renowned dead men had doubtless many times walked. It led to theprincipal door on this side. Thence he could observe the walls ofthe lower court in detail, and the old mosses with which they werepadded--mosses that from time immemorial had been burnt brown everysummer, and every winter had grown green again. The arrow-slit and theelectric wire that entered it, like a worm uneasy at being unearthed, were distinctly visible now. So also was the clock, not, as he hadsupposed, a chronometer coeval with the fortress itself, but new andshining, and bearing the name of a recent maker. 

The door was opened by a bland, intensely shaven man out of livery, who took Somerset's name and politely worded request to be allowed toinspect the architecture of the more public portions of the castle. Hepronounced the word 'architecture' in the tone of a man who knew andpractised that art; 'for, ' he said to himself, 'if she thinks I am amere idle tourist, it will not be so well. '

No such uncomfortable consequences ensued. Miss De Stancy had greatpleasure in giving Mr. Somerset full permission to walk through whateverparts of the building he chose. 

He followed the butler into the inner buildings of the fortress, theponderous thickness of whose walls made itself felt like a physicalpressure. An internal stone staircase, ranged round four sides of asquare, was next revealed, leading at the top of one flight into aspacious hall, which seemed to occupy the whole area of the keep. Fromthis apartment a corridor floored with black oak led to the more modernwing, where light and air were treated in a less gingerly fashion. 

Here passages were broader than in the oldest portion, and upholsteryenlisted in the service of the fine arts hid to a great extent thecoldness of the walls. 

Somerset was now left to himself, and roving freely from room to roomhe found time to inspect the different objects of interest that aboundedthere. Not all the chambers, even of the habitable division, were in useas dwelling-rooms, though these were still numerous enough for the wantsof an ordinary country family. In a long gallery with a coved ceilingof arabesques which had once been gilded, hung a series of paintingsrepresenting the past personages of the De Stancy line. It was aremarkable array--even more so on account of the incredibly neglectedcondition of the canvases than for the artistic peculiarities theyexhibited. Many of the frames were dropping apart at their angles, andsome of the canvas was so dingy that the face of the person depicted wasonly distinguishable as the moon through mist. For the colour they hadnow they might have been painted during an eclipse; while, to judge bythe webs tying them to the wall, the spiders that ran up and down theirbacks were such as to make the fair originals shudder in their graves. 

He wondered how many of the lofty foreheads and smiling lips of thispictorial pedigree could be credited as true reflections of theirprototypes. Some were wilfully false, no doubt; many more so byunavoidable accident and want of skill. Somerset felt that it required aprofounder mind than his to disinter from the lumber of conventionalitythe lineaments that really sat in the painter's presence, and todiscover their history behind the curtain of mere tradition. 

The painters of this long collection were those who usually appear insuch places; Holbein, Jansen, and Vandyck; Sir Peter, Sir Geoffrey, SirJoshua, and Sir Thomas. Their sitters, too, had mostly been sirs; SirWilliam, Sir John, or Sir George De Stancy--some undoubtedly havinga nobility stamped upon them beyond that conferred by their robes andorders; and others not so fortunate. Their respective ladies hung bytheir sides--feeble and watery, or fat and comfortable, as the casemight be; also their fathers and mothers-in-law, their brothers andremoter relatives; their contemporary reigning princes, and theirintimate friends. Of the De Stancys pure there ran through thecollection a mark by which they might surely have been recognized asmembers of one family; this feature being the upper part of the nose. Every one, even if lacking other points in common, had the specialindent at this point in the face--sometimes moderate in degree, sometimes excessive. 

While looking at the pictures--which, though not in his regular line ofstudy, interested Somerset more than the architecture, because of theirsingular dilapidation, it occurred to his mind that he had in his youthbeen schoolfellow for a very short time with a pleasant boy bearing asurname attached to one of the paintings--the name of Ravensbury. Theboy had vanished he knew not how--he thought he had been removed fromschool suddenly on account of ill health. But the recollection wasvague, and Somerset moved on to the rooms above and below. In additionto the architectural details of which he had as yet obtained butglimpses, there was a great collection of old movables and otherdomestic art-work--all more than a century old, and mostly lying aslumber. There were suites of tapestry hangings, common and fine; greenand scarlet leather-work, on which the gilding was still but littleinjured; venerable damask curtains; quilted silk table-covers, ebony cabinets, worked satin window-cushions, carved bedsteads, andembroidered bed-furniture which had apparently screened no sleeper forthese many years. Downstairs there was also an interesting collection ofarmour, together with several huge trunks and coffers. A great manyof them had been recently taken out and cleaned, as if a long dormantinterest in them were suddenly revived. Doubtless they were those whichhad been used by the living originals of the phantoms that looked downfrom the frames. 

This excellent hoard of suggestive designs for wood-work, metal-work, and work of other sorts, induced Somerset to divert his studies fromthe ecclesiastical direction, to acquire some new ideas from the objectshere for domestic application. Yet for the present he was inclinedto keep his sketch-book closed and his ivory rule folded, and devotehimself to a general survey. Emerging from the ground-floor by a smalldoorway, he found himself on a terrace to the north-east, and on theother side than that by which he had entered. It was bounded by aparapet breast high, over which a view of the distant country met theeye, stretching from the foot of the slope to a distance of many miles. Somerset went and leaned over, and looked down upon the tops of thebushes beneath. The prospect included the village he had passed throughon the previous day: and amidst the green lights and shades of themeadows he could discern the red brick chapel whose recalcitrant inmatehad so engrossed him. 

Before his attention had long strayed over the incident whichromanticized that utilitarian structure, he became aware that he was notthe only person who was looking from the terrace towards that point ofthe compass. At the right-hand corner, in a niche of the curtain-wall, reclined a girlish shape; and asleep on the bench over which she leanedwas a white cat--the identical Persian as it seemed--that had been takeninto the carriage at the chapel-door. 

Somerset began to muse on the probability or otherwise of thebacksliding Baptist and this young lady resulting in one and the sameperson; and almost without knowing it he found himself deeply hoping forsuch a unity. The object of his inspection was idly leaning, andthis somewhat disguised her figure. It might have been tall or short, curvilinear or angular. She carried a light sunshade which she fitfullytwirled until, thrusting it back over her shoulder, her head wasrevealed sufficiently to show that she wore no hat or bonnet. This tokenof her being an inmate of the castle, and not a visitor, rather dampedhis expectations: but he persisted in believing her look towards thechapel must have a meaning in it, till she suddenly stood erect, andrevealed herself as short in stature--almost dumpy--at the same timegiving him a distinct view of her profile. She was not at all like theheroine of the chapel. He saw the dinted nose of the De Stancys outlinedwith Holbein shadowlessness against the blue-green of the distant wood. It was not the De Stancy face with all its original specialities: itwas, so to speak, a defective reprint of that face: for the nose triedhard to turn up and deal utter confusion to the family shape. 

As for the rest of the countenance, Somerset was obliged to own that itwas not beautiful: Nature had done there many things that she ought notto have done, and left undone much that she should have executed. Itwould have been decidedly plain but for a precious quality which noperfection of chiselling can give when the temperament denies it, andwhich no facial irregularity can take away--a tender affectionatenesswhich might almost be called yearning; such as is often seen in thewomen of Correggio when they are painted in profile. But the plainfeatures of Miss De Stancy--who she undoubtedly was--were ratherseverely handled by Somerset's judgment owing to his impression of theprevious night. A beauty of a sort would have been lent by the flexuouscontours of the mobile parts but for that unfortunate condition the poorgirl was burdened with, of having to hand on a traditional feature withwhich she did not find herself otherwise in harmony. 

She glanced at him for a moment, and showed by an imperceptible movementthat he had made his presence felt. Not to embarrass her Somersethastened to withdraw, at the same time that she passed round to theother part of the terrace, followed by the cat, in whom Somerset couldimagine a certain denominational cast of countenance, notwithstandingher company. But as white cats are much alike each other at a distance, it was reasonable to suppose this creature was not the same one as thatpossessed by the beauty. 

IV. 

He descended the stone stairs to a lower story of the castle, in whichwas a crypt-like hall covered by vaulting of exceptional and massiveingenuity:

 'Built ere the art was known, By pointed aisle and shafted stalk The arcades of an alleyed walk To emulate in stone. '

It happened that the central pillar whereon the vaults rested, reputedto exhibit some of the most hideous grotesques in England upon itscapital, was within a locked door. Somerset was tempted to ask aservant for permission to open it, till he heard that the inner roomwas temporarily used for plate, the key being kept by Miss De Stancy, atwhich he said no more. But afterwards the active housemaid redescendedthe stone steps; she entered the crypt with a bunch of keys in one hand, and in the other a candle, followed by the young lady whom Somerset hadseen on the terrace. 

'I shall be very glad to unlock anything you may want to see. So fewpeople take any real interest in what is here that we do not leave itopen. '

Somerset expressed his thanks. 

Miss De Stancy, a little to his surprise, had a touch of rusticity inher manner, and that forced absence of reserve which seclusion fromsociety lends to young women more frequently than not. She seemed gladto have something to do; the arrival of Somerset was plainly an eventsufficient to set some little mark upon her day. Deception had beenwritten on the faces of those frowning walls in their implying theinsignificance of Somerset, when he found them tenanted only by thislittle woman whose life was narrower than his own. 

'We have not been here long, ' continued Miss De Stancy, 'and that's whyeverything is in such a dilapidated and confused condition. '

Somerset entered the dark store-closet, thinking less of the ancientpillar revealed by the light of the candle than what a singular remarkthe latter was to come from a member of the family which appeared tohave been there five centuries. He held the candle above his head, andwalked round, and presently Miss De Stancy came back. 

'There is another vault below, ' she said, with the severe face of ayoung woman who speaks only because it is absolutely necessary. 'Perhapsyou are not aware of it? It was the dungeon: if you wish to godown there too, the servant will show you the way. It is not at allornamental: rough, unhewn arches and clumsy piers. '

Somerset thanked her, and would perhaps take advantage of her kindoffer when he had examined the spot where he was, if it were not causinginconvenience. 

'No; I am sure Paula will be glad to know that anybody thinks itinteresting to go down there--which is more than she does herself. '

Some obvious inquiries were suggested by this, but Somerset said, 'Ihave seen the pictures, and have been much struck by them; partly, ' headded, with some hesitation, 'because one or two of them reminded me ofa schoolfellow--I think his name was John Ravensbury?'

'Yes, ' she said, almost eagerly. 'He was my cousin!'

'So that we are not quite strangers?'

'But he is dead now. .. . He was unfortunate: he was mostly spoken ofas "that unlucky boy. ". .. You know, I suppose, Mr. Somerset, why thepaintings are in such a decaying state!--it is owing to the peculiartreatment of the castle during Mr. Wilkins's time. He was blind; so onecan imagine he did not appreciate such things as there are here. '

'The castle has been shut up, you mean?'

'O yes, for many years. But it will not be so again. We are going tohave the pictures cleaned, and the frames mended, and the old pieces offurniture put in their proper places. It will be very nice then. Did yousee those in the east closet?'

'I have only seen those in the gallery. '

'I will just show you the way to the others, if you would like to seethem?'

They ascended to the room designated the east closet. The paintingshere, mostly of smaller size, were in a better condition, owing to thefact that they were hung on an inner wall, and had hence been kept freefrom damp. Somerset inquired the names and histories of one or two. 

'I really don't quite know, ' Miss De Stancy replied after some thought. 'But Paula knows, I am sure. I don't study them much--I don't see theuse of it. ' She swung her sunshade, so that it fell open, and turned itup till it fell shut. 'I have never been able to give much attention toancestors, ' she added, with her eyes on the parasol. 

'These ARE your ancestors?' he asked, for her position and tone werematters which perplexed him. In spite of the family likeness and otherdetails he could scarcely believe this frank and communicative countrymaiden to be the modern representative of the De Stancys. 

'O yes, they certainly are, ' she said, laughing. 'People say I am likethem: I don't know if I am--well, yes, I know I am: I can see that, ofcourse, any day. But they have gone from my family, and perhaps itis just as well that they should have gone. .. . They are useless, ' sheadded, with serene conclusiveness. 

'Ah! they have gone, have they?'

'Yes, castle and furniture went together: it was long ago--long beforeI was born. It doesn't seem to me as if the place ever belonged to arelative of mine. '

Somerset corrected his smiling manner to one of solicitude. 

'But you live here, Miss De Stancy?'

'Yes--a great deal now; though sometimes I go home to sleep. '

'This is home to you, and not home?'

'I live here with Paula--my friend: I have not been here long, neitherhas she. For the first six months after her father's death she did notcome here at all. '

They walked on, gazing at the walls, till the young man said: 'I fearI may be making some mistake: but I am sure you will pardon myinquisitiveness this once. WHO is Paula?'

'Ah, you don't know! Of course you don't--local changes don't get talkedof far away. She is the owner of this castle and estate. My father soldit when he was quite a young man, years before I was born, and not longafter his father's death. It was purchased by a man named Wilkins, arich man who became blind soon after he had bought it, and never livedhere; so it was left uncared for. '

She went out upon the terrace; and without exactly knowing why, Somersetfollowed. 

'Your friend--'

'Has only come here quite recently. She is away from home to-day. .. . Itwas very sad, ' murmured the young girl thoughtfully. 'No sooner hadMr. Power bought it of the representatives of Mr. Wilkins--almostimmediately indeed--than he died from a chill caught after a warm bath. On account of that she did not take possession for several months; andeven now she has only had a few rooms prepared as a temporary residencetill she can think what to do. Poor thing, it is sad to be left alone!'

Somerset heedfully remarked that he thought he recognized that namePower, as one he had seen lately, somewhere or other. 

'Perhaps you have been hearing of her father. Do you know what he was?'

Somerset did not. 

She looked across the distant country, where undulations of dark-greenfoliage formed a prospect extending for miles. And as she watched, andSomerset's eyes, led by hers, watched also, a white streak of steam, thin as a cotton thread, could be discerned ploughing that greenexpanse. 'Her father made THAT, ' Miss De Stancy said, directing herfinger towards the object. 

'That what?'

'That railway. He was Mr. John Power, the great railway contractor. Andit was through making the railway that he discovered this castle--therailway was diverted a little on its account. '

'A clash between ancient and modern. '

'Yes, but he took an interest in the locality long before he purchasedthe estate. And he built the people a chapel on a bit of freehold hebought for them. He was a great Nonconformist, a staunch Baptist up tothe day of his death--a much stauncher one, ' she said significantly, 'than his daughter is. '

'Ah, I begin to spot her!'

'You have heard about the baptism?'

'I know something of it. '

'Her conduct has given mortal offence to the scattered people of thedenomination that her father was at such pains to unite into a body. '

Somerset could guess the remainder, and in thinking over thecircumstances did not state what he had seen. She added, as ifdisappointed at his want of curiosity--

'She would not submit to the rite when it came to the point. The waterlooked so cold and dark and fearful, she said, that she could not do itto save her life. '

'Surely she should have known her mind before she had gone so far?'Somerset's words had a condemnatory form, but perhaps his actual feelingwas that if Miss Power had known her own mind, she would have notinterested him half so much. 

'Paula's own mind had nothing to do with it!' said Miss De Stancy, warming up to staunch partizanship in a moment. 'It was all undertakenby her from a mistaken sense of duty. It was her father's dying wishthat she should make public profession of her--what do you call it--ofthe denomination she belonged to, as soon as she felt herself fit todo it: so when he was dead she tried and tried, and didn't get any morefit; and at last she screwed herself up to the pitch, and thought shemust undergo the ceremony out of pure reverence for his memory. It wasvery short-sighted of her father to put her in such a position: becauseshe is now very sad, as she feels she can never try again after such asermon as was delivered against her. '

Somerset presumed that Miss Power need not have heard this Knox orBossuet of hers if she had chosen to go away?

'She did not hear it in the face of the congregation; but from thevestry. She told me some of it when she reached home. Would you believeit, the man who preached so bitterly is a tenant of hers? I said, "Surely you will turn him out of his house?"--But she answered, in hercalm, deep, nice way, that she supposed he had a perfect right to preachagainst her, that she could not in justice molest him at all. I wouldn'tlet him stay if the house were mine. But she has often before allowedhim to scold her from the pulpit in a smaller way--once it was about anexpensive dress she had worn--not mentioning her by name, you know; butall the people are quite aware that it is meant for her, because onlyone person of her wealth or position belongs to the Baptist body in thiscounty. '

Somerset was looking at the homely affectionate face of the littlespeaker. 'You are her good friend, I am sure, ' he remarked. 

She looked into the distant air with tacit admission of the impeachment. 'So would you be if you knew her, ' she said; and a blush slowly roseto her cheek, as if the person spoken of had been a lover rather than afriend. 

'But you are not a Baptist any more than I?' continued Somerset. 

'O no. And I never knew one till I knew Paula. I think they are verynice; though I sometimes wish Paula was not one, but the religion ofreasonable persons. '

They walked on, and came opposite to where the telegraph emerged fromthe trees, leapt over the parapet, and up through the loophole into theinterior. 

'That looks strange in such a building, ' said her companion. 

'Miss Power had it put up to know the latest news from town. It costssix pounds a mile. She can work it herself, beautifully: and so canI, but not so well. It was a great delight to learn. Miss Power wasso interested at first that she was sending messages from morning tillnight. And did you hear the new clock?'

'Is it a new one?--Yes, I heard it. '

'The old one was quite worn out; so Paula has put it in the cellar, andhad this new one made, though it still strikes on the old bell. It tellsthe seconds, but the old one, which my very great grandfather erected inthe eighteenth century, only told the hours. Paula says that time, being so much more valuable now, must of course be cut up into smallerpieces. '

'She does not appear to be much impressed by the spirit of this ancientpile. '

Miss De Stancy shook her head too slightly to express absolute negation. 

'Do you wish to come through this door?' she asked. 'There is a singularchimney-piece in the kitchen, which is considered a unique example ofits kind, though I myself don't know enough about it to have an opinionon the subject. '

When they had looked at the corbelled chimney-piece they returned to thehall, where his eye was caught anew by a large map that he had connedfor some time when alone, without being able to divine the localityrepresented. It was called 'General Plan of the Town, ' and showedstreets and open spaces corresponding with nothing he had seen in thecounty. 

'Is that town here?' he asked. 

'It is not anywhere but in Paula's brain; she has laid it out from herown design. The site is supposed to be near our railway station, justacross there, where the land belongs to her. She is going to grant cheapbuilding leases, and develop the manufacture of pottery. '

'Pottery--how very practical she must be!'

'O no! no!' replied Miss De Stancy, in tones showing how supremelyignorant he must be of Miss Power's nature if he characterized her inthose terms. 'It is GREEK pottery she means--Hellenic pottery she tellsme to call it, only I forget. There is beautiful clay at the place, her father told her: he found it in making the railway tunnel. She hasvisited the British Museum, continental museums, and Greece, and Spain:and hopes to imitate the old fictile work in time, especially the Greekof the best period, four hundred years after Christ, or before Christ--Iforget which it was Paula said. .. . O no, she is not practical in thesense you mean, at all. '

'A mixed young lady, rather. '

Miss De Stancy appeared unable to settle whether this new definition ofher dear friend should be accepted as kindly, or disallowed as decidedlysarcastic. 'You would like her if you knew her, ' she insisted, in halftones of pique; after which she walked on a few steps. 

'I think very highly of her, ' said Somerset. 

'And I! And yet at one time I could never have believed that I shouldhave been her friend. One is prejudiced at first against people who arereported to have such differences in feeling, associations, and habit, as she seemed to have from mine. But it has not stood in the least inthe way of our liking each other. I believe the difference makes us themore united. '

'It says a great deal for the liberality of both, ' answered Somersetwarmly. 'Heaven send us more of the same sort of people! They are nottoo numerous at present. '

As this remark called for no reply from Miss De Stancy, she tookadvantage of an opportunity to leave him alone, first repeating herpermission to him to wander where he would. He walked about for sometime, sketch-book in hand, but was conscious that his interest did notlie much in the architecture. In passing along the corridor of anupper floor he observed an open door, through which was visible a roomcontaining one of the finest Renaissance cabinets he had ever seen. Itwas impossible, on close examination, to do justice to it in a hastysketch; it would be necessary to measure every line if he would bringaway anything of utility to him as a designer. Deciding to reserve thisgem for another opportunity he cast his eyes round the room and blusheda little. Without knowing it he had intruded into the absent MissPaula's own particular set of chambers, including a boudoir and sleepingapartment. On the tables of the sitting-room were most of the popularpapers and periodicals that he knew, not only English, but from Paris, Italy, and America. Satirical prints, though they did not undulypreponderate, were not wanting. Besides these there were books from aLondon circulating library, paper-covered light literature in French andchoice Italian, and the latest monthly reviews; while between the twowindows stood the telegraph apparatus whose wire had been the means ofbringing him hither. 

These things, ensconced amid so much of the old and hoary, were as ifa stray hour from the nineteenth century had wandered like a butterflyinto the thirteenth, and lost itself there. 

The door between this ante-chamber and the sleeping-room stood open. Without venturing to cross the threshold, for he felt that he would beabusing hospitality to go so far, Somerset looked in for a moment. Itwas a pretty place, and seemed to have been hastily fitted up. In acorner, overhung by a blue and white canopy of silk, was a little cot, hardly large enough to impress the character of bedroom upon the oldplace. Upon a counterpane lay a parasol and a silk neckerchief. On theother side of the room was a tall mirror of startling newness, drapedlike the bedstead, in blue and white. Thrown at random upon the floorwas a pair of satin slippers that would have fitted Cinderella. Adressing-gown lay across a settee; and opposite, upon a small easy-chairin the same blue and white livery, were a Bible, the Baptist Magazine, Wardlaw on Infant Baptism, Walford's County Families, and the CourtJournal. On and over the mantelpiece were nicknacks of variousdescriptions, and photographic portraits of the artistic, scientific, and literary celebrities of the day. 

A dressing-room lay beyond; but, becoming conscious that his studyof ancient architecture would hardly bear stretching further in thatdirection, Mr. Somerset retreated to the outside, obliviously passing bythe gem of Renaissance that had led him in. 

'She affects blue, ' he was thinking. 'Then she is fair. '

On looking up, some time later, at the new clock that told the seconds, he found that the hours at his disposal for work had flown without hishaving transferred a single feature of the building or furniture to hissketch-book. Before leaving he sent in for permission to come again, andthen walked across the fields to the inn at Sleeping-Green, reflectingless upon Miss De Stancy (so little force of presence had she possessed)than upon the modern flower in a mediaeval flower-pot whom Miss DeStancy's information had brought before him, and upon the incongruitiesthat were daily shaping themselves in the world under the great modernfluctuations of classes and creeds. 

Somerset was still full of the subject when he arrived at the end ofhis walk, and he fancied that some loungers at the bar of the inn werediscussing the heroine of the chapel-scene just at the moment of hisentry. On this account, when the landlord came to clear away the dinner, Somerset was led to inquire of him, by way of opening a conversation, ifthere were many Baptists in the neighbourhood. 

The landlord (who was a serious man on the surface, though heoccasionally smiled beneath) replied that there were a great many--farmore than the average in country parishes. 'Even here, in my house, now, ' he added, 'when volks get a drop of drink into 'em, and theirfeelings rise to a zong, some man will strike up a hymn by preference. But I find no fault with that; for though 'tis hardly human nature to beso calculating in yer cups, a feller may as well sing to gain somethingas sing to waste. '

'How do you account for there being so many?'

'Well, you zee, sir, some says one thing, and some another; I think theydoes it to save the expense of a Christian burial for ther children. Nowthere's a poor family out in Long Lane--the husband used to smite forJimmy More the blacksmith till 'a hurt his arm--they'd have no less thaneleven children if they'd not been lucky t'other way, and buried fivewhen they were three or four months old. Now every one of them childrenwas given to the sexton in a little box that any journeyman could nailtogether in a quarter of an hour, and he buried 'em at night for ashilling a head; whereas 'twould have cost a couple of pounds each ifthey'd been christened at church. .. . Of course there's the new ladyat the castle, she's a chapel member, and that may make a littledifference; but she's not been here long enough to show whether 'twillbe worth while to join 'em for the profit o't or whether 'twill not. Nodoubt if it turns out that she's of a sort to relieve volks in trouble, more will join her set than belongs to it already. "Any port in astorm, " of course, as the saying is. '

'As for yourself, you are a Churchman at present, I presume?'

'Yes; not but I was a Methodist once--ay, for a length of time. 'Twasowing to my taking a house next door to a chapel; so that what withhearing the organ bizz like a bee through the wall, and what withfinding it saved umbrellas on wet Zundays, I went over to that faith fortwo years--though I believe I dropped money by it--I wouldn't be the manto say so if I hadn't. Howsomever, when I moved into this house I turnedback again to my old religion. Faith, I don't zee much difference: beyou one, or be you t'other, you've got to get your living. '

'The De Stancys, of course, have not much influence here now, for that, or any other thing?'

'O no, no; not any at all. They be very low upon ground, and alwayswill be now, I suppose. It was thoughted worthy of being recorded inhistory--you've read it, sir, no doubt?'

'Not a word. '

'O, then, you shall. I've got the history zomewhere. 'Twas gay mannersthat did it. The only bit of luck they have had of late years isMiss Power's taking to little Miss De Stancy, and making her hercompany-keeper. I hope 'twill continue. '

That the two daughters of these antipodean families should be suchintimate friends was a situation which pleased Somerset as much as itdid the landlord. It was an engaging instance of that human progresson which he had expended many charming dreams in the years when poetry, theology, and the reorganization of society had seemed matters of moreimportance to him than a profession which should help him to a big houseand income, a fair Deiopeia, and a lovely progeny. When he was alone hepoured out a glass of wine, and silently drank the healths of the twogenerous-minded young women who, in this lonely district, had foundsweet communion a necessity of life, and by pure and instinctive goodsense had broken down a barrier which men thrice their age and reputewould probably have felt it imperative to maintain. But perhaps this waspremature: the omnipotent Miss Power's character--practical or ideal, politic or impulsive--he as yet knew nothing of; and giving overreasoning from insufficient data he lapsed into mere conjecture. 

V. 

The next morning Somerset was again at the castle. He passed someinterval on the walls before encountering Miss De Stancy, whom at lasthe observed going towards a pony-carriage that waited near the door. 

A smile gained strength upon her face at his approach, and she was thefirst to speak. 'I am sorry Miss Power has not returned, ' she said, andaccounted for that lady's absence by her distress at the event of twoevenings earlier. 

'But I have driven over to my father's--Sir William De Stancy's--housethis morning, ' she went on. 'And on mentioning your name to him, I foundhe knew it quite well. You will, will you not, forgive my ignorance inhaving no better knowledge of the elder Mr. Somerset's works than a dimsense of his fame as a painter? But I was going to say that my fatherwould much like to include you in his personal acquaintance, and wishesme to ask if you will give him the pleasure of lunching with him to-day. My cousin John, whom you once knew, was a great favourite of his, andused to speak of you sometimes. It will be so kind if you can come. Myfather is an old man, out of society, and he would be glad to hear thenews of town. '

Somerset said he was glad to find himself among friends where he hadonly expected strangers; and promised to come that day, if she wouldtell him the way. 

That she could easily do. The short way was across that glade he sawthere--then over the stile into the wood, following the path till itcame out upon the turnpike-road. He would then be almost close to thehouse. The distance was about two miles and a half. But if he thought ittoo far for a walk, she would drive on to the town, where she had beengoing when he came, and instead of returning straight to her father'swould come back and pick him up. 

It was not at all necessary, he thought. He was a walker, and could findthe path. 

At this moment a servant came to tell Miss De Stancy that the telegraphwas calling her. 

'Ah--it is lucky that I was not gone again!' she exclaimed. 'John seldomreads it right if I am away. '

It now seemed quite in the ordinary course that, as a friend of herfather's, he should accompany her to the instrument. So up they wenttogether, and immediately on reaching it she applied her ear to theinstrument, and began to gather the message. Somerset fancied himselflike a person overlooking another's letter, and moved aside. 

'It is no secret, ' she said, smiling. '"Paula to Charlotte, " it begins. '

'That's very pretty. '

'O--and it is about--you, ' murmured Miss De Stancy. 

'Me?' The architect blushed a little. 

She made no answer, and the machine went on with its story. There wassomething curious in watching this utterance about himself, under hisvery nose, in language unintelligible to him. He conjectured whether itwere inquiry, praise, or blame, with a sense that it might reasonablybe the latter, as the result of his surreptitious look into that bluebedroom, possibly observed and reported by some servant of the house. 

'"Direct that every facility be given to Mr. Somerset to visit anypart of the castle he may wish to see. On my return I shall be glad towelcome him as the acquaintance of your relatives. I have two of hisfather's pictures. "'

'Dear me, the plot thickens, ' he said, as Miss De Stancy announced thewords. 'How could she know about me?'

'I sent a message to her this morning when I saw you crossing the parkon your way here--telling her that Mr. Somerset, son of the Academician, was making sketches of the castle, and that my father knew something ofyou. That's her answer. '

'Where are the pictures by my father that she has purchased?'

'O, not here--at least, not unpacked. '

Miss de Stancy then left him to proceed on her journey to Markton (sothe nearest little town was called), informing him that she would beat her father's house to receive him at two o'clock. Just about one heclosed his sketch-book, and set out in the direction she had indicated. At the entrance to the wood a man was at work pulling down a rotten gatethat bore on its battered lock the initials 'W. De S. ' and erecting anew one whose ironmongery exhibited the letters 'P. P. '

The warmth of the summer noon did not inconveniently penetrate the densemasses of foliage which now began to overhang the path, except in spotswhere a ruthless timber-felling had taken place in previous years forthe purpose of sale. It was that particular half-hour of the day inwhich the birds of the forest prefer walking to flying; and there beingno wind, the hopping of the smallest songster over the dead leavesreached his ear from behind the undergrowth. The track had originallybeen a well-kept winding drive, but a deep carpet of moss and leavesoverlaid it now, though the general outline still remained to show thatits curves had been set out with as much care as those of a lawn walk, and the gradient made easy for carriages where the natural slopes weregreat. Felled trunks occasionally lay across it, and alongside were thehollow and fungous boles of trees sawn down in long past years. 

After a walk of three-quarters of an hour he came to another gate, wherethe letters 'P. P. ' again supplanted the historical 'W. De S. ' Climbingover this, he found himself on a highway which presently dipped downtowards the town of Markton, a place he had never yet seen. It appearedin the distance as a quiet little borough of a few thousand inhabitants;and, without the town boundary on the side he was approaching, stoodhalf-a-dozen genteel and modern houses, of the detached kind usuallyfound in such suburbs. On inquiry, Sir William De Stancy's residence wasindicated as one of these. 

It was almost new, of streaked brick, having a central door, and a smallbay window on each side to light the two front parlours. A littlelawn spread its green surface in front, divided from the road by ironrailings, the low line of shrubs immediately within them being coatedwith pallid dust from the highway. On the neat piers of the neatentrance gate were chiselled the words 'Myrtle Villa. ' Genuine roadsiderespectability sat smiling on every brick of the eligible dwelling. 

Perhaps that which impressed Somerset more than the mushroom modernismof Sir William De Stancy's house was the air of healthful cheerfulnesswhich pervaded it. He was shown in by a neat maidservant in black gownand white apron, a canary singing a welcome from a cage in the shadowof the window, the voices of crowing cocks coming over the chimneys fromsomewhere behind, and the sun and air riddling the house everywhere. 

A dwelling of those well-known and popular dimensions which allow theproceedings in the kitchen to be distinctly heard in the parlours, itwas so planned that a raking view might be obtained through it from thefront door to the end of the back garden. The drawing-room furniturewas comfortable, in the walnut-and-green-rep style of some years ago. Somerset had expected to find his friends living in an old house withremnants of their own antique furniture, and he hardly knew whether heought to meet them with a smile or a gaze of condolence. His doubtwas terminated, however, by the cheerful and tripping entry of Miss DeStancy, who had returned from her drive to Markton; and in a few moremoments Sir William came in from the garden. 

He was an old man of tall and spare build, with a considerable stoop, his glasses dangling against his waistcoat-buttons, and the frontcorners of his coat-tails hanging lower than the hinderparts, so thatthey swayed right and left as he walked. He nervously apologized to hisvisitor for having kept him waiting. 

'I am so glad to see you, ' he said, with a mild benevolence of tone, as he retained Somerset's hand for a moment or two; 'partly for yourfather's sake, whom I met more than once in my younger days, before hebecame so well-known; and also because I learn that you were a friend ofmy poor nephew John Ravensbury. ' He looked over his shoulder to see ifhis daughter were within hearing, and, with the impulse of the solitaryto make a confidence, continued in a low tone: 'She, poor girl, wasto have married John: his death was a sad blow to her and to all ofus. --Pray take a seat, Mr. Somerset. '

The reverses of fortune which had brought Sir William De Stancy tothis comfortable cottage awakened in Somerset a warmer emotion thancuriosity, and he sat down with a heart as responsive to each speechuttered as if it had seriously concerned himself, while his host gavesome words of information to his daughter on the trifling events thathad marked the morning just passed; such as that the cow had got out ofthe paddock into Miss Power's field, that the smith who had promisedto come and look at the kitchen range had not arrived, that two wasps'nests had been discovered in the garden bank, and that Nick Jones's babyhad fallen downstairs. Sir William had large cavernous arches to hiseye-sockets, reminding the beholder of the vaults in the castle heonce had owned. His hands were long and almost fleshless, each knuckleshowing like a bamboo-joint from beneath his coat-sleeves, which weresmall at the elbow and large at the wrist. All the colour had gone fromhis beard and locks, except in the case of a few isolated hairs of theformer, which retained dashes of their original shade at sudden pointsin their length, revealing that all had once been raven black. 

But to study a man to his face for long is a species of ill-nature whichrequires a colder temperament, or at least an older heart, than thearchitect's was at that time. Incurious unobservance is the trueattitude of cordiality, and Somerset blamed himself for having falleninto an act of inspection even briefly. He would wait for his host'sconversation, which would doubtless be of the essence of historicalromance. 

'The favourable Bank-returns have made the money-market much easierto-day, as I learn?' said Sir William. 

'O, have they?' said Somerset. 'Yes, I suppose they have. '

'And something is meant by this unusual quietness in Foreign stockssince the late remarkable fluctuations, ' insisted the old man. 'Is thecurrent of speculation quite arrested, or is it but a temporary lull?'

Somerset said he was afraid he could not give an opinion, and enteredvery lamely into the subject; but Sir William seemed to find sufficientinterest in his own thoughts to do away with the necessity of acquiringfresh impressions from other people's replies; for often after putting aquestion he looked on the floor, as if the subject were at an end. Lunchwas now ready, and when they were in the dining-room Miss De Stancy, to introduce a topic of more general interest, asked Somerset if he hadnoticed the myrtle on the lawn?

Somerset had noticed it, and thought he had never seen such a full-blownone in the open air before. His eyes were, however, resting at themoment on the only objects at all out of the common that the dining-roomcontained. One was a singular glass case over the fireplace, withinwhich were some large mediaeval door-keys, black with rust and age; andthe others were two full-length oil portraits in the costume of the endof the last century--so out of all proportion to the size of the roomthey occupied that they almost reached to the floor. 

'Those originally belonged to the castle yonder, ' said Miss De Stancy, or Charlotte, as her father called her, noticing Somerset's glance atthe keys. 'They used to unlock the principal entrance-doors, which wereknocked to pieces in the civil wars. New doors were placed afterwards, but the old keys were never given up, and have been preserved by us eversince. '

'They are quite useless--mere lumber--particularly to me, ' said SirWilliam. 

'And those huge paintings were a present from Paula, ' she continued. 'They are portraits of my great-grandfather and mother. Paula would giveall the old family pictures back to me if we had room for them; but theywould fill the house to the ceilings. '

Sir William was impatient of the subject. 'What is the utility ofsuch accumulations?' he asked. 'Their originals are but clay now--mereforgotten dust, not worthy a moment's inquiry or reflection at thisdistance of time. Nothing can retain the spirit, and why should wepreserve the shadow of the form?--London has been very full this year, sir, I have been told?'

'It has, ' said Somerset, and he asked if they had been up that season. It was plain that the matter with which Sir William De Stancy leastcared to occupy himself before visitors was the history of his ownfamily, in which he was followed with more simplicity by his daughterCharlotte. 

'No, ' said the baronet. 'One might be led to think there is a fatalitywhich prevents it. We make arrangements to go to town almost every year, to meet some old friend who combines the rare conditions of beingin London with being mindful of me; but he has always died or goneelsewhere before the event has taken place. .. . But with a disposition tobe happy, it is neither this place nor the other that can render us thereverse. In short each man's happiness depends upon himself, and hisability for doing with little. ' He turned more particularly to Somerset, and added with an impressive smile: 'I hope you cultivate the art ofdoing with little?'

Somerset said that he certainly did cultivate that art, partly becausehe was obliged to. 

'Ah--you don't mean to the extent that I mean. The world has not yetlearned the riches of frugality, says, I think, Cicero, somewhere; andnobody can testify to the truth of that remark better than I. If a manknows how to spend less than his income, however small that maybe, why--he has the philosopher's stone. ' And Sir William looked inSomerset's face with frugality written in every pore of his own, as muchas to say, 'And here you see one who has been a living instance of thoseprinciples from his youth up. '

Somerset soon found that whatever turn the conversation took, SirWilliam invariably reverted to this topic of frugality. When luncheonwas over he asked his visitor to walk with him into the garden, and nosooner were they alone than he continued: 'Well, Mr. Somerset, you aredown here sketching architecture for professional purposes. Nothing canbe better: you are a young man, and your art is one in which there areinnumerable chances. '

'I had begun to think they were rather few, ' said Somerset. 

'No, they are numerous enough: the difficulty is to find out where theylie. It is better to know where your luck lies than where your talentlies: that's an old man's opinion. '

'I'll remember it, ' said Somerset. 

'And now give me some account of your new clubs, new hotels, and newmen. .. . What I was going to add, on the subject of finding out whereyour luck lies, is that nobody is so unfortunate as not to have a luckystar in some direction or other. Perhaps yours is at the antipodes; ifso, go there. All I say is, discover your lucky star. '

'I am looking for it. '

'You may be able to do two things; one well, the other butindifferently, and yet you may have more luck in the latter. Then stickto that one, and never mind what you can do best. Your star lies there. '

'There I am not quite at one with you, Sir William. '

'You should be. Not that I mean to say that luck lies in any one placelong, or at any one person's door. Fortune likes new faces, and yourwisdom lies in bringing your acquisitions into safety while her favourlasts. To do that you must make friends in her time of smiles--makefriends with people, wherever you find them. My daughter hasunconsciously followed that maxim. She has struck up a warm friendshipwith our neighbour, Miss Power, at the castle. We are diametricallydifferent from her in associations, traditions, ideas, religion--shecomes of a violent dissenting family among other things--but I say toCharlotte what I say to you: win affection and regard wherever you can, and accommodate yourself to the times. I put nothing in the way of theirintimacy, and wisely so, for by this so many pleasant hours are added tothe sum total vouchsafed to humanity. '

It was quite late in the afternoon when Somerset took his leave. MissDe Stancy did not return to the castle that night, and he walked throughthe wood as he had come, feeling that he had been talking with a manof simple nature, who flattered his own understanding by devisingMachiavellian theories after the event, to account for any spontaneousaction of himself or his daughter, which might otherwise seem eccentricor irregular. 

Before Somerset reached the inn he was overtaken by a slight shower, andon entering the house he walked into the general room, where there was afire, and stood with one foot on the fender. The landlord was talking tosome guest who sat behind a screen; and, probably because Somersethad been seen passing the window, and was known to be sketching at thecastle, the conversation turned on Sir William De Stancy. 

'I have often noticed, ' observed the landlord, 'that volks who have cometo grief, and quite failed, have the rules how to succeed in life moreat their vingers' ends than volks who have succeeded. I assure you thatSir William, so full as he is of wise maxims, never acted upon a wisemaxim in his life, until he had lost everything, and it didn't matterwhether he was wise or no. You know what he was in his young days, ofcourse?'

'No, I don't, ' said the invisible stranger. 

'O, I thought everybody knew poor Sir William's history. He was thestar, as I may zay, of good company forty years ago. I remember him inthe height of his jinks, as I used to zee him when I was a very littleboy, and think how great and wonderful he was. I can seem to zee nowthe exact style of his clothes; white hat, white trousers, white silkhandkerchief; and his jonnick face, as white as his clothes with keepinglate hours. There was nothing black about him but his hair and hiseyes--he wore no beard at that time--and they were black as slooes. Thelike of his coming on the race-course was never seen there afore norsince. He drove his ikkipage hisself; and it was always hauled by fourbeautiful white horses, and two outriders rode in harness bridles. Therewas a groom behind him, and another at the rubbing-post, all in liveryas glorious as New Jerusalem. What a 'stablishment he kept up at thattime! I can mind him, sir, with thirty race-horses in training atonce, seventeen coach-horses, twelve hunters at his box t'other side ofLondon, four chargers at Budmouth, and ever so many hacks. '

'And he lost all by his racing speculations?' the stranger observed;and Somerset fancied that the voice had in it something more than thelanguid carelessness of a casual sojourner. 

'Partly by that, partly in other ways. He spent a mint o' money ina wild project of founding a watering-place; and sunk thousands in auseless silver mine; so 'twas no wonder that the castle named after himvell into other hands. .. . The way it was done was curious. Mr. Wilkins, who was the first owner after it went from Sir William, actually satdown as a guest at his table, and got up as the owner. He took off, ata round sum, everything saleable, furniture, plate, pictures, even themilk and butter in the dairy. That's how the pictures and furniturecome to be in the castle still; wormeaten rubbish zome o' it, and hardlyworth moving. '

'And off went the baronet to Myrtle Villa?'

'O no! he went away for many years. 'Tis quite lately, since hisillness, that he came to that little place, in zight of the stone wallsthat were the pride of his forefathers. '

'From what I hear, he has not the manner of a broken-hearted man?'

'Not at all. Since that illness he has been happy, as you see him: nopride, quite calm and mild; at new moon quite childish. 'Tis that makeshim able to live there; before he was so ill he couldn't bear a zight ofthe place, but since then he is happy nowhere else, and never leavesthe parish further than to drive once a week to Markton. His head won'tstand society nowadays, and he lives quite lonely as you zee, onlyzeeing his daughter, or his son whenever he comes home, which is notoften. They say that if his brain hadn't softened a little he would ha'died--'twas that saved his life. '

'What's this I hear about his daughter? Is she really hired companion tothe new owner?'

'Now that's a curious thing again, these two girls being so fond of oneanother; one of 'em a dissenter, and all that, and t'other a De Stancy. O no, not hired exactly, but she mostly lives with Miss Power, and goesabout with her, and I dare say Miss Power makes it wo'th her while. One can't move a step without the other following; though judging byordinary volks you'd think 'twould be a cat-and-dog friendship rather. '

'But 'tis not?'

''Tis not; they be more like lovers than maid and maid. Miss Power islooked up to by little De Stancy as if she were a god-a'mighty, and MissPower lets her love her to her heart's content. But whether Miss Powerloves back again I can't zay, for she's as deep as the North Star. '

The landlord here left the stranger to go to some other part of thehouse, and Somerset drew near to the glass partition to gain a glimpseof a man whose interest in the neighbourhood seemed to have arisen sosimultaneously with his own. But the inner room was empty: the man hadapparently departed by another door. 

VI. 

The telegraph had almost the attributes of a human being at StancyCastle. When its bell rang people rushed to the old tapestried chamberallotted to it, and waited its pleasure with all the deference due tosuch a novel inhabitant of that ancestral pile. This happened on thefollowing afternoon about four o'clock, while Somerset was sketching inthe room adjoining that occupied by the instrument. Hearing its call, helooked in to learn if anybody were attending, and found Miss De Stancybending over it. 

She welcomed him without the least embarrassment. 'Another message, ' shesaid. --'"Paula to Charlotte. --Have returned to Markton. Am starting forhome. Will be at the gate between four and five if possible. "'

Miss De Stancy blushed with pleasure when she raised her eyes from themachine. 'Is she not thoughtful to let me know beforehand?'

Somerset said she certainly appeared to be, feeling at the same timethat he was not in possession of sufficient data to make the opinion ofgreat value. 

'Now I must get everything ready, and order what she will want, as Mrs. Goodman is away. What will she want? Dinner would be best--she has hadno lunch, I know; or tea perhaps, and dinner at the usual time. Still, if she has had no lunch--Hark, what do I hear?'

She ran to an arrow-slit, and Somerset, who had also heard something, looked out of an adjoining one. They could see from their elevatedposition a great way along the white road, stretching like a tape amidthe green expanses on each side. There had arisen a cloud of dust, accompanied by a noise of wheels. 

'It is she, ' said Charlotte. 'O yes--it is past four--the telegram hasbeen delayed. '

'How would she be likely to come?'

'She has doubtless hired a carriage at the inn: she said it would beuseless to send to meet her, as she couldn't name a time. .. . Where isshe now?'

'Just where the boughs of those beeches overhang the road--there she isagain!'

Miss De Stancy went away to give directions, and Somerset continued towatch. The vehicle, which was of no great pretension, soon crossed thebridge and stopped: there was a ring at the bell; and Miss De Stancyreappeared. 

'Did you see her as she drove up--is she not interesting?'

'I could not see her. '

'Ah, no--of course you could not from this window because of the trees. Mr. Somerset, will you come downstairs? You will have to meet her, youknow. '

Somerset felt an indescribable backwardness. 'I will go on with mysketching, ' he said. 'Perhaps she will not be--'

'O, but it would be quite natural, would it not? Our manners are easierhere, you know, than they are in town, and Miss Power has adaptedherself to them. '

A compromise was effected by Somerset declaring that he would holdhimself in readiness to be discovered on the landing at any convenienttime. 

A servant entered. 'Miss Power?' said Miss De Stancy, before he couldspeak. 

The man advanced with a card: Miss De Stancy took it up, and readthereon: 'Mr. William Dare. '

'It is not Miss Power who has come, then?' she asked, with adisappointed face. 

'No, ma'am. '

She looked again at the card. 'This is some man of business, Isuppose--does he want to see me?'

'Yes, miss. Leastwise, he would be glad to see you if Miss Power is notat home. '

Miss De Stancy left the room, and soon returned, saying, 'Mr. Somerset, can you give me your counsel in this matter? This Mr. Dare says he is aphotographic amateur, and it seems that he wrote some time ago to MissPower, who gave him permission to take views of the castle, and promisedto show him the best points. But I have heard nothing of it, andscarcely know whether I ought to take his word in her absence. Mrs. Goodman, Miss Power's relative, who usually attends to these things, isaway. '

'I dare say it is all right, ' said Somerset. 

'Would you mind seeing him? If you think it quite in order, perhaps youwill instruct him where the best views are to be obtained?'

Thereupon Somerset at once went down to Mr. Dare. His coming as a sortof counterfeit of Miss Power disposed Somerset to judge him with as muchseverity as justice would allow, and his manner for the moment was notof a kind calculated to dissipate antagonistic instincts. Mr. Dare wasstanding before the fireplace with his feet wide apart, and his handsin the pockets of his coat-tails, looking at a carving over themantelpiece. He turned quickly at the sound of Somerset's footsteps, andrevealed himself as a person quite out of the common. 

His age it was impossible to say. There was not a hair on his face whichcould serve to hang a guess upon. In repose he appeared a boy; but hisactions were so completely those of a man that the beholder's firstestimate of sixteen as his age was hastily corrected to six-and-twenty, and afterwards shifted hither and thither along intervening years asthe tenor of his sentences sent him up or down. He had a broad forehead, vertical as the face of a bastion, and his hair, which was parted inthe middle, hung as a fringe or valance above, in the fashion sometimesaffected by the other sex. He wore a heavy ring, of which the goldseemed fair, the diamond questionable, and the taste indifferent. Therewere the remains of a swagger in his body and limbs as he came forward, regarding Somerset with a confident smile, as if the wonder were, notwhy Mr. Dare should be present, but why Somerset should be presentlikewise; and the first tone that came from Dare's lips wound up hislistener's opinion that he did not like him. 

A latent power in the man, or boy, was revealed by the circumstance thatSomerset did not feel, as he would ordinarily have done, thatit was a matter of profound indifference to him whether thisgentleman-photographer were a likeable person or no. 

'I have called by appointment; or rather, I left a card stating thatto-day would suit me, and no objection was made. ' Somerset recognizedthe voice; it was that of the invisible stranger who had talked with thelandlord about the De Stancys. Mr. Dare then proceeded to explain hisbusiness. 

Somerset found from his inquiries that the man had unquestionably beeninstructed by somebody to take the views he spoke of; and concluded thatDare's curiosity at the inn was, after all, naturally explained by hiserrand to this place. Blaming himself for a too hasty condemnation ofthe stranger, who though visually a little too assured was civil enoughverbally, Somerset proceeded with the young photographer to sundrycorners of the outer ward, and thence across the moat to the field, suggesting advantageous points of view. The office, being a shadow ofhis own pursuits, was not uncongenial to Somerset, and he forgot otherthings in attending to it. 

'Now in our country we should stand further back than this, and so get amore comprehensive coup d'oeil, ' said Dare, as Somerset selected a goodsituation. 

'You are not an Englishman, then, ' said Somerset. 

'I have lived mostly in India, Malta, Gibraltar, the Ionian Islands, and Canada. I there invented a new photographic process, which I am bentupon making famous. Yet I am but a dilettante, and do not follow thisart at the base dictation of what men call necessity. '

'O indeed, ' Somerset replied. 

As soon as this business was disposed of, and Mr. Dare had brought uphis van and assistant to begin operations, Somerset returned to thecastle entrance. While under the archway a man with a professional lookdrove up in a dog-cart and inquired if Miss Power were at home to-day. 

'She has not yet returned, Mr. Havill, ' was the reply. 

Somerset, who had hoped to hear an affirmative by this time, thought that Miss Power was bent on disappointing him in the flesh, notwithstanding the interest she expressed in him by telegraph; and asit was now drawing towards the end of the afternoon, he walked off inthe direction of his inn. 

There were two or three ways to that spot, but the pleasantest was bypassing through a rambling shrubbery, between whose bushes trickleda broad shallow brook, occasionally intercepted in its course by atransverse chain of old stones, evidently from the castle walls, whichformed a miniature waterfall. The walk lay along the river-brink. SoonSomerset saw before him a circular summer-house formed of short sticksnailed to ornamental patterns. Outside the structure, and immediatelyin the path, stood a man with a book in his hand; and it was presentlyapparent that this gentleman was holding a conversation with someperson inside the pavilion, but the back of the building being towardsSomerset, the second individual could not be seen. 

The speaker at one moment glanced into the interior, and at anotherat the advancing form of the architect, whom, though distinctly enoughbeheld, the other scarcely appeared to heed in the absorbing interestof his own discourse. Somerset became aware that it was the Baptistminister, whose rhetoric he had heard in the chapel yonder. 

'Now, ' continued the Baptist minister, 'will you express to me anyreason or objection whatever which induces you to withdraw from ourcommunion? It was that of your father, and of his father before him. Anydifficulty you may have met with I will honestly try to remove; forI need hardly say that in losing you we lose one of the most valuedmembers of the Baptist church in this district. I speak with all therespect due to your position, when I ask you to realize how irreparableis the injury you inflict upon the cause here by this lukewarmbackwardness. '

'I don't withdraw, ' said a woman's low voice within. 

'What do you do?'

'I decline to attend for the present. '

'And you can give no reason for this?'

There was no reply. 

'Or for your refusal to proceed with the baptism?'

'I have been christened. '

'My dear young lady, it is well known that your christening was the workof your aunt, who did it unknown to your parents when she had you inher power, out of pure obstinacy to a church with which she was not insympathy, taking you surreptitiously, and indefensibly, to the fontof the Establishment; so that the rite meant and could mean nothing atall. .. . But I fear that your new position has brought you into contactwith the Paedobaptists, that they have disturbed your old principles, and so induced you to believe in the validity of that trumperyceremony!'

'It seems sufficient. '

'I will demolish the basis of that seeming in three minutes, give me butthat time as a listener. '

'I have no objection. '

'Very well. .. . First, then, I will assume that those who have influencedyou in the matter have not been able to make any impression upon one sowell grounded as yourself in our distinctive doctrine, by the stale oldargument drawn from circumcision?'

'You may assume it. '

'Good--that clears the ground. And we now come to the New Testament. '

The minister began to turn over the leaves of his little Bible, which itimpressed Somerset to observe was bound with a flap, like a pocket book, the black surface of the leather being worn brown at the corners by longusage. He turned on till he came to the beginning of the New Testament, and then commenced his discourse. After explaining his position, the oldman ran very ably through the arguments, citing well-known writers onthe point in dispute when he required more finished sentences than hisown. 

The minister's earnestness and interest in his own case led himunconsciously to include Somerset in his audience as the young mandrew nearer; till, instead of fixing his eyes exclusively on the personwithin the summer-house, the preacher began to direct a good proportionof his discourse upon his new auditor, turning from one listener tothe other attentively, without seeming to feel Somerset's presence assuperfluous. 

'And now, ' he said in conclusion, 'I put it to you, sir, as to her: doyou find any flaw in my argument? Is there, madam, a single text which, honestly interpreted, affords the least foothold for the Paedobaptists;in other words, for your opinion on the efficacy of the riteadministered to you in your unconscious infancy? I put it to you both ashonest and responsible beings. ' He turned again to the young man. 

It happened that Somerset had been over this ground long ago. Born, soto speak, a High-Church infant, in his youth he had been of a thoughtfulturn, till at one time an idea of his entering the Church had beenentertained by his parents. He had formed acquaintance with men ofalmost every variety of doctrinal practice in this country; and, asthe pleadings of each assailed him before he had arrived at an age ofsufficient mental stability to resist new impressions, however badlysubstantiated, he inclined to each denomination as it presented itself, was

 'Everything by starts, and nothing long, '

till he had travelled through a great many beliefs and doctrines withoutfeeling himself much better than when he set out. 

A study of fonts and their origin had qualified him in this particularsubject. Fully conscious of the inexpediency of contests on minor ritualdifferences, he yet felt a sudden impulse towards a mild intellectualtournament with the eager old man--purely as an exercise of his wits inthe defence of a fair girl. 

'Sir, I accept your challenge to us, ' said Somerset, advancing to theminister's side. 

VII. 

At the sound of a new voice the lady in the bower started, as he couldsee by her outline through the crevices of the wood-work and creepers. The minister looked surprised. 

'You will lend me your Bible, sir, to assist my memory?' he continued. 

The minister held out the Bible with some reluctance, but he allowedSomerset to take it from his hand. The latter, stepping upon a largemoss-covered stone which stood near, and laying his hat on a flat beechbough that rose and fell behind him, pointed to the minister to seathimself on the grass. The minister looked at the grass, and looked upagain at Somerset, but did not move. 

Somerset for the moment was not observing him. His new position hadturned out to be exactly opposite the open side of the bower, and nowfor the first time he beheld the interior. On the seat was the womanwho had stood beneath his eyes in the chapel, the 'Paula' of Miss DeStancy's enthusiastic eulogies. She wore a summer hat, beneath whichher fair curly hair formed a thicket round her forehead. It would beimpossible to describe her as she then appeared. Not sensuous enoughfor an Aphrodite, and too subdued for a Hebe, she would yet, with theadjunct of doves or nectar, have stood sufficiently well for eitherof those personages, if presented in a pink morning light, and withmythological scarcity of attire. 

Half in surprise she glanced up at him; and lowering her eyes again, as if no surprise were ever let influence her actions for more than amoment, she sat on as before, looking past Somerset's position at theview down the river, visible for a long distance before her till it waslost under the bending trees. 

Somerset turned over the leaves of the minister's Bible, and began:--

'In the First Epistle to the Corinthians, the seventh chapter and thefourteenth verse--'. 

Here the young lady raised her eyes in spite of her reserve, but itbeing, apparently, too much labour to keep them raised, allowed herglance to subside upon her jet necklace, extending it with the thumb ofher left hand. 

'Sir!' said the Baptist excitedly, 'I know that passage well--it is thelast refuge of the Paedobaptists--I foresee your argument. I have metit dozens of times, and it is not worth that snap of the fingers! Itis worth no more than the argument from circumcision, or theSuffer-little-children argument. '

'Then turn to the sixteenth chapter of the Acts, and the thirty-third--'

'That, too, ' cried the minister, 'is answered by what I said before! Iperceive, sir, that you adopt the method of a special pleader, and notthat of an honest inquirer. Is it, or is it not, an answer to my proofsfrom the eighth chapter of the Acts, the thirty-sixth and thirty-seventhverses; the sixteenth of Mark, sixteenth verse; second of Acts, forty-first verse; the tenth and the forty-seventh verse; or theeighteenth and eighth verse?'

'Very well, then. Let me prove the point by other reasoning--by theargument from Apostolic tradition. ' He threw the minister's book uponthe grass, and proceeded with his contention, which comprised a fairlygood exposition of the earliest practice of the Church and inferencestherefrom. (When he reached this point an interest in his off-handarguments was revealed by the mobile bosom of Miss Paula Power, thoughshe still occupied herself by drawing out the necklace. ) Testimony fromJustin Martyr followed; with inferences from Irenaeus in the expression, 'Omnes enim venit per semetipsum salvare; omnes inquam, qui per eumrenascuntur in Deum, INFANTES et parvulos et pueros et juvenes. ' (At thesound of so much seriousness Paula turned her eyes upon the speaker withattention. ) He next adduced proof of the signification of 'renascor'in the writings of the Fathers, as reasoned by Wall; argumentsfrom Tertullian's advice to defer the rite; citations from Cyprian, Nazianzen, Chrysostom, and Jerome; and briefly summed up the wholematter. 

Somerset looked round for the minister as he concluded. But the old man, after standing face to face with the speaker, had turned his back uponhim, and during the latter portions of the attack had moved slowly away. He now looked back; his countenance was full of commiserating reproachas he lifted his hand, twice shook his head, and said, 'In the Epistleto the Philippians, first chapter and sixteenth verse, it is writtenthat there are some who preach in contention and not sincerely. Andin the Second Epistle to Timothy, fourth chapter and fourth verse, attention is drawn to those whose ears refuse the truth, and are turnedunto fables. I wish you good afternoon, sir, and that priceless gift, SINCERITY. '

The minister vanished behind the trees; Somerset and Miss Power beingleft confronting each other alone. 

Somerset stepped aside from the stone, hat in hand, at the same momentin which Miss Power rose from her seat. She hesitated for an instant, and said, with a pretty girlish stiffness, sweeping back the skirt ofher dress to free her toes in turning: 'Although you are personallyunknown to me, I cannot leave you without expressing my deep sense ofyour profound scholarship, and my admiration for the thoroughness ofyour studies in divinity. '

'Your opinion gives me great pleasure, ' said Somerset, bowing, andfairly blushing. 'But, believe me, I am no scholar, and no theologian. My knowledge of the subject arises simply from the accident that somefew years ago I looked into the question for a special reason. In thestudy of my profession I was interested in the designing of fonts andbaptisteries, and by a natural process I was led to investigate thehistory of baptism; and some of the arguments I then learnt up stillremain with me. That's the simple explanation of my erudition. '

'If your sermons at the church only match your address to-day, I shallnot wonder at hearing that the parishioners are at last willing toattend. '

It flashed upon Somerset's mind that she supposed him to be the newcurate, of whose arrival he had casually heard, during his sojourn atthe inn. Before he could bring himself to correct an error to which, perhaps, more than to anything else, was owing the friendliness of hermanner, she went on, as if to escape the embarrassment of silence:--

'I need hardly say that I at least do not doubt the sincerity of yourarguments. '

'Nevertheless, I was not altogether sincere, ' he answered. 

She was silent. 

'Then why should you have delivered such a defence of me?' she askedwith simple curiosity. 

Somerset involuntarily looked in her face for his answer. 

Paula again teased the necklace. 'Would you have spoken so eloquently onthe other side if I--if occasion had served?' she inquired shyly. 

'Perhaps I would. '

Another pause, till she said, 'I, too, was insincere. '

'You?'

'I was. '

'In what way?

'In letting him, and you, think I had been at all influenced byauthority, scriptural or patristic. '

'May I ask, why, then, did you decline the ceremony the other evening?'

'Ah, you, too, have heard of it!' she said quickly. 

'No. '

'What then?'

'I saw it. '

She blushed and looked down the river. 'I cannot give my reasons, ' shesaid. 

'Of course not, ' said Somerset. 

'I would give a great deal to possess real logical dogmatism. '

'So would I. '

There was a moment of embarrassment: she wanted to get away, but didnot precisely know how. He would have withdrawn had she not said, as ifrather oppressed by her conscience, and evidently still thinking himthe curate: 'I cannot but feel that Mr. Woodwell's heart has beenunnecessarily wounded. '

'The minister's?'

'Yes. He is single-mindedness itself. He gives away nearly all he hasto the poor. He works among the sick, carrying them necessaries with hisown hands. He teaches the ignorant men and lads of the village whenhe ought to be resting at home, till he is absolutely prostrate fromexhaustion, and then he sits up at night writing encouraging lettersto those poor people who formerly belonged to his congregation in thevillage, and have now gone away. He always offends ladies, because hecan't help speaking the truth as he believes it; but he hasn't offendedme!'

Her feelings had risen towards the end, so that she finished quitewarmly, and turned aside. 

'I was not in the least aware that he was such a man, ' murmuredSomerset, looking wistfully after the minister. .. . 'Whatever you mayhave done, I fear that I have grievously wounded a worthy man's heartfrom an idle wish to engage in a useless, unbecoming, dull, last-centuryargument. '

'Not dull, ' she murmured, 'for it interested me. '

Somerset accepted her correction willingly. 'It was ill-considered ofme, however, ' he said; 'and in his distress he has forgotten his Bible. 'He went and picked up the worn volume from where it lay on the grass. 

'You can easily win him to forgive you, by just following, and returningthe book to him, ' she observed. 

'I will, ' said the young man impulsively. And, bowing to her, hehastened along the river brink after the minister. He at length saw hisfriend before him, leaning over the gate which led from the privatepath into a lane, his cheek resting on the palm of his hand with everyoutward sign of abstraction. He was not conscious of Somerset's presencetill the latter touched him on the shoulder. 

Never was a reconciliation effected more readily. When Somerset saidthat, fearing his motives might be misconstrued, he had followed toassure the minister of his goodwill and esteem, Mr. Woodwell held outhis hand, and proved his friendliness in return by preparing to havethe controversy on their religious differences over again from thebeginning, with exhaustive detail. Somerset evaded this with alacrity, and once having won his companion to other subjects he found that theaustere man had a smile as pleasant as an infant's on the rare momentswhen he indulged in it; moreover, that he was warmly attached to MissPower. 

'Though she gives me more trouble than all the rest of the Baptistchurch in this district, ' he said, 'I love her as my own daughter. ButI am sadly exercised to know what she is at heart. Heaven supply me withfortitude to contest her wild opinions, and intractability! But she hassweet virtues, and her conduct at times can be most endearing. '

'I believe it!' said Somerset, with more fervour than mere politenessrequired. 

'Sometimes I think those Stancy towers and lands will be a curse to her. The spirit of old papistical times still lingers in the nooks of thosesilent walls, like a bad odour in a still atmosphere, dulling theiconoclastic emotions of the true Puritan. It would be a pity indeedif she were to be tainted by the very situation that her father'sindomitable energy created for her. '

'Do not be concerned about her, ' said Somerset gently. 'She's not aPaedobaptist at heart, although she seems so. '

Mr. Woodwell placed his finger on Somerset's arm, saying, 'If she'snot a Paedobaptist, or Episcopalian; if she is not vulnerable to themediaeval influences of her mansion, lands, and new acquaintance, itis because she's been vulnerable to what is worse: to doctrines besidewhich the errors of Paaedobaptists, Episcopalians, Roman Catholics, arebut as air. '

'How? You astonish me. '

'Have you heard in your metropolitan experience of a curious body of NewLights, as they think themselves?' The minister whispered a name to hislistener, as if he were fearful of being overheard. 

'O no, ' said Somerset, shaking his head, and smiling at the minister'shorror. 'She's not that; at least, I think not. . . . She's a woman;nothing more. Don't fear for her; all will be well. '

The poor old man sighed. 'I love her as my own. I will say no more. '

Somerset was now in haste to go back to the lady, to ease her apparentanxiety as to the result of his mission, and also because time seemedheavy in the loss of her discreet voice and soft, buoyant look. Everymoment of delay began to be as two. But the minister was too earnestin his converse to see his companion's haste, and it was not tillperception was forced upon him by the actual retreat of Somerset that heremembered time to be a limited commodity. He then expressed his wishto see Somerset at his house to tea any afternoon he could spare, andreceiving the other's promise to call as soon as he could, allowed theyounger man to set out for the summer-house, which he did at a smartpace. When he reached it he looked around, and found she was gone. 

Somerset was immediately struck by his own lack of social dexterity. Whydid he act so readily on the whimsical suggestion of another person, andfollow the minister, when he might have said that he would call onMr. Woodwell to-morrow, and, making himself known to Miss Power as thevisiting architect of whom she had heard from Miss De Stancy, have hadthe pleasure of attending her to the castle? 'That's what any other manwould have had wit enough to do!' he said. 

There then arose the question whether her despatching him after theminister was such an admirable act of good-nature to a good man as ithad at first seemed to be. Perhaps it was simply a manoeuvre for gettingrid of himself; and he remembered his doubt whether a certain lightin her eyes when she inquired concerning his sincerity were innocentearnestness or the reverse. As the possibility of levity crossedhis brain, his face warmed; it pained him to think that a woman sointeresting could condescend to a trick of even so mild a complexion asthat. He wanted to think her the soul of all that was tender, and noble, and kind. The pleasure of setting himself to win a minister's goodwillwas a little tarnished now. 

VIII. 

That evening Somerset was so preoccupied with these things that he leftall his sketching implements out-of-doors in the castle grounds. Thenext morning he hastened thither to secure them from being stolen orspoiled. Meanwhile he was hoping to have an opportunity of rectifyingPaula's mistake about his personality, which, having served a very goodpurpose in introducing them to a mutual conversation, might possibly bemade just as agreeable as a thing to be explained away. 

He fetched his drawing instruments, rods, sketching-blocks and otherarticles from the field where they had lain, and was passing under thewalls with them in his hands, when there emerged from the outer archwayan open landau, drawn by a pair of black horses of fine action andobviously strong pedigree, in which Paula was seated, under the shade ofa white parasol with black and white ribbons fluttering on the summit. The morning sun sparkled on the equipage, its newness being made all themore noticeable by the ragged old arch behind. 

She bowed to Somerset in a way which might have been meant to expressthat she had discovered her mistake; but there was no embarrassment inher manner, and the carriage bore her away without her making any signfor checking it. He had not been walking towards the castle entrance, and she could not be supposed to know that it was his intention to enterthat day. 

She had looked such a bud of youth and promise that his disappointmentat her departure showed itself in his face as he observed her. However, he went on his way, entered a turret, ascended to the leads of the greattower, and stepped out. 

From this elevated position he could still see the carriage and thewhite surface of Paula's parasol in the glowing sun. While he watchedthe landau stopped, and in a few moments the horses were turned, thewheels and the panels flashed, and the carriage came bowling alongtowards the castle again. 

Somerset descended the stone stairs. Before he had quite got to thebottom he saw Miss De Stancy standing in the outer hall. 

'When did you come, Mr. Somerset?' she gaily said, looking up surprised. 'How industrious you are to be at work so regularly every day! We didn'tthink you would be here to-day: Paula has gone to a vegetable show atMarkton, and I am going to join her there soon. '

'O! gone to a vegetable show. But I think she has altered her--'

At this moment the noise of the carriage was heard in the ward, andafter a few seconds Miss Power came in--Somerset being invisible fromthe door where she stood. 

'O Paula, what has brought you back?' said Miss De Stancy. 

'I have forgotten something. '

'Mr. Somerset is here. Will you not speak to him?'

Somerset came forward, and Miss De Stancy presented him to her friend. Mr. Somerset acknowledged the pleasure by a respectful inclination ofhis person, and said some words about the meeting yesterday. 

'Yes, ' said Miss Power, with a serene deliberateness quite noteworthy ina girl of her age; 'I have seen it all since. I was mistaken about you, was I not? Mr. Somerset, I am glad to welcome you here, both as a friendof Miss De Stancy's family, and as the son of your father--which isindeed quite a sufficient introduction anywhere. '

'You have two pictures painted by Mr. Somerset's father, have you not?I have already told him about them, ' said Miss De Stancy. 'Perhaps Mr. Somerset would like to see them if they are unpacked?'

As Somerset had from his infancy suffered from a plethora of thoseproductions, excellent as they were, he did not reply quite so eagerlyas Miss De Stancy seemed to expect to her kind suggestion, and Paularemarked to him, 'You will stay to lunch? Do order it at your own time, if our hour should not be convenient. '

Her voice was a voice of low note, in quality that of a flute atthe grave end of its gamut. If she sang, she was a pure contraltounmistakably. 

'I am making use of the permission you have been good enough to grantme--of sketching what is valuable within these walls. '

'Yes, of course, I am willing for anybody to come. People hold theseplaces in trust for the nation, in one sense. You lift your hands, Charlotte; I see I have not convinced you on that point yet. '

Miss De Stancy laughed, and said something to no purpose. 

Somehow Miss Power seemed not only more woman than Miss De Stancy, butmore woman than Somerset was man; and yet in years she was inferior toboth. Though becomingly girlish and modest, she appeared to possess agood deal of composure, which was well expressed by the shaded light ofher eyes. 

'You have then met Mr. Somerset before?' said Charlotte. 

'He was kind enough to deliver an address in my defence yesterday. Isuppose I seemed quite unable to defend myself. '

'O no!' said he. When a few more words had passed she turned to Miss DeStancy and spoke of some domestic matter, upon which Somerset withdrew, Paula accompanying his exit with a remark that she hoped to see himagain a little later in the day. 

Somerset retired to the chambers of antique lumber, keeping an eyeupon the windows to see if she re-entered the carriage and resumed herjourney to Markton. But when the horses had been standing a long timethe carriage was driven round to the stables. Then she was not going tothe vegetable show. That was rather curious, seeing that she had onlycome back for something forgotten. 

These queries and thoughts occupied the mind of Somerset until the bellwas rung for luncheon. Owing to the very dusty condition in which hefound himself after his morning's labours among the old carvings he wasrather late in getting downstairs, and seeing that the rest had gone inhe went straight to the dining-hall. 

The population of the castle had increased in his absence. There wereassembled Paula and her friend Charlotte; a bearded man some years olderthan himself, with a cold grey eye, who was cursorily introduced to himin sitting down as Mr. Havill, an architect of Markton; also anelderly lady of dignified aspect, in a black satin dress, of which sheapparently had a very high opinion. This lady, who seemed to be a meredummy in the establishment, was, as he now learnt, Mrs. Goodman byname, a widow of a recently deceased gentleman, and aunt to Paula--theidentical aunt who had smuggled Paula into a church in her helplessinfancy, and had her christened without her parents' knowledge. Havingbeen left in narrow circumstances by her husband, she was at presentliving with Miss Power as chaperon and adviser on practical matters--ina word, as ballast to the management. Beyond her Somerset discernedhis new acquaintance Mr. Woodwell, who on sight of Somerset was forhastening up to him and performing a laboured shaking of hands inearnest recognition. 

Paula had just come in from the garden, and was carelessly laying downher large shady hat as he entered. Her dress, a figured material inblack and white, was short, allowing her feet to appear. There wassomething in her look, and in the style of her corsage, which remindedhim of several of the bygone beauties in the gallery. The thought for amoment crossed his mind that she might have been imitating one of them. 

'Fine old screen, sir!' said Mr. Havill, in a long-drawn voice acrossthe table when they were seated, pointing in the direction of thetraceried oak division between the dining-hall and a vestibule at theend. 'As good a piece of fourteenth-century work as you shall see inthis part of the country. '

'You mean fifteenth century, of course?' said Somerset. 

Havill was silent. 'You are one of the profession, perhaps?' asked thelatter, after a while. 

'You mean that I am an architect?' said Somerset. 'Yes. '

'Ah--one of my own honoured vocation. ' Havill's face had been notunpleasant until this moment, when he smiled; whereupon there instantlygleamed over him a phase of meanness, remaining until the smile diedaway. 

Havill continued, with slow watchfulness:--

'What enormous sacrileges are committed by the builders every day, Iobserve! I was driving yesterday to Toneborough where I am erecting atown-hall, and passing through a village on my way I saw the workmenpulling down a chancel-wall in which they found imbedded a uniquespecimen of Perpendicular work--a capital from some old arcade--themouldings wonderfully undercut. They were smashing it up as filling-infor the new wall. '

'It must have been unique, ' said Somerset, in the too-readilycontroversial tone of the educated young man who has yet to learndiplomacy. 'I have never seen much undercutting in Perpendicularstone-work; nor anybody else, I think. '

'O yes--lots of it!' said Mr. Havill, nettled. 

Paula looked from one to the other. 'Which am I to take as guide?' sheasked. 'Are Perpendicular capitals undercut, as you call it, Mr. Havill, or no?'

'It depends upon circumstances, ' said Mr. Havill. 

But Somerset had answered at the same time: 'There is seldom or neverany marked undercutting in moulded work later than the middle of thefourteenth century. '

Havill looked keenly at Somerset for a time: then he turned to Paula:'As regards that fine Saxon vaulting you did me the honour to consult meabout the other day, I should advise taking out some of the old stonesand reinstating new ones exactly like them. '

'But the new ones won't be Saxon, ' said Paula. 'And then in time tocome, when I have passed away, and those stones have become stained likethe rest, people will be deceived. I should prefer an honest patch toany such make-believe of Saxon relics. '

As she concluded she let her eyes rest on Somerset for a moment, as ifto ask him to side with her. Much as he liked talking to Paula, hewould have preferred not to enter into this discussion with anotherprofessional man, even though that man were a spurious article; but hewas led on to enthusiasm by a sudden pang of regret at finding that themasterly workmanship in this fine castle was likely to be tinkered andspoilt by such a man as Havill. 

'You will deceive nobody into believing that anything is Saxon here, ' hesaid warmly. 'There is not a square inch of Saxon work, as it is called, in the whole castle. '

Paula, in doubt, looked to Mr. Havill. 

'O yes, sir; you are quite mistaken, ' said that gentleman slowly. 'Everystone of those lower vaults was reared in Saxon times. '

'I can assure you, ' said Somerset deferentially, but firmly, 'that thereis not an arch or wall in this castle of a date anterior to the year1100; no one whose attention has ever been given to the study ofarchitectural details of that age can be of a different opinion. '

'I have studied architecture, and I am of a different opinion. I havethe best reason in the world for the difference, for I have historyherself on my side. What will you say when I tell you that it is arecorded fact that this was used as a castle by the Romans, and that itis mentioned in Domesday as a building of long standing?'

'I shall say that has nothing to do with it, ' replied the young man. 'I don't deny that there may have been a castle here in the time ofthe Romans: what I say is, that none of the architecture we now see wasstanding at that date. '

There was a silence of a minute, disturbed only by a murmured dialoguebetween Mrs. Goodman and the minister, during which Paula was lookingthoughtfully on the table as if framing a question. 

'Can it be, ' she said to Somerset, 'that such certainty has been reachedin the study of architectural dates? Now, would you really risk anythingon your belief? Would you agree to be shut up in the vaults and fed uponbread and water for a week if I could prove you wrong?'

'Willingly, ' said Somerset. 'The date of those towers and arches ismatter of absolute certainty from the details. That they should havebeen built before the Conquest is as unlikely as, say, that therustiest old gun with a percussion lock should be older than the date ofWaterloo. '

'How I wish I knew something precise of an art which makes one soindependent of written history!'

Mr. Havill had lapsed into a mannerly silence that was only sullennessdisguised. Paula turned her conversation to Miss De Stancy, who hadsimply looked from one to the other during the discussion, though shemight have been supposed to have a prescriptive right to a few remarkson the matter. A commonplace talk ensued, till Havill, who had notjoined in it, privately began at Somerset again with a mixed manner ofcordiality, contempt, and misgiving. 

'You have a practice, I suppose, sir?'

'I am not in practice just yet. '

'Just beginning?'

'I am about to begin. '

'In London, or near here?'

'In London probably. '

'H'm. .. . I am practising in Markton. '

'Indeed. Have you been at it long?'

'Not particularly. I designed the chapel built by this lady's latefather; it was my first undertaking--I owe my start, in fact, to Mr. Power. Ever build a chapel?'

'Never. I have sketched a good many churches. '

'Ah--there we differ. I didn't do much sketching in my youth, nor have Itime for it now. Sketching and building are two different things, to mymind. I was not brought up to the profession--got into it through sheerlove of it. I began as a landscape gardener, then I became a builder, then I was a road contractor. Every architect might do worse than havesome such experience. But nowadays 'tis the men who can draw prettypictures who get recommended, not the practical men. Young prigs winInstitute medals for a pretty design or two which, if anybody triedto build them, would fall down like a house of cards; then they gettravelling studentships and what not, and then they start as architectsof some new school or other, and think they are the masters of usexperienced ones. '

While Somerset was reflecting how far this statement was true, he heardthe voice of Paula inquiring, 'Who can he be?'

Her eyes were bent on the window. Looking out, Somerset saw in the meadbeyond the dry ditch, Dare, with his photographic apparatus. 

'He is the young gentleman who called about taking views of the castle, 'said Charlotte. 

'O yes--I remember; it is quite right. He met me in the village andasked me to suggest him some views. I thought him a respectable youngfellow. '

'I think he is a Canadian, ' said Somerset. 

'No, ' said Paula, 'he is from the East--at least he implied so to me. '

'There is Italian blood in him, ' said Charlotte brightly. 'For he spoketo me with an Italian accent. But I can't think whether he is a boy or aman. '

'It is to be earnestly hoped that the gentleman does not prevaricate, 'said the minister, for the first time attracted by the subject. 'Iaccidentally met him in the lane, and he said something to me abouthaving lived in Malta. I think it was Malta, or Gibraltar--even if hedid not say that he was born there. '

'His manners are no credit to his nationality, ' observed Mrs. Goodman, also speaking publicly for the first time. 'He asked me this morning tosend him out a pail of water for his process, and before I had turnedaway he began whistling. I don't like whistlers. '

'Then it appears, ' said Somerset, 'that he is a being of no age, nonationality, and no behaviour. '

'A complete negative, ' added Havill, brightening into a civil sneer. 'That is, he would be, if he were not a maker of negatives well known inMarkton. '

'Not well known, Mr. Havill, ' answered Mrs. Goodman firmly. 'For I livedin Markton for thirty years ending three months ago, and he was neverheard of in my time. '

'He is something like you, Charlotte, ' said Paula, smiling playfully onher companion. 

All the men looked at Charlotte, on whose face a delicate nervous blushthereupon made its appearance. 

''Pon my word there is a likeness, now I think of it, ' said Havill. 

Paula bent down to Charlotte and whispered: 'Forgive my rudeness, dear. He is not a nice enough person to be like you. He is really more likeone or other of the old pictures about the house. I forget which, andreally it does not matter. '

'People's features fall naturally into groups and classes, ' remarkedSomerset. 'To an observant person they often repeat themselves; thoughto a careless eye they seem infinite in their differences. '

The conversation flagged, and they idly observed the figure of thecosmopolite Dare as he walked round his instrument in the mead andbusied himself with an arrangement of curtains and lenses, occasionallywithdrawing a few steps, and looking contemplatively at the towers andwalls. 

IX. 

Somerset returned to the top of the great tower with a vagueconsciousness that he was going to do something up there--perhaps sketcha general plan of the structure. But he began to discern that thisStancy-Castle episode in his studies of Gothic architecture might beless useful than ornamental to him as a professional man, though it wastoo agreeable to be abandoned. Finding after a while that his drawingprogressed but slowly, by reason of infinite joyful thoughts more alliedto his nature than to his art, he relinquished rule and compass, andentered one of the two turrets opening on the roof. It was not thestaircase by which he had ascended, and he proceeded to explore itslower part. Entering from the blaze of light without, and imagining thestairs to descend as usual, he became aware after a few steps thatthere was suddenly nothing to tread on, and found himself precipitateddownwards to a distance of several feet. 

Arrived at the bottom, he was conscious of the happy fact that he hadnot seriously hurt himself, though his leg was twisted awkwardly. Nexthe perceived that the stone steps had been removed from the turret, sothat he had dropped into it as into a dry well; that, owing to its beingwalled up below, there was no door of exit on either side of him; thathe was, in short, a prisoner. 

Placing himself in a more comfortable position he calmly consideredthe best means of getting out, or of making his condition known. Fora moment he tried to drag himself up by his arm, but it was a hopelessattempt, the height to the first step being far too great. 

He next looked round at a lower level. Not far from his left elbow, inthe concave of the outer wall, was a slit for the admission of light, and he perceived at once that through this slit alone lay his chance ofcommunicating with the outer world. At first it seemed as if it were tobe done by shouting, but when he learnt what little effect was producedby his voice in the midst of such a mass of masonry, his heart failedhim for a moment. Yet, as either Paula or Miss De Stancy would probablyguess his visit to the top of the tower, there was no cause for terror, if some for alarm. 

He put his handkerchief through the window-slit, so that it flutteredoutside, and, fixing it in its place by a large stone drawn from theloose ones around him, awaited succour as best he could. To begin thiscourse of procedure was easy, but to abide in patience till it shouldproduce fruit was an irksome task. As nearly as he could guess--for hiswatch had been stopped by the fall--it was now about four o'clock, andit would be scarcely possible for evening to approach without someeye or other noticing the white signal. So Somerset waited, his eyeslingering on the little world of objects around him, till they allbecame quite familiar. Spiders'-webs in plenty were there, and one inparticular just before him was in full use as a snare, stretching acrossthe arch of the window, with radiating threads as its ribs. Somersethad plenty of time, and he counted their number--fifteen. He remainedso silent that the owner of this elaborate structure soon forgot thedisturbance which had resulted in the breaking of his diagonal ties, and crept out from the corner to mend them. In watching the process, Somerset noticed that on the stonework behind the web sundry names andinitials had been cut by explorers in years gone by. Among these antiqueinscriptions he observed two bright and clean ones, consisting of thewords 'De Stancy' and 'W. Dare, ' crossing each other at right angles. From the state of the stone they could not have been cut more than amonth before this date, and, musing on the circumstance, Somerset passedthe time until the sun reached the slit in that side of the tower, where, beginning by throwing in a streak of fire as narrow as acorn-stalk, it enlarged its width till the dusty nook was flooded withcheerful light. It disclosed something lying in the corner, which onexamination proved to be a dry bone. Whether it was human, or had comefrom the castle larder in bygone times, he could not tell. One bone wasnot a whole skeleton, but it made him think of Ginevra of Modena, theheroine of the Mistletoe Bough, and other cribbed and confined wretches, who had fallen into such traps and been discovered after a cycle ofyears. 

The sun's rays had travelled some way round the interior when Somerset'swaiting ears were at last attracted by footsteps above, each tread beingbrought down by the hollow turret with great fidelity. He hoped thatwith these sounds would arise that of a soft voice he had begun to likewell. Indeed, during the solitary hour or two of his waiting here he hadpictured Paula straying alone on the terrace of the castle, lookingup, noting his signal, and ascending to deliver him from his painfulposition by her own exertions. It seemed that at length his dream hadbeen verified. The footsteps approached the opening of the turret;and, attracted by the call which Somerset now raised, began to descendtowards him. In a moment, not Paula's face, but that of a dreary footmanof her household, looked into the hole. 

Somerset mastered his disappointment, and the man speedily fetched aladder, by which means the prisoner of two hours ascended to the roofin safety. During the process he ventured to ask for the ladies of thehouse, and learnt that they had gone out for a drive together. 

Before he left the castle, however, they had returned, a circumstanceunexpectedly made known to him by his receiving a message fromMiss Power, to the effect that she would be glad to see him at hisconvenience. Wondering what it could possibly mean, he followed themessenger to her room--a small modern library in the Jacobean wing ofthe house, adjoining that in which the telegraph stood. She was alone, sitting behind a table littered with letters and sketches, and lookingfresh from her drive. Perhaps it was because he had been shut up in thatdismal dungeon all the afternoon that he felt something in her presencewhich at the same time charmed and refreshed him. 

She signified that he was to sit down; but finding that he was goingto place himself on a straight-backed chair some distance off she said, 'Will you sit nearer to me?' and then, as if rather oppressed by herdignity, she left her own chair of business and seated herself atease on an ottoman which was among the diversified furniture of theapartment. 

'I want to consult you professionally, ' she went on. 'I have been muchimpressed by your great knowledge of castellated architecture. Will yousit in that leather chair at the table, as you may have to take notes?'

The young man assented, expressed his gratification, and went to thechair she designated. 

'But, Mr. Somerset, ' she continued, from the ottoman--the width of thetable only dividing them--'I first should just like to know, and I trustyou will excuse my inquiry, if you are an architect in practice, or onlyas yet studying for the profession?'

'I am just going to practise. I open my office on the first of Januarynext, ' he answered. 

'You would not mind having me as a client--your first client?' Shelooked curiously from her sideway face across the table as she saidthis. 

'Can you ask it!' said Somerset warmly. 'What are you going to build?'

'I am going to restore the castle. '

'What, all of it?' said Somerset, astonished at the audacity of such anundertaking. 

'Not the parts that are absolutely ruinous: the walls battered by theParliament artillery had better remain as they are, I suppose. But wehave begun wrong; it is I who should ask you, not you me. .. . I fear, 'she went on, in that low note which was somewhat difficult to catch ata distance, 'I fear what the antiquarians will say if I am not verycareful. They come here a great deal in summer and if I were to do thework wrong they would put my name in the papers as a dreadful person. But I must live here, as I have no other house, except the one inLondon, and hence I must make the place habitable. I do hope I can trustto your judgment?'

'I hope so, ' he said, with diffidence, for, far from having muchprofessional confidence, he often mistrusted himself. 'I am a Fellowof the Society of Antiquaries, and a Member of the Institute of BritishArchitects--not a Fellow of that body yet, though I soon shall be. '

'Then I am sure you must be trustworthy, ' she said, with enthusiasm. 'Well, what am I to do?--How do we begin?'

Somerset began to feel more professional, what with the businesschair and the table, and the writing-paper, notwithstanding that thesearticles, and the room they were in, were hers instead of his; and anevenness of manner which he had momentarily lost returned to him. 'Thevery first step, ' he said, 'is to decide upon the outlay--what is it tocost?'

He faltered a little, for it seemed to disturb the softness of theirrelationship to talk thus of hard cash. But her sympathy with hisfeeling was apparently not great, and she said, 'The expenditure shallbe what you advise. '

'What a heavenly client!' he thought. 'But you must just give someidea, ' he said gently. 'For the fact is, any sum almost may be spenton such a building: five thousand, ten thousand, twenty thousand, fiftythousand, a hundred thousand. '

'I want it done well; so suppose we say a hundred thousand? My father'ssolicitor--my solicitor now--says I may go to a hundred thousand withoutextravagance, if the expenditure is scattered over two or three years. '

Somerset looked round for a pen. With quickness of insight she knewwhat he wanted, and signified where one could be found. He wrote down inlarge figures--

 100, 000. 

It was more than he had expected; and for a young man just beginningpractice, the opportunity of playing with another person's money to thatextent would afford an exceptionally handsome opening, not so muchfrom the commission it represented, as from the attention that would bebestowed by the art-world on such an undertaking. 

Paula had sunk into a reverie. 'I was intending to intrust the workto Mr. Havill, a local architect, ' she said. 'But I gathered fromhis conversation with you to-day that his ignorance of styles mightcompromise me very seriously. In short, though my father employed himin one or two little matters, it would not be right--even a morallyculpable thing--to place such an historically valuable building in hishands. '

'Has Mr. Havill ever been led to expect the commission?' he asked. 

'He may have guessed that he would have it. I have spoken of myintention to him more than once. '

Somerset thought over his conversation with Havill. Well, he did notlike Havill personally; and he had strong reasons for suspecting that inthe matter of architecture Havill was a quack. But was it quite generousto step in thus, and take away what would be a golden opportunity tosuch a man of making both ends meet comfortably for some years to come, without giving him at least one chance? He reflected a little longer, and then spoke out his feeling. 

'I venture to propose a slightly modified arrangement, ' he said. 'Instead of committing the whole undertaking to my hands without betterproof of my ability to carry it out than you have at present, let therebe a competition between Mr. Havill and myself--let our rival plans forthe restoration and enlargement be submitted to a committee of the RoyalInstitute of British Architects--and let the choice rest with them, subject of course to your approval. '

'It is indeed generous of you to suggest it. ' She looked thoughtfullyat him; he appeared to strike her in a new light. 'You really recommendit?' The fairness which had prompted his words seemed to incline herstill more than before to resign herself entirely to him in the matter. 

'I do, ' said Somerset deliberately. 

'I will think of it, since you wish it. And now, what general idea haveyou of the plan to adopt? I do not positively agree to your suggestionas yet, so I may perhaps ask the question. '

Somerset, being by this time familiar with the general plan of thecastle, took out his pencil and made a rough sketch. While he was doingit she rose, and coming to the back of his chair, bent over him insilence. 

'Ah, I begin to see your conception, ' she murmured; and the breath ofher words fanned his ear. He finished the sketch, and held it up to her, saying--

'I would suggest that you walk over the building with Mr. Havill andmyself, and detail your ideas to us on each portion. '

'Is it necessary?'

'Clients mostly do it. '

'I will, then. But it is too late for me this evening. Please meet meto-morrow at ten. '

X. 

At ten o'clock they met in the same room, Paula appearing in a straw hathaving a bent-up brim lined with plaited silk, so that it surroundedher forehead like a nimbus; and Somerset armed with sketch-book, measuring-rod, and other apparatus of his craft. 

'And Mr. Havill?' said the young man. 

'I have not decided to employ him: if I do he shall go round with meindependently of you, ' she replied rather brusquely. 

Somerset was by no means sorry to hear this. His duty to Havill wasdone. 

'And now, ' she said, as they walked on together through the passages, 'Imust tell you that I am not a mediaevalist myself; and perhaps that's apity. '

'What are you?'

'I am Greek--that's why I don't wish to influence your design. '

Somerset, as they proceeded, pointed out where roofs had been andshould be again, where gables had been pulled down, and where floors hadvanished, showing her how to reconstruct their details from marks in thewalls, much as a comparative anatomist reconstructs an antediluvian fromfragmentary bones and teeth. She appeared to be interested, listenedattentively, but said little in reply. They were ultimately in a longnarrow passage, indifferently lighted, when Somerset, treading on aloose stone, felt a twinge of weakness in one knee, and knew in a momentthat it was the result of the twist given by his yesterday's fall. Hepaused, leaning against the wall. 

'What is it?' said Paula, with a sudden timidity in her voice. 

'I slipped down yesterday, ' he said. 'It will be right in a moment. '

'I--can I help you?' said Paula. But she did not come near him; indeed, she withdrew a little. She looked up the passage, and down the passage, and became conscious that it was long and gloomy, and that nobody wasnear. A curious coy uneasiness seemed to take possession of her. Whethershe thought, for the first time, that she had made a mistake--that towander about the castle alone with him was compromising, or whetherit was the mere shy instinct of maidenhood, nobody knows; but she saidsuddenly, 'I will get something for you, and return in a few minutes. '

'Pray don't--it has quite passed!' he said, stepping out again. 

But Paula had vanished. When she came back it was in the rear ofCharlotte De Stancy. Miss De Stancy had a tumbler in one hand, half fullof wine, which she offered him; Paula remaining in the background. 

He took the glass, and, to satisfy his companions, drank a mouthful ortwo, though there was really nothing whatever the matter with him beyondthe slight ache above mentioned. Charlotte was going to retire, butPaula said, quite anxiously, 'You will stay with me, Charlotte, won'tyou? Surely you are interested in what I am doing?'

'What is it?' said Miss De Stancy. 

'Planning how to mend and enlarge the castle. Tell Mr. Somerset what Iwant done in the quadrangle--you know quite well--and I will walk on. '

She walked on; but instead of talking on the subject as directed, Charlotte and Somerset followed chatting on indifferent matters. Theycame to an inner court and found Paula standing there. 

She met Miss De Stancy with a smile. 'Did you explain?' she asked. 

'I have not explained yet. ' Paula seated herself on a stone bench, andCharlotte went on: 'Miss Power thought of making a Greek court of this. But she will not tell you so herself, because it seems such dreadfulanachronism. 

'I said I would not tell any architect myself, ' interposed Paulacorrectingly. 'I did not then know that he would be Mr. Somerset. '

'It is rather startling, ' said Somerset. 

'A Greek colonnade all round, you said, Paula, ' continued her lessreticent companion. 'A peristyle you called it--you saw it in a book, don't you remember?--and then you were going to have a fountain in themiddle, and statues like those in the British Museum. '

'I did say so, ' remarked Paula, pulling the leaves from a youngsycamore-tree that had sprung up between the joints of the paving. 

From the spot where they sat they could see over the roofs the upperpart of the great tower wherein Somerset had met with his misadventure. The tower stood boldly up in the sun, and from one of the slits in thecorner something white waved in the breeze. 

'What can that be?' said Charlotte. 'Is it the fluff of owls, or ahandkerchief?'

'It is my handkerchief, ' Somerset answered. 'I fixed it there with astone to attract attention, and forgot to take it away. '

All three looked up at the handkerchief with interest. 'Why did you wantto attract attention?' said Paula. 

'O, I fell into the turret; but I got out very easily. '

'O Paula, ' said Charlotte, turning to her friend, 'that must be theplace where the man fell in, years ago, and was starved to death!'

'Starved to death?' said Paula. 

'They say so. O Mr. Somerset, what an escape!' And Charlotte De Stancywalked away to a point from which she could get a better view of thetreacherous turret. 

'Whom did you think to attract?' asked Paula, after a pause. 

'I thought you might see it. '

'Me personally?' And, blushing faintly, her eyes rested upon him. 

'I hoped for anybody. I thought of you, ' said Somerset. 

She did not continue. In a moment she arose and went across to MissDe Stancy. 'Don't YOU go falling down and becoming a skeleton, 'she said--Somerset overheard the words, though Paula was unaware ofit--after which she clasped her fingers behind Charlotte's neck, andsmiled tenderly in her face. 

It seemed to be quite unconsciously done, and Somerset thought it avery beautiful action. Presently Paula returned to him and said, 'Mr. Somerset, I think we have had enough architecture for to-day. '

The two women then wished him good-morning and went away. Somerset, feeling that he had now every reason for prowling about the castle, remained near the spot, endeavouring to evolve some plan ofprocedure for the project entertained by the beautiful owner of thoseweather-scathed walls. But for a long time the mental perspective of hisnew position so excited the emotional side of his nature that he couldnot concentrate it on feet and inches. As Paula's architect (supposingHavill not to be admitted as a competitor), he must of necessity be inconstant communication with her for a space of two or three years tocome; and particularly during the next few months. She, doubtless, cherished far too ambitious views of her career to feel any personalinterest in this enforced relationship with him; but he would be atliberty to feel what he chose: and to be the victim of an unrequitedpassion, while afforded such splendid opportunities of communion withthe one beloved, deprived that passion of its most deplorable features. Accessibility is a great point in matters of love, and perhaps of thetwo there is less misery in loving without return a goddess who is tobe seen and spoken to every day, than in having an affection tenderlyreciprocated by one always hopelessly removed. 

With this view of having to spend a considerable time in theneighbourhood Somerset shifted his quarters that afternoon from thelittle inn at Sleeping-Green to a larger one at Markton. He requiredmore rooms in which to carry out Paula's instructions than the formerplace afforded, and a more central position. Having reached and dinedat Markton he found the evening tedious, and again strolled out in thedirection of the castle. 

When he reached it the light was declining, and a solemn stillnessoverspread the pile. The great tower was in full view. That spot ofwhite which looked like a pigeon fluttering from the loophole was hishandkerchief, still hanging in the place where he had left it. Hiseyes yet lingered on the walls when he noticed, with surprise, that thehandkerchief suddenly vanished. 

Believing that the breezes, though weak below, might have been strongenough at that height to blow it into the turret, and in no hurry to getoff the premises, he leisurely climbed up to find it, ascending bythe second staircase, crossing the roof, and going to the top of thetreacherous turret. The ladder by which he had escaped still stoodwithin it, and beside the ladder he beheld the dim outline of a woman, in a meditative attitude, holding his handkerchief in her hand. 

Somerset softly withdrew. When he had reached the ground he looked up. A girlish form was standing at the top of the tower looking over theparapet upon him--possibly not seeing him, for it was dark on the lawn. It was either Miss De Stancy or Paula; one of them had gone there alonefor his handkerchief and had remained awhile, pondering on his escape. But which? 'If I were not a faint-heart I should run all risk and wavemy hat or kiss my hand to her, whoever she is, ' he thought. But he didnot do either. 

So he lingered about silently in the shades, and then thought ofstrolling to his rooms at Markton. Just at leaving, as he passed underthe inhabited wing, whence one or two lights now blinked, he heard apiano, and a voice singing 'The Mistletoe Bough. ' The song had probablybeen suggested to the romantic fancy of the singer by her visit to thescene of his captivity. 

XI. 

The identity of the lady whom he had seen on the tower and afterwardsheard singing was established the next day. 

'I have been thinking, ' said Miss Power, on meeting him, 'that you mayrequire a studio on the premises. If so, the room I showed you yesterdayis at your service. If I employ Mr. Havill to compete with you I willoffer him a similar one. '

Somerset did not decline; and she added, 'In the same room you will findthe handkerchief that was left on the tower. '

'Ah, I saw that it was gone. Somebody brought it down?'

'I did, ' she shyly remarked, looking up for a second under her shadyhat-brim. 

'I am much obliged to you. '

'O no. I went up last night to see where the accident happened, andthere I found it. When you came up were you in search of it, or did youwant me?'

'Then she saw me, ' he thought. 'I went for the handkerchief only; I wasnot aware that you were there, ' he answered simply. And he involuntarilysighed. 

It was very soft, but she might have heard him, for there was interestin her voice as she continued, 'Did you see me before you went back?'

'I did not know it was you; I saw that some lady was there, and I wouldnot disturb her. I wondered all the evening if it were you. '

Paula hastened to explain: 'We understood that you would stay to dinner, and as you did not come in we wondered where you were. That made methink of your accident, and after dinner I went up to the place where ithappened. '

Somerset almost wished she had not explained so lucidly. 

And now followed the piquant days to which his position as herarchitect, or, at worst, as one of her two architects, naturally led. His anticipations were for once surpassed by the reality. PerhapsSomerset's inherent unfitness for a professional life under ordinarycircumstances was only proved by his great zest for it now. Had he beenin regular practice, with numerous other clients, instead of havingmerely made a start with this one, he would have totally neglected theirbusiness in his exclusive attention to Paula's. 

The idea of a competition between Somerset and Havill had been highlyapproved by Paula's solicitor, but she would not assent to it as yet, seeming quite vexed that Somerset should not have taken the good thegods provided without questioning her justice to Havill. The room shehad offered him was prepared as a studio. Drawing-boards and Whatman'spaper were sent for, and in a few days Somerset began serious labour. His first requirement was a clerk or two, to do the drudgery ofmeasuring and figuring; but for the present he preferred to sketchalone. Sometimes, in measuring the outworks of the castle, he ranagainst Havill strolling about with no apparent object, who bestowed onhim an envious nod, and passed by. 

'I hope you will not make your sketches, ' she said, looking in upon himone day, 'and then go away to your studio in London and think of yourother buildings and forget mine. I am in haste to begin, and wish younot to neglect me. '

'I have no other building to think of, ' said Somerset, rising andplacing a chair for her. 'I had not begun practice, as you may know. Ihave nothing else in hand but your castle. '

'I suppose I ought not to say I am glad of it; but it is an advantageto have an architect all to one's self. The architect whom I at firstthought of told me before I knew you that if I placed the castle in hishands he would undertake no other commission till its completion. '

'I agree to the same, ' said Somerset. 

'I don't wish to bind you. But I hinder you now--do pray go on withoutreference to me. When will there be some drawing for me to see?'

'I will take care that it shall be soon. '

He had a metallic tape in his hand, and went out of the room to takesome dimension in the corridor. The assistant for whom he had advertisedhad not arrived, and he attempted to fix the end of the tape by stickinghis penknife through the ring into the wall. Paula looked on at adistance. 

'I will hold it, ' she said. 

She went to the required corner and held the end in its place. She hadtaken it the wrong way, and Somerset went over and placed it properly inher fingers, carefully avoiding to touch them. She obediently raisedher hand to the corner again, and stood till he had finished, when sheasked, 'Is that all?'

'That is all, ' said Somerset. 'Thank you. ' Without further speech shelooked at his sketch-book, while he marked down the lines just acquired. 

'You said the other day, ' she observed, 'that early Gothic work might beknown by the under-cutting, or something to that effect. I have lookedin Rickman and the Oxford Glossary, but I cannot quite understand whatyou meant. '

It was only too probable to her lover, from the way in which sheturned to him, that she HAD looked in Rickman and the Glossary, and wasthinking of nothing in the world but of the subject of her inquiry. 

'I can show you, by actual example, if you will come to the chapel?' hereturned hesitatingly. 

'Don't go on purpose to show me--when you are there on your own accountI will come in. '

'I shall be there in half-an-hour. '

'Very well, ' said Paula. She looked out of a window, and, seeing Miss DeStancy on the terrace, left him. 

Somerset stood thinking of what he had said. He had no occasion whateverto go into the chapel of the castle that day. He had been tempted by herwords to say he would be there, and 'half-an-hour' had come to his lipsalmost without his knowledge. This community of interest--if it were notanything more tender--was growing serious. What had passed between themamounted to an appointment; they were going to meet in the most solitarychamber of the whole solitary pile. Could it be that Paula had wellconsidered this in replying with her friendly 'Very well?' Probably not. 

Somerset proceeded to the chapel and waited. With the progress of theseconds towards the half-hour he began to discover that a dangerousadmiration for this girl had risen within him. Yet so imaginative washis passion that he hardly knew a single feature of her countenance wellenough to remember it in her absence. The meditative judgment of thingsand men which had been his habit up to the moment of seeing her inthe Baptist chapel seemed to have left him--nothing remained but adistracting wish to be always near her, and it was quite with dismaythat he recognized what immense importance he was attaching to thequestion whether she would keep the trifling engagement or not. 

The chapel of Stancy Castle was a silent place, heaped up in cornerswith a lumber of old panels, framework, and broken coloured glass. Hereno clock could be heard beating out the hours of the day--here novoice of priest or deacon had for generations uttered the dailyservice denoting how the year rolls on. The stagnation of the spot wassufficient to draw Somerset's mind for a moment from the subject whichabsorbed it, and he thought, 'So, too, will time triumph over all thisfervour within me. '

Lifting his eyes from the floor on which his foot had been tappingnervously, he saw Paula standing at the other end. It was not sopleasant when he also saw that Mrs. Goodman accompanied her. The latterlady, however, obligingly remained where she was resting, while Paulacame forward, and, as usual, paused without speaking. 

'It is in this little arcade that the example occurs, ' said Somerset. 

'O yes, ' she answered, turning to look at it. 

'Early piers, capitals, and mouldings, generally alternated with deephollows, so as to form strong shadows. Now look under the abacus of thiscapital; you will find the stone hollowed out wonderfully; and also inthis arch-mould. It is often difficult to understand how it could bedone without cracking off the stone. The difference between this andlate work can be felt by the hand even better than it can be seen. ' Hesuited the action to the word and placed his hand in the hollow. 

She listened attentively, then stretched up her own hand to test thecutting as he had done; she was not quite tall enough; she would stepupon this piece of wood. Having done so she tried again, and succeededin putting her finger on the spot. No; she could not understand itthrough her glove even now. She pulled off her glove, and, her handresting in the stone channel, her eyes became abstracted in the effortof realization, the ideas derived through her hand passing into herface. 

'No, I am not sure now, ' she said. 

Somerset placed his own hand in the cavity. Now their two hands wereclose together again. They had been close together half-an-hour earlier, and he had sedulously avoided touching hers. He dared not let such anaccident happen now. And yet--surely she saw the situation! Was theinscrutable seriousness with which she applied herself to his lessona mockery? There was such a bottomless depth in her eyes that it wasimpossible to guess truly. Let it be that destiny alone had ruled thattheir hands should be together a second time. 

All rumination was cut short by an impulse. He seized her forefingerbetween his own finger and thumb, and drew it along the hollow, saying, 'That is the curve I mean. '

Somerset's hand was hot and trembling; Paula's, on the contrary, wascool and soft as an infant's. 

'Now the arch-mould, ' continued he. 'There--the depth of that cavity istremendous, and it is not geometrical, as in later work. ' He drew herunresisting fingers from the capital to the arch, and laid them in thelittle trench as before. 

She allowed them to rest quietly there till he relinquished them. 'Thankyou, ' she then said, withdrawing her hand, brushing the dust from herfinger-tips, and putting on her glove. 

Her imperception of his feeling was the very sublimity of maideninnocence if it were real; if not, well, the coquetry was no great sin. 

'Mr. Somerset, will you allow me to have the Greek court I mentioned?'she asked tentatively, after a long break in their discourse, asshe scanned the green stones along the base of the arcade, with aconjectural countenance as to his reply. 

'Will your own feeling for the genius of the place allow you?'

'I am not a mediaevalist: I am an eclectic. '

'You don't dislike your own house on that account. '

'I did at first--I don't so much now. .. . I should love it, and adoreevery stone, and think feudalism the only true romance of life, if--'

'What?'

'If I were a De Stancy, and the castle the long home of my forefathers. '

Somerset was a little surprised at the avowal: the minister's words onthe effects of her new environment recurred to his mind. 'Miss De Stancydoesn't think so, ' he said. 'She cares nothing about those things. '

Paula now turned to him: hitherto her remarks had been sparingly spoken, her eyes being directed elsewhere: 'Yes, that is very strange, is itnot?' she said. 'But it is owing to the joyous freshness of her naturewhich precludes her from dwelling on the past--indeed, the past isno more to her than it is to a sparrow or robin. She is scarcely aninstance of the wearing out of old families, for a younger mentalconstitution than hers I never knew. '

'Unless that very simplicity represents the second childhood of herline, rather than her own exclusive character. '

Paula shook her head. 'In spite of the Greek court, she is more Greekthan I. '

'You represent science rather than art, perhaps. '

'How?' she asked, glancing up under her hat. 

'I mean, ' replied Somerset, 'that you represent the march of mind--thesteamship, and the railway, and the thoughts that shake mankind. '

She weighed his words, and said: 'Ah, yes: you allude to my father. Myfather was a great man; but I am more and more forgetting his greatness:that kind of greatness is what a woman can never truly enter into. I amless and less his daughter every day that goes by. '

She walked away a few steps to rejoin the excellent Mrs. Goodman, who, as Somerset still perceived, was waiting for Paula at the discreetestof distances in the shadows at the farther end of the building. SurelyPaula's voice had faltered, and she had turned to hide a tear?

She came back again. 'Did you know that my father made half the railwaysin Europe, including that one over there?' she said, waving her littlegloved hand in the direction whence low rumbles were occasionally heardduring the day. 

'Yes. '

'How did you know?'

'Miss De Stancy told me a little; and I then found his name and doingswere quite familiar to me. '

Curiously enough, with his words there came through the broken windowsthe murmur of a train in the distance, sounding clearer and more clear. It was nothing to listen to, yet they both listened; till the increasingnoise suddenly broke off into dead silence. 

'It has gone into the tunnel, ' said Paula. 'Have you seen the tunnel myfather made? the curves are said to be a triumph of science. There isnothing else like it in this part of England. '

'There is not: I have heard so. But I have not seen it. '

'Do you think it a thing more to be proud of that one's father shouldhave made a great tunnel and railway like that, than that one's remoteancestor should have built a great castle like this?'

What could Somerset say? It would have required a casuist to decidewhether his answer should depend upon his conviction, or upon the familyties of such a questioner. 'From a modern point of view, railways are, no doubt, things more to be proud of than castles, ' he said; 'thoughperhaps I myself, from mere association, should decide in favour of theancestor who built the castle. ' The serious anxiety to be truthful thatSomerset threw into his observation, was more than the circumstancerequired. 'To design great engineering works, ' he added musingly, andwithout the least eye to the disparagement of her parent, 'requiresno doubt a leading mind. But to execute them, as he did, requires, ofcourse, only a following mind. '

His reply had not altogether pleased her; and there was a distinctreproach conveyed by her slight movement towards Mrs. Goodman. He sawit, and was grieved that he should have spoken so. 'I am going to walkover and inspect that famous tunnel of your father's, ' he added gently. 'It will be a pleasant study for this afternoon. '

She went away. 'I am no man of the world, ' he thought. 'I ought to havepraised that father of hers straight off. I shall not win her respect;much less her love!'

XII. 

Somerset did not forget what he had planned, and when lunch was overhe walked away through the trees. The tunnel was more difficult ofdiscovery than he had anticipated, and it was only after considerablewinding among green lanes, whose deep ruts were like canyons of Coloradoin miniature, that he reached the slope in the distant upland where thetunnel began. A road stretched over its crest, and thence along one sideof the railway-cutting. 

He there unexpectedly saw standing Miss Power's carriage; and on drawingnearer he found it to contain Paula herself, Miss De Stancy, and Mrs. Goodman. 

'How singular!' exclaimed Miss De Stancy gaily. 

'It is most natural, ' said Paula instantly. 'In the morning two peoplediscuss a feature in the landscape, and in the afternoon each has adesire to see it from what the other has said of it. Therefore theyaccidentally meet. '

Now Paula had distinctly heard Somerset declare that he was going towalk there; how then could she say this so coolly? It was with a pangat his heart that he returned to his old thought of her being possiblya finished coquette and dissembler. Whatever she might be, she was not acreature starched very stiffly by Puritanism. 

Somerset looked down on the mouth of the tunnel. The popular commonplacethat science, steam, and travel must always be unromantic and hideous, was not proven at this spot. On either slope of the deep cutting, greenwith long grass, grew drooping young trees of ash, beech, and otherflexible varieties, their foliage almost concealing the actual railwaywhich ran along the bottom, its thin steel rails gleaming like silverthreads in the depths. The vertical front of the tunnel, faced withbrick that had once been red, was now weather-stained, lichened, andmossed over in harmonious rusty-browns, pearly greys, and neutralgreens, at the very base appearing a little blue-black spot like amouse-hole--the tunnel's mouth. 

The carriage was drawn up quite close to the wood railing, and Paula waslooking down at the same time with him; but he made no remark to her. 

Mrs. Goodman broke the silence by saying, 'If it were not a railway weshould call it a lovely dell. '

Somerset agreed with her, adding that it was so charming that he feltinclined to go down. 

'If you do, perhaps Miss Power will order you up again, as atrespasser, ' said Charlotte De Stancy. 'You are one of the largestshareholders in the railway, are you not, Paula?'

Miss Power did not reply. 

'I suppose as the road is partly yours you might walk all the way toLondon along the rails, if you wished, might you not, dear?' Charlottecontinued. 

Paula smiled, and said, 'No, of course not. '

Somerset, feeling himself superfluous, raised his hat to his companionsas if he meant not to see them again for a while, and began to descendby some steps cut in the earth; Miss De Stancy asked Mrs. Goodman toaccompany her to a barrow over the top of the tunnel; and they left thecarriage, Paula remaining alone. 

Down Somerset plunged through the long grass, bushes, late summerflowers, moths, and caterpillars, vexed with himself that he had comethere, since Paula was so inscrutable, and humming the notes of somesong he did not know. The tunnel that had seemed so small from thesurface was a vast archway when he reached its mouth, which emitted, as a contrast to the sultry heat on the slopes of the cutting, a coolbreeze, that had travelled a mile underground from the other end. Faraway in the darkness of this silent subterranean corridor he could seethat other end as a mere speck of light. 

When he had conscientiously admired the construction of the massivearchivault, and the majesty of its nude ungarnished walls, he looked upthe slope at the carriage; it was so small to the eye that it mighthave been made for a performance by canaries; Paula's face being stillsmaller, as she leaned back in her seat, idly looking down at him. Thereseemed something roguish in her attitude of criticism, and to be nolonger the subject of her contemplation he entered the tunnel out of hersight. 

In the middle of the speck of light before him appeared a speck ofblack; and then a shrill whistle, dulled by millions of tons of earth, reached his ears from thence. It was what he had been on his guardagainst all the time, --a passing train; and instead of taking thetrouble to come out of the tunnel he stepped into a recess, till thetrain had rattled past and vanished onward round a curve. 

Somerset still remained where he had placed himself, mentally balancingscience against art, the grandeur of this fine piece of constructionagainst that of the castle, and thinking whether Paula's father hadnot, after all, the best of it, when all at once he saw Paula's formconfronting him at the entrance of the tunnel. He instantly went forwardinto the light; to his surprise she was as pale as a lily. 

'O, Mr. Somerset!' she exclaimed. 'You ought not to frighten meso--indeed you ought not! The train came out almost as soon as you hadgone in, and as you did not return--an accident was possible!'

Somerset at once perceived that he had been to blame in not thinking ofthis. 

'Please do forgive my thoughtlessness in not reflecting how it wouldstrike you!' he pleaded. 'I--I see I have alarmed you. '

Her alarm was, indeed, much greater than he had at first thought: shetrembled so much that she was obliged to sit down, at which he went upto her full of solicitousness. 

'You ought not to have done it!' she said. 'I naturally thought--anyperson would--'

Somerset, perhaps wisely, said nothing at this outburst; the cause ofher vexation was, plainly enough, his perception of her discomposure. Hestood looking in another direction, till in a few moments she had risento her feet again, quite calm. 

'It would have been dreadful, ' she said with faint gaiety, as the colourreturned to her face; 'if I had lost my architect, and been obliged toengage Mr. Havill without an alternative. '

'I was really in no danger; but of course I ought to have considered, 'he said. 

'I forgive you, ' she returned good-naturedly. 'I knew there was noGREAT danger to a person exercising ordinary discretion; but artists andthinkers like you are indiscreet for a moment sometimes. I am now goingup again. What do you think of the tunnel?'

They were crossing the railway to ascend by the opposite path, Somersetkeeping his eye on the interior of the tunnel for safety, when suddenlythere arose a noise and shriek from the contrary direction behind thetrees. Both knew in a moment what it meant, and each seized the other asthey rushed off the permanent way. The ideas of both had been so centredon the tunnel as the source of danger, that the probability of a trainfrom the opposite quarter had been forgotten. It rushed past them, causing Paula's dress, hair, and ribbons to flutter violently, andblowing up the fallen leaves in a shower over their shoulders. 

Neither spoke, and they went up several steps, holding each other by thehand, till, becoming conscious of the fact, she withdrew hers; whereuponSomerset stopped and looked earnestly at her; but her eyes were avertedtowards the tunnel wall. 

'What an escape!' he said. 

'We were not so very near, I think, were we?' she asked quickly. 'If wewere, I think you were--very good to take my hand. '

They reached the top at last, and the new level and open air seemed togive her a new mind. 'I don't see the carriage anywhere, ' she said, inthe common tones of civilization. 

He thought it had gone over the crest of the hill; he would accompanyher till they reached it. 

'No--please--I would rather not--I can find it very well. ' Before hecould say more she had inclined her head and smiled and was on her wayalone. 

The tunnel-cutting appeared a dreary gulf enough now to the young man, as he stood leaning over the rails above it, beating the herbage withhis stick. For some minutes he could not criticize or weigh her conduct;the warmth of her presence still encircled him. He recalled her face asit had looked out at him from under the white silk puffing of her blackhat, and the speaking power of her eyes at the moment of danger. Thebreadth of that clear-complexioned forehead--almost concealed bythe masses of brown hair bundled up around it--signified that if herdisposition were oblique and insincere enough for trifling, coquetting, or in any way making a fool of him, she had the intellect to do itcruelly well. 

But it was ungenerous to ruminate so suspiciously. A girl not an actressby profession could hardly turn pale artificially as she had done, though perhaps mere fright meant nothing, and would have arisen in herjust as readily had he been one of the labourers on her estate. 

The reflection that such feeling as she had exhibited could have notender meaning returned upon him with masterful force when he thought ofher wealth and the social position into which she had drifted. Somerset, being of a solitary and studious nature, was not quite competentto estimate precisely the disqualifying effect, if any, of hernonconformity, her newness of blood, and other things, among the oldcounty families established round her; but the toughest prejudices, hethought, were not likely to be long invulnerable to such cheerful beautyand brightness of intellect as Paula's. When she emerged, as she wasplainly about to do, from the seclusion in which she had been livingsince her father's death, she would inevitably win her way among herneighbours. She would become the local topic. Fortune-hunters wouldlearn of her existence and draw near in shoals. What chance would therethen be for him?

The points in his favour were indeed few, but they were just enoughto keep a tantalizing hope alive. Modestly leaving out of count hispersonal and intellectual qualifications, he thought of his family. Itwas an old stock enough, though not a rich one. His great-uncle hadbeen the well-known Vice-admiral Sir Armstrong Somerset, who served hiscountry well in the Baltic, the Indies, China, and the Caribbean Sea. His grandfather had been a notable metaphysician. His father, the RoyalAcademician, was popular. But perhaps this was not the sort of reasoninglikely to occupy the mind of a young woman; the personal aspect of thesituation was in such circumstances of far more import. He had come as awandering stranger--that possibly lent some interest to him in her eyes. He was installed in an office which would necessitate free communionwith her for some time to come; that was another advantage, and would bea still greater one if she showed, as Paula seemed disposed to do, such artistic sympathy with his work as to follow up with interest thedetails of its progress. 

The carriage did not reappear, and he went on towards Markton, disinclined to return again that day to the studio which had beenprepared for him at the castle. He heard feet brushing the grass behindhim, and, looking round, saw the Baptist minister. 

'I have just come from the village, ' said Mr. Woodwell, who looked wornand weary, his boots being covered with dust; 'and I have learnt thatwhich confirms my fears for her. '

'For Miss Power?'

'Most assuredly. '

'What danger is there?' said Somerset. 

'The temptations of her position have become too much for her! She isgoing out of mourning next week, and will give a large dinner-party onthe occasion; for though the invitations are partly in the name ofher relative Mrs. Goodman, they must come from her. The guests areto include people of old cavalier families who would have treated hergrandfather, sir, and even her father, with scorn for their religionand connections; also the parson and curate--yes, actually people whobelieve in the Apostolic Succession; and what's more, they're coming. My opinion is, that it has all arisen from her friendship with Miss DeStancy. '

'Well, ' cried Somerset warmly, 'this only shows liberality of feeling onboth sides! I suppose she has invited you as well?'

'She has not invited me!. .. Mr. Somerset, not withstanding yourerroneous opinions on important matters, I speak to you as a friend, andI tell you that she has never in her secret heart forgiven that sermonof mine, in which I likened her to the church at Laodicea. I admitthe words were harsh, but I was doing my duty, and if the case aroseto-morrow I would do it again. Her displeasure is a deep grief to me;but I serve One greater than she. .. . You, of course, are invited to thisdinner?'

'I have heard nothing of it, ' murmured the young man. 

Their paths diverged; and when Somerset reached the hotel he wasinformed that somebody was waiting to see him. 

'Man or woman?' he asked. 

The landlady, who always liked to reply in person to Somerset'sinquiries, apparently thinking him, by virtue of his drawing implementsand liberality of payment, a possible lord of Burleigh, came forward andsaid it was certainly not a woman, but whether man or boy she could notsay. 'His name is Mr. Dare, ' she added. 

'O--that youth, ' he said. 

Somerset went upstairs, along the passage, down two steps, round theangle, and so on to the rooms reserved for him in this rambling edificeof stage-coach memories, where he found Dare waiting. Dare came forward, pulling out the cutting of an advertisement. 

'Mr. Somerset, this is yours, I believe, from the Architectural World?'

Somerset said that he had inserted it. 

'I think I should suit your purpose as assistant very well. '

'Are you an architect's draughtsman?'

'Not specially. I have some knowledge of the same, and want to increaseit. '

'I thought you were a photographer. '

'Also of photography, ' said Dare with a bow. 'Though but an amateur inthat art I can challenge comparison with Regent Street or Broadway. '

Somerset looked upon his table. Two letters only, addressed in initials, were lying there as answers to his advertisement. He asked Dare towait, and looked them over. Neither was satisfactory. On this account heovercame his slight feeling against Mr. Dare, and put a question totest that gentleman's capacities. 'How would you measure the front of abuilding, including windows, doors, mouldings, and every other feature, for a ground plan, so as to combine the greatest accuracy with thegreatest despatch?'

'In running dimensions, ' said Dare. 

As this was the particular kind of work he wanted done, Somerset thoughtthe answer promising. Coming to terms with Dare, he requested thewould-be student of architecture to wait at the castle the next day, anddismissed him. 

A quarter of an hour later, when Dare was taking a walk in the country, he drew from his pocket eight other letters addressed to Somerset ininitials, which, to judge by their style and stationery, were from menfar superior to those two whose communications alone Somerset had seen. Dare looked them over for a few seconds as he strolled on, then torethem into minute fragments, and, burying them under the leaves in theditch, went on his way again. 

XIII. 

Though exhibiting indifference, Somerset had felt a pang ofdisappointment when he heard the news of Paula's approachingdinner-party. It seemed a little unkind of her to pass him over, seeinghow much they were thrown together just now. That dinner meant morethan it sounded. Notwithstanding the roominess of her castle, she was atpresent living somewhat incommodiously, owing partly to the stagnationcaused by her recent bereavement, and partly to the necessity foroverhauling the De Stancy lumber piled in those vast and gloomychambers before they could be made tolerable to nineteenth-centuryfastidiousness. 

To give dinners on any large scale before Somerset had at least seta few of these rooms in order for her, showed, to his thinking, anoverpowering desire for society. 

During the week he saw less of her than usual, her time being toall appearance much taken up with driving out to make calls on herneighbours and receiving return visits. All this he observed from thewindows of his studio overlooking the castle ward, in which room henow spent a great deal of his time, bending over drawing-boards andinstructing Dare, who worked as well as could be expected of a youth ofsuch varied attainments. 

Nearer came the Wednesday of the party, and no hint of that eventreached Somerset, but such as had been communicated by the Baptistminister. At last, on the very afternoon, an invitation was handed intohis studio--not a kind note in Paula's handwriting, but a formal printedcard in the joint names of Mrs. Goodman and Miss Power. It reached himjust four hours before the dinner-time. He was plainly to be used as astop-gap at the last moment because somebody could not come. 

Having previously arranged to pass a quiet evening in his rooms at theLord Quantock Arms, in reading up chronicles of the castle fromthe county history, with the view of gathering some ideas as to thedistribution of rooms therein before the demolition of a portion of thestructure, he decided off-hand that Paula's dinner was not of sufficientimportance to him as a professional man and student of art to justifya waste of the evening by going. He accordingly declined Mrs. Goodman'sand Miss Power's invitation; and at five o'clock left the castle andwalked across the fields to the little town. 

He dined early, and, clearing away heaviness with a cup of coffee, applied himself to that volume of the county history which contained therecord of Stancy Castle. 

Here he read that 'when this picturesque and ancient structure wasfounded, or by whom, is extremely uncertain. But that a castle stood onthe site in very early times appears from many old books of charters. Inits prime it was such a masterpiece of fortification as to be the wonderof the world, and it was thought, before the invention of gunpowder, that it never could be taken by any force less than divine. '

He read on to the times when it first passed into the hands of 'DeStancy, Chivaler, ' and received the family name, and so on from DeStancy to De Stancy till he was lost in the reflection whether Paulawould or would not have thought more highly of him if he had acceptedthe invitation to dinner. Applying himself again to the tome, he learnedthat in the year 1504 Stephen the carpenter was 'paid eleven pence fornecessarye repayrs, ' and William the mastermason eight shillings 'forwhyt lyming of the kitchen, and the lyme to do it with, ' including 'anew rope for the fyer bell;' also the sundry charges for 'vij crockes, xiij lytyll pans, a pare of pot hookes, a fyer pane, a lanterne, achafynge dyshe, and xij candyll stychs. '

Bang went eight strokes of the clock: it was the dinner-hour. 

'There, now I can't go, anyhow!' he said bitterly, jumping up, andpicturing her receiving her company. How would she look; what would shewear? Profoundly indifferent to the early history of the noblefabric, he felt a violent reaction towards modernism, eclecticism, newaristocracies, everything, in short, that Paula represented. He evengave himself up to consider the Greek court that she had wished for, andpassed the remainder of the evening in making a perspective view of thesame. 

The next morning he awoke early, and, resolving to be at work betimes, started promptly. It was a fine calm hour of day; the grass slopes weresilvery with excess of dew, and the blue mists hung in the depths ofeach tree for want of wind to blow them out. Somerset entered thedrive on foot, and when near the castle he observed in the gravel thewheel-marks of the carriages that had conveyed the guests thither thenight before. There seemed to have been a large number, for the roadwhere newly repaired was quite cut up. Before going indoors he wastempted to walk round to the wing in which Paula slept. 

Rooks were cawing, sparrows were chattering there; but the blind of herwindow was as closely drawn as if it were midnight. Probably she wassound asleep, dreaming of the compliments which had been paid her byher guests, and of the future triumphant pleasures that would follow intheir train. Reaching the outer stone stairs leading to the great hallhe found them shadowed by an awning brilliantly striped with redand blue, within which rows of flowering plants in pots bordered thepathway. She could not have made more preparation had the gathering beena ball. He passed along the gallery in which his studio was situated, entered the room, and seized a drawing-board to put into correct drawingthe sketch for the Greek court that he had struck out the night before, thereby abandoning his art principles to please the whim of a girl. Darehad not yet arrived, and after a time Somerset threw down his pencil andleant back. 

His eye fell upon something that moved. It was white, and lay in thefolding chair on the opposite side of the room. On near approach hefound it to be a fragment of swan's-down fanned into motion by his ownmovements, and partially squeezed into the chink of the chair as thoughby some person sitting on it. 

None but a woman would have worn or brought that swan's-down into hisstudio, and it made him reflect on the possible one. Nothing interruptedhis conjectures till ten o'clock, when Dare came. Then one of theservants tapped at the door to know if Mr. Somerset had arrived. Somerset asked if Miss Power wished to see him, and was informed thatshe had only wished to know if he had come. Somerset sent a returnmessage that he had a design on the board which he should soon be gladto submit to her, and the messenger departed. 

'Fine doings here last night, sir, ' said Dare, as he dusted hisT-square. 

'O indeed!'

'A dinner-party, I hear; eighteen guests. '

'Ah, ' said Somerset. 

'The young lady was magnificent--sapphires and opals--she carried asmuch as a thousand pounds upon her head and shoulders during that threeor four hour. Of course they call her charming; Compuesta no hay mugerfea, as they say at Madrid. '

'I don't doubt it for a moment, ' said Somerset, with reserve. 

Dare said no more, and presently the door opened, and there stood Paula. 

Somerset nodded to Dare to withdraw into an adjoining room, and offeredher a chair. 

'You wish to show me the design you have prepared?' she asked, withouttaking the seat. 

'Yes; I have come round to your opinion. I have made a plan forthe Greek court you were anxious to build. ' And he elevated thedrawing-board against the wall. 

She regarded it attentively for some moments, her finger resting lightlyagainst her chin, and said, 'I have given up the idea of a Greek court. '

He showed his astonishment, and was almost disappointed. He had beengrinding up Greek architecture entirely on her account; had wrenched hismind round to this strange arrangement, all for nothing. 

'Yes, ' she continued; 'on reconsideration I perceive the want of harmonythat would result from inserting such a piece of marble-work in amediaeval fortress; so in future we will limit ourselves strictly tosynchronism of style--that is to say, make good the Norman work byNorman, the Perpendicular by Perpendicular, and so on. I have informedMr. Havill of the same thing. '

Somerset pulled the Greek drawing off the board, and tore it in twopieces. 

She involuntarily turned to look in his face, but stopped before she hadquite lifted her eyes high enough. 'Why did you do that?' she asked withsuave curiosity. 

'It is of no further use, ' said Somerset, tearing the drawing in theother direction, and throwing the pieces into the fireplace. 'You havebeen reading up orders and styles to some purpose, I perceive. ' Heregarded her with a faint smile. 

'I have had a few books down from town. It is desirable to know a littleabout the architecture of one's own house. '

She remained looking at the torn drawing, when Somerset, observing onthe table the particle of swan's-down he had found in the chair, gentlyblew it so that it skimmed across the table under her eyes. 

'It looks as if it came off a lady's dress, ' he said idly. 

'Off a lady's fan, ' she replied. 

'O, off a fan?'

'Yes; off mine. '

At her reply Somerset stretched out his hand for the swan's-down, andput it carefully in his pocket-book; whereupon Paula, moulding hercherry-red lower lip beneath her upper one in arch self-consciousness athis act, turned away to the window, and after a pause said softly as shelooked out, 'Why did you not accept our invitation to dinner?'

It was impossible to explain why. He impulsively drew near andconfronted her, and said, 'I hope you pardon me?'

'I don't know that I can quite do that, ' answered she, with ever solittle reproach. 'I know why you did not come--you were mortified at notbeing asked sooner! But it was purely by an accident that you receivedyour invitation so late. My aunt sent the others by post, but asyours was to be delivered by hand it was left on her table, and wasoverlooked. '

Surely he could not doubt her words; those nice friendly accents werethe embodiment of truth itself. 

'I don't mean to make a serious complaint, ' she added, in injured tones, showing that she did. 'Only we had asked nearly all of them to meetyou, as the son of your illustrious father, whom many of my friends knowpersonally; and--they were disappointed. '

It was now time for Somerset to be genuinely grieved at what he haddone. Paula seemed so good and honourable at that moment that he couldhave laid down his life for her. 

'When I was dressed, I came in here to ask you to reconsider yourdecision, ' she continued; 'or to meet us in the drawing-room if youcould not possibly be ready for dinner. But you were gone. '

'And you sat down in that chair, didn't you, darling, and remained therea long time musing!' he thought. But that he did not say. 

'I am very sorry, ' he murmured. 

'Will you make amends by coming to our garden party? I ask you the veryfirst. '

'I will, ' replied Somerset. To add that it would give him greatpleasure, etc. , seemed an absurdly weak way of expressing his feelings, and he said no more. 

'It is on the nineteenth. Don't forget the day. '

He met her eyes in such a way that, if she were woman, she must haveseen it to mean as plainly as words: 'Do I look as if I could forgetanything you say?'

She must, indeed, have understood much more by this time--the whole ofhis open secret. But he did not understand her. History has revealedthat a supernumerary lover or two is rarely considered a disadvantage bya woman, from queen to cottage-girl; and the thought made him pause. 

XIV. 

When she was gone he went on with the drawing, not calling in Dare, who remained in the room adjoining. Presently a servant came and laid apaper on his table, which Miss Power had sent. It was one of the morningnewspapers, and was folded so that his eye fell immediately on a letterheaded 'Restoration or Demolition. '

The letter was professedly written by a dispassionate person solely inthe interests of art. It drew attention to the circumstance that theancient and interesting castle of the De Stancys had unhappily passedinto the hands of an iconoclast by blood, who, without respect for thetradition of the county, or any feeling whatever for history in stone, was about to demolish much, if not all, that was interesting in thatancient pile, and insert in its midst a monstrous travesty of someGreek temple. In the name of all lovers of mediaeval art, conjured thesimple-minded writer, let something be done to save a building which, injured and battered in the Civil Wars, was now to be made a completeruin by the freaks of an irresponsible owner. Her sending him the paperseemed to imply that she required his opinion on the case; and in theafternoon, leaving Dare to measure up a wing according to directions, hewent out in the hope of meeting her, having learnt that she had gone tothe village. On reaching the church he saw her crossing the churchyardpath with her aunt and Miss De Stancy. Somerset entered the enclosure, and as soon as she saw him she came across. 

'What is to be done?' she asked. 

'You need not be concerned about such a letter as that. '

'I am concerned. '

'I think it dreadful impertinence, ' spoke up Charlotte, who had joinedthem. 'Can you think who wrote it, Mr. Somerset?'

Somerset could not. 

'Well, what am I to do?' repeated Paula. 

'Just as you would have done before. '

'That's what _I_ say, ' observed Mrs. Goodman emphatically. 

'But I have already altered--I have given up the Greek court. '

'O--you had seen the paper this morning before you looked at mydrawing?'

'I had, ' she answered. 

Somerset thought it a forcible illustration of her natural reticencethat she should have abandoned the design without telling him thereason; but he was glad she had not done it from mere caprice. 

She turned to him and said quietly, 'I wish YOU would answer thatletter. '

'It would be ill-advised, ' said Somerset. 'Still, if, afterconsideration, you wish it much, I will. Meanwhile let me impress uponyou again the expediency of calling in Mr. Havill--to whom, as yourfather's architect, expecting this commission, something perhaps isowed--and getting him to furnish an alternative plan to mine, andsubmitting the choice of designs to some members of the Royal Instituteof British Architects. This letter makes it still more advisable thanbefore. '

'Very well, ' said Paula reluctantly. 

'Let him have all the particulars you have been good enough to explainto me--so that we start fair in the competition. '

She looked negligently on the grass. 'I will tell the building stewardto write them out for him, ' she said. 

The party separated and entered the church by different doors. Somersetwent to a nook of the building that he had often intended to visit. Itwas called the Stancy aisle; and in it stood the tombs of that family. Somerset examined them: they were unusually rich and numerous, beginningwith cross-legged knights in hauberks of chain-mail, their ladies besidethem in wimple and cover-chief, all more or less coated with the greenmould and dirt of ages: and continuing with others of later date, infine alabaster, gilded and coloured, some of them wearing round theirnecks the Yorkist collar of suns and roses, the livery of Edward theFourth. In scrutinizing the tallest canopy over these he beheld Paulabehind it, as if in contemplation of the same objects. 

'You came to the church to sketch these monuments, I suppose, Mr. Somerset?' she asked, as soon as she saw him. 

'No. I came to speak to you about the letter. '

She sighed. 'Yes: that letter, ' she said. 'I am persecuted! If I hadbeen one of these it would never have been written. ' She tapped thealabaster effigy of a recumbent lady with her parasol. 

'They are interesting, are they not?' he said. 'She is beautifullypreserved. The gilding is nearly gone, but beyond that she is perfect. '

'She is like Charlotte, ' said Paula. And what was much like another sighescaped her lips. 

Somerset admitted that there was a resemblance, while Paula drew herforefinger across the marble face of the effigy, and at length tookout her handkerchief, and began wiping the dust from the hollows of thefeatures. He looked on, wondering what her sigh had meant, but guessingthat it had been somehow caused by the sight of these sculpturesin connection with the newspaper writer's denunciation of her as anirresponsible outsider. 

The secret was out when in answer to his question, idly put, if shewished she were like one of these, she said, with exceptional vehemencefor one of her demeanour--

'I don't wish I was like one of them: I wish I WAS one of them. '

'What--you wish you were a De Stancy?'

'Yes. It is very dreadful to be denounced as a barbarian. I want to beromantic and historical. '

'Miss De Stancy seems not to value the privilege, ' he said, lookinground at another part of the church where Charlotte was innocentlyprattling to Mrs. Goodman, quite heedless of the tombs of herforefathers. 

'If I were one, ' she continued, 'I should come here when I feel alone inthe world, as I do to-day; and I would defy people, and say, "You cannotspoil what has been!"'

They walked on till they reached the old black pew attached to thecastle--a vast square enclosure of oak panelling occupying half theaisle, and surmounted with a little balustrade above the framework. Within, the baize lining that had once been green, now faded to thecolour of a common in August, was torn, kicked and scraped to rags bythe feet and hands of the ploughboys who had appropriated the pew astheir own special place of worship since it had ceased to be used by anyresident at the castle, because its height afforded convenient shelterfor playing at marbles and pricking with pins. 

Charlotte and Mrs. Goodman had by this time left the building, and couldbe seen looking at the headstones outside. 

'If you were a De Stancy, ' said Somerset, who had pondered more deeplyupon that new wish of hers than he had seemed to do, 'you would be achurchwoman, and sit here. '

'And I should have the pew done up, ' she said readily, as she restedher pretty chin on the top rail and looked at the interior, her cheekspressed into deep dimples. Her quick reply told him that the idea was nonew one with her, and he thought of poor Mr. Woodwell's shrewd prophecyas he perceived that her days as a separatist were numbered. 

'Well, why can't you have it done up, and sit here?' he said warily. 

Paula shook her head. 

'You are not at enmity with Anglicanism, I am sure?'

'I want not to be. I want to be--what--'

'What the De Stancys were, and are, ' he said insidiously; and hersilenced bearing told him that he had hit the nail. 

It was a strange idea to get possession of such a nature as hers, andfor a minute he felt himself on the side of the minister. So strong wasSomerset's feeling of wishing her to show the quality of fidelity topaternal dogma and party, that he could not help adding--

'But have you forgotten that other nobility--the nobility of talent andenterprise?'

'No. But I wish I had a well-known line of ancestors. '

'You have. Archimedes, Newcomen, Watt, Telford, Stephenson, thoseare your father's direct ancestors. Have you forgotten them? Have youforgotten your father, and the railways he made over half Europe, andhis great energy and skill, and all connected with him as if he hadnever lived?'

She did not answer for some time. 'No, I have not forgotten it, ' shesaid, still looking into the pew. 'But, I have a predilection d'artistefor ancestors of the other sort, like the De Stancys. '

Her hand was resting on the low pew next the high one of the De Stancys. Somerset looked at the hand, or rather at the glove which covered it, then at her averted cheek, then beyond it into the pew, then at her handagain, until by an indescribable consciousness that he was not going toofar he laid his own upon it. 

'No, no, ' said Paula quickly, withdrawing her hand. But there wasnothing resentful or haughty in her tone--nothing, in short, which makesa man in such circumstances feel that he has done a particularly foolishaction. 

The flower on her bosom rose and fell somewhat more than usual as sheadded, 'I am going away now--I will leave you here. ' Without waiting fora reply she adroitly swept back her skirts to free her feet and went outof the church blushing. 

Somerset took her hint and did not follow; and when he knew that she hadrejoined her friends, and heard the carriage roll away, he made towardsthe opposite door. Pausing to glance once more at the alabaster effigiesbefore leaving them to their silence and neglect, he beheld Dare bendingover them, to all appearance intently occupied. 

He must have been in the church some time--certainly during the tenderepisode between Somerset and Paula, and could not have failed toperceive it. Somerset blushed: it was unpleasant that Dare should haveseen the interior of his heart so plainly. He went across and said, 'Ithink I left you to finish the drawing of the north wing, Mr. Dare?'

'Three hours ago, sir, ' said Dare. 'Having finished that, I came to lookat the church--fine building--fine monuments--two interesting peoplelooking at them. '

'What?'

'I stand corrected. Pensa molto, parla poco, as the Italians have it. '

'Well, now, Mr. Dare, suppose you get back to the castle?'

'Which history dubs Castle Stancy. .. . Certainly. '

'How do you get on with the measuring?'

Dare sighed whimsically. 'Badly in the morning, when I have been temptedto indulge overnight, and worse in the afternoon, when I have beentempted in the morning!'

Somerset looked at the youth, and said, 'I fear I shall have to dispensewith your services, Dare, for I think you have been tempted to-day. '

'On my honour no. My manner is a little against me, Mr. Somerset. Butyou need not fear for my ability to do your work. I am a young manwasted, and am thought of slight account: it is the true men who getsnubbed, while traitors are allowed to thrive!'

'Hang sentiment, Dare, and off with you!' A little ruffled, Somerset hadturned his back upon the interesting speaker, so that he did not observethe sly twist Dare threw into his right eye as he spoke. The latter wentoff in one direction and Somerset in the other, pursuing his pensive waytowards Markton with thoughts not difficult to divine. 

From one point in her nature he went to another, till he again recurredto her romantic interest in the De Stancy family. To wish she was oneof them: how very inconsistent of her. That she really did wish it wasunquestionable. 

XV. 

It was the day of the garden-party. The weather was too cloudy to becalled perfect, but it was as sultry as the most thinly-clad young ladycould desire. Great trouble had been taken by Paula to bring the lawnto a fit condition after the neglect of recent years, and Somerset hadsuggested the design for the tents. As he approached the precincts ofthe castle he discerned a flag of newest fabric floating over the keep, and soon his fly fell in with the stream of carriages that were passingover the bridge into the outer ward. 

Mrs. Goodman and Paula were receiving the people in the drawing-room. Somerset came forward in his turn; but as he was immediately followed byothers there was not much opportunity, even had she felt the wish, forany special mark of feeling in the younger lady's greeting of him. 

He went on through a canvas passage, lined on each side with floweringplants, till he reached the tents; thence, after nodding to one or twoguests slightly known to him, he proceeded to the grounds, with a senseof being rather lonely. Few visitors had as yet got so far in, and ashe walked up and down a shady alley his mind dwelt upon the newaspect under which Paula had greeted his eyes that afternoon. Herblack-and-white costume had finally disappeared, and in its place shehad adopted a picturesque dress of ivory white, with satin enrichmentsof the same hue; while upon her bosom she wore a blue flower. Her daysof infestivity were plainly ended, and her days of gladness were tobegin. 

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of his name, and looking roundhe beheld Havill, who appeared to be as much alone as himself. 

Somerset already knew that Havill had been appointed to compete withhim, according to his recommendation. In measuring a dark corner a dayor two before, he had stumbled upon Havill engaged in the same pursuitwith a view to the rival design. Afterwards he had seen him receivingPaula's instructions precisely as he had done himself. It was as he hadwished, for fairness' sake: and yet he felt a regret, for he was lessPaula's own architect now. 

'Well, Mr. Somerset, ' said Havill, 'since we first met an unexpectedrivalry has arisen between us! But I dare say we shall survive thecontest, as it is not one arising out of love. Ha-ha-ha!' He spoke in alevel voice of fierce pleasantry, and uncovered his regular white teeth. 

Somerset supposed him to allude to the castle competition?

'Yes, ' said Havill. 'Her proposed undertaking brought out some adversecriticism till it was known that she intended to have more than onearchitectural opinion. An excellent stroke of hers to disarm criticism. You saw the second letter in the morning papers?'

'No, ' said the other. 

'The writer states that he has discovered that the competent advice oftwo architects is to be taken, and withdraws his accusations. '

Somerset said nothing for a minute. 'Have you been supplied with thenecessary data for your drawings?' he asked, showing by the question thetrack his thoughts had taken. 

Havill said that he had. 'But possibly not so completely as you have, 'he added, again smiling fiercely. Somerset did not quite like theinsinuation, and the two speakers parted, the younger going towards themusicians, who had now begun to fill the air with their strains from theembowered enclosure of a drooping ash. When he got back to the marqueesthey were quite crowded, and the guests began to pour out upon thegrass, the toilets of the ladies presenting a brilliant spectacle--herebeing coloured dresses with white devices, there white dresses withcoloured devices, and yonder transparent dresses with no device at all. A lavender haze hung in the air, the trees were as still as those of asubmarine forest; while the sun, in colour like a brass plaque, had ahairy outline in the livid sky. 

After watching awhile some young people who were so madly devoted tolawn-tennis that they set about it like day-labourers at the momentof their arrival, he turned and saw approaching a graceful figure incream-coloured hues, whose gloves lost themselves beneath her laceruffles, even when she lifted her hand to make firm the blue flower ather breast, and whose hair hung under her hat in great knots so wellcompacted that the sun gilded the convexity of each knot like a ball. 

'You seem to be alone, ' said Paula, who had at last escaped from theduty of receiving guests. 

'I don't know many people. '

'Yes: I thought of that while I was in the drawing-room. But I could notget out before. I am now no longer a responsible being: Mrs. Goodmanis mistress for the remainder of the day. Will you be introduced toanybody? Whom would you like to know?'

'I am not particularly unhappy in my solitude. '

'But you must be made to know a few. '

'Very well--I submit readily. '

She looked away from him, and while he was observing upon her cheek themoving shadow of leaves cast by the declining sun, she said, 'O, thereis my aunt, ' and beckoned with her parasol to that lady, who approachedin the comparatively youthful guise of a grey silk dress that whistledat every touch. 

Paula left them together, and Mrs. Goodman then made him acquainted witha few of the best people, describing what they were in a whisper beforethey came up, among them being the Radical member for Markton, who hadsucceeded to the seat rendered vacant by the death of Paula's father. While talking to this gentleman on the proposed enlargement of thecastle, Somerset raised his eyes and hand towards the walls, the betterto point out his meaning; in so doing he saw a face in the square ofdarkness formed by one of the open windows, the effect being that of ahighlight portrait by Vandyck or Rembrandt. 

It was his assistant Dare, leaning on the window-sill of the studio, ashe smoked his cigarette and surveyed the gay groups promenading beneath. 

After holding a chattering conversation with some ladies from aneighbouring country seat who had known his father in bygone years, andhanding them ices and strawberries till they were satisfied, he found anopportunity of leaving the grounds, wishing to learn what progress Darehad made in the survey of the castle. 

Dare was still in the studio when he entered. Somerset informed theyouth that there was no necessity for his working later that day, unlessto please himself, and proceeded to inspect Dare's achievements thusfar. To his vexation Dare had not plotted three dimensions during theprevious two days. This was not the first time that Dare, either fromincompetence or indolence, had shown his inutility as a house-surveyorand draughtsman. 

'Mr. Dare, ' said Somerset, 'I fear you don't suit me well enough to makeit necessary that you should stay after this week. '

Dare removed the cigarette from his lips and bowed. 'If I don't suit, the sooner I go the better; why wait the week?' he said. 

'Well, that's as you like. '

Somerset drew the inkstand towards him, wrote out a cheque for Dare'sservices, and handed it across the table. 

'I'll not trouble you to-morrow, ' said Dare, seeing that the paymentincluded the week in advance. 

'Very well, ' replied Somerset. 'Please lock the door when you leave. 'Shaking hands with Dare and wishing him well, he left the room anddescended to the lawn below. 

There he contrived to get near Miss Power again, and inquired of her forMiss De Stancy. 

'O! did you not know?' said Paula; 'her father is unwell, and shepreferred staying with him this afternoon. '

'I hoped he might have been here. '

'O no; he never comes out of his house to any party of this sort; itexcites him, and he must not be excited. '

'Poor Sir William!' muttered Somerset. 

'No, ' said Paula, 'he is grand and historical. '

'That is hardly an orthodox notion for a Puritan, ' said Somersetmischievously. 

'I am not a Puritan, ' insisted Paula. 

The day turned to dusk, and the guests began going in relays to thedining-hall. When Somerset had taken in two or three ladies to whomhe had been presented, and attended to their wants, which occupied himthree-quarters of an hour, he returned again to the large tent, witha view to finding Paula and taking his leave. It was now brilliantlylighted up, and the musicians, who during daylight had been invisiblebehind the ash-tree, were ensconced at one end with their harps andviolins. It reminded him that there was to be dancing. The tent had inthe meantime half filled with a new set of young people who had comeexpressly for that pastime. Behind the girls gathered numbers of newlyarrived young men with low shoulders and diminutive moustaches, who wereevidently prepared for once to sacrifice themselves as partners. 

Somerset felt something of a thrill at the sight. He was an infrequentdancer, and particularly unprepared for dancing at present; but to danceonce with Paula Power he would give a year of his life. He looked round;but she was nowhere to be seen. The first set began; old and middle-agedpeople gathered from the different rooms to look on at the gyrations oftheir children, but Paula did not appear. When another dance or two hadprogressed, and an increase in the average age of the dancers was makingitself perceptible, especially on the masculine side, Somerset wasaroused by a whisper at his elbow--

'You dance, I think? Miss Deverell is disengaged. She has not been askedonce this evening. ' The speaker was Paula. 

Somerset looked at Miss Deverell--a sallow lady with black twinklingeyes, yellow costume, and gay laugh, who had been there all theafternoon--and said something about having thought of going home. 

'Is that because I asked you to dance?' she murmured. 'There--she isappropriated. ' A young gentleman had at that moment approached theuninviting Miss Deverell, claimed her hand and led her off. 

'That's right, ' said Somerset. 'I ought to leave room for younger men. '

'You need not say so. That bald-headed gentleman is forty-five. He doesnot think of younger men. '

'Have YOU a dance to spare for me?'

Her face grew stealthily redder in the candle-light. 'O!--I have noengagement at all--I have refused. I hardly feel at liberty to dance; itwould be as well to leave that to my visitors. '

'Why?'

'My father, though he allowed me to be taught, never liked the idea ofmy dancing. '

'Did he make you promise anything on the point?'

'He said he was not in favour of such amusements--no more. '

'I think you are not bound by that, on an informal occasion like thepresent. '

She was silent. 

'You will just once?' said he. 

Another silence. 'If you like, ' she venturesomely answered at last. 

Somerset closed the hand which was hanging by his side, and somehow herswas in it. The dance was nearly formed, and he led her forward. Severalpersons looked at them significantly, but he did not notice it then, andplunged into the maze. 

Never had Mr. Somerset passed through such an experience before. Had henot felt her actual weight and warmth, he might have fancied the wholeepisode a figment of the imagination. It seemed as if those musicianshad thrown a double sweetness into their notes on seeing the mistress ofthe castle in the dance, that a perfumed southern atmosphere had begunto pervade the marquee, and that human beings were shaking themselvesfree of all inconvenient gravitation. 

Somerset's feelings burst from his lips. 'This is the happiest moment Ihave ever known, ' he said. 'Do you know why?'

'I think I saw a flash of lightning through the opening of the tent, 'said Paula, with roguish abruptness. 

He did not press for an answer. Within a few minutes a long growl ofthunder was heard. It was as if Jove could not refrain fromtestifying his jealousy of Somerset for taking this covetable woman sopresumptuously in his arms. 

The dance was over, and he had retired with Paula to the back of thetent, when another faint flash of lightning was visible through anopening. She lifted the canvas, and looked out, Somerset looking outbehind her. Another dance was begun, and being on this account left outof notice, Somerset did not hasten to leave Paula's side. 

'I think they begin to feel the heat, ' she said. 

'A little ventilation would do no harm. ' He flung back the tent doorwhere he stood, and the light shone out upon the grass. 

'I must go to the drawing-room soon, ' she added. 'They will begin toleave shortly. '

'It is not late. The thunder-cloud has made it seem dark--see there;a line of pale yellow stretches along the horizon from west to north. That's evening--not gone yet. Shall we go into the fresh air for aminute?'

She seemed to signify assent, and he stepped off the tent-floor upon theground. She stepped off also. 

The air out-of-doors had not cooled, and without definitely choosing adirection they found themselves approaching a little wooden tea-housethat stood on the lawn a few yards off. Arrived here, they turned, andregarded the tent they had just left, and listened to the strains thatcame from within it. 

'I feel more at ease now, ' said Paula. 

'So do I, ' said Somerset. 

'I mean, ' she added in an undeceiving tone, 'because I saw Mrs. Goodmanenter the tent again just as we came out here; so I have no furtherresponsibility. '

'I meant something quite different. Try to guess what. '

She teasingly demurred, finally breaking the silence by saying, 'Therain is come at last, ' as great drops began to fall upon the ground witha smack, like pellets of clay. 

In a moment the storm poured down with sudden violence, and they drewfurther back into the summer-house. The side of the tent from which theyhad emerged still remained open, the rain streaming down between theireyes and the lighted interior of the marquee like a tissue of glassthreads, the brilliant forms of the dancers passing and repassing behindthe watery screen, as if they were people in an enchanted submarinepalace. 

'How happy they are!' said Paula. 'They don't even know that it israining. I am so glad that my aunt had the tent lined; otherwise such adownpour would have gone clean through it. '

The thunder-storm showed no symptoms of abatement, and the music anddancing went on more merrily than ever. 

'We cannot go in, ' said Somerset. 'And we cannot shout for umbrellas. Wewill stay till it is over, will we not?'

'Yes, ' she said, 'if you care to. Ah!'

'What is it?'

'Only a big drop came upon my head. '

'Let us stand further in. '

Her hand was hanging by her side, and Somerset's was close by. He tookit, and she did not draw it away. Thus they stood a long while, the rainhissing down upon the grass-plot, and not a soul being visible outsidethe dancing-tent save themselves. 

'May I call you Paula?' asked he. 

There was no answer. 

'May I?' he repeated. 

'Yes, occasionally, ' she murmured. 

'Dear Paula!--may I call you that?'

'O no--not yet. '

'But you know I love you?'

'Yes, ' she whispered. 

'And shall I love you always?'

'If you wish to. '

'And will you love me?'

Paula did not reply. 

'Will you, Paula?' he repeated. 

'You may love me. '

'But don't you love me in return?'

'I love you to love me. '

'Won't you say anything more explicit?'

'I would rather not. '

Somerset emitted half a sigh: he wished she had been more demonstrative, yet felt that this passive way of assenting was as much as he could hopefor. Had there been anything cold in her passivity he might havefelt repressed; but her stillness suggested the stillness of motionimperceptible from its intensity. 

'We must go in, ' said she. 'The rain is almost over, and there is nolonger any excuse for this. '

Somerset bent his lips toward hers. 'No, ' said the fair Puritandecisively. 

'Why not?' he asked. 

'Nobody ever has. '

'But!--' expostulated Somerset. 

'To everything there is a season, and the season for this is not justnow, ' she answered, walking away. 

They crossed the wet and glistening lawn, stepped under the tent andparted. She vanished, he did not know whither; and, standing with hisgaze fixed on the dancers, the young man waited, till, being in no moodto join them, he went slowly through the artificial passage lined withflowers, and entered the drawing room. Mrs. Goodman was there, biddinggood-night to the early goers, and Paula was just behind her, apparentlyin her usual mood. His parting with her was quite formal, but that hedid not mind, for her colour rose decidedly higher as he approached, andthe light in her eyes was like the ray of a diamond. 

When he reached the door he found that his brougham from the QuantockArms, which had been waiting more than an hour, could not be heard of. That vagrancy of spirit which love induces would not permit him to wait;and, leaving word that the man was to follow him when he returned, hewent past the glare of carriage-lamps ranked in the ward, and under theouter arch. The night was now clear and beautiful, and he strolled alonghis way full of mysterious elation till the vehicle overtook him, and hegot in. 

Up to this point Somerset's progress in his suit had been, thoughincomplete, so uninterrupted, that he almost feared the good chance heenjoyed. How should it be in a mortal of his calibre to command successwith such a sweet woman for long? He might, indeed, turn out to beone of the singular exceptions which are said to prove rules; but whenfortune means to men most good, observes the bard, she looks upon themwith a threatening eye. Somerset would even have been content that alittle disapproval of his course should have occurred in some quarter, so as to make his wooing more like ordinary life. But Paula was notclearly won, and that was drawback sufficient. In these pleasing agoniesand painful delights he passed the journey to Markton. 

BOOK THE SECOND. DARE AND HAVILL. 

I. 

Young Dare sat thoughtfully at the window of the studio in whichSomerset had left him, till the gay scene beneath became embrowned bythe twilight, and the brilliant red stripes of the marquees, thebright sunshades, the many-tinted costumes of the ladies, wereindistinguishable from the blacks and greys of the masculine contingentmoving among them. He had occasionally glanced away from the outwardprospect to study a small old volume that lay before him on thedrawing-board. Near scrutiny revealed the book to bear the title'Moivre's Doctrine of Chances. '

The evening had been so still that Dare had heard conversations frombelow with a clearness unsuspected by the speakers themselves; and amongthe dialogues which thus reached his ears was that between Somerset andHavill on their professional rivalry. When they parted, and Somerset hadmingled with the throng, Havill went to a seat at a distance. Afterwardshe rose, and walked away; but on the bench he had quitted there remaineda small object resembling a book or leather case. 

Dare put away the drawing-board and plotting-scales which he had keptbefore him during the evening as a reason for his presence at that postof espial, locked up the door, and went downstairs. Notwithstanding hisdismissal by Somerset, he was so serene in countenance and easy in gaitas to make it a fair conjecture that professional servitude, howeverprofitable, was no necessity with him. The gloom now rendered itpracticable for any unbidden guest to join Paula's assemblage withoutcriticism, and Dare walked boldly out upon the lawn. The crowd on thegrass was rapidly diminishing; the tennis-players had relinquishedsport; many people had gone in to dinner or supper; and many others, attracted by the cheerful radiance of the candles, were gathering in thelarge tent that had been lighted up for dancing. 

Dare went to the garden-chair on which Havill had been seated, and foundthe article left behind to be a pocket-book. Whether because it wasunclasped and fell open in his hand, or otherwise, he did not hesitateto examine the contents. Among a mass of architect's customary memorandaoccurred a draft of the letter abusing Paula as an iconoclast orVandal by blood, which had appeared in the newspaper: the draft wasso interlined and altered as to bear evidence of being the originalconception of that ungentlemanly attack. 

The lad read the letter, smiled, and strolled about the grounds, only met by an occasional pair of individuals of opposite sex in deepconversation, the state of whose emotions led them to prefer the eveningshade to the publicity and glare of the tents and rooms. At last heobserved the white waistcoat of the man he sought. 

'Mr. Havill, the architect, I believe?' said Dare. 'The author of mostof the noteworthy buildings in this neighbourhood?'

Havill assented blandly. 

'I have long wished for the pleasure of your acquaintance, and now anaccident helps me to make it. This pocket-book, I think, is yours?'

Havill clapped his hand to his pocket, examined the book Dare held outto him, and took it with thanks. 'I see I am speaking to the artist, archaeologist, Gothic photographer--Mr. Dare. '

'Professor Dare. '

'Professor? Pardon me, I should not have guessed it--so young as youare. '

'Well, it is merely ornamental; and in truth, I drop the title inEngland, particularly under present circumstances. '

'Ah--they are peculiar, perhaps? Ah, I remember. I have heard that youare assisting a gentleman in preparing a design in opposition to mine--adesign--'

'"That he is not competent to prepare himself, " you were perhaps goingto add?'

'Not precisely that. '

'You could hardly be blamed for such words. However, you are mistaken. I did assist him to gain a little further insight into the working ofarchitectural plans; but our views on art are antagonistic, and I assisthim no more. Mr. Havill, it must be very provoking to a well-establishedprofessional man to have a rival sprung at him in a grand undertakingwhich he had a right to expect as his own. '

Professional sympathy is often accepted from those whose condolence onany domestic matter would be considered intrusive. Havill walked up anddown beside Dare for a few moments in silence, and at last showed thatthe words had told, by saying: 'Every one may have his opinion. Had Ibeen a stranger to the Power family, the case would have been different;but having been specially elected by the lady's father as a competentadviser in such matters, and then to be degraded to the position of amere competitor, it wounds me to the quick--'

'Both in purse and in person, like the ill-used hostess of the Garter. '

'A lady to whom I have been a staunch friend, ' continued Havill, notheeding the interruption. 

At that moment sounds seemed to come from Dare which bore a remarkableresemblance to the words, 'Ho, ho, Havill!' It was hardly credible, and yet, could he be mistaken? Havill turned. Dare's eye was twistedcomically upward. 

'What does that mean?' said Havill coldly, and with some amazement. 

'Ho, ho, Havill! "Staunch friend" is good--especially after "aniconoclast and Vandal by blood"--"monstrosity in the form of a Greektemple, " and so on, eh!'

'Sir, you have the advantage of me. Perhaps you allude to that anonymousletter?'

'O-ho, Havill!' repeated the boy-man, turning his eyes yet furthertowards the zenith. 'To an outsider such conduct would be natural;but to a friend who finds your pocket-book, and looks into it beforereturning it, and kindly removes a leaf bearing the draft of a letterwhich might injure you if discovered there, and carefully conceals itin his own pocket--why, such conduct is unkind!' Dare held up theabstracted leaf. 

Havill trembled. 'I can explain, ' he began. 

'It is not necessary: we are friends, ' said Dare assuringly. 

Havill looked as if he would like to snatch the leaf away, but alteringhis mind, he said grimly: 'Well, I take you at your word: we arefriends. That letter was concocted before I knew of the competition:it was during my first disgust, when I believed myself entirelysupplanted. '

'I am not in the least surprised. But if she knew YOU to be the writer!'

'I should be ruined as far as this competition is concerned, ' saidHavill carelessly. 'Had I known I was to be invited to compete, I shouldnot have written it, of course. To be supplanted is hard; and therebyhangs a tale. '

'Another tale? You astonish me. '

'Then you have not heard the scandal, though everybody is talking aboutit. '

'A scandal implies indecorum. '

'Well, 'tis indecorous. Her infatuated partiality for him is patent tothe eyes of a child; a man she has only known a few weeks, and one whoobtained admission to her house in the most irregular manner! Had she awatchful friend beside her, instead of that moonstruck Mrs. Goodman, shewould be cautioned against bestowing her favours on the first adventurerwho appears at her door. It is a pity, a great pity!'

'O, there is love-making in the wind?' said Dare slowly. 'That altersthe case for me. But it is not proved?'

'It can easily be proved. '

'I wish it were, or disproved. '

'You have only to come this way to clear up all doubts. '

Havill took the lad towards the tent, from which the strains of a waltznow proceeded, and on whose sides flitting shadows told of the progressof the dance. The companions looked in. The rosy silk lining of themarquee, and the numerous coronas of wax lights, formed a canopy to aradiant scene which, for two at least of those who composed it, was anintoxicating one. Paula and Somerset were dancing together. 

'That proves nothing, ' said Dare. 

'Look at their rapt faces, and say if it does not, ' sneered Havill. 

Dare objected to a judgment based on looks alone. 

'Very well--time will show, ' said the architect, dropping thetent-curtain. .. . 'Good God! a girl worth fifty thousand and more a yearto throw herself away upon a fellow like that--she ought to be whipped. '

'Time must NOT show!' said Dare. 

'You speak with emphasis. '

'I have reason. I would give something to be sure on this point, one wayor the other. Let us wait till the dance is over, and observe them morecarefully. Horensagen ist halb gelogen! Hearsay is half lies. '

Sheet-lightnings increased in the northern sky, followed by thunder likethe indistinct noise of a battle. Havill and Dare retired to the trees. When the dance ended Somerset and his partner emerged from the tent, and slowly moved towards the tea-house. Divining their goal Dare seizedHavill's arm; and the two worthies entered the building unseen, by firstpassing round behind it. They seated themselves in the back part of theinterior, where darkness prevailed. 

As before related, Paula and Somerset came and stood within the door. When the rain increased they drew themselves further inward, their formsbeing distinctly outlined to the gaze of those lurking behind by thelight from the tent beyond. But the hiss of the falling rain and thelowness of their tones prevented their words from being heard. 

'I wish myself out of this!' breathed Havill to Dare, as he buttoned hiscoat over his white waistcoat. 'I told you it was true, but you wouldn'tbelieve. I wouldn't she should catch me here eavesdropping for theworld!'

'Courage, Man Friday, ' said his cooler comrade. 

Paula and her lover backed yet further, till the hem of her skirttouched Havill's feet. Their attitudes were sufficient to prove theirrelations to the most obstinate Didymus who should have witnessed them. Tender emotions seemed to pervade the summer-house like an aroma. Thecalm ecstasy of the condition of at least one of them was not withouta coercive effect upon the two invidious spectators, so that they mustneed have remained passive had they come there to disturb or annoy. Theserenity of Paula was even more impressive than the hushed ardour ofSomerset: she did not satisfy curiosity as Somerset satisfied it; shepiqued it. Poor Somerset had reached a perfectly intelligible depth--onewhich had a single blissful way out of it, and nine calamitous ones; butPaula remained an enigma all through the scene. 

The rain ceased, and the pair moved away. The enchantment worked bytheir presence vanished, the details of the meeting settled down inthe watchers' minds, and their tongues were loosened. Dare, turning toHavill, said, 'Thank you; you have done me a timely turn to-day. '

'What! had you hopes that way?' asked Havill satirically. 

'I! The woman that interests my heart has yet to be born, ' said Dare, with a steely coldness strange in such a juvenile, and yet almostconvincing. 'But though I have not personal hopes, I have an objectionto this courtship. Now I think we may as well fraternize, the situationbeing what it is?'

'What is the situation?'

'He is in your way as her architect; he is in my way as her lover: wedon't want to hurt him, but we wish him clean out of the neighbourhood. '

'I'll go as far as that, ' said Havill. 

'I have come here at some trouble to myself, merely to observe: I find Iought to stay to act. '

'If you were myself, a married man with people dependent on him, who hashad a professional certainty turned to a miserably remote contingencyby these events, you might say you ought to act; but what conceivabledifference it can make to you who it is the young lady takes to herheart and home, I fail to understand. '

'Well, I'll tell you--this much at least. I want to keep the placevacant for another man. '

'The place?'

'The place of husband to Miss Power, and proprietor of that castle anddomain. '

'That's a scheme with a vengeance. Who is the man?'

'It is my secret at present. '

'Certainly. ' Havill drew a deep breath, and dropped into a tone ofdepression. 'Well, scheme as you will, there will be small advantage tome, ' he murmured. 'The castle commission is as good as gone, and a billfor two hundred pounds falls due next week. '

'Cheer up, heart! My position, if you only knew it, has ten timesthe difficulties of yours, since this disagreeable discovery. Let usconsider if we can assist each other. The competition drawings are to besent in--when?'

'In something over six weeks--a fortnight before she returns from theScilly Isles, for which place she leaves here in a few days. '

'O, she goes away--that's better. Our lover will be working here at hisdrawings, and she not present. '

'Exactly. Perhaps she is a little ashamed of the intimacy. '

'And if your design is considered best by the committee, he will haveno further reason for staying, assuming that they are not definitelyengaged to marry by that time?'

'I suppose so, ' murmured Havill discontentedly. 'The conditions, as sentto me, state that the designs are to be adjudicated on by three membersof the Institute called in for the purpose; so that she may return, andhave seemed to show no favour. '

'Then it amounts to this: your design MUST be best. It must combine theexcellences of your invention with the excellences of his. Meanwhile acoolness should be made to arise between her and him: and as therewould be no artistic reason for his presence here after the verdict ispronounced, he would perforce hie back to town. Do you see?'

'I see the ingenuity of the plan, but I also see two insurmountableobstacles to it. The first is, I cannot add the excellences of hisdesign to mine without knowing what those excellences are, which hewill of course keep a secret. Second, it will not be easy to promote acoolness between such hot ones as they. '

'You make a mistake. It is only he who is so ardent. She is onlylukewarm. If we had any spirit, a bargain would be struck between us:you would appropriate his design; I should cause the coolness. '

'How could I appropriate his design?'

'By copying it, I suppose. '

'Copying it?'

'By going into his studio and looking it over. '

Havill turned to Dare, and stared. 'By George, you don't stick attrifles, young man. You don't suppose I would go into a man's rooms andsteal his inventions like that?'

'I scarcely suppose you would, ' said Dare indifferently, as he rose. 

'And if I were to, ' said Havill curiously, 'how is the coolness to becaused?'

'By the second man. '

'Who is to produce him?'

'Her Majesty's Government. '

Havill looked meditatively at his companion, and shook his head. 'Inthese idle suppositions we have been assuming conduct which would bequite against my principles as an honest man. '

II. 

A few days after the party at Stancy Castle, Dare was walking down theHigh Street of Markton, a cigarette between his lips and a silver-toppedcane in his hand. His eye fell upon a brass plate on an opposite door, bearing the name of Mr. Havill, Architect. He crossed over, and rang theoffice bell. 

The clerk who admitted him stated that Mr. Havill was in his privateroom, and would be disengaged in a short time. While Dare waited theclerk affixed to the door a piece of paper bearing the words 'Back at2, ' and went away to his dinner, leaving Dare in the room alone. 

Dare looked at the different drawings on the boards about the room. They all represented one subject, which, though unfinished as yet, andbearing no inscription, was recognized by the visitor as the design forthe enlargement and restoration of Stancy Castle. When he had glanced itover Dare sat down. 

The doors between the office and private room were double; but the onetowards the office being only ajar Dare could hear a conversation inprogress within. It presently rose to an altercation, the tenor of whichwas obvious. Somebody had come for money. 

'Really I can stand it no longer, Mr. Havill--really I will not!' saidthe creditor excitedly. 'Now this bill overdue again--what can youexpect? Why, I might have negotiated it; and where would you have beenthen? Instead of that, I have locked it up out of consideration for you;and what do I get for my considerateness? I shall let the law take itscourse!'

'You'll do me inexpressible harm, and get nothing whatever, ' saidHavill. 'If you would renew for another three months there would be nodifficulty in the matter. '

'You have said so before: I will do no such thing. '

There was a silence; whereupon Dare arose without hesitation, and walkedboldly into the private office. Havill was standing at one end, asgloomy as a thundercloud, and at the other was the unfortunate creditorwith his hat on. Though Dare's entry surprised them, both parties seemedrelieved. 

'I have called in passing to congratulate you, Mr. Havill, ' said Daregaily. 'Such a commission as has been entrusted to you will make youfamous!'

'How do you do?--I wish it would make me rich, ' said Havill drily. 

'It will be a lift in that direction, from what I know of theprofession. What is she going to spend?'

'A hundred thousand. '

'Your commission as architect, five thousand. Not bad, for making a fewsketches. Consider what other great commissions such a work will leadto. '

'What great work is this?' asked the creditor. 

'Stancy Castle, ' said Dare, since Havill seemed too agape to answer. 'You have not heard of it, then? Those are the drawings, I presume, inthe next room?'

Havill replied in the affirmative, beginning to perceive the manoeuvre. 'Perhaps you would like to see them?' he said to the creditor. 

The latter offered no objection, and all three went into thedrawing-office. 

'It will certainly be a magnificent structure, ' said the creditor, afterregarding the elevations through his spectacles. 'Stancy Castle: I hadno idea of it! and when do you begin to build, Mr. Havill?' he inquiredin mollified tones. 

'In three months, I think?' said Dare, looking to Havill. 

Havill assented. 

'Five thousand pounds commission, ' murmured the creditor. 'Paid down, Isuppose?'

Havill nodded. 

'And the works will not linger for lack of money to carry them out, Iimagine, ' said Dare. 'Two hundred thousand will probably be spent beforethe work is finished. '

'There is not much doubt of it, ' said Havill. 

'You said nothing to me about this?' whispered the creditor to Havill, taking him aside, with a look of regret. 

'You would not listen!'

'It alters the case greatly. ' The creditor retired with Havill to thedoor, and after a subdued colloquy in the passage he went away, Havillreturning to the office. 

'What the devil do you mean by hoaxing him like this, when the job is nomore mine than Inigo Jones's?'

'Don't be too curious, ' said Dare, laughing. 'Rather thank me forgetting rid of him. '

'But it is all a vision!' said Havill, ruefully regarding the pencilledtowers of Stancy Castle. 'If the competition were really the commissionthat you have represented it to be there might be something to laughat. '

'It must be made a commission, somehow, ' returned Dare carelessly. 'I amcome to lend you a little assistance. I must stay in the neighbourhood, and I have nothing else to do. '

A carriage slowly passed the window, and Havill recognized the Powerliveries. 'Hullo--she's coming here!' he said under his breath, as thecarriage stopped by the kerb. 'What does she want, I wonder? Dare, doesshe know you?'

'I would just as soon be out of the way. '

'Then go into the garden. '

Dare went out through the back office as Paula was shown in at thefront. She wore a grey travelling costume, and seemed to be in somehaste. 

'I am on my way to the railway-station, ' she said to Havill. 'I shall beabsent from home for several weeks, and since you requested it, I havecalled to inquire how you are getting on with the design. '

'Please look it over, ' said Havill, placing a seat for her. 

'No, ' said Paula. 'I think it would be unfair. I have not looked atMr. --the other architect's plans since he has begun to design seriously, and I will not look at yours. Are you getting on quite well, and do youwant to know anything more? If so, go to the castle, and get anybody toassist you. Why would you not make use of the room at your disposal inthe castle, as the other architect has done?'

In asking the question her face was towards the window, and suddenly hercheeks became a rosy red. She instantly looked another way. 

'Having my own office so near, it was not necessary, thank you, ' repliedHavill, as, noting her countenance, he allowed his glance to stray intothe street. Somerset was walking past on the opposite side. 

'The time is--the time fixed for sending in the drawings is the firstof November, I believe, ' she said confusedly; 'and the decision will become to by three gentlemen who are prominent members of the Institute ofArchitects. '

Havill then accompanied her to the carriage, and she drove away. 

Havill went to the back window to tell Dare that he need not stay in thegarden; but the garden was empty. The architect remained alone in hisoffice for some time; at the end of a quarter of an hour, when thescream of a railway whistle had echoed down the still street, he beheldSomerset repassing the window in a direction from the railway, withsomewhat of a sad gait. In another minute Dare entered, humming thelatest air of Offenbach. 

''Tis a mere piece of duplicity!' said Havill. 

'What is?'

'Her pretending indifference as to which of us comes out successful inthe competition, when she colours carmine the moment Somerset passesby. ' He described Paula's visit, and the incident. 

'It may not mean Cupid's Entire XXX after all, ' said Dare judicially. 'The mere suspicion that a certain man loves her would make a girl blushat his unexpected appearance. Well, she's gone from him for a time; thebetter for you. '

'He has been privileged to see her off at any rate. '

'Not privileged. '

'How do you know that?'

'I went out of your garden by the back gate, and followed her carriageto the railway. He simply went to the first bridge outside the station, and waited. When she was in the train, it moved forward; he was allexpectation, and drew out his handkerchief ready to wave, while shelooked out of the window towards the bridge. The train backed beforeit reached the bridge, to attach the box containing her horses, and thecarriage-truck. Then it started for good, and when it reached the bridgeshe looked out again, he waving his handkerchief to her. '

'And she waving hers back?'

'No, she didn't. '

'Ah!'

'She looked at him--nothing more. I wouldn't give much for his chance. 'After a while Dare added musingly: 'You are a mathematician: did youever investigate the doctrine of expectations?'

'Never. '

Dare drew from his pocket his 'Book of Chances, ' a volume as wellthumbed as the minister's Bible. 'This is a treatise on the subject, ' hesaid. 'I will teach it to you some day. '

The same evening Havill asked Dare to dine with him. He was just atthis time living en garcon, his wife and children being away on a visit. After dinner they sat on till their faces were rather flushed. The talkturned, as before, on the castle-competition. 

'To know his design is to win, ' said Dare. 'And to win is to send himback to London where he came from. '

Havill inquired if Dare had seen any sketch of the design while withSomerset?

'Not a line. I was concerned only with the old building. '

'Not to know it is to lose, undoubtedly, ' murmured Havill. 

'Suppose we go for a walk that way, instead of consulting here?'

They went down the town, and along the highway. When they reached theentrance to the park a man driving a basket-carriage came out from thegate and passed them by in the gloom. 

'That was he, ' said Dare. 'He sometimes drives over from the hotel, andsometimes walks. He has been working late this evening. '

Strolling on under the trees they met three masculine figures, laughingand talking loudly. 

'Those are the three first-class London draughtsmen, Bowles, Knowles, and Cockton, whom he has engaged to assist him, regardless of expense, 'continued Dare. 

'O Lord!' groaned Havill. 'There's no chance for me. '

The castle now arose before them, endowed by the rayless shade with amore massive majesty than either sunlight or moonlight could impart; andHavill sighed again as he thought of what he was losing by Somerset'srivalry. 'Well, what was the use of coming here?' he asked. 

'I thought it might suggest something--some way of seeing the design. The servants would let us into his room, I dare say. '

'I don't care to ask. Let us walk through the wards, and then homeward. '

They sauntered on smoking, Dare leading the way through the gate-houseinto a corridor which was not inclosed, a lamp hanging at the furtherend. 

'We are getting into the inhabited part, I think, ' said Havill. 

Dare, however, had gone on, and knowing the tortuous passages from hisfew days' experience in measuring them with Somerset, he came to thebutler's pantry. Dare knocked, and nobody answering he entered, tookdown a key which hung behind the door, and rejoined Havill. 'It isall right, ' he said. 'The cat's away; and the mice are at play inconsequence. '

Proceeding up a stone staircase he unlocked the door of a room in thedark, struck a light inside, and returning to the door called in awhisper to Havill, who had remained behind. 'This is Mr. Somerset'sstudio, ' he said. 

'How did you get permission?' inquired Havill, not knowing that Dare hadseen no one. 

'Anyhow, ' said Dare carelessly. 'We can examine the plans at leisure;for if the placid Mrs. Goodman, who is the only one at home, sees thelight, she will only think it is Somerset still at work. '

Dare uncovered the drawings, and young Somerset's brain-work for thelast six weeks lay under their eyes. To Dare, who was too cursoryto trouble himself by entering into such details, it had very littlemeaning; but the design shone into Havill's head like a light into adark place. It was original; and it was fascinating. Its originality laypartly in the circumstance that Somerset had not attempted to adapt anold building to the wants of the new civilization. He had placed his newerection beside it as a slightly attached structure, harmonizing withthe old; heightening and beautifying, rather than subduing it. His workformed a palace, with a ruinous castle annexed as a curiosity. ToHavill the conception had more charm than it could have to the mostappreciative outsider; for when a mediocre and jealous mind that hasbeen cudgelling itself over a problem capable of many solutions, lightson the solution of a rival, all possibilities in that kind seem to mergein the one beheld. 

Dare was struck by the arrested expression of the architect's face. 'Isit rather good?' he asked. 

'Yes, rather, ' said Havill, subduing himself. 

'More than rather?'

'Yes, the clever devil!' exclaimed Havill, unable to depreciate longer. 

'How?'

'The riddle that has worried me three weeks he has solved in a way whichis simplicity itself. He has got it, and I am undone!'

'Nonsense, don't give way. Let's make a tracing. '

'The ground-plan will be sufficient, ' said Havill, his courage reviving. 'The idea is so simple, that if once seen it is not easily forgotten. '

A rough tracing of Somerset's design was quickly made, and blowing outthe candle with a wave of his hand, the younger gentleman locked thedoor, and they went downstairs again. 

'I should never have thought of it, ' said Havill, as they walkedhomeward. 

'One man has need of another every ten years: Ogni dieci anni un uomo habisogno dell' altro, as they say in Italy. You'll help me for this turnif I have need of you?'

'I shall never have the power. '

'O yes, you will. A man who can contrive to get admitted to acompetition by writing a letter abusing another man, has any amount ofpower. The stroke was a good one. '

Havill was silent till he said, 'I think these gusts mean that we are tohave a storm of rain. '

Dare looked up. The sky was overcast, the trees shivered, and a drop ortwo began to strike into the walkers' coats from the east. They were notfar from the inn at Sleeping-Green, where Dare had lodgings, occupyingthe rooms which had been used by Somerset till he gave them up for morecommodious chambers at Markton; and they decided to turn in there tillthe rain should be over. 

Having possessed himself of Somerset's brains Havill was inclined to bejovial, and ordered the best in wines that the house afforded. Beforestarting from home they had drunk as much as was good for them; sothat their potations here soon began to have a marked effect upon theirtongues. The rain beat upon the windows with a dull dogged pertinacitywhich seemed to signify boundless reserves of the same and longcontinuance. The wind rose, the sign creaked, and the candles waved. Theweather had, in truth, broken up for the season, and this was the firstnight of the change. 

'Well, here we are, ' said Havill, as he poured out another glass of thebrandied liquor called old port at Sleeping-Green; 'and it seems thathere we are to remain for the present. '

'I am at home anywhere!' cried the lad, whose brow was hot and eye wild. 

Havill, who had not drunk enough to affect his reasoning, held up hisglass to the light and said, 'I never can quite make out what you are, or what your age is. Are you sixteen, one-and-twenty, or twenty-seven?And are you an Englishman, Frenchman, Indian, American, or what? Youseem not to have taken your degrees in these parts. '

'That's a secret, my friend, ' said Dare. 'I am a citizen of the world. I owe no country patriotism, and no king or queen obedience. A man whosecountry has no boundary is your only true gentleman. '

'Well, where were you born--somewhere, I suppose?'

'It would be a fact worth the telling. The secret of my birth lieshere. ' And Dare slapped his breast with his right hand. 

'Literally, just under your shirt-front; or figuratively, in yourheart?' asked Havill. 

'Literally there. It is necessary that it should be recorded, for one'sown memory is a treacherous book of reference, should verification berequired at a time of delirium, disease, or death. '

Havill asked no further what he meant, and went to the door. Findingthat the rain still continued he returned to Dare, who was by this timesinking down in a one-sided attitude, as if hung up by the shoulder. Informing his companion that he was but little inclined to move farin such a tempestuous night, he decided to remain in the inn till nextmorning. On calling in the landlord, however, they learnt that the housewas full of farmers on their way home from a large sheep-fair in theneighbourhood, and that several of these, having decided to stay onaccount of the same tempestuous weather, had already engaged the sparebeds. If Mr. Dare would give up his room, and share a double-bedded roomwith Mr. Havill, the thing could be done, but not otherwise. 

To this the two companions agreed, and presently went upstairs with asgentlemanly a walk and vertical a candle as they could exhibit under thecircumstances. 

The other inmates of the inn soon retired to rest, and the storm ragedon unheeded by all local humanity. 

III. 

At two o'clock the rain lessened its fury. At half-past two the obscuredmoon shone forth; and at three Havill awoke. The blind had not beenpulled down overnight, and the moonlight streamed into the room, acrossthe bed whereon Dare was sleeping. He lay on his back, his arms thrownout; and his well-curved youthful form looked like an unpedestaledDionysus in the colourless lunar rays. 

Sleep had cleared Havill's mind from the drowsing effects of the lastnight's sitting, and he thought of Dare's mysterious manner in speakingof himself. This lad resembled the Etruscan youth Tages, in one respect, that of being a boy with, seemingly, the wisdom of a sage; and theeffect of his presence was now heightened by all those sinister andmystic attributes which are lent by nocturnal environment. He who inbroad daylight might be but a young chevalier d'industrie was now anunlimited possibility in social phenomena. Havill remembered how the ladhad pointed to his breast, and said that his secret was literally keptthere. The architect was too much of a provincial to have quenchedthe common curiosity that was part of his nature by the acquiredmetropolitan indifference to other people's lives which, in essence moreunworthy even than the former, causes less practical inconvenience inits exercise. 

Dare was breathing profoundly. Instigated as above mentioned, Havillgot out of bed and stood beside the sleeper. After a moment's pause hegently pulled back the unfastened collar of Dare's nightshirt and sawa word tattooed in distinct characters on his breast. Before there wastime for Havill to decipher it Dare moved slightly, as if conscious ofdisturbance, and Havill hastened back to bed. Dare bestirred himself yetmore, whereupon Havill breathed heavily, though keeping an intent glanceon the lad through his half-closed eyes to learn if he had been aware ofthe investigation. 

Dare was certainly conscious of something, for he sat up, rubbed hiseyes, and gazed around the room; then after a few moments of reflectionhe drew some article from beneath his pillow. A blue gleam shone fromthe object as Dare held it in the moonlight, and Havill perceived thatit was a small revolver. 

A clammy dew broke out upon the face and body of the architect when, stepping out of bed with the weapon in his hand, Dare looked under thebed, behind the curtains, out of the window, and into a closet, as ifconvinced that something had occurred, but in doubt as to what it was. He then came across to where Havill was lying and still keeping up theappearance of sleep. Watching him awhile and mistrusting the realityof this semblance, Dare brought it to the test by holding the revolverwithin a few inches of Havill's forehead. 

Havill could stand no more. Crystallized with terror, he said, withouthowever moving more than his lips, in dread of hasty action on the partof Dare: 'O, good Lord, Dare, Dare, I have done nothing!'

The youth smiled and lowered the pistol. 'I was only finding out whetherit was you or some burglar who had been playing tricks upon me. I findit was you. '

'Do put away that thing! It is too ghastly to produce in a respectablebedroom. Why do you carry it?'

'Cosmopolites always do. Now answer my questions. What were you up to?'and Dare as he spoke played with the pistol again. 

Havill had recovered some coolness. 'You could not use it upon me, ' hesaid sardonically, watching Dare. 'It would be risking your neck for toolittle an object. '

'I did not think you were shrewd enough to see that, ' replied Darecarelessly, as he returned the revolver to its place. 'Well, whether youhave outwitted me or no, you will keep the secret as long as I choose. '

'Why?' said Havill. 

'Because I keep your secret of the letter abusing Miss P. , and of thepilfered tracing you carry in your pocket. '

'It is quite true, ' said Havill. 

They went to bed again. Dare was soon asleep; but Havill did not attemptto disturb him again. The elder man slept but fitfully. He was arousedin the morning by a heavy rumbling and jingling along the highwayoverlooked by the window, the front wall of the house being shaken bythe reverberation. 

'There is no rest for me here, ' he said, rising and going to the window, carefully avoiding the neighbourhood of Mr. Dare. When Havill hadglanced out he returned to dress himself. 

'What's that noise?' said Dare, awakened by the same rumble. 

'It is the Artillery going away. '

'From where?'

'Markton barracks. '

'Hurrah!' said Dare, jumping up in bed. 'I have been waiting for thatthese six weeks. '

Havill did not ask questions as to the meaning of this unexpectedremark. 

When they were downstairs Dare's first act was to ring the bell and askif his Army and Navy Gazette had arrived. 

While the servant was gone Havill cleared his throat and said, 'I am anarchitect, and I take in the Architect; you are an architect, and youtake in the Army and Navy Gazette. '

'I am not an architect any more than I am a soldier; but I have taken inthe Army and Navy Gazette these many weeks. '

When they were at breakfast the paper came in. Dare hastily tore it openand glanced at the pages. 

'I am going to Markton after breakfast!' he said suddenly, beforelooking up; 'we will walk together if you like?'

They walked together as planned, and entered Markton about ten o'clock. 

'I have just to make a call here, ' said Dare, when they were oppositethe barrack-entrance on the outskirts of the town, where wheel-tracksand a regular chain of hoof-marks left by the departed batteries wereimprinted in the gravel between the open gates. 'I shall not be amoment. ' Havill stood still while his companion entered and askedthe commissary in charge, or somebody representing him, when the newbatteries would arrive to take the place of those which had gone away. He was informed that it would be about noon. 

'Now I am at your service, ' said Dare, 'and will help you to rearrangeyour design by the new intellectual light we have acquired. '

They entered Havill's office and set to work. When contrasted withthe tracing from Somerset's plan, Havill's design, which was not faradvanced, revealed all its weaknesses to him. After seeing Somerset'sscheme the bands of Havill's imagination were loosened: he laid his ownprevious efforts aside, got fresh sheets of drawing-paper and drew withvigour. 

'I may as well stay and help you, ' said Dare. 'I have nothing to do tilltwelve o'clock; and not much then. '

So there he remained. At a quarter to twelve children and idlers beganto gather against the railings of Havill's house. A few minutes pasttwelve the noise of an arriving host was heard at the entrance to thetown. Thereupon Dare and Havill went to the window. 

The X and Y Batteries of the Z Brigade, Royal Horse Artillery, wereentering Markton, each headed by the major with his bugler behind him. In a moment they came abreast and passed, every man in his place; thatis to say:

Six shining horses, in pairs, harnessed by rope-traces white as milk, with a driver on each near horse: two gunners on the lead-colouredstout-wheeled limber, their carcases jolted to a jelly for lack ofsprings: two gunners on the lead-coloured stout-wheeled gun-carriage, in the same personal condition: the nine-pounder gun, dipping its heavyhead to earth, as if ashamed of its office in these enlightened times:the complement of jingling and prancing troopers, riding at the wheelsand elsewhere: six shining horses with their drivers, and traces whiteas milk, as before: two more gallant jolted men, on another joltinglimber, and more stout wheels and lead-coloured paint: two more joltedmen on another drooping gun: more jingling troopers on horseback: againsix shining draught-horses, traces, drivers, gun, gunners, lead paint, stout wheels and troopers as before. 

So each detachment lumbered slowly by, all eyes martially forward, except when wandering in quest of female beauty. 

'He's a fine fellow, is he not?' said Dare, denoting by a nod a mountedofficer, with a sallow, yet handsome face, and black moustache, who cameup on a bay gelding with the men of his battery. 

'What is he?' said Havill. 

'A captain who lacks advancement. '

'Do you know him?'

'I know him?'

'Yes; do you?'

Dare made no reply; and they watched the captain as he rode past withhis drawn sword in his hand, the sun making a little sun upon its blade, and upon his brilliantly polished long boots and bright spurs; alsowarming his gold cross-belt and braidings, white gloves, busby with itsred bag, and tall white plume. 

Havill seemed to be too indifferent to press his questioning; and whenall the soldiers had passed by, Dare observed to his companion that heshould leave him for a short time, but would return in the afternoon ornext day. 

After this he walked up the street in the rear of the artillery, following them to the barracks. On reaching the gates he found a crowdof people gathered outside, looking with admiration at the guns andgunners drawn up within the enclosure. When the soldiers were dismissedto their quarters the sightseers dispersed, and Dare went through thegates to the barrack-yard. 

The guns were standing on the green; the soldiers and horses werescattered about, and the handsome captain whom Dare had pointed out toHavill was inspecting the buildings in the company of the quartermaster. Dare made a mental note of these things, and, apparently changing aprevious intention, went out from the barracks and returned to the town. 

IV. 

To return for a while to George Somerset. The sun of his later existencehaving vanished from that young man's horizon, he confined himselfclosely to the studio, superintending the exertions of his draughtsmenBowles, Knowles, and Cockton, who were now in the full swing of workingout Somerset's creations from the sketches he had previously prepared. 

He had so far got the start of Havill in the competition that, by thehelp of these three gentlemen, his design was soon finished. But hegained no unfair advantage on this account, an additional month beingallowed to Havill to compensate for his later information. 

Before scaling up his drawings Somerset wished to spend a short time inLondon, and dismissing his assistants till further notice, he locked upthe rooms which had been appropriated as office and studio and preparedfor the journey. 

It was afternoon. Somerset walked from the castle in the direction ofthe wood to reach Markton by a detour. He had not proceeded far whenthere approached his path a man riding a bay horse with a square-cuttail. The equestrian wore a grizzled beard, and looked at Somerset witha piercing eye as he noiselessly ambled nearer over the soft sod ofthe park. He proved to be Mr. Cunningham Haze, chief constable of thedistrict, who had become slightly known to Somerset during his sojournhere. 

'One word, Mr. Somerset, ' said the Chief, after they had exchanged nodsof recognition, reining his horse as he spoke. 

Somerset stopped. 

'You have a studio at the castle in which you are preparing drawings?'

'I have. '

'Have you a clerk?'

'I had three till yesterday, when I paid them off. '

'Would they have any right to enter the studio late at night?'

'There would have been nothing wrong in their doing so. Either of themmight have gone back at any time for something forgotten. They livedquite near the castle. '

'Ah, then all is explained. I was riding past over the grass on thenight of last Thursday, and I saw two persons in your studio with alight. It must have been about half-past nine o'clock. One of them cameforward and pulled down the blind so that the light fell upon his face. But I only saw it for a short time. '

'If it were Knowles or Cockton he would have had a beard. '

'He had no beard. '

'Then it must have been Bowles. A young man?'

'Quite young. His companion in the background seemed older. '

'They are all about the same age really. By the way--it couldn't havebeen Dare--and Havill, surely! Would you recognize them again?'

'The young one possibly. The other not at all, for he remained in theshade. '

Somerset endeavoured to discern in a description by the chief constablethe features of Mr. Bowles: but it seemed to approximate more closely toDare in spite of himself. 'I'll make a sketch of the only one who had nobusiness there, and show it to you, ' he presently said. 'I should likethis cleared up. '

Mr. Cunningham Haze said he was going to Toneborough that afternoon, butwould return in the evening before Somerset's departure. With this theyparted. A possible motive for Dare's presence in the rooms had instantlypresented itself to Somerset's mind, for he had seen Dare enter Havill'soffice more than once, as if he were at work there. 

He accordingly sat on the next stile, and taking out his pocket-bookbegan a pencil sketch of Dare's head, to show to Mr. Haze in theevening; for if Dare had indeed found admission with Havill, or as hisagent, the design was lost. 

But he could not make a drawing that was a satisfactory likeness. Thenhe luckily remembered that Dare, in the intense warmth of admiration hehad affected for Somerset on the first day or two of their acquaintance, had begged for his photograph, and in return for it had left oneof himself on the mantelpiece, taken as he said by his own process. Somerset resolved to show this production to Mr. Haze, as being moreto the purpose than a sketch, and instead of finishing the latter, proceeded on his way. 

He entered the old overgrown drive which wound indirectly through thewood to Markton. The road, having been laid out for idling rather thanfor progress, bent sharply hither and thither among the fissuredtrunks and layers of horny leaves which lay there all the year round, interspersed with cushions of vivid green moss that formed oases in therust-red expanse. 

Reaching a point where the road made one of its bends between two largebeeches, a man and woman revealed themselves at a few yards' distance, walking slowly towards him. In the short and quaint lady he recognizedCharlotte De Stancy, whom he remembered not to have seen for severaldays. 

She slightly blushed and said, 'O, this is pleasant, Mr. Somerset!Let me present my brother to you, Captain De Stancy of the Royal HorseArtillery. '

Her brother came forward and shook hands heartily with Somerset; andthey all three rambled on together, talking of the season, the place, the fishing, the shooting, and whatever else came uppermost in theirminds. 

Captain De Stancy was a personage who would have been called interestingby women well out of their teens. He was ripe, without having declineda digit towards fogeyism. He was sufficiently old and experienced tosuggest a goodly accumulation of touching amourettes in the chambers ofhis memory, and not too old for the possibility of increasing the store. He was apparently about eight-and-thirty, less tall than his fatherhad been, but admirably made; and his every movement exhibited a finecombination of strength and flexibility of limb. His face was somewhatthin and thoughtful, its complexion being naturally pale, thoughdarkened by exposure to a warmer sun than ours. His features weresomewhat striking; his moustache and hair raven black; and his eyes, denied the attributes of military keenness by reason of the largenessand darkness of their aspect, acquired thereby a softness of expressionthat was in part womanly. His mouth as far as it could be seenreproduced this characteristic, which might have been called weakness, or goodness, according to the mental attitude of the observer. It waslarge but well formed, and showed an unimpaired line of teeth within. His dress at present was a heather-coloured rural suit, cut close to hisfigure. 

'You knew my cousin, Jack Ravensbury?' he said to Somerset, as they wenton. 'Poor Jack: he was a good fellow. '

'He was a very good fellow. '

'He would have been made a parson if he had lived--it was his greatwish. I, as his senior, and a man of the world as I thought myself, used to chaff him about it when he was a boy, and tell him not to be amilksop, but to enter the army. But I think Jack was right--the parsonshave the best of it, I see now. '

'They would hardly admit that, ' said Somerset, laughing. 'Nor can I. '

'Nor I, ' said the captain's sister. 'See how lovely you all looked withyour big guns and uniform when you entered Markton; and then see howstupid the parsons look by comparison, when they flock into Markton at aVisitation. '

'Ah, yes, ' said De Stancy, '"Doubtless it is a brilliant masquerade; But when of the first sight you've had your fill, It palls--at least it does so upon me, This paradise of pleasure and ennui. "

When one is getting on for forty;

 "When we have made our love, and gamed our gaming, Dressed, voted, shone, and maybe, something more; With dandies dined, heard senators declaiming; Seen beauties brought to market by the score, "

and so on, there arises a strong desire for a quiet old-fashionedcountry life, in which incessant movement is not a necessary part of theprogramme. '

'But you are not forty, Will?' said Charlotte. 

'My dear, I was thirty-nine last January. '

'Well, men about here are youths at that age. It was India used you upso, when you served in the line, was it not? I wish you had never gonethere!'

'So do I, ' said De Stancy drily. 'But I ought to grow a youth again, like the rest, now I am in my native air. '

They came to a narrow brook, not wider than a man's stride, and Miss DeStancy halted on the edge. 

'Why, Lottie, you used to jump it easily enough, ' said her brother. 'Butwe won't make her do it now. ' He took her in his arms, and liftedher over, giving her a gratuitous ride for some additional yards, andsaying, 'You are not a pound heavier, Lott, than you were at ten yearsold. .. . What do you think of the country here, Mr. Somerset? Are yougoing to stay long?'

'I think very well of it, ' said Somerset. 'But I leave to-morrowmorning, which makes it necessary that I turn back in a minute or twofrom walking with you. '

'That's a disappointment. I had hoped you were going to finish outthe autumn with shooting. There's some, very fair, to be got here onreasonable terms, I've just heard. '

'But you need not hire any!' spoke up Charlotte. 'Paula would let youshoot anything, I am sure. She has not been here long enough to preservemuch game, and the poachers had it all in Mr. Wilkins' time. But whatthere is you might kill with pleasure to her. '

'No, thank you, ' said De Stancy grimly. 'I prefer to remain a strangerto Miss Power--Miss Steam-Power, she ought to be called--and to all herpossessions. '

Charlotte was subdued, and did not insist further; while Somerset, before he could feel himself able to decide on the mood in which thegallant captain's joke at Paula's expense should be taken, wonderedwhether it were a married man or a bachelor who uttered it. 

He had not been able to keep the question of De Stancy's domestic stateout of his head from the first moment of seeing him. Assuming De Stancyto be a husband, he felt there might be some excuse for his remark; ifunmarried, Somerset liked the satire still better; in such circumstancesthere was a relief in the thought that Captain De Stancy's prejudicesmight be infinitely stronger than those of his sister or father. 

'Going to-morrow, did you say, Mr. Somerset?' asked Miss De Stancy. 'Then will you dine with us to-day? My father is anxious that youshould do so before you go. I am sorry there will be only our own familypresent to meet you; but you can leave as early as you wish. '

Her brother seconded the invitation, and Somerset promised, though hisleisure for that evening was short. He was in truth somewhat inclinedto like De Stancy; for though the captain had said nothing of any valueeither on war, commerce, science, or art, he had seemed attractiveto the younger man. Beyond the natural interest a soldier has forimaginative minds in the civil walks of life, De Stancy's occasionalmanifestations of taedium vitae were too poetically shaped tobe repellent. Gallantry combined in him with a sort of asceticself-repression in a way that was curious. He was a dozen years olderthan Somerset: his life had been passed in grooves remote from those ofSomerset's own life; and the latter decided that he would like to meetthe artillery officer again. 

Bidding them a temporary farewell, he went away to Markton by a shorterpath than that pursued by the De Stancys, and after spending theremainder of the afternoon preparing for departure, he sallied forthjust before the dinner-hour towards the suburban villa. 

He had become yet more curious whether a Mrs. De Stancy existed;if there were one he would probably see her to-night. He had anirrepressible hope that there might be such a lady. On entering thedrawing-room only the father, son, and daughter were assembled. Somersetfell into talk with Charlotte during the few minutes before dinner, andhis thought found its way out. 

'There is no Mrs. De Stancy?' he said in an undertone. 

'None, ' she said; 'my brother is a bachelor. '

The dinner having been fixed at an early hour to suit Somerset, they hadreturned to the drawing-room at eight o'clock. About nine he was aimingto get away. 

'You are not off yet?' said the captain. 

'There would have been no hurry, ' said Somerset, 'had I not justremembered that I have left one thing undone which I want to attend tobefore my departure. I want to see the chief constable to-night. '

'Cunningham Haze?--he is the very man I too want to see. But he went outof town this afternoon, and I hardly think you will see him to-night. His return has been delayed. '

'Then the matter must wait. '

'I have left word at his house asking him to call here if he gets homebefore half-past ten; but at any rate I shall see him to-morrow morning. Can I do anything for you, since you are leaving early?'

Somerset replied that the business was of no great importance, andbriefly explained the suspected intrusion into his studio; that he hadwith him a photograph of the suspected young man. 'If it is a mistake, 'added Somerset, 'I should regret putting my draughtsman's portrait intothe hands of the police, since it might injure his character; indeed, itwould be unfair to him. So I wish to keep the likeness in my own hands, and merely to show it to Mr. Haze. That's why I prefer not to send it. '

'My matter with Haze is that the barrack furniture does not correspondwith the inventories. If you like, I'll ask your question at the sametime with pleasure. '

Thereupon Somerset gave Captain De Stancy an unfastened envelopecontaining the portrait, asking him to destroy it if the constableshould declare it not to correspond with the face that met his eye atthe window. Soon after, Somerset took his leave of the household. 

He had not been absent ten minutes when other wheels were heard on thegravel without, and the servant announced Mr. Cunningham Haze, who hadreturned earlier than he had expected, and had called as requested. 

They went into the dining-room to discuss their business. When thebarrack matter had been arranged De Stancy said, 'I have a littlecommission to execute for my friend Mr. Somerset. I am to ask you ifthis portrait of the person he suspects of unlawfully entering his roomis like the man you saw there?'

The speaker was seated on one side of the dining-table and Mr. Haze onthe other. As he spoke De Stancy pulled the envelope from his pocket, and half drew out the photograph, which he had not as yet looked at, to hand it over to the constable. In the act his eye fell upon theportrait, with its uncertain expression of age, assured look, and hairworn in a fringe like a girl's. 

Captain De Stancy's face became strained, and he leant back in hischair, having previously had sufficient power over himself to close theenvelope and return it to his pocket. 

'Good heavens, you are ill, Captain De Stancy?' said the chiefconstable. 

'It was only momentary, ' said De Stancy; 'better in a minute--a glass ofwater will put me right. '

Mr. Haze got him a glass of water from the sideboard. 

'These spasms occasionally overtake me, ' said De Stancy when he haddrunk. 'I am already better. What were we saying? O, this affair ofMr. Somerset's. I find that this envelope is not the right one. ' Heostensibly searched his pocket again. 'I must have mislaid it, ' hecontinued, rising. 'I'll be with you again in a moment. '

De Stancy went into the room adjoining, opened an album of portraitsthat lay on the table, and selected one of a young man quite unknownto him, whose age was somewhat akin to Dare's, but who in no otherattribute resembled him. 

De Stancy placed this picture in the original envelope, and returnedwith it to the chief constable, saying he had found it at last. 

'Thank you, thank you, ' said Cunningham Haze, looking it over. 'Ah--Iperceive it is not what I expected to see. Mr. Somerset was mistaken. '

When the chief constable had left the house, Captain De Stancy shutthe door and drew out the original photograph. As he looked at thetranscript of Dare's features he was moved by a painful agitation, tillrecalling himself to the present, he carefully put the portrait into thefire. 

During the following days Captain De Stancy's manner on the roads, inthe streets, and at barracks, was that of Crusoe after seeing the printof a man's foot on the sand. 

V. 

Anybody who had closely considered Dare at this time would havediscovered that, shortly after the arrival of the Royal Horse Artilleryat Markton Barracks, he gave up his room at the inn at Sleeping-Greenand took permanent lodgings over a broker's shop in the townabove-mentioned. The peculiarity of the rooms was that they commandeda view lengthwise of the barrack lane along which any soldier, in thenatural course of things, would pass either to enter the town, to callat Myrtle Villa, or to go to Stancy Castle. 

Dare seemed to act as if there were plenty of time for his business. Some few days had slipped by when, perceiving Captain De Stancy walkpast his window and into the town, Dare took his hat and cane, andfollowed in the same direction. When he was about fifty yards short ofMyrtle Villa on the other side of the town he saw De Stancy enter itsgate. 

Dare mounted a stile beside the highway and patiently waited. In abouttwenty minutes De Stancy came out again and turned back in the directionof the town, till Dare was revealed to him on his left hand. When DeStancy recognized the youth he was visibly agitated, though apparentlynot surprised. Standing still a moment he dropped his glance upon theground, and then came forward to Dare, who having alighted from thestile stood before the captain with a smile. 

'My dear lad!' said De Stancy, much moved by recollections. He heldDare's hand for a moment in both his own, and turned askance. 

'You are not astonished, ' said Dare, still retaining his smile, as if tohis mind there were something comic in the situation. 

'I knew you were somewhere near. Where do you come from?'

'From going to and fro in the earth, and walking up and down in it, asSatan said to his Maker. --Southampton last, in common speech. '

'Have you come here to see me?'

'Entirely. I divined that your next quarters would be Markton, theprevious batteries that were at your station having come on here. I havewanted to see you badly. '

'You have?'

'I am rather out of cash. I have been knocking about a good deal sinceyou last heard from me. '

'I will do what I can again. '

'Thanks, captain. '

'But, Willy, I am afraid it will not be much at present. You know I amas poor as a mouse. '

'But such as it is, could you write a cheque for it now?'

'I will send it to you from the barracks. '

'I have a better plan. By getting over this stile we could go roundat the back of the villas to Sleeping-Green Church. There is always apen-and-ink in the vestry, and we can have a nice talk on the way. Itwould be unwise for me to appear at the barracks just now. '

'That's true. '

De Stancy sighed, and they were about to walk across the fieldstogether. 'No, ' said Dare, suddenly stopping: my plans make itimperative that we should not run the risk of being seen in each other'scompany for long. Walk on, and I will follow. You can stroll into thechurchyard, and move about as if you were ruminating on the epitaphs. There are some with excellent morals. I'll enter by the other gate, andwe can meet easily in the vestry-room. '

De Stancy looked gloomy, and was on the point of acquiescing when heturned back and said, 'Why should your photograph be shown to the chiefconstable?'

'By whom?'

'Somerset the architect. He suspects your having broken into his officeor something of the sort. ' De Stancy briefly related what Somerset hadexplained to him at the dinner-table. 

'It was merely diamond cut diamond between us, on an architecturalmatter, ' murmured Dare. 'Ho! and he suspects; and that's his remedy!'

'I hope this is nothing serious?' asked De Stancy gravely. 

'I peeped at his drawing--that's all. But since he chooses to make thatuse of my photograph, which I gave him in friendship, I'll make use ofhis in a way he little dreams of. Well now, let's on. '

A quarter of an hour later they met in the vestry of the church atSleeping-Green. 

'I have only just transferred my account to the bank here, ' said DeStancy, as he took out his cheque-book, 'and it will be more convenientto me at present to draw but a small sum. I will make up the balanceafterwards. '

When he had written it Dare glanced over the paper and said ruefully, 'It is small, dad. Well, there is all the more reason why I shouldbroach my scheme, with a view to making such documents larger in thefuture. '

'I shall be glad to hear of any such scheme, ' answered De Stancy, with alanguid attempt at jocularity. 

'Then here it is. The plan I have arranged for you is of the nature of amarriage. '

'You are very kind!' said De Stancy, agape. 

'The lady's name is Miss Paula Power, who, as you may have heard sinceyour arrival, is in absolute possession of her father's property andestates, including Stancy Castle. As soon as I heard of her I saw whata marvellous match it would be for you, and your family; it would makea man of you, in short, and I have set my mind upon your putting noobjection in the way of its accomplishment. '

'But, Willy, it seems to me that, of us two, it is you who exercisepaternal authority?'

'True, it is for your good. Let me do it. '

'Well, one must be indulgent under the circumstances, I suppose. .. . But, ' added De Stancy simply, 'Willy, I--don't want to marry, you know. I have lately thought that some day we may be able to live together, you and I: go off to America or New Zealand, where we are not known, andthere lead a quiet, pastoral life, defying social rules and troublesomeobservances. '

'I can't hear of it, captain, ' replied Dare reprovingly. 'I am whatevents have made me, and having fixed my mind upon getting you settledin life by this marriage, I have put things in train for it at animmense trouble to myself. If you had thought over it o' nights as muchas I have, you would not say nay. '

'But I ought to have married your mother if anybody. And as I have notmarried her, the least I can do in respect to her is to marry no otherwoman. '

'You have some sort of duty to me, have you not, Captain De Stancy?'

'Yes, Willy, I admit that I have, ' the elder replied reflectively. 'AndI don't think I have failed in it thus far?'

'This will be the crowning proof. Paternal affection, family pride, thenoble instincts to reinstate yourself in the castle of your ancestors, all demand the step. And when you have seen the lady! She has the figureand motions of a sylph, the face of an angel, the eye of love itself. What a sight she is crossing the lawn on a sunny afternoon, or glidingairily along the corridors of the old place the De Stancys knew so well!Her lips are the softest, reddest, most distracting things you ever saw. Her hair is as soft as silk, and of the rarest, tenderest brown. '

The captain moved uneasily. 'Don't take the trouble to say more, Willy, 'he observed. 'You know how I am. My cursed susceptibility to thesematters has already wasted years of my life, and I don't want to makemyself a fool about her too. '

'You must see her. '

'No, don't let me see her, ' De Stancy expostulated. 'If she is only halfso good-looking as you say, she will drag me at her heels like ablind Samson. You are a mere youth as yet, but I may tell you that themisfortune of never having been my own master where a beautiful facewas concerned obliges me to be cautious if I would preserve my peace ofmind. '

'Well, to my mind, Captain De Stancy, your objections seem trivial. Arethose all?'

'They are all I care to mention just now to you. '

'Captain! can there be secrets between us?'

De Stancy paused and looked at the lad as if his heart wished to confesswhat his judgment feared to tell. 'There should not be--on this point, 'he murmured. 

'Then tell me--why do you so much object to her?'

'I once vowed a vow. '

'A vow!' said Dare, rather disconcerted. 

'A vow of infinite solemnity. I must tell you from the beginning;perhaps you are old enough to hear it now, though you have been tooyoung before. Your mother's life ended in much sorrow, and it wasoccasioned entirely by me. In my regret for the wrong done her I sworeto her that though she had not been my wife, no other woman should standin that relationship to me; and this to her was a sort of comfort. Whenshe was dead my knowledge of my own plaguy impressionableness, whichseemed to be ineradicable--as it seems still--led me to think whatsafeguards I could set over myself with a view to keeping my promise tolive a life of celibacy; and among other things I determined to forswearthe society, and if possible the sight, of women young and attractive, as far as I had the power to do. '

'It is not so easy to avoid the sight of a beautiful woman if shecrosses your path, I should think?'

'It is not easy; but it is possible. '

'How?'

'By directing your attention another way. '

'But do you mean to say, captain, that you can be in a room with apretty woman who speaks to you, and not look at her?'

'I do: though mere looking has less to do with it than mentalattentiveness--allowing your thoughts to flow out in her direction--tocomprehend her image. '

'But it would be considered very impolite not to look at the woman orcomprehend her image?'

'It would, and is. I am considered the most impolite officer in theservice. I have been nicknamed the man with the averted eyes--the manwith the detestable habit--the man who greets you with his shoulder, and so on. Ninety-and-nine fair women at the present moment hate me likepoison and death for having persistently refused to plumb the depths oftheir offered eyes. '

'How can you do it, who are by nature courteous?'

'I cannot always--I break down sometimes. But, upon the whole, recollection holds me to it: dread of a lapse. Nothing is so potent asfear well maintained. '

De Stancy narrated these details in a grave meditative tone with hiseyes on the wall, as if he were scarcely conscious of a listener. 

'But haven't you reckless moments, captain?--when you have taken alittle more wine than usual, for instance?'

'I don't take wine. '

'O, you are a teetotaller?'

'Not a pledged one--but I don't touch alcohol unless I get wet, oranything of that sort. '

'Don't you sometimes forget this vow of yours to my mother?'

'No, I wear a reminder. '

'What is that like?'

De Stancy held up his left hand, on the third finger of which appearedan iron ring. 

Dare surveyed it, saying, 'Yes, I have seen that before, though I neverknew why you wore it. Well, I wear a reminder also, but of a differentsort. '

He threw open his shirt-front, and revealed tattooed on his breast theletters DE STANCY; the same marks which Havill had seen in the bedroomby the light of the moon. 

The captain rather winced at the sight. 'Well, well, ' he said hastily, 'that's enough. .. . Now, at any rate, you understand my objection to knowMiss Power. '

'But, captain, ' said the lad coaxingly, as he fastened his shirt;'you forget me and the good you may do me by marrying? Surely that's asufficient reason for a change of sentiment. This inexperienced sweetcreature owns the castle and estate which bears your name, even to thefurniture and pictures. She is the possessor of at least forty thousanda year--how much more I cannot say--while, buried here in Outer Wessex, she lives at the rate of twelve hundred in her simplicity. '

'It is very good of you to set this before me. But I prefer to go on asI am going. '

'Well, I won't bore you any more with her to-day. A monk inregimentals!--'tis strange. ' Dare arose and was about to open the door, when, looking through the window, Captain De Stancy said, 'Stop. ' Hehad perceived his father, Sir William De Stancy, walking among thetombstones without. 

'Yes, indeed, ' said Dare, turning the key in the door. 'It would lookstrange if he were to find us here. '

As the old man seemed indisposed to leave the churchyard just yet theysat down again. 

'What a capital card-table this green cloth would make, ' said Dare, asthey waited. 'You play, captain, I suppose?'

'Very seldom. '

'The same with me. But as I enjoy a hand of cards with a friend, I don'tgo unprovided. ' Saying which, Dare drew a pack from the tail of hiscoat. 'Shall we while away this leisure with the witching things?'

'Really, I'd rather not. '

'But, ' coaxed the young man, 'I am in the humour for it; so don't beunkind!'

'But, Willy, why do you care for these things? Cards are harmless enoughin their way; but I don't like to see you carrying them in your pocket. It isn't good for you. '

'It was by the merest chance I had them. Now come, just one hand, sincewe are prisoners. I want to show you how nicely I can play. I won'tcorrupt you!'

'Of course not, ' said De Stancy, as if ashamed of what his objectionimplied. 'You are not corrupt enough yourself to do that, I shouldhope. '

The cards were dealt and they began to play--Captain De Stancyabstractedly, and with his eyes mostly straying out of the window uponthe large yew, whose boughs as they moved were distorted by the oldgreen window-panes. 

'It is better than doing nothing, ' said Dare cheerfully, as the gamewent on. 'I hope you don't dislike it?'

'Not if it pleases you, ' said De Stancy listlessly. 

'And the consecration of this place does not extend further than theaisle wall. '

'Doesn't it?' said De Stancy, as he mechanically played out his cards. 'What became of that box of books I sent you with my last cheque?'

'Well, as I hadn't time to read them, and as I knew you would not likethem to be wasted, I sold them to a bloke who peruses them from morningtill night. Ah, now you have lost a fiver altogether--how queer! We'lldouble the stakes. So, as I was saying, just at the time the books cameI got an inkling of this important business, and literature went to thewall. '

'Important business--what?'

'The capture of this lady, to be sure. '

De Stancy sighed impatiently. 'I wish you were less calculating, and hadmore of the impulse natural to your years!'

'Game--by Jove! You have lost again, captain. That makes--let mesee--nine pounds fifteen to square us. '

'I owe you that?' said De Stancy, startled. 'It is more than I have incash. I must write another cheque. '

'Never mind. Make it payable to yourself, and our connection will bequite unsuspected. '

Captain De Stancy did as requested, and rose from his seat. Sir William, though further off, was still in the churchyard. 

'How can you hesitate for a moment about this girl?' said Dare, pointingto the bent figure of the old man. 'Think of the satisfaction it wouldbe to him to see his son within the family walls again. It should be areligion with you to compass such a legitimate end as this. '

'Well, well, I'll think of it, ' said the captain, with an impatientlaugh. 'You are quite a Mephistopheles, Will--I say it to my sorrow!'

'Would that I were in your place. '

'Would that you were! Fifteen years ago I might have called the chance amagnificent one. '

'But you are a young man still, and you look younger than you are. Nobody knows our relationship, and I am not such a fool as to divulgeit. Of course, if through me you reclaim this splendid possession, Ishould leave it to your feelings what you would do for me. '

Sir William had by this time cleared out of the churchyard, and the pairemerged from the vestry and departed. Proceeding towards Markton by thesame bypath, they presently came to an eminence covered with bushes ofblackthorn, and tufts of yellowing fern. From this point a good view ofthe woods and glades about Stancy Castle could be obtained. Darestood still on the top and stretched out his finger; the captain's eyefollowed the direction, and he saw above the many-hued foliage in themiddle distance the towering keep of Paula's castle. 

'That's the goal of your ambition, captain--ambition do I say?--mostrighteous and dutiful endeavour! How the hoary shape catches thesunlight--it is the raison d'etre of the landscape, and its possessionis coveted by a thousand hearts. Surely it is an hereditary desire ofyours? You must make a point of returning to it, and appearing in themap of the future as in that of the past. I delight in this work ofencouraging you, and pushing you forward towards your own. You arereally very clever, you know, but--I say it with respect--how comes itthat you want so much waking up?'

'Because I know the day is not so bright as it seems, my boy. However, you make a little mistake. If I care for anything on earth, I do carefor that old fortress of my forefathers. I respect so little among theliving that all my reverence is for my own dead. But manoeuvring, evenfor my own, as you call it, is not in my line. It is distasteful--it ispositively hateful to me. '

'Well, well, let it stand thus for the present. But will you refuse meone little request--merely to see her? I'll contrive it so that she maynot see you. Don't refuse me, it is the one thing I ask, and I shallthink it hard if you deny me. '

'O Will!' said the captain wearily. 'Why will you plead so? No--eventhough your mind is particularly set upon it, I cannot see her, orbestow a thought upon her, much as I should like to gratify you. '

VI. 

When they had parted Dare walked along towards Markton with resolve onhis mouth and an unscrupulous light in his prominent black eye. Couldany person who had heard the previous conversation have seen him now, hewould have found little difficulty in divining that, notwithstanding DeStancy's obduracy, the reinstation of Captain De Stancy in the castle, and the possible legitimation and enrichment of himself, was stillthe dream of his brain. Even should any legal settlement or offspringintervene to nip the extreme development of his projects, therewas abundant opportunity for his glorification. Two conditions wereimperative. De Stancy must see Paula before Somerset's return. And itwas necessary to have help from Havill, even if it involved letting himknow all. 

Whether Havill already knew all was a nice question for Mr. Dare'sluminous mind. Havill had had opportunities of reading his secret, particularly on the night they occupied the same room. If so, byrevealing it to Paula, Havill might utterly blast his project for themarriage. Havill, then, was at all risks to be retained as an ally. 

Yet Dare would have preferred a stronger check upon his confederatethan was afforded by his own knowledge of that anonymous letter and thecompetition trick. For were the competition lost to him, Havill wouldhave no further interest in conciliating Miss Power; would as soon asnot let her know the secret of De Stancy's relation to him. 

Fortune as usual helped him in his dilemma. Entering Havill's office, Dare found him sitting there; but the drawings had all disappeared fromthe boards. The architect held an open letter in his hand. 

'Well, what news?' said Dare. 

'Miss Power has returned to the castle, Somerset is detained in London, and the competition is decided, ' said Havill, with a glance of quietdubiousness. 

'And you have won it?'

'No. We are bracketed--it's a tie. The judges say there is no choicebetween the designs--that they are singularly equal and singularly good. That she would do well to adopt either. Signed So-and-So, Fellows ofthe Royal Institute of British Architects. The result is that shewill employ which she personally likes best. It is as if I had spun asovereign in the air and it had alighted on its edge. The least falsemovement will make it tails; the least wise movement heads. '

'Singularly equal. Well, we owe that to our nocturnal visit, which mustnot be known. '

'O Lord, no!' said Havill apprehensively. 

Dare felt secure of him at those words. Havill had much at stake; theslightest rumour of his trick in bringing about the competition, wouldbe fatal to Havill's reputation. 

'The permanent absence of Somerset then is desirable architecturally onyour account, matrimonially on mine. '

'Matrimonially? By the way--who was that captain you pointed out to mewhen the artillery entered the town?'

'Captain De Stancy--son of Sir William De Stancy. He's the husband. O, you needn't look incredulous: it is practicable; but we won't arguethat. In the first place I want him to see her, and to see her in themost love-kindling, passion-begetting circumstances that can be thoughtof. And he must see her surreptitiously, for he refuses to meet her. '

'Let him see her going to church or chapel?'

Dare shook his head. 

'Driving out?'

'Common-place!'

'Walking in the gardens?'

'Ditto. '

'At her toilet?'

'Ah--if it were possible!'

'Which it hardly is. Well, you had better think it over and makeinquiries about her habits, and as to when she is in a favourable aspectfor observation, as the almanacs say. '

Shortly afterwards Dare took his leave. In the evening he made it hisbusiness to sit smoking on the bole of a tree which commanded a viewof the upper ward of the castle, and also of the old postern-gate, now enlarged and used as a tradesmen's entrance. It was half-past sixo'clock; the dressing-bell rang, and Dare saw a light-footed young womanhasten at the sound across the ward from the servants' quarter. A lightappeared in a chamber which he knew to be Paula's dressing-room; andthere it remained half-an-hour, a shadow passing and repassing on theblind in the style of head-dress worn by the girl he had previouslyseen. The dinner-bell sounded and the light went out. 

As yet it was scarcely dark out of doors, and in a few minutes Dare hadthe satisfaction of seeing the same woman cross the ward and emergeupon the slope without. This time she was bonneted, and carried a littlebasket in her hand. A nearer view showed her to be, as he had expected, Milly Birch, Paula's maid, who had friends living in Markton, whom shewas in the habit of visiting almost every evening during the threehours of leisure which intervened between Paula's retirement from thedressing-room and return thither at ten o'clock. When the young womanhad descended the road and passed into the large drive, Dare rose andfollowed her. 

'O, it is you, Miss Birch, ' said Dare, on overtaking her. 'I am glad tohave the pleasure of walking by your side. '

'Yes, sir. O it's Mr. Dare. We don't see you at the castle now, sir. '

'No. And do you get a walk like this every evening when the others areat their busiest?'

'Almost every evening; that's the one return to the poor lady's maid forlosing her leisure when the others get it--in the absence of the familyfrom home. '

'Is Miss Power a hard mistress?'

'No. '

'Rather fanciful than hard, I presume?'

'Just so, sir. '

'And she likes to appear to advantage, no doubt. '

'I suppose so, ' said Milly, laughing. 'We all do. '

'When does she appear to the best advantage? When riding, or driving, orreading her book?'

'Not altogether then, if you mean the very best. '

'Perhaps it is when she sits looking in the glass at herself, and youlet down her hair. '

'Not particularly, to my mind. '

'When does she to your mind? When dressed for a dinner-party or ball?'

'She's middling, then. But there is one time when she looks nicer andcleverer than at any. It is when she is in the gymnasium. '

'O--gymnasium?'

'Because when she is there she wears such a pretty boy's costume, and isso charming in her movements, that you think she is a lovely young youthand not a girl at all. '

'When does she go to this gymnasium?'

'Not so much as she used to. Only on wet mornings now, when she can'tget out for walks or drives. But she used to do it every day. '

'I should like to see her there. '

'Why, sir?'

'I am a poor artist, and can't afford models. To see her attitudes wouldbe of great assistance to me in the art I love so well. '

Milly shook her head. 'She's very strict about the door being locked. IfI were to leave it open she would dismiss me, as I should deserve. '

'But consider, dear Miss Birch, the advantage to a poor artist the sightof her would be: if you could hold the door ajar it would be worth fivepounds to me, and a good deal to you. '

'No, ' said the incorruptible Milly, shaking her head. 'Besides, I don'talways go there with her. O no, I couldn't!'

Milly remained so firm at this point that Dare said no more. 

When he had left her he returned to the castle grounds, and though therewas not much light he had no difficulty in discovering the gymnasium, the outside of which he had observed before, without thinking to inquireits purpose. Like the erections in other parts of the shrubberies it wasconstructed of wood, the interstices between the framing being filled upwith short billets of fir nailed diagonally. Dare, even when without asettled plan in his head, could arrange for probabilities; and wrenchingout one of the billets he looked inside. It seemed to be a simple oblongapartment, fitted up with ropes, with a little dressing-closet at oneend, and lighted by a skylight or lantern in the roof. Dare replaced thewood and went on his way. 

Havill was smoking on his doorstep when Dare passed up the street. Heheld up his hand. 

'Since you have been gone, ' said the architect, 'I've hit upon somethingthat may help you in exhibiting your lady to your gentleman. In thesummer I had orders to design a gymnasium for her, which I did; and theysay she is very clever on the ropes and bars. Now--'

'I've discovered it. I shall contrive for him to see her there on thefirst wet morning, which is when she practises. What made her think ofit?'

'As you may have heard, she holds advanced views on social and othermatters; and in those on the higher education of women she is verystrong, talking a good deal about the physical training of the Greeks, whom she adores, or did. Every philosopher and man of science whoventilates his theories in the monthly reviews has a devout listener inher; and this subject of the physical development of her sex has had itsturn with other things in her mind. So she had the place built on hervery first arrival, according to the latest lights on athletics, and inimitation of those at the new colleges for women. '

'How deuced clever of the girl! She means to live to be a hundred!'

VII. 

The wet day arrived with all the promptness that might have beenexpected of it in this land of rains and mists. The alder bushes behindthe gymnasium dripped monotonously leaf upon leaf, added to this beingthe purl of the shallow stream a little way off, producing a sense ofsatiety in watery sounds. Though there was drizzle in the open meads, the rain here in the thicket was comparatively slight, and two men withfishing tackle who stood beneath one of the larger bushes found itsboughs a sufficient shelter. 

'We may as well walk home again as study nature here, Willy, ' saidthe taller and elder of the twain. 'I feared it would continue when westarted. The magnificent sport you speak of must rest for to-day. '

The other looked at his watch, but made no particular reply. 

'Come, let us move on. I don't like intruding into other people'sgrounds like this, ' De Stancy continued. 

'We are not intruding. Anybody walks outside this fence. ' He indicatedan iron railing newly tarred, dividing the wilder underwood amid whichthey stood from the inner and well-kept parts of the shrubbery, andagainst which the back of the gymnasium was built. 

Light footsteps upon a gravel walk could be heard on the other side ofthe fence, and a trio of cloaked and umbrella-screened figures werefor a moment discernible. They vanished behind the gymnasium; and againnothing resounded but the river murmurs and the clock-like drippings ofthe leafage. 

'Hush!' said Dare. 

'No pranks, my boy, ' said De Stancy suspiciously. 'You should be abovethem. '

'And you should trust to my good sense, captain, ' Dare remonstrated. 'Ihave not indulged in a prank since the sixth year of my pilgrimage. Ihave found them too damaging to my interests. Well, it is not too dryhere, and damp injures your health, you say. Have a pull for safety'ssake. ' He presented a flask to De Stancy. 

The artillery officer looked down at his nether garments. 

'I don't break my rule without good reason, ' he observed. 

'I am afraid that reason exists at present. '

'I am afraid it does. What have you got?'

'Only a little wine. '

'What wine?'

'Do try it. I call it "the blushful Hippocrene, " that the poet describesas

 "Tasting of Flora and the country green; Dance, and Provencal song, and sun-burnt mirth. "'

De Stancy took the flask, and drank a little. 

'It warms, does it not?' said Dare. 

'Too much, ' said De Stancy with misgiving. 'I have been taken unawares. Why, it is three parts brandy, to my taste, you scamp!'

Dare put away the wine. 'Now you are to see something, ' he said. 

'Something--what is it?' Captain De Stancy regarded him with a puzzledlook. 

'It is quite a curiosity, and really worth seeing. Now just look inhere. '

The speaker advanced to the back of the building, and withdrew the woodbillet from the wall. 

'Will, I believe you are up to some trick, ' said De Stancy, not, however, suspecting the actual truth in these unsuggestivecircumstances, and with a comfortable resignation, produced by thepotent liquor, which would have been comical to an outsider, but which, to one who had known the history and relationship of the two speakers, would have worn a sadder significance. 'I am too big a fool about you tokeep you down as I ought; that's the fault of me, worse luck. '

He pressed the youth's hand with a smile, went forward, and lookedthrough the hole into the interior of the gymnasium. Dare withdrewto some little distance, and watched Captain De Stancy's face, whichpresently began to assume an expression of interest. 

What was the captain seeing? A sort of optical poem. 

Paula, in a pink flannel costume, was bending, wheeling and undulatingin the air like a gold-fish in its globe, sometimes ascending by herarms nearly to the lantern, then lowering herself till she swung levelwith the floor. Her aunt Mrs. Goodman, and Charlotte De Stancy, weresitting on camp-stools at one end, watching her gyrations, Paulaoccasionally addressing them with such an expression as--'Now, Aunt, look at me--and you, Charlotte--is not that shocking to your weaknerves, ' when some adroit feat would be repeated, which, however, seemedto give much more pleasure to Paula herself in performing it than toMrs. Goodman in looking on, the latter sometimes saying, 'O, it isterrific--do not run such a risk again!'

It would have demanded the poetic passion of some joyous Elizabethanlyrist like Lodge, Nash, or Constable, to fitly phrase Paula'spresentation of herself at this moment of absolute abandonment to everymuscular whim that could take possession of such a supple form. Thewhite manilla ropes clung about the performer like snakes as she tookher exercise, and the colour in her face deepened as she went on. Captain De Stancy felt that, much as he had seen in early life of beautyin woman, he had never seen beauty of such a real and living sort asthis. A recollection of his vow, together with a sense that to gazeon the festival of this Bona Dea was, though so innocent and pretty asight, hardly fair or gentlemanly, would have compelled him to withdrawhis eyes, had not the sportive fascination of her appearance gluedthem there in spite of all. And as if to complete the picture of Gracepersonified and add the one thing wanting to the charm which bound him, the clouds, till that time thick in the sky, broke away from the upperheaven, and allowed the noonday sun to pour down through the lanternupon her, irradiating her with a warm light that was incarnadined by herpink doublet and hose, and reflected in upon her face. She onlyrequired a cloud to rest on instead of the green silk net which actuallysupported her reclining figure for the moment, to be quite Olympian;save indeed that in place of haughty effrontery there sat on hercountenance only the healthful sprightliness of an English girl. 

Dare had withdrawn to a point at which another path crossed the pathoccupied by De Stancy. Looking in a side direction, he saw Havillidling slowly up to him over the silent grass. Havill's knowledge of theappointment had brought him out to see what would come of it. When heneared Dare, but was still partially hidden by the boughs from the thirdof the party, the former simply pointed to De Stancy upon which Havillstood and peeped at him. 'Is she within there?' he inquired. 

Dare nodded, and whispered, 'You need not have asked, if you hadexamined his face. '

'That's true. '

'A fermentation is beginning in him, ' said Dare, half pitifully; 'apurely chemical process; and when it is complete he will probably beclear, and fiery, and sparkling, and quite another man than the good, weak, easy fellow that he was. '

To precisely describe Captain De Stancy's admiration was impossible. Asun seemed to rise in his face. By watching him they could almost seethe aspect of her within the wall, so accurately were her changingphases reflected in him. He seemed to forget that he was not alone. 

'And is this, ' he murmured, in the manner of one only half apprehendinghimself, 'and is this the end of my vow?'

Paula was saying at this moment, 'Ariel sleeps in this posture, doeshe not, Auntie?' Suiting the action to the word she flung out her armsbehind her head as she lay in the green silk hammock, idly closed herpink eyelids, and swung herself to and fro. 

BOOK THE THIRD. DE STANCY. 

I. 

Captain De Stancy was a changed man. A hitherto well-repressed energywas giving him motion towards long-shunned consequences. His featureswere, indeed, the same as before; though, had a physiognomist chosen tostudy them with the closeness of an astronomer scanning the universe, hewould doubtless have discerned abundant novelty. 

In recent years De Stancy had been an easy, melancholy, unaspiringofficer, enervated and depressed by a parental affection quite beyondhis control for the graceless lad Dare--the obtrusive memento of ashadowy period in De Stancy's youth, who threatened to be the curse ofhis old age. Throughout a long space he had persevered in his system ofrigidly incarcerating within himself all instincts towards the oppositesex, with a resolution that would not have disgraced a much strongerman. By this habit, maintained with fair success, a chamber of hisnature had been preserved intact during many later years, like theone solitary sealed-up cell occasionally retained by bees in a lobe ofdrained honey-comb. And thus, though he had irretrievably exhausted therelish of society, of ambition, of action, and of his profession, thelove-force that he had kept immured alive was still a reproduciblething. 

The sight of Paula in her graceful performance, which the judiciousDare had so carefully planned, led up to and heightened by subtleaccessories, operated on De Stancy's surprised soul with a promptnessalmost magical. 

On the evening of the self-same day, having dined as usual, he retiredto his rooms, where he found a hamper of wine awaiting him. It had beenanonymously sent, and the account was paid. He smiled grimly, but nolonger with heaviness. In this he instantly recognized the handiwork ofDare, who, having at last broken down the barrier which De Stancyhad erected round his heart for so many years, acted like a skilledstrategist, and took swift measures to follow up the advantage sotardily gained. 

Captain De Stancy knew himself conquered: he knew he should yield toPaula--had indeed yielded; but there was now, in his solitude, an houror two of reaction. He did not drink from the bottles sent. He wentearly to bed, and lay tossing thereon till far into the night, thinkingover the collapse. His teetotalism had, with the lapse of years, unconsciously become the outward and visible sign to himself ofhis secret vows; and a return to its opposite, however mildly done, signified with ceremonious distinctness the formal acceptance ofdelectations long forsworn. 

But the exceeding freshness of his feeling for Paula, which by reason ofits long arrest was that of a man far under thirty, and was a wonderto himself every instant, would not long brook weighing in balances. Hewished suddenly to commit himself; to remove the question of retreatout of the region of debate. The clock struck two: and the wish becamedetermination. He arose, and wrapping himself in his dressing-gown wentto the next room, where he took from a shelf in the pantry several largebottles, which he carried to the window, till they stood on the sill agoodly row. There had been sufficient light in the room for him to dothis without a candle. Now he softly opened the sash, and the radianceof a gibbous moon riding in the opposite sky flooded the apartment. Itfell on the labels of the captain's bottles, revealing their contents tobe simple aerated waters for drinking. 

De Stancy looked out and listened. The guns that stood drawn upwithin the yard glistened in the moonlight reaching them from over thebarrack-wall: there was an occasional stamp of horses in the stables;also a measured tread of sentinels--one or more at the gates, one at thehospital, one between the wings, two at the magazine, and others furtheroff. Recurring to his intention he drew the corks of the mineral waters, and inverting each bottle one by one over the window-sill, heard itscontents dribble in a small stream on to the gravel below. 

He then opened the hamper which Dare had sent. Uncorking one of thebottles he murmured, 'To Paula!' and drank a glass of the ruby liquor. 

'A man again after eighteen years, ' he said, shutting the sash andreturning to his bedroom. 

The first overt result of his kindled interest in Miss Power was hissaying to his sister the day after the surreptitious sight of Paula: 'Iam sorry, Charlotte, for a word or two I said the other day. '

'Well?'

'I was rather disrespectful to your friend Miss Power. '

'I don't think so--were you?'

'Yes. When we were walking in the wood, I made a stupid joke abouther. .. . What does she know about me--do you ever speak of me to her?'

'Only in general terms. '

'What general terms?'

'You know well enough, William; of your idiosyncrasies and so on--thatyou are a bit of a woman-hater, or at least a confirmed bachelor, andhave but little respect for your own family. '

'I wish you had not told her that, ' said De Stancy with dissatisfaction. 

'But I thought you always liked women to know your principles!' saidCharlotte, in injured tones; 'and would particularly like her to knowthem, living so near. '

'Yes, yes, ' replied her brother hastily. 'Well, I ought to see her, justto show her that I am not quite a brute. '

'That would be very nice!' she answered, putting her hands together inagreeable astonishment. 'It is just what I have wished, though I did notdream of suggesting it after what I have heard you say. I am going tostay with her again to-morrow, and I will let her know about this. '

'Don't tell her anything plainly, for heaven's sake. I really want tosee the interior of the castle; I have never entered its walls since mybabyhood. ' He raised his eyes as he spoke to where the walls in questionshowed their ashlar faces over the trees. 

'You might have gone over it at any time. '

'O yes. It is only recently that I have thought much of the place: Ifeel now that I should like to examine the old building thoroughly, since it was for so many generations associated with our fortunes, especially as most of the old furniture is still there. My sedulousavoidance hitherto of all relating to our family vicissitudes has been, I own, stupid conduct for an intelligent being; but impossible grapesare always sour, and I have unconsciously adopted Radical notions toobliterate disappointed hereditary instincts. But these have a trick ofre-establishing themselves as one gets older, and the castle and what itcontains have a keen interest for me now. '

'It contains Paula. '

De Stancy's pulse, which had been beating languidly for many years, beatdouble at the sound of that name. 

'I meant furniture and pictures for the moment, ' he said; 'but I don'tmind extending the meaning to her, if you wish it. '

'She is the rarest thing there. '

'So you have said before. '

'The castle and our family history have as much romantic interest forher as they have for you, ' Charlotte went on. 'She delights in visitingour tombs and effigies and ponders over them for hours. '

'Indeed!' said De Stancy, allowing his surprise to hide the satisfactionwhich accompanied it. 'That should make us friendly. .. . Does she seemany people?'

'Not many as yet. And she cannot have many staying there during thealterations. '

'Ah! yes--the alterations. Didn't you say that she has had a Londonarchitect stopping there on that account? What was he--old or young?'

'He is a young man: he has been to our house. Don't you remember you methim there?'

'What was his name?'

'Mr. Somerset. '

'O, that man! Yes, yes, I remember. .. . Hullo, Lottie!'

'What?'

'Your face is as red as a peony. Now I know a secret!' Charlotte vainlyendeavoured to hide her confusion. 'Very well--not a word! I won't saymore, ' continued De Stancy good-humouredly, 'except that he seems to bea very nice fellow. '

De Stancy had turned the dialogue on to this little well-preservedsecret of his sister's with sufficient outward lightness; but it hadbeen done in instinctive concealment of the disquieting start with whichhe had recognized that Somerset, Dare's enemy, whom he had interceptedin placing Dare's portrait into the hands of the chief constable, was aman beloved by his sister Charlotte. This novel circumstance might leadto a curious complication. But he was to hear more. 

'He may be very nice, ' replied Charlotte, with an effort, after thissilence. 'But he is nothing to me, more than a very good friend. '

'There's no engagement, or thought of one between you?'

'Certainly there's not!' said Charlotte, with brave emphasis. 'It ismore likely to be between Paula and him than me and him. '

De Stancy's bare military ears and closely cropped poll flushed hot. 'Miss Power and him?'

'I don't mean to say there is, because Paula denies it; but I mean thathe loves Paula. That I do know. '

De Stancy was dumb. This item of news which Dare had kept from him, notknowing how far De Stancy's sense of honour might extend, was decidedlygrave. Indeed, he was so greatly impressed with the fact, that he couldnot help saying as much aloud: 'This is very serious!'

'Why!' she murmured tremblingly, for the first leaking out of her tenderand sworn secret had disabled her quite. 

'Because I love Paula too. '

'What do you say, William, you?--a woman you have never seen?'

'I have seen her--by accident. And now, my dear little sis, you willbe my close ally, won't you? as I will be yours, as brother and sistershould be. ' He placed his arm coaxingly round Charlotte's shoulder. 

'O, William, how can I?' at last she stammered. 

'Why, how can't you, I should say? We are both in the same ship. I lovePaula, you love Mr. Somerset; it behoves both of us to see that thisflirtation of theirs ends in nothing. '

'I don't like you to put it like that--that I love him--it frightensme, ' murmured the girl, visibly agitated. 'I don't want to divide himfrom Paula; I couldn't, I wouldn't do anything to separate them. Believeme, Will, I could not! I am sorry you love there also, though I shouldbe glad if it happened in the natural order of events that she shouldcome round to you. But I cannot do anything to part them and make Mr. Somerset suffer. It would be TOO wrong and blamable. '

'Now, you silly Charlotte, that's just how you women fly off at atangent. I mean nothing dishonourable in the least. Have I ever promptedyou to do anything dishonourable? Fair fighting allies was all I thoughtof. '

Miss De Stancy breathed more freely. 'Yes, we will be that, of course;we are always that, William. But I hope I can be your ally, and be quiteneutral; I would so much rather. '

'Well, I suppose it will not be a breach of your precious neutrality ifyou get me invited to see the castle?'

'O no!' she said brightly; 'I don't mind doing such a thing as that. Why not come with me tomorrow? I will say I am going to bring you. Therewill be no trouble at all. '

De Stancy readily agreed. The effect upon him of the information nowacquired was to intensify his ardour tenfold, the stimulus being due toa perception that Somerset, with a little more knowledge, would hold acard which could be played with disastrous effect against himself--hisrelationship to Dare. Its disclosure to a lady of such Puritanantecedents as Paula's, would probably mean her immediate severance fromhimself as an unclean thing. 

'Is Miss Power a severe pietist, or precisian; or is she a compromisinglady?' he asked abruptly. 

'She is severe and uncompromising--if you mean in her judgments onmorals, ' said Charlotte, not quite hearing. The remark was peculiarlyapposite, and De Stancy was silent. 

He spent some following hours in a close study of the castle history, which till now had unutterably bored him. More particularly did hedwell over documents and notes which referred to the pedigree of his ownfamily. He wrote out the names of all--and they were many--who had beenborn within those domineering walls since their first erection; of thoseamong them who had been brought thither by marriage with the owner, andof stranger knights and gentlemen who had entered the castle by marriagewith its mistress. He refreshed his memory on the strange loves andhates that had arisen in the course of the family history; on memorableattacks, and the dates of the same, the most memorable among them beingthe occasion on which the party represented by Paula battered down thecastle walls that she was now about to mend, and, as he hoped, return intheir original intact shape to the family dispossessed, by marriage withhimself, its living representative. 

In Sir William's villa were small engravings after many of the portraitsin the castle galleries, some of them hanging in the dining-room inplain oak and maple frames, and others preserved in portfolios. DeStancy spent much of his time over these, and in getting up the romancesof their originals' lives from memoirs and other records, all whichstories were as great novelties to him as they could possibly be to anystranger. Most interesting to him was the life of an Edward De Stancy, who had lived just before the Civil Wars, and to whom Captain De Stancybore a very traceable likeness. This ancestor had a mole on his cheek, black and distinct as a fly in cream; and as in the case of the firstLord Amherst's wart, and Bennet Earl of Arlington's nose-scar, thepainter had faithfully reproduced the defect on canvas. It so happenedthat the captain had a mole, though not exactly on the same spot of hisface; and this made the resemblance still greater. 

He took infinite trouble with his dress that day, showing an amount ofanxiety on the matter which for him was quite abnormal. At last, whenfully equipped, he set out with his sister to make the call proposed. Charlotte was rather unhappy at sight of her brother's earnest attemptto make an impression on Paula; but she could say nothing against it, and they proceeded on their way. 

It was the darkest of November weather, when the days are so short thatmorning seems to join with evening without the intervention of noon. Thesky was lined with low cloud, within whose dense substance tempestswere slowly fermenting for the coming days. Even now a windy turbulencetroubled the half-naked boughs, and a lonely leaf would occasionallyspin downwards to rejoin on the grass the scathed multitude of itscomrades which had preceded it in its fall. The river by the pavilion, in the summer so clear and purling, now slid onwards brown and thick andsilent, and enlarged to double size. 

II. 

Meanwhile Paula was alone. Of anyone else it would have been said thatshe must be finding the afternoon rather dreary in the quaint hallsnot of her forefathers: but of Miss Power it was unsafe to predicate sosurely. She walked from room to room in a black velvet dress whichgave decision to her outline without depriving it of softness. Sheoccasionally clasped her hands behind her head and looked out of awindow; but she more particularly bent her footsteps up and down theLong Gallery, where she had caused a large fire of logs to be kindled, in her endeavour to extend cheerfulness somewhat beyond the precincts ofthe sitting-rooms. 

The fire glanced up on Paula, and Paula glanced down at the fire, and atthe gnarled beech fuel, and at the wood-lice which ran out from beneaththe bark to the extremity of the logs as the heat approached them. Thelow-down ruddy light spread over the dark floor like the setting sunover a moor, fluttering on the grotesque countenances of the brightandirons, and touching all the furniture on the underside. 

She now and then crossed to one of the deep embrasures of the windows, to decipher some sentence from a letter she held in her hand. Thedaylight would have been more than sufficient for any bystanderto discern that the capitals in that letter were of the peculiarsemi-gothic type affected at the time by Somerset and other youngarchitects of his school in their epistolary correspondence. She wasvery possibly thinking of him, even when not reading his letter, for theexpression of softness with which she perused the page was more or lesswith her when she appeared to examine other things. 

She walked about for a little time longer, then put away the letter, looked at the clock, and thence returned to the windows, straining hereyes over the landscape without, as she murmured, 'I wish Charlotte wasnot so long coming!'

As Charlotte continued to keep away, Paula became less reasonable inher desires, and proceeded to wish that Somerset would arrive; then thatanybody would come; then, walking towards the portraits on the wall, sheflippantly asked one of those cavaliers to oblige her fancy for companyby stepping down from his frame. The temerity of the request led herto prudently withdraw it almost as soon as conceived: old paintings hadbeen said to play queer tricks in extreme cases, and the shadows thisafternoon were funereal enough for anything in the shape of revengeon an intruder who embodied the antagonistic modern spirit to such anextent as she. However, Paula still stood before the picture which hadattracted her; and this, by a coincidence common enough in fact, though scarcely credited in chronicles, happened to be that one ofthe seventeenth-century portraits of which De Stancy had studied theengraved copy at Myrtle Villa the same morning. 

Whilst she remained before the picture, wondering her favourite wonder, how would she feel if this and its accompanying canvases were picturesof her own ancestors, she was surprised by a light footstep upon thecarpet which covered part of the room, and turning quickly she beheldthe smiling little figure of Charlotte De Stancy. 

'What has made you so late?' said Paula. 'You are come to stay, ofcourse?'

Charlotte said she had come to stay. 'But I have brought somebody withme!'

'Ah--whom?'

'My brother happened to be at home, and I have brought him. '

Miss De Stancy's brother had been so continuously absent from home inIndia, or elsewhere, so little spoken of, and, when spoken of, so trulythough unconsciously represented as one whose interests lay whollyoutside this antiquated neighbourhood, that to Paula he had been a merenebulosity whom she had never distinctly outlined. To have him thuscohere into substance at a moment's notice lent him the novelty of a newcreation. 

'Is he in the drawing-room?' said Paula in a low voice. 

'No, he is here. He would follow me. I hope you will forgive him. '

And then Paula saw emerge into the red beams of the dancing fire, from behind a half-drawn hanging which screened the door, the militarygentleman whose acquaintance the reader has already made. 

'You know the house, doubtless, Captain De Stancy?' said Paula, somewhatshyly, when he had been presented to her. 

'I have never seen the inside since I was three weeks old, ' replied theartillery officer gracefully; 'and hence my recollections of it are notremarkably distinct. A year or two before I was born the entail was cutoff by my father and grandfather; so that I saw the venerable place onlyto lose it; at least, I believe that's the truth of the case. But myknowledge of the transaction is not profound, and it is a delicate pointon which to question one's father. '

Paula assented, and looked at the interesting and noble figure of theman whose parents had seemingly righted themselves at the expense ofwronging him. 

'The pictures and furniture were sold about the same time, I think?'said Charlotte. 

'Yes, ' murmured De Stancy. 'They went in a mad bargain of my father withhis visitor, as they sat over their wine. My father sat down as host onthat occasion, and arose as guest. '

He seemed to speak with such a courteous absence of regret for thealienation, that Paula, who was always fearing that the recollectionwould rise as a painful shadow between herself and the De Stancys, feltreassured by his magnanimity. 

De Stancy looked with interest round the gallery; seeing which Paulasaid she would have lights brought in a moment. 

'No, please not, ' said De Stancy. 'The room and ourselves are of so muchmore interesting a colour by this light!'

As they moved hither and thither, the various expressions of De Stancy'sface made themselves picturesquely visible in the unsteady shine of theblaze. In a short time he had drawn near to the painting of the ancestorwhom he so greatly resembled. When her quick eye noted the speck onthe face, indicative of inherited traits strongly pronounced, a new andromantic feeling that the De Stancys had stretched out a tentacle fromtheir genealogical tree to seize her by the hand and draw her in totheir mass took possession of Paula. As has been said, the De Stancyswere a family on whom the hall-mark of membership was deeply stamped, and by the present light the representative under the portrait and therepresentative in the portrait seemed beings not far removed. Paula wascontinually starting from a reverie and speaking irrelevantly, as ifsuch reflections as those seized hold of her in spite of her naturalunconcern. 

When candles were brought in Captain De Stancy ardently contrived tomake the pictures the theme of conversation. From the nearest they wentto the next, whereupon Paula as hostess took up one of the candlesticksand held it aloft to light up the painting. The candlestick being talland heavy, De Stancy relieved her of it, and taking another candle inthe other hand, he imperceptibly slid into the position of exhibitorrather than spectator. Thus he walked in advance holding the two candleson high, his shadow forming a gigantic figure on the neighbouring wall, while he recited the particulars of family history pertaining to eachportrait, that he had learnt up with such eager persistence during theprevious four-and-twenty-hours. 'I have often wondered what could havebeen the history of this lady, but nobody has ever been able to tellme, ' Paula observed, pointing to a Vandyck which represented a beautifulwoman wearing curls across her forehead, a square-cut bodice, and aheavy pearl necklace upon the smooth expanse of her neck. 

'I don't think anybody knows, ' Charlotte said. 

'O yes, ' replied her brother promptly, seeing with enthusiasm thatit was yet another opportunity for making capital of his acquiredknowledge, with which he felt himself as inconveniently crammed as acandidate for a government examination. 'That lady has been largelycelebrated under a fancy name, though she is comparatively littleknown by her own. Her parents were the chief ornaments of thealmost irreproachable court of Charles the First, and were not moredistinguished by their politeness and honour than by the affections andvirtues which constitute the great charm of private life. '

The stock verbiage of the family memoir was somewhat apparent in thiseffusion; but it much impressed his listeners; and he went on topoint out that from the lady's necklace was suspended a heart-shapedportrait--that of the man who broke his heart by her persistent refusalto encourage his suit. De Stancy then led them a little further, wherehung a portrait of the lover, one of his own family, who appeared infull panoply of plate mail, the pommel of his sword standing up underhis elbow. The gallant captain then related how this personage of hisline wooed the lady fruitlessly; how, after her marriage with another, she and her husband visited the parents of the disappointed lover, thethen occupiers of the castle; how, in a fit of desperation at thesight of her, he retired to his room, where he composed some passionateverses, which he wrote with his blood, and after directing them to herran himself through the body with his sword. Too late the lady's heartwas touched by his devotion; she was ever after a melancholy woman, andwore his portrait despite her husband's prohibition. 'This, ' continuedDe Stancy, leading them through the doorway into the hall where thecoats of mail were arranged along the wall, and stopping opposite asuit which bore some resemblance to that of the portrait, 'this is hisarmour, as you will perceive by comparing it with the picture, and thisis the sword with which he did the rash deed. '

'What unreasonable devotion!' said Paula practically. 'It was tooromantic of him. She was not worthy of such a sacrifice. '

'He also is one whom they say you resemble a little in feature, Ithink, ' said Charlotte. 

'Do they?' replied De Stancy. 'I wonder if it's true. ' He set down thecandles, and asking the girls to withdraw for a moment, was inside theupper part of the suit of armour in incredibly quick time. Goingthen and placing himself in front of a low-hanging painting near theoriginal, so as to be enclosed by the frame while covering the figure, arranging the sword as in the one above, and setting the light that itmight fall in the right direction, he recalled them; when he put thequestion, 'Is the resemblance strong?'

He looked so much like a man of bygone times that neither of themreplied, but remained curiously gazing at him. His modern andcomparatively sallow complexion, as seen through the open visor, lent anethereal ideality to his appearance which the time-stained countenanceof the original warrior totally lacked. 

At last Paula spoke, so stilly that she seemed a statue enunciating:'Are the verses known that he wrote with his blood?'

'O yes, they have been carefully preserved. ' Captain De Stancy, withtrue wooer's instinct, had committed some of them to memory that morningfrom the printed copy to be found in every well-ordered library. 'I fearI don't remember them all, ' he said, 'but they begin in this way:--

 "From one that dyeth in his discontent, Dear Faire, receive this greeting to thee sent; And still as oft as it is read by thee, Then with some deep sad sigh remember mee!

 O 'twas my fortune's error to vow dutie, To one that bears defiance in her beautie! Sweete poyson, pretious wooe, infectious jewell-- Such is a Ladie that is faire and cruell. 

 How well could I with ayre, camelion-like, Live happie, and still gazeing on thy cheeke, In which, forsaken man, methink I see How goodlie love doth threaten cares to mee. 

 Why dost thou frowne thus on a kneelinge soule, Whose faults in love thou may'st as well controule?-- In love--but O, that word; that word I feare Is hateful still both to thy hart and eare!

 . . . . . 

 Ladie, in breefe, my fate doth now intend The period of my daies to have an end: Waste not on me thy pittie, pretious Faire: Rest you in much content; I, in despaire!"'

A solemn silence followed the close of the recital, which De Stancyimproved by turning the point of the sword to his breast, resting thepommel upon the floor, and saying:--

'After writing that we may picture him turning this same sword in thissame way, and falling on it thus. ' He inclined his body forward as hespoke. 

'Don't, Captain De Stancy, please don't!' cried Paula involuntarily. 

'No, don't show us any further, William!' said his sister. 'It is tootragic. '

De Stancy put away the sword, himself rather excited--not, however, byhis own recital, but by the direct gaze of Paula at him. 

This Protean quality of De Stancy's, by means of which he could assumethe shape and situation of almost any ancestor at will, had impressedher, and he perceived it with a throb of fervour. But it had done nomore than impress her; for though in delivering the lines he had sofixed his look upon her as to suggest, to any maiden practised in thegame of the eyes, a present significance in the words, the idea of anysuch arriere-pensee had by no means commended itself to her soul. 

At this time a messenger from Markton barracks arrived at the castle andwished to speak to Captain De Stancy in the hall. Begging the two ladiesto excuse him for a moment, he went out. 

While De Stancy was talking in the twilight to the messenger at one endof the apartment, some other arrival was shown in by the side door, andin making his way after the conference across the hall to the room hehad previously quitted, De Stancy encountered the new-comer. There wasjust enough light to reveal the countenance to be Dare's; he bore aportfolio under his arm, and had begun to wear a moustache, in case thechief constable should meet him anywhere in his rambles, and be struckby his resemblance to the man in the studio. 

'What the devil are you doing here?' said Captain De Stancy, in tones hehad never used before to the young man. 

Dare started back in surprise, and naturally so. De Stancy, havingadopted a new system of living, and relinquished the meagre diet andenervating waters of his past years, was rapidly recovering tone. Hisvoice was firmer, his cheeks were less pallid; and above all he wasauthoritative towards his present companion, whose ingenuity in vampingup a being for his ambitious experiments seemed about to be rewarded, like Frankenstein's, by his discomfiture at the hands of his owncreature. 

'What the devil are you doing here, I say?' repeated De Stancy. 

'You can talk to me like that, after my working so hard to get you on inlife, and make a rising man of you!' expostulated Dare, as one who felthimself no longer the leader in this enterprise. 

'But, ' said the captain less harshly, 'if you let them discover anyrelations between us here, you will ruin the fairest prospects man everhad!'

'O, I like that, captain--when you owe all of it to me!'

'That's too cool, Will. '

'No; what I say is true. However, let that go. So now you are here on acall; but how are you going to get here often enough to win her beforethe other man comes back? If you don't see her every day--twice, threetimes a day--you will not capture her in the time. '

'I must think of that, ' said De Stancy. 

'There is only one way of being constantly here: you must come to copythe pictures or furniture, something in the way he did. '

'I'll think of it, ' muttered De Stancy hastily, as he heard the voicesof the ladies, whom he hastened to join as they were appearing at theother end of the room. His countenance was gloomy as he recrossedthe hall, for Dare's words on the shortness of his opportunities hadimpressed him. Almost at once he uttered a hope to Paula that he mighthave further chance of studying, and if possible of copying, some of theancestral faces with which the building abounded. 

Meanwhile Dare had come forward with his portfolio, which proved to befull of photographs. While Paula and Charlotte were examining them hesaid to De Stancy, as a stranger: 'Excuse my interruption, sir, but ifyou should think of copying any of the portraits, as you were statingjust now to the ladies, my patent photographic process is at yourservice, and is, I believe, the only one which would be effectual in thedim indoor lights. '

'It is just what I was thinking of, ' said De Stancy, now so far cooleddown from his irritation as to be quite ready to accept Dare's adroitlysuggested scheme. 

On application to Paula she immediately gave De Stancy permission tophotograph to any extent, and told Dare he might bring his instrumentsas soon as Captain De Stancy required them. 

'Don't stare at her in such a brazen way!' whispered the latter to theyoung man, when Paula had withdrawn a few steps. 'Say, "I shall highlyvalue the privilege of assisting Captain De Stancy in such a work. "'

Dare obeyed, and before leaving De Stancy arranged to begin performingon his venerated forefathers the next morning, the youth so accidentallyengaged agreeing to be there at the same time to assist in the technicaloperations. 

III. 

As he had promised, De Stancy made use the next day of the covetedpermission that had been brought about by the ingenious Dare. Dare'stimely suggestion of tendering assistance had the practical result ofrelieving the other of all necessity for occupying his time with theproceeding, further than to bestow a perfunctory superintendence nowand then, to give a colour to his regular presence in the fortress, theactual work of taking copies being carried on by the younger man. 

The weather was frequently wet during these operations, and Paula, Miss De Stancy, and her brother, were often in the house whole morningstogether. By constant urging and coaxing the latter would induce hisgentle sister, much against her conscience, to leave him opportunitiesfor speaking to Paula alone. It was mostly before some print or paintingthat these conversations occurred, while De Stancy was ostensiblyoccupied with its merits, or in giving directions to his photographerhow to proceed. As soon as the dialogue began, the latter would withdrawout of earshot, leaving Paula to imagine him the most deferential youngartist in the world. 

'You will soon possess duplicates of the whole gallery, ' she said on oneof these occasions, examining some curled sheets which Dare had printedoff from the negatives. 

'No, ' said the soldier. 'I shall not have patience to go on. I getill-humoured and indifferent, and then leave off. '

'Why ill-humoured?'

'I scarcely know--more than that I acquire a general sense of my ownfamily's want of merit through seeing how meritorious the people arearound me. I see them happy and thriving without any necessity for me atall; and then I regard these canvas grandfathers and grandmothers, andask, "Why was a line so antiquated and out of date prolonged till now?"'

She chid him good-naturedly for such views. 'They will do you aninjury, ' she declared. 'Do spare yourself, Captain De Stancy!'

De Stancy shook his head as he turned the painting before him a littlefurther to the light. 

'But, do you know, ' said Paula, 'that notion of yours of being a familyout of date is delightful to some people. I talk to Charlotte aboutit often. I am never weary of examining those canopied effigies in thechurch, and almost wish they were those of my relations. '

'I will try to see things in the same light for your sake, ' said DeStancy fervently. 

'Not for my sake; for your own was what I meant, of course, ' she repliedwith a repressive air. 

Captain De Stancy bowed. 

'What are you going to do with your photographs when you have them?' sheasked, as if still anxious to obliterate the previous sentimental lapse. 

'I shall put them into a large album, and carry them with me in mycampaigns; and may I ask, now I have an opportunity, that you wouldextend your permission to copy a little further, and let me photographone other painting that hangs in the castle, to fittingly complete myset?'

'Which?'

'That half-length of a lady which hangs in the morning-room. I rememberseeing it in the Academy last year. '

Paula involuntarily closed herself up. The picture was her own portrait. 'It does not belong to your series, ' she said somewhat coldly. 

De Stancy's secret thought was, I hope from my soul it will belong someday! He answered with mildness: 'There is a sort of connection--you aremy sister's friend. '

Paula assented. 

'And hence, might not your friend's brother photograph your picture?'

Paula demurred. 

A gentle sigh rose from the bosom of De Stancy. 'What is to become ofme?' he said, with a light distressed laugh. 'I am always inconsiderateand inclined to ask too much. Forgive me! What was in my mind when Iasked I dare not say. '

'I quite understand your interest in your family pictures--and allof it, ' she remarked more gently, willing not to hurt the sensitivefeelings of a man so full of romance. 

'And in that ONE!' he said, looking devotedly at her. 'If I had onlybeen fortunate enough to include it with the rest, my album would indeedhave been a treasure to pore over by the bivouac fire!'

'O, Captain De Stancy, this is provoking perseverance!' cried Paula, laughing half crossly. 'I expected that after expressing my decisionso plainly the first time I should not have been further urged upon thesubject. ' Saying which she turned and moved decisively away. 

It had not been a productive meeting, thus far. 'One word!' said DeStancy, following and almost clasping her hand. 'I have given offence, Iknow: but do let it all fall on my own head--don't tell my sister ofmy misbehaviour! She loves you deeply, and it would wound her to theheart. '

'You deserve to be told upon, ' said Paula as she withdrew, with justenough playfulness to show that her anger was not too serious. 

Charlotte looked at Paula uneasily when the latter joined her in thedrawing-room. She wanted to say, 'What is the matter?' but guessing thather brother had something to do with it, forbore to speak at first. Shecould not contain her anxiety long. 'Were you talking with my brother?'she said. 

'Yes, ' returned Paula, with reservation. However, she soon added, 'Henot only wants to photograph his ancestors, but MY portrait too. Theyare a dreadfully encroaching sex, and perhaps being in the army makesthem worse!'

'I'll give him a hint, and tell him to be careful. '

'Don't say I have definitely complained of him; it is not worth whileto do that; the matter is too trifling for repetition. Upon the whole, Charlotte, I would rather you said nothing at all. '

De Stancy's hobby of photographing his ancestors seemed to become aperfect mania with him. Almost every morning discovered him inthe larger apartments of the castle, taking down and rehanging thedilapidated pictures, with the assistance of the indispensable Dare;his fingers stained black with dust, and his face expressing a busyattention to the work in hand, though always reserving a look askancefor the presence of Paula. 

Though there was something of subterfuge, there was no deep and doublesubterfuge in all this. De Stancy took no particular interest in hisancestral portraits; but he was enamoured of Paula to weakness. Perhapsthe composition of his love would hardly bear looking into, but it wasrecklessly frank and not quite mercenary. His photographic scheme wasnothing worse than a lover's not too scrupulous contrivance. After therefusal of his request to copy her picture he fumed and fretted at theprospect of Somerset's return before any impression had been made onher heart by himself; he swore at Dare, and asked him hotly why he haddragged him into such a hopeless dilemma as this. 

'Hopeless? Somerset must still be kept away, so that it is not hopeless. I will consider how to prolong his stay. '

Thereupon Dare considered. 

The time was coming--had indeed come--when it was necessary for Paula tomake up her mind about her architect, if she meant to begin building inthe spring. The two sets of plans, Somerset's and Havill's, were hangingon the walls of the room that had been used by Somerset as his studio, and were accessible by anybody. Dare took occasion to go and study bothsets, with a view to finding a flaw in Somerset's which might have beenpassed over unnoticed by the committee of architects, owing to theirabsence from the actual site. But not a blunder could he find. 

He next went to Havill; and here he was met by an amazing state ofaffairs. Havill's creditors, at last suspecting something mythicalin Havill's assurance that the grand commission was his, had lost allpatience; his house was turned upside-down, and a poster gleamed on thefront wall, stating that the excellent modern household furniture wasto be sold by auction on Friday next. Troubles had apparently come inbattalions, for Dare was informed by a bystander that Havill's wife wasseriously ill also. 

Without staying for a moment to enter his friend's house, back wentMr. Dare to the castle, and told Captain De Stancy of the architect'sdesperate circumstances, begging him to convey the news in some way toMiss Power. De Stancy promised to make representations in the properquarter without perceiving that he was doing the best possible deed forhimself thereby. 

He told Paula of Havill's misfortunes in the presence of his sister, who turned pale. She discerned how this misfortune would bear upon theundecided competition. 

'Poor man, ' murmured Paula. 'He was my father's architect, and somehowexpected, though I did not promise it, the work of rebuilding thecastle. '

Then De Stancy saw Dare's aim in sending him to Miss Power with thenews; and, seeing it, concurred: Somerset was his rival, and all wasfair. 'And is he not to have the work of the castle after expecting it?'he asked. 

Paula was lost in reflection. 'The other architect's design and Mr. Havill's are exactly equal in merit, and we cannot decide how to give itto either, ' explained Charlotte. 

'That is our difficulty, ' Paula murmured. 'A bankrupt, and his wifeill--dear me! I wonder what's the cause. '

'He has borrowed on the expectation of having to execute the castleworks, and now he is unable to meet his liabilities. '

'It is very sad, ' said Paula. 

'Let me suggest a remedy for this dead-lock, ' said De Stancy. 

'Do, ' said Paula. 

'Do the work of building in two halves or sections. Give Havill thefirst half, since he is in need; when that is finished the second halfcan be given to your London architect. If, as I understand, the plansare identical, except in ornamental details, there will be no difficultyabout it at all. '

Paula sighed--just a little one; and yet the suggestion seemed tosatisfy her by its reasonableness. She turned sad, wayward, but wasimpressed by De Stancy's manner and words. She appeared indeed to havea smouldering desire to please him. In the afternoon she said toCharlotte, 'I mean to do as your brother says. '

A note was despatched to Havill that very day, and in an hour thecrestfallen architect presented himself at the castle. Paula instantlygave him audience, commiserated him, and commissioned him to carry outa first section of the buildings, comprising work to the extent of abouttwenty thousand pounds expenditure; and then, with a prematureness quiteamazing among architects' clients, she handed him over a cheque for fivehundred pounds on account. 

When he had gone, Paula's bearing showed some sign of being disquietedat what she had done; but she covered her mood under a cloak of saucyserenity. Perhaps a tender remembrance of a certain thunderstorm in theforegoing August when she stood with Somerset in the arbour, and did notown that she loved him, was pressing on her memory and bewildering her. She had not seen quite clearly, in adopting De Stancy's suggestion, thatSomerset would now have no professional reason for being at the castlefor the next twelve months. 

But the captain had, and when Havill entered the castle he rejoiced withgreat joy. Dare, too, rejoiced in his cold way, and went on with hisphotography, saying, 'The game progresses, captain. '

'Game? Call it Divine Comedy, rather!' said the soldier exultingly. 

'He is practically banished for a year or more. What can't you do in ayear, captain!'

Havill, in the meantime, having respectfully withdrawn from the presenceof Paula, passed by Dare and De Stancy in the gallery as he had donein entering. He spoke a few words to Dare, who congratulated him. Whilethey were talking somebody was heard in the hall, inquiring hastily forMr. Havill. 

'What shall I tell him?' demanded the porter. 

'His wife is dead, ' said the messenger. 

Havill overheard the words, and hastened away. 

'An unlucky man!' said Dare. 

'That, happily for us, will not affect his installation here, ' said DeStancy. 'Now hold your tongue and keep at a distance. She may come thisway. '

Surely enough in a few minutes she came. De Stancy, to makeconversation, told her of the new misfortune which had just befallen Mr. Havill. 

Paula was very sorry to hear it, and remarked that it gave her greatsatisfaction to have appointed him as architect of the first wing beforehe learnt the bad news. 'I owe you best thanks, Captain De Stancy, forshowing me such an expedient. '

'Do I really deserve thanks?' asked De Stancy. 'I wish I deserved areward; but I must bear in mind the fable of the priest and the jester. '

'I never heard it. '

'The jester implored the priest for alms, but the smallest sum wasrefused, though the holy man readily agreed to give him his blessing. Query, its value?'

'How does it apply?'

'You give me unlimited thanks, but deny me the tiniest substantialtrifle I desire. '

'What persistence!' exclaimed Paula, colouring. 'Very well, if youWILL photograph my picture you must. It is really not worthy furtherpleading. Take it when you like. '

When Paula was alone she seemed vexed with herself for having givenway; and rising from her seat she went quietly to the door of theroom containing the picture, intending to lock it up till furtherconsideration, whatever he might think of her. But on casting her eyesround the apartment the painting was gone. The captain, wisely takingthe current when it served, already had it in the gallery, where hewas to be seen bending attentively over it, arranging the lights anddirecting Dare with the instruments. On leaving he thanked her, and saidthat he had obtained a splendid copy. Would she look at it?

Paula was severe and icy. 'Thank you--I don't wish to see it, ' she said. 

De Stancy bowed and departed in a glow of triumph; satisfied, notwithstanding her frigidity, that he had compassed his immediate aim, which was that she might not be able to dismiss from her thoughts himand his persevering desire for the shadow of her face during the nextfour-and-twenty-hours. And his confidence was well founded: she couldnot. 

'I fear this Divine Comedy will be slow business for us, captain, ' saidDare, who had heard her cold words. 

'O no!' said De Stancy, flushing a little: he had not been perceivingthat the lad had the measure of his mind so entirely as to gauge hisposition at any moment. But he would show no shamefacedness. 'Even if itis, my boy, ' he answered, 'there's plenty of time before the other cancome. '

At that hour and minute of De Stancy's remark 'the other, ' to lookat him, seemed indeed securely shelved. He was sitting lonely in hischambers far away, wondering why she did not write, and yet hopingto hear--wondering if it had all been but a short-lived strain oftenderness. He knew as well as if it had been stated in words that herserious acceptance of him as a suitor would be her acceptance of him asan architect--that her schemes in love would be expressed in terms ofart; and conversely that her refusal of him as a lover would be neatlyeffected by her choosing Havill's plans for the castle, and returninghis own with thanks. The position was so clear: he was so well walled inby circumstances that he was absolutely helpless. 

To wait for the line that would not come--the letter saying that, asshe had desired, his was the design that pleased her--was still the onlything to do. The (to Somerset) surprising accident that the committee ofarchitects should have pronounced the designs absolutely equal in pointof merit, and thus have caused the final choice to revert after all toPaula, had been a joyous thing to him when he first heard of it, fullof confidence in her favour. But the fact of her having again becomethe arbitrator, though it had made acceptance of his plans all the moreprobable, made refusal of them, should it happen, all the more crushing. He could have conceived himself favoured by Paula as her lover, even hadthe committee decided in favour of Havill as her architect. But not tobe chosen as architect now was to be rejected in both kinds. 

IV. 

It was the Sunday following the funeral of Mrs. Havill, news of whosedeath had been so unexpectedly brought to her husband at the moment ofhis exit from Stancy Castle. The minister, as was his custom, improvedthe occasion by a couple of sermons on the uncertainty of life. Onewas preached in the morning in the old chapel of Markton; the second atevening service in the rural chapel near Stancy Castle, built by Paula'sfather, which bore to the first somewhat the relation of an episcopalchapel-of-ease to the mother church. 

The unscreened lights blazed through the plate-glass windows of thesmaller building and outshone the steely stars of the early night, justas they had done when Somerset was attracted by their glare four monthsbefore. The fervid minister's rhetoric equalled its force on that moreromantic occasion: but Paula was not there. She was not a frequentattendant now at her father's votive building. The mysterious tank, whose dark waters had so repelled her at the last moment, was boardedover: a table stood on its centre, with an open quarto Bible upon it, behind which Havill, in a new suit of black, sat in a large chair. Havill held the office of deacon: and he had mechanically taken thedeacon's seat as usual to-night, in the face of the congregation, andunder the nose of Mr. Woodwell. 

Mr. Woodwell was always glad of an opportunity. He was gifted with aburning natural eloquence, which, though perhaps a little too freelyemployed in exciting the 'Wertherism of the uncultivated, ' had in itgenuine power. He was a master of that oratory which no limitationof knowledge can repress, and which no training can impart. Theneighbouring rector could eclipse Woodwell's scholarship, and thefreethinker at the corner shop in Markton could demolish his logic; butthe Baptist could do in five minutes what neither of these had done in alifetime; he could move some of the hardest of men to tears. 

Thus it happened that, when the sermon was fairly under way, Havillbegan to feel himself in a trying position. It was not that he hadbestowed much affection upon his deceased wife, irreproachable woman asshe had been; but the suddenness of her death had shaken his nerves, and Mr. Woodwell's address on the uncertainty of life involvedconsiderations of conduct on earth that bore with singular directnessupon Havill's unprincipled manoeuvre for victory in the castlecompetition. He wished he had not been so inadvertent as to take hiscustomary chair in the chapel. People who saw Havill's agitation did notknow that it was most largely owing to his sense of the fraud which hadbeen practised on the unoffending Somerset; and when, unable longer toendure the torture of Woodwell's words, he rose from his place and wentinto the chapel vestry, the preacher little thought that remorse fora contemptibly unfair act, rather than grief for a dead wife, was thecause of the architect's withdrawal. 

When Havill got into the open air his morbid excitement calmed down, buta sickening self-abhorrence for the proceeding instigated by Dare didnot abate. To appropriate another man's design was no more nor less thanto embezzle his money or steal his goods. The intense reaction fromhis conduct of the past two or three months did not leave him whenhe reached his own house and observed where the handbills of thecountermanded sale had been torn down, as the result of the payment madein advance by Paula of money which should really have been Somerset's. 

The mood went on intensifying when he was in bed. He lay awake till theclock reached those still, small, ghastly hours when the vital firesburn at their lowest in the human frame, and death seizes more of hisvictims than in any other of the twenty-four. Havill could bear it nolonger; he got a light, went down into his office and wrote the notesubjoined. 

'MADAM, --The recent death of my wife necessitates a considerable changein my professional arrangements and plans with regard to the future. One of the chief results of the change is, I regret to state, that Ino longer find myself in a position to carry out the enlargement of thecastle which you had so generously entrusted to my hands. 

'I beg leave therefore to resign all further connection with the same, and to express, if you will allow me, a hope that the commission maybe placed in the hands of the other competitor. Herewith is returned acheque for one-half of the sum so kindly advanced in anticipation of thecommission I should receive; the other half, with which I had clearedoff my immediate embarrassments before perceiving the necessity for thiscourse, shall be returned to you as soon as some payments from otherclients drop in. --I beg to remain, Madam, your obedient servant, JAMESHAVILL. '

Havill would not trust himself till the morning to post this letter. Hesealed it up, went out with it into the street, and walked through thesleeping town to the post-office. At the mouth of the box he held theletter long. By dropping it, he was dropping at least two thousand fivehundred pounds which, however obtained, were now securely his. It was agreat deal to let go; and there he stood till another wave of consciencebore in upon his soul the absolute nature of the theft, and made himshudder. The footsteps of a solitary policeman could be heard nearinghim along the deserted street; hesitation ended, and he let the lettergo. 

When he awoke in the morning he thought over the circumstances by thecheerful light of a low eastern sun. The horrors of the situation seemedmuch less formidable; yet it cannot be said that he actually regrettedhis act. Later on he walked out, with the strange sense of being a manwho, from one having a large professional undertaking in hand, had, byhis own act, suddenly reduced himself to an unoccupied nondescript. Fromthe upper end of the town he saw in the distance the grand grey towersof Stancy Castle looming over the leafless trees; he felt stupefied atwhat he had done, and said to himself with bitter discontent: 'Well, well, what is more contemptible than a half-hearted rogue!'

That morning the post-bag had been brought to Paula and Mrs. Goodmanin the usual way, and Miss Power read the letter. His resignation was asurprise; the question whether he would or would not repay the moneywas passed over; the necessity of installing Somerset after all as solearchitect was an agitation, or emotion, the precise nature of which itis impossible to accurately define. 

However, she went about the house after breakfast with very much themanner of one who had had a weight removed either from her heart or fromher conscience; moreover, her face was a little flushed when, in passingby Somerset's late studio, she saw the plans bearing his motto, and knewthat his and not Havill's would be the presiding presence in the comingarchitectural turmoil. She went on further, and called to Charlotte, whowas now regularly sleeping in the castle, to accompany her, and togetherthey ascended to the telegraph-room in the donjon tower. 

'Whom are you going to telegraph to?' said Miss De Stancy when theystood by the instrument. 

'My architect. '

'O--Mr. Havill. '

'Mr. Somerset. '

Miss De Stancy had schooled her emotions on that side cruelly well, andshe asked calmly, 'What, have you chosen him after all?'

'There is no choice in it--read that, ' said Paula, handing Havill'sletter, as if she felt that Providence had stepped in to shape ends thatshe was too undecided or unpractised to shape for herself. 

'It is very strange, ' murmured Charlotte; while Paula applied herself tothe machine and despatched the words:--

'Miss Power, Stancy Castle, to G. Somerset, Esq. , F. S. A. , F. R. I. B. A. , Queen Anne's Chambers, St. James's. 

'Your design is accepted in its entirety. It will be necessary to beginsoon. I shall wish to see and consult you on the matter about the 10thinstant. '

When the message was fairly gone out of the window Paula seemed stillfurther to expand. The strange spell cast over her by something orother--probably the presence of De Stancy, and the weird romanticism ofhis manner towards her, which was as if the historic past had touchedher with a yet living hand--in a great measure became dissipated, leaving her the arch and serene maiden that she had been before. 

About this time Captain De Stancy and his Achates were approaching thecastle, and had arrived about fifty paces from the spot at which itwas Dare's custom to drop behind his companion, in order that theirappearance at the lodge should be that of master and man. 

Dare was saying, as he had said before: 'I can't help fancying, captain, that your approach to this castle and its mistress is by a very tedioussystem. Your trenches, zigzags, counterscarps, and ravelins may be allvery well, and a very sure system of attack in the long run; but upon mysoul they are almost as slow in maturing as those of Uncle Toby himself. For my part I should be inclined to try an assault. '

'Don't pretend to give advice, Willy, on matters beyond your years. '

'I only meant it for your good, and your proper advancement in theworld, ' said Dare in wounded tones. 

'Different characters, different systems, ' returned the soldier. 'Thislady is of a reticent, independent, complicated disposition, and anysudden proceeding would put her on her mettle. You don't dream whatmy impatience is, my boy. It is a thing transcending your utmostconceptions! But I proceed slowly; I know better than to do otherwise. Thank God there is plenty of time. As long as there is no risk ofSomerset's return my situation is sure. '

'And professional etiquette will prevent him coming yet. Havill and hewill change like the men in a sentry-box; when Havill walks out, he'llwalk in, and not a moment before. '

'That will not be till eighteen months have passed. And as the Jesuitsaid, "Time and I against any two. ". .. Now drop to the rear, ' addedCaptain De Stancy authoritatively. And they passed under the walls ofthe castle. 

The grave fronts and bastions were wrapped in silence; so much so, that, standing awhile in the inner ward, they could hear through an openwindow a faintly clicking sound from within. 

'She's at the telegraph, ' said Dare, throwing forward his voice softlyto the captain. 'What can that be for so early? That wire is a nuisance, to my mind; such constant intercourse with the outer world is bad forour romance. '

The speaker entered to arrange his photographic apparatus, of which, intruth, he was getting weary; and De Stancy smoked on the terrace tillDare should be ready. While he waited his sister looked out upon himfrom an upper casement, having caught sight of him as she came fromPaula in the telegraph-room. 

'Well, Lottie, what news this morning?' he said gaily. 

'Nothing of importance. We are quite well. '. .. . She added withhesitation, 'There is one piece of news; Mr. Havill--but perhaps youhave heard it in Markton?'

'Nothing. '

'Mr. Havill has resigned his appointment as architect to the castle. '

'What?--who has it, then?'

'Mr. Somerset. '

'Appointed?'

'Yes--by telegraph. '

'When is he coming?' said De Stancy in consternation. 

'About the tenth, we think. '

Charlotte was concerned to see her brother's face, and withdrew from thewindow that he might not question her further. De Stancy went intothe hall, and on to the gallery, where Dare was standing as still as acaryatid. 

'I have heard every word, ' said Dare. 

'Well, what does it mean? Has that fool Havill done it on purpose toannoy me? What conceivable reason can the man have for throwing up anappointment he has worked so hard for, at the moment he has got it, andin the time of his greatest need?'

Dare guessed, for he had seen a little way into Havill's soul during thebrief period of their confederacy. But he was very far from saying whathe guessed. Yet he unconsciously revealed by other words the nocturnalshades in his character which had made that confederacy possible. 

'Somerset coming after all!' he replied. 'By God! that littlesix-barrelled friend of mine, and a good resolution, and he would neverarrive!'

'What!' said Captain De Stancy, paling with horror as he gathered theother's sinister meaning. 

Dare instantly recollected himself. 'One is tempted to say anything atsuch a moment, ' he replied hastily. 

'Since he is to come, let him come, for me, ' continued De Stancy, withreactionary distinctness, and still gazing gravely into the young man'sface. 'The battle shall be fairly fought out. Fair play, even to arival--remember that, boy. .. . Why are you here?--unnaturally concerningyourself with the passions of a man of my age, as if you were theparent, and I the son? Would to heaven, Willy, you had done as I wishedyou to do, and led the life of a steady, thoughtful young man! Insteadof meddling here, you should now have been in some studio, college, orprofessional man's chambers, engaged in a useful pursuit whichmight have made one proud to own you. But you were so precociousand headstrong; and this is what you have come to: you promise to beworthless!'

'I think I shall go to my lodgings to-day instead of staying here overthese pictures, ' said Dare, after a silence during which Captain DeStancy endeavoured to calm himself. 'I was going to tell you thatmy dinner to-day will unfortunately be one of herbs, for want ofthe needful. I have come to my last stiver. --You dine at the mess, Isuppose, captain?'

De Stancy had walked away; but Dare knew that he played a pretty surecard in that speech. De Stancy's heart could not withstand the suggestedcontrast between a lonely meal of bread-and-cheese and a well-ordereddinner amid cheerful companions. 'Here, ' he said, emptying his pocketand returning to the lad's side. 'Take this, and order yourself a goodmeal. You keep me as poor as a crow. There shall be more to-morrow. '

The peculiarly bifold nature of Captain De Stancy, as shown in hisconduct at different times, was something rare in life, and perhapshappily so. That mechanical admixture of black and white qualitieswithout coalescence, on which the theory of men's characters was basedby moral analysis before the rise of modern ethical schools, fictitiousas it was in general application, would have almost hit off the truth asregards Captain De Stancy. Removed to some half-known century, his deedswould have won a picturesqueness of light and shade that might have madehim a fascinating subject for some gallery of illustrious historicalpersonages. It was this tendency to moral chequer-work which accountedfor his varied bearings towards Dare. 

Dare withdrew to take his departure. When he had gone a few steps, despondent, he suddenly turned, and ran back with some excitement. 

'Captain--he's coming on the tenth, don't they say? Well, four daysbefore the tenth comes the sixth. Have you forgotten what's fixed forthe sixth?'

'I had quite forgotten!'

'That day will be worth three months of quiet attentions: with luck, skill, and a bold heart, what mayn't you do?'

Captain De Stancy's face softened with satisfaction. 

'There is something in that; the game is not up after all. The sixth--ithad gone clean out of my head, by gad!'

V. 

The cheering message from Paula to Somerset sped through the loopholeof Stancy Castle keep, over the trees, along the railway, under bridges, across four counties--from extreme antiquity of environment to sheermodernism--and finally landed itself on a table in Somerset's chambersin the midst of a cloud of fog. He read it and, in the moment ofreaction from the depression of his past days, clapped his hands like achild. 

Then he considered the date at which she wanted to see him. Had sheso worded her despatch he would have gone that very day; but there wasnothing to complain of in her giving him a week's notice. Pure maidenmodesty might have checked her indulgence in a too ardent recall. 

Time, however, dragged somewhat heavily along in the interim, and on thesecond day he thought he would call on his father and tell him of hissuccess in obtaining the appointment. 

The elder Mr. Somerset lived in a detached house in the north-west partof fashionable London; and ascending the chief staircase the youngman branched off from the first landing and entered his father'spainting-room. It was an hour when he was pretty sure of finding thewell-known painter at work, and on lifting the tapestry he was notdisappointed, Mr. Somerset being busily engaged with his back towardsthe door. 

Art and vitiated nature were struggling like wrestlers in thatapartment, and art was getting the worst of it. The overpowering gloompervading the clammy air, rendered still more intense by the height ofthe window from the floor, reduced all the pictures that were standingaround to the wizened feebleness of corpses on end. The shadowy partsof the room behind the different easels were veiled in a brown vapour, precluding all estimate of the extent of the studio, and only subduedin the foreground by the ruddy glare from an open stove of Dutch tiles. Somerset's footsteps had been so noiseless over the carpeting of thestairs and landing, that his father was unaware of his presence; hecontinued at his work as before, which he performed by the help of acomplicated apparatus of lamps, candles, and reflectors, so arranged asto eke out the miserable daylight, to a power apparently sufficient forthe neutral touches on which he was at that moment engaged. 

The first thought of an unsophisticated stranger on entering that roomcould only be the amazed inquiry why a professor of the art of colour, which beyond all other arts requires pure daylight for its exercise, should fix himself on the single square league in habitable Europe towhich light is denied at noonday for weeks in succession. 

'O! it's you, George, is it?' said the Academician, turning from thelamps, which shone over his bald crown at such a slant as to revealevery cranial irregularity. 'How are you this morning? Still a deadsilence about your grand castle competition?'

Somerset told the news. His father duly congratulated him, and addedgenially, 'It is well to be you, George. One large commission to attendto, and nothing to distract you from it. I am bothered by having a dozenirons in the fire at once. And people are so unreasonable. --Only thismorning, among other things, when you got your order to go on with yoursingle study, I received a letter from a woman, an old friend whom Ican scarcely refuse, begging me as a great favour to design her a set oftheatrical costumes, in which she and her friends can perform for somecharity. It would occupy me a good week to go into the subject and dothe thing properly. Such are the sort of letters I get. I wish, George, you could knock out something for her before you leave town. It ispositively impossible for me to do it with all this work in hand, andthese eternal fogs to contend against. '

'I fear costumes are rather out of my line, ' said the son. 'However, I'll do what I can. What period and country are they to represent?'

His father didn't know. He had never looked at the play of late years. It was 'Love's Labour's Lost. ' 'You had better read it for yourself, ' hesaid, 'and do the best you can. '

During the morning Somerset junior found time to refresh his memory ofthe play, and afterwards went and hunted up materials for designs tosuit the same, which occupied his spare hours for the next three days. As these occupations made no great demands upon his reasoning facultieshe mostly found his mind wandering off to imaginary scenes at StancyCastle: particularly did he dwell at this time upon Paula's livelyinterest in the history, relics, tombs, architecture, --nay, the veryChristian names of the De Stancy line, and her 'artistic' preferencefor Charlotte's ancestors instead of her own. Yet what more naturalthan that a clever meditative girl, encased in the feudal lumber ofthat family, should imbibe at least an antiquarian interest in it?Human nature at bottom is romantic rather than ascetic, and the localhabitation which accident had provided for Paula was perhaps acting asa solvent of the hard, morbidly introspective views thrust upon her inearly life. 

Somerset wondered if his own possession of a substantial genealogylike Captain De Stancy's would have had any appreciable effect upon herregard for him. His suggestion to Paula of her belonging to a worthystrain of engineers had been based on his content with his ownintellectual line of descent through Pheidias, Ictinus and Callicrates, Chersiphron, Vitruvius, Wilars of Cambray, William of Wykeham, andthe rest of that long and illustrious roll; but Miss Power's markedpreference for an animal pedigree led him to muse on what he could showfor himself in that kind. 

These thoughts so far occupied him that when he took the sketches tohis father, on the morning of the fifth, he was led to ask: 'Has any oneever sifted out our family pedigree?'

'Family pedigree?'

'Yes. Have we any pedigree worthy to be compared with that ofprofessedly old families? I never remember hearing of any ancestorfurther back than my great-grandfather. '

Somerset the elder reflected and said that he believed there was agenealogical tree about the house somewhere, reaching back to a veryrespectable distance. 'Not that I ever took much interest in it, ' hecontinued, without looking up from his canvas; 'but your great uncleJohn was a man with a taste for those subjects, and he drew up such asheet: he made several copies on parchment, and gave one to each ofhis brothers and sisters. The one he gave to my father is still in mypossession, I think. '

Somerset said that he should like to see it; but half-an-hour's searchabout the house failed to discover the document; and the Academicianthen remembered that it was in an iron box at his banker's. He had usedit as a wrapper for some title-deeds and other valuable writings whichwere deposited there for safety. 'Why do you want it?' he inquired. 

The young man confessed his whim to know if his own antiquity would bearcomparison with that of another person, whose name he did not mention;whereupon his father gave him a key that would fit the said chest, if hemeant to pursue the subject further. Somerset, however, did nothing inthe matter that day, but the next morning, having to call at the bank onother business, he remembered his new fancy. 

It was about eleven o'clock. The fog, though not so brown as it had beenon previous days, was still dense enough to necessitate lights in theshops and offices. When Somerset had finished his business in theouter office of the bank he went to the manager's room. The hour beingsomewhat early the only persons present in that sanctuary of balances, besides the manager who welcomed him, were two gentlemen, apparentlylawyers, who sat talking earnestly over a box of papers. The manager, on learning what Somerset wanted, unlocked a door from which a flightof stone steps led to the vaults, and sent down a clerk and a porter forthe safe. 

Before, however, they had descended far a gentle tap came to the door, and in response to an invitation to enter a lady appeared, wrapped up infurs to her very nose. 

The manager seemed to recognize her, for he went across the room ina moment, and set her a chair at the middle table, replying to someobservation of hers with the words, 'O yes, certainly, ' in a deferentialtone. 

'I should like it brought up at once, ' said the lady. 

Somerset, who had seated himself at a table in a somewhat obscurecorner, screened by the lawyers, started at the words. The voicewas Miss Power's, and so plainly enough was the figure as soon as heexamined it. Her back was towards him, and either because the roomwas only lighted in two places, or because she was absorbed in her ownconcerns, she seemed to be unconscious of any one's presence on thescene except the banker and herself. The former called back the clerk, and two other porters having been summoned they disappeared to getwhatever she required. 

Somerset, somewhat excited, sat wondering what could have brought Paulato London at this juncture, and was in some doubt if the occasion werea suitable one for revealing himself, her errand to her banker beingpossibly of a very private nature. Nothing helped him to a decision. Paula never once turned her head, and the progress of time was markedonly by the murmurs of the two lawyers, and the ceaseless clash ofgold and rattle of scales from the outer room, where the busy headsof cashiers could be seen through the partition moving about under theglobes of the gas-lamps. 

Footsteps were heard upon the cellar-steps, and the three men previouslysent below staggered from the doorway, bearing a huge safe which nearlybroke them down. Somerset knew that his father's box, or boxes, couldboast of no such dimensions, and he was not surprised to see the chestdeposited in front of Miss Power. When the immense accumulation of dusthad been cleared off the lid, and the chest conveniently placed for her, Somerset was attended to, his modest box being brought up by one manunassisted, and without much expenditure of breath. 

His interest in Paula was of so emotional a cast that his attentionto his own errand was of the most perfunctory kind. She was close toa gas-standard, and the lawyers, whose seats had intervened, havingfinished their business and gone away, all her actions were visible tohim. While he was opening his father's box the manager assisted Paula tounseal and unlock hers, and he now saw her lift from it a morocco case, which she placed on the table before her, and unfastened. Out of it shetook a dazzling object that fell like a cascade over her fingers. Itwas a necklace of diamonds and pearls, apparently of large size and manystrands, though he was not near enough to see distinctly. When satisfiedby her examination that she had got the right article she shut it intoits case. 

The manager closed the chest for her; and when it was again securedPaula arose, tossed the necklace into her hand-bag, bowed to themanager, and was about to bid him good morning. Thereupon he said withsome hesitation: 'Pardon one question, Miss Power. Do you intend to takethose jewels far?'

'Yes, ' she said simply, 'to Stancy Castle. '

'You are going straight there?'

'I have one or two places to call at first. '

'I would suggest that you carry them in some other way--by fasteningthem into the pocket of your dress, for instance. '

'But I am going to hold the bag in my hand and never once let it go. '

The banker slightly shook his head. 'Suppose your carriage getsoverturned: you would let it go then. '

'Perhaps so. '

'Or if you saw a child under the wheels just as you were stepping in; orif you accidentally stumbled in getting out; or if there was a collisionon the railway--you might let it go. '

'Yes; I see I was too careless. I thank you. '

Paula removed the necklace from the bag, turned her back to the manager, and spent several minutes in placing her treasure in her bosom, pinningit and otherwise making it absolutely secure. 

'That's it, ' said the grey-haired man of caution, with evidentsatisfaction. 'There is not much danger now: you are not travellingalone?'

Paula replied that she was not alone, and went to the door. Therewas one moment during which Somerset might have conveniently made hispresence known; but the juxtaposition of the bank-manager, and his owndisarranged box of securities, embarrassed him: the moment slipped by, and she was gone. 

In the meantime he had mechanically unearthed the pedigree, and, lockingup his father's chest, Somerset also took his departure at the heels ofPaula. He walked along the misty street, so deeply musing as to be quiteunconscious of the direction of his walk. What, he inquired of himself, could she want that necklace for so suddenly? He recollected a remarkof Dare's to the effect that her appearance on a particular occasionat Stancy Castle had been magnificent by reason of the jewels shewore; which proved that she had retained a sufficient quantity of thosevaluables at the castle for ordinary requirements. What exceptionaloccasion, then, was impending on which she wished to glorify herselfbeyond all previous experience? He could not guess. He was interruptedin these conjectures by a carriage nearly passing over his toes at acrossing in Bond Street: looking up he saw between the two windows ofthe vehicle the profile of a thickly mantled bosom, on which a camelliarose and fell. All the remainder part of the lady's person was hidden;but he remembered that flower of convenient season as one which hadfigured in the bank parlour half-an-hour earlier to-day. 

Somerset hastened after the carriage, and in a minute saw it stopopposite a jeweller's shop. Out came Paula, and then another woman, inwhom he recognized Mrs. Birch, one of the lady's maids at Stancy Castle. The young man was at Paula's side before she had crossed the pavement. 

VI. 

A quick arrested expression in her two sapphirine eyes, accompanied bya little, a very little, blush which loitered long, was all theoutward disturbance that the sight of her lover caused. The habit ofself-repression at any new emotional impact was instinctive with heralways. Somerset could not say more than a word; he looked his intensesolicitude, and Paula spoke. 

She declared that this was an unexpected pleasure. Had he arrangedto come on the tenth as she wished? How strange that they should meetthus!--and yet not strange--the world was so small. 

Somerset said that he was coming on the very day she mentioned--that theappointment gave him infinite gratification, which was quite within thetruth. 

'Come into this shop with me, ' said Paula, with good-humouredauthoritativeness. 

They entered the shop and talked on while she made a small purchase. Butnot a word did Paula say of her sudden errand to town. 

'I am having an exciting morning, ' she said. 'I am going from here tocatch the one-o'clock train to Markton. '

'It is important that you get there this afternoon, I suppose?'

'Yes. You know why?'

'Not at all. '

'The Hunt Ball. It was fixed for the sixth, and this is the sixth. Ithought they might have asked you. '

'No, ' said Somerset, a trifle gloomily. 'No, I am not asked. But it is agreat task for you--a long journey and a ball all in one day. '

'Yes: Charlotte said that. But I don't mind it. '

'You are glad you are going. Are you glad?' he said softly. 

Her air confessed more than her words. 'I am not so very glad that I amgoing to the Hunt Ball, ' she replied confidentially. 

'Thanks for that, ' said he. 

She lifted her eyes to his for a moment. Her manner had suddenly becomeso nearly the counterpart of that in the tea-house that to suspect anydeterioration of affection in her was no longer generous. It was only asif a thin layer of recent events had overlaid her memories of him, untilhis presence swept them away. 

Somerset looked up, and finding the shopman to be still some way off, he added, 'When will you assure me of something in return for what Iassured you that evening in the rain?'

'Not before you have built the castle. My aunt does not know about ityet, nor anybody. '

'I ought to tell her. '

'No, not yet. I don't wish it. '

'Then everything stands as usual?'

She lightly nodded. 

'That is, I may love you: but you still will not say you love me. '

She nodded again, and directing his attention to the advancing shopman, said, 'Please not a word more. '

Soon after this, they left the jeweller's, and parted, Paula drivingstraight off to the station and Somerset going on his way uncertainlyhappy. His re-impression after a few minutes was that a special journeyto town to fetch that magnificent necklace which she had not oncementioned to him, but which was plainly to be the medium of some proudpurpose with her this evening, was hardly in harmony with her assertionsof indifference to the attractions of the Hunt Ball. 

He got into a cab and drove to his club, where he lunched, and mopinglyspent a great part of the afternoon in making calculations for thefoundations of the castle works. Later in the afternoon he returned tohis chambers, wishing that he could annihilate the three days remainingbefore the tenth, particularly this coming evening. On his table was aletter in a strange writing, and indifferently turning it over he foundfrom the superscription that it had been addressed to him days before atthe Lord-Quantock-Arms Hotel, Markton, where it had lain ever since, thelandlord probably expecting him to return. Opening the missive, he foundto his surprise that it was, after all, an invitation to the Hunt Ball. 

'Too late!' said Somerset. 'To think I should be served this trick asecond time!'

After a moment's pause, however, he looked to see the time of day. Itwas five minutes past five--just about the hour when Paula would bedriving from Markton Station to Stancy Castle to rest and prepareherself for her evening triumph. There was a train at six o'clock, timedto reach Markton between eleven and twelve, which by great exertion hemight save even now, if it were worth while to undertake such a scramblefor the pleasure of dropping in to the ball at a late hour. A moment'svision of Paula moving to swift tunes on the arm of a person or personsunknown was enough to impart the impetus required. He jumped up, flunghis dress clothes into a portmanteau, sent down to call a cab, and in afew minutes was rattling off to the railway which had borne Paula awayfrom London just five hours earlier. 

Once in the train, he began to consider where and how he couldmost conveniently dress for the dance. The train would certainlybe half-an-hour late; half-an-hour would be spent in getting to thetown-hall, and that was the utmost delay tolerable if he would securethe hand of Paula for one spin, or be more than a mere dummy behindthe earlier arrivals. He looked for an empty compartment at the nextstoppage, and finding the one next his own unoccupied, he entered it andchanged his raiment for that in his portmanteau during the ensuing runof twenty miles. 

Thus prepared he awaited the Markton platform, which was reached asthe clock struck twelve. Somerset called a fly and drove at once to thetown-hall. 

The borough natives had ascended to their upper floors, and were puttingout their candles one by one as he passed along the streets; butthe lively strains that proceeded from the central edifice revealeddistinctly enough what was going on among the temporary visitors fromthe neighbouring manors. The doors were opened for him, and enteringthe vestibule lined with flags, flowers, evergreens, and escutcheons, hestood looking into the furnace of gaiety beyond. 

It was some time before he could gather his impressions of the scene, so perplexing were the lights, the motions, the toilets, the full-dressuniforms of officers and the harmonies of sound. Yet light, sound, andmovement were not so much the essence of that giddy scene as an intenseaim at obliviousness in the beings composing it. For two or three hoursat least those whirling young people meant not to know that they weremortal. The room was beating like a heart, and the pulse was regulatedby the trembling strings of the most popular quadrille band in Wessex. But at last his eyes grew settled enough to look critically around. 

The room was crowded--too crowded. Every variety of fair one, beautiesprimary, secondary, and tertiary, appeared among the personagescomposing the throng. There were suns and moons; also pale planets oflittle account. Broadly speaking, these daughters of the countyfell into two classes: one the pink-faced unsophisticated girls fromneighbouring rectories and small country-houses, who knew not townexcept for an occasional fortnight, and who spent their time from Easterto Lammas Day much as they spent it during the remaining nine months ofthe year: the other class were the children of the wealthy landownerswho migrated each season to the town-house; these were pale andcollected, showed less enjoyment in their countenances, and wore ingeneral an approximation to the languid manners of the capital. 

A quadrille was in progress, and Somerset scanned each set. His mind hadrun so long upon the necklace, that his glance involuntarily sought outthat gleaming object rather than the personality of its wearer. At thetop of the room there he beheld it; but it was on the neck of CharlotteDe Stancy. 

The whole lucid explanation broke across his understanding in a second. His dear Paula had fetched the necklace that Charlotte should not appearto disadvantage among the county people by reason of her poverty. It wasgenerously done--a disinterested act of sisterly kindness; theirs wasthe friendship of Hermia and Helena. Before he had got further thanto realize this, there wheeled round amongst the dancers a lady whosetournure he recognized well. She was Paula; and to the young man'svision a superlative something distinguished her from all the rest. Thiswas not dress or ornament, for she had hardly a gem upon her, herattire being a model of effective simplicity. Her partner was Captain DeStancy. 

The discovery of this latter fact slightly obscured his appreciation ofwhat he had discovered just before. It was with rather a lowering browthat he asked himself whether Paula's predilection d'artiste, as shecalled it, for the De Stancy line might not lead to a predilection ofa different sort for its last representative which would be not at allsatisfactory. 

The architect remained in the background till the dance drew to aconclusion, and then he went forward. The circumstance of having met himby accident once already that day seemed to quench any surprise in MissPower's bosom at seeing him now. There was nothing in her partingfrom Captain De Stancy, when he led her to a seat, calculated to makeSomerset uneasy after his long absence. Though, for that matter, thisproved nothing; for, like all wise maidens, Paula never ventured on thegame of the eyes with a lover in public; well knowing that every momentof such indulgence overnight might mean an hour's sneer at her expenseby the indulged gentleman next day, when weighing womankind by the aidof a cold morning light and a bad headache. 

While Somerset was explaining to Paula and her aunt the reason of hissudden appearance, their attention was drawn to a seat a short way offby a fluttering of ladies round the spot. In a moment it was whisperedthat somebody had fallen ill, and in another that the sufferer was MissDe Stancy. Paula, Mrs. Goodman, and Somerset at once joined the group offriends who were assisting her. Neither of them imagined for an instantthat the unexpected advent of Somerset on the scene had anything to dowith the poor girl's indisposition. 

She was assisted out of the room, and her brother, who now came up, prepared to take her home, Somerset exchanging a few civil words withhim, which the hurry of the moment prevented them from continuing;though on taking his leave with Charlotte, who was now better, De Stancyinformed Somerset in answer to a cursory inquiry, that he hoped to beback again at the ball in half-an-hour. 

When they were gone Somerset, feeling that now another dog might havehis day, sounded Paula on the delightful question of a dance. 

Paula replied in the negative. 

'How is that?' asked Somerset with reproachful disappointment. 

'I cannot dance again, ' she said in a somewhat depressed tone; 'I mustbe released from every engagement to do so, on account of Charlotte'sillness. I should have gone home with her if I had not been particularlyrequested to stay a little longer, since it is as yet so early, andCharlotte's illness is not very serious. '

If Charlotte's illness was not very serious, Somerset thought, Paulamight have stretched a point; but not wishing to hinder her in showingrespect to a friend so well liked by himself, he did not ask it. DeStancy had promised to be back again in half-an-hour, and Paula hadheard the promise. But at the end of twenty minutes, still seemingindifferent to what was going on around her, she said she would stay nolonger, and reminding Somerset that they were soon to meet and talk overthe rebuilding, drove off with her aunt to Stancy Castle. 

Somerset stood looking after the retreating carriage till it wasenveloped in shades that the lamps could not disperse. The ball-roomwas now virtually empty for him, and feeling no great anxiety to returnthither he stood on the steps for some minutes longer, looking intothe calm mild night, and at the dark houses behind whose blinds lay theburghers with their eyes sealed up in sleep. He could not but think thatit was rather too bad of Paula to spoil his evening for a sentimentaldevotion to Charlotte which could do the latter no appreciable good; andhe would have felt seriously hurt at her move if it had not been equallysevere upon Captain De Stancy, who was doubtless hastening back, full ofa belief that she would still be found there. 

The star of gas-jets over the entrance threw its light upon the wallson the opposite side of the street, where there were notice-boards offorthcoming events. In glancing over these for the fifth time, his eyewas attracted by the first words of a placard in blue letters, of a sizelarger than the rest, and moving onward a few steps he read:--

 STANCY CASTLE. 

 By the kind permission of Miss Power, A PLAY

 Will shortly be performed at the above CASTLE, IN AID OF THE FUNDS OF THE

 COUNTY HOSPITAL, By the Officers of the

 ROYAL HORSE ARTILLERY, MARKTON BARRACKS, ASSISTED BY SEVERAL

 LADIES OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

 The cast and other particulars will be duly announced insmall bills. Places will be reserved on application to Mr. Clangham, High Street, Markton, where a plan of the room may be seen. 

 N. B--The Castle is about twenty minutes' drive from MarktonStation, to which there are numerous convenient trains from all partsof the county. 

In a profound study Somerset turned and re-entered the ball-room, wherehe remained gloomily standing here and there for about five minutes, at the end of which he observed Captain De Stancy, who had returnedpunctually to his word, crossing the hall in his direction. 

The gallant officer darted glances of lively search over every group ofdancers and sitters; and then with rather a blank look in his face, hecame on to Somerset. Replying to the latter's inquiry for his sisterthat she had nearly recovered, he said, 'I don't see my father'sneighbours anywhere. '

'They have gone home, ' replied Somerset, a trifle drily. 'They askedme to make their apologies to you for leading you to expect they wouldremain. Miss Power was too anxious about Miss De Stancy to care to staylonger. '

The eyes of De Stancy and the speaker met for an instant. That curiousguarded understanding, or inimical confederacy, which arises at momentsbetween two men in love with the same woman, was present here; and intheir mutual glances each said as plainly as by words that her departurehad ruined his evening's hope. 

They were now about as much in one mood as it was possible for two suchdiffering natures to be. Neither cared further for elaborating giddycurves on that town-hall floor. They stood talking languidly about thisand that local topic, till De Stancy turned aside for a short time tospeak to a dapper little lady who had beckoned to him. In a few minuteshe came back to Somerset. 

'Mrs. Camperton, the wife of Major Camperton of my battery, would verymuch like me to introduce you to her. She is an old friend of yourfather's, and has wanted to know you for a long time. '

De Stancy and Somerset crossed over to the lady, and in a few minutes, thanks to her flow of spirits, she and Somerset were chatting withremarkable freedom. 

'It is a happy coincidence, ' continued Mrs. Camperton, 'that I shouldhave met you here, immediately after receiving a letter from yourfather: indeed it reached me only this morning. He has been so kind!We are getting up some theatricals, as you know, I suppose, to help thefunds of the County Hospital, which is in debt. '

'I have just seen the announcement--nothing more. '

'Yes, such an estimable purpose; and as we wished to do it thoroughlywell, I asked Mr. Somerset to design us the costumes, and he has nowsent me the sketches. It is quite a secret at present, but we are goingto play Shakespeare's romantic drama, 'Love's Labour's Lost, ' and wehope to get Miss Power to take the leading part. You see, being such ahandsome girl, and so wealthy, and rather an undiscovered novelty in thecounty as yet, she would draw a crowded room, and greatly benefit thefunds. '

'Miss Power going to play herself?--I am rather surprised, ' saidSomerset. 'Whose idea is all this?'

'O, Captain De Stancy's--he's the originator entirely. You see he is sointerested in the neighbourhood, his family having been connected withit for so many centuries, that naturally a charitable object of thislocal nature appeals to his feelings. '

'Naturally!' her listener laconically repeated. 'And have you settledwho is to play the junior gentleman's part, leading lover, hero, orwhatever he is called?'

'Not absolutely; though I think Captain De Stancy will not refuse it;and he is a very good figure. At present it lies between him and Mr. Mild, one of our young lieutenants. My husband, of course, takes theheavy line; and I am to be the second lady, though I am rather too oldfor the part really. If we can only secure Miss Power for heroine thecast will be excellent. '

'Excellent!' said Somerset, with a spectral smile. 

VII. 

When he awoke the next morning at the Lord-Quantock-Arms Hotel Somersetfelt quite morbid on recalling the intelligence he had received fromMrs. Camperton. But as the day for serious practical consultation aboutthe castle works, to which Paula had playfully alluded, was now close athand, he determined to banish sentimental reflections on the frailtiesthat were besieging her nature, by active preparation for hisprofessional undertaking. To be her high-priest in art, to elaborate astructure whose cunning workmanship would be meeting her eye every daytill the end of her natural life, and saying to her, 'He invented it, 'with all the eloquence of an inanimate thing long regarded--this was nomean satisfaction, come what else would. 

He returned to town the next day to set matters there in such trim thatno inconvenience should result from his prolonged absence at the castle;for having no other commission he determined (with an eye rather toheart-interests than to increasing his professional practice) to make, as before, the castle itself his office, studio, and chief abiding-placetill the works were fairly in progress. 

On the tenth he reappeared at Markton. Passing through the town, on theroad to Stancy Castle, his eyes were again arrested by the notice-boardwhich had conveyed such startling information to him on the night of theball. The small bills now appeared thereon; but when he anxiously lookedthem over to learn how the parts were to be allotted, he foundthat intelligence still withheld. Yet they told enough; the list oflady-players was given, and Miss Power's name was one. 

That a young lady who, six months ago, would scarcely join forconscientious reasons in a simple dance on her own lawn, should now bewilling to exhibit herself on a public stage, simulating love-passageswith a stranger, argued a rate of development which under anycircumstances would have surprised him, but which, with the particularaddition, as leading colleague, of Captain De Stancy, inflamed himalmost to anger. What clandestine arrangements had been going on in hisabsence to produce such a full-blown intention it were futile to guess. Paula's course was a race rather than a march, and each successive heatwas startling in its eclipse of that which went before. 

Somerset was, however, introspective enough to know that his moralswould have taken no such virtuous alarm had he been the chief maleplayer instead of Captain De Stancy. 

He passed under the castle-arch and entered. There seemed a little turnin the tide of affairs when it was announced to him that Miss Powerexpected him, and was alone. 

The well-known ante-chambers through which he walked, filled withtwilight, draughts, and thin echoes that seemed to reverberate from twohundred years ago, did not delay his eye as they had done when he hadbeen ignorant that his destiny lay beyond; and he followed on throughall this ancientness to where the modern Paula sat to receive him. 

He forgot everything in the pleasure of being alone in a room with her. She met his eye with that in her own which cheered him. It was a lightexpressing that something was understood between them. She said quietlyin two or three words that she had expected him in the forenoon. 

Somerset explained that he had come only that morning from London. 

After a little more talk, in which she said that her aunt would jointhem in a few minutes, and Miss De Stancy was still indisposed at herfather's house, she rang for tea and sat down beside a little table. 

'Shall we proceed to business at once?' she asked him. 

'I suppose so. '

'First then, when will the working drawings be ready, which I think yousaid must be made out before the work could begin?'

While Somerset informed her on this and other matters, Mrs. Goodmanentered and joined in the discussion, after which they found it would benecessary to adjourn to the room where the plans were hanging. On theirwalk thither Paula asked if he stayed late at the ball. 

'I left soon after you. '

'That was very early, seeing how late you arrived. '

'Yes. .. . I did not dance. '

'What did you do then?'

'I moped, and walked to the door; and saw an announcement. '

'I know--the play that is to be performed. '

'In which you are to be the Princess. '

'That's not settled, --I have not agreed yet. I shall not play thePrincess of France unless Mr. Mild plays the King of Navarre. '

This sounded rather well. The Princess was the lady beloved by theKing; and Mr. Mild, the young lieutenant of artillery, was a diffident, inexperienced, rather plain-looking fellow, whose sole interest intheatricals lay in the consideration of his costume and the sound ofhis own voice in the ears of the audience. With such an unobjectionableperson to enact the part of lover, the prominent character of leadingyoung lady or heroine, which Paula was to personate, was really the mostsatisfactory in the whole list for her. For although she was to be wooedhard, there was just as much love-making among the remaining personages;while, as Somerset had understood the play, there could occur noflingings of her person upon her lover's neck, or agonized downfallsupon the stage, in her whole performance, as there were in the partschosen by Mrs. Camperton, the major's wife, and some of the otherladies. 

'Why do you play at all!' he murmured. 

'What a question! How could I refuse for such an excellent purpose? Theysay that my taking a part will be worth a hundred pounds to thecharity. My father always supported the hospital, which is quiteundenominational; and he said I was to do the same. '

'Do you think the peculiar means you have adopted for supporting itentered into his view?' inquired Somerset, regarding her with criticaldryness. 'For my part I don't. '

'It is an interesting way, ' she returned persuasively, though apparentlyin a state of mental equipoise on the point raised by his question. 'AndI shall not play the Princess, as I said, to any other than that quietyoung man. Now I assure you of this, so don't be angry and absurd!Besides, the King doesn't marry me at the end of the play, as inShakespeare's other comedies. And if Miss De Stancy continues seriouslyunwell I shall not play at all. '

The young man pressed her hand, but she gently slipped it away. 

'Are we not engaged, Paula!' he asked. She evasively shook her head. 

'Come--yes we are! Shall we tell your aunt?' he continued. Unluckilyat that moment Mrs. Goodman, who had followed them to the studio at aslower pace, appeared round the doorway. 

'No, --to the last, ' replied Paula hastily. Then her aunt entered, andthe conversation was no longer personal. 

Somerset took his departure in a serener mood though not completelyassured. 

VIII. 

His serenity continued during two or three following days, when, continuing at the castle, he got pleasant glimpses of Paula now andthen. Her strong desire that his love for her should be kept secret, perplexed him; but his affection was generous, and he acquiesced in thatdesire. 

Meanwhile news of the forthcoming dramatic performance radiated in everydirection. And in the next number of the county paper it was announced, to Somerset's comparative satisfaction, that the cast was definitelysettled, Mr. Mild having agreed to be the King and Miss Power the FrenchPrincess. Captain De Stancy, with becoming modesty for one who was theleading spirit, figured quite low down, in the secondary character ofSir Nathaniel. 

Somerset remembered that, by a happy chance, the costume he had designedfor Sir Nathaniel was not at all picturesque; moreover Sir Nathanielscarcely came near the Princess through the whole play. 

Every day after this there was coming and going to and from the castleof railway vans laden with canvas columns, pasteboard trees, limphouse-fronts, woollen lawns, and lath balustrades. There were alsofrequent arrivals of young ladies from neighbouring country houses, andwarriors from the X and Y batteries of artillery, distinguishable bytheir regulation shaving. 

But it was upon Captain De Stancy and Mrs. Camperton that the weightof preparation fell. Somerset, through being much occupied in thedrawing-office, was seldom present during the consultations andrehearsals: until one day, tea being served in the drawing-room at theusual hour, he dropped in with the rest to receive a cup from Paula'stable. The chatter was tremendous, and Somerset was at once consultedabout some necessary carpentry which was to be specially made atMarkton. After that he was looked on as one of the band, which resultedin a large addition to the number of his acquaintance in this part ofEngland. 

But his own feeling was that of being an outsider still. This vagaryhad been originated, the play chosen, the parts allotted, all in hisabsence, and calling him in at the last moment might, if flirtation werepossible in Paula, be but a sop to pacify him. What would he have givento impersonate her lover in the piece! But neither Paula nor any oneelse had asked him. 

The eventful evening came. Somerset had been engaged during the day withthe different people by whom the works were to be carried out and in theevening went to his rooms at the Lord-Quantock-Arms, Markton, wherehe dined. He did not return to the castle till the hour fixed for theperformance, and having been received by Mrs. Goodman, entered the largeapartment, now transfigured into a theatre, like any other spectator. 

Rumours of the projected representation had spread far and wide. Sixtimes the number of tickets issued might have been readily sold. Friendsand acquaintances of the actors came from curiosity to see how theywould acquit themselves; while other classes of people came because theywere eager to see well-known notabilities in unwonted situations. Whenladies, hitherto only beheld in frigid, impenetrable positions behindtheir coachmen in Markton High Street, were about to reveal their hiddentraits, home attitudes, intimate smiles, nods, and perhaps kisses, tothe public eye, it was a throwing open of fascinating social secrets notto be missed for money. 

The performance opened with no further delay than was occasioned by thecustomary refusal of the curtain at these times to rise more than twofeet six inches; but this hitch was remedied, and the play began. It waswith no enviable emotion that Somerset, who was watching intently, saw, not Mr. Mild, but Captain De Stancy, enter as the King of Navarre. 

Somerset as a friend of the family had had a seat reserved for himnext to that of Mrs. Goodman, and turning to her he said with someexcitement, 'I understood that Mr. Mild had agreed to take that part?'

'Yes, ' she said in a whisper, 'so he had; but he broke down. LuckilyCaptain De Stancy was familiar with the part, through having coached theothers so persistently, and he undertook it off-hand. Being about thesame figure as Lieutenant Mild the same dress fits him, with a littlealteration by the tailor. '

It did fit him indeed; and of the male costumes it was that on whichSomerset had bestowed most pains when designing them. It shrewdly burstupon his mind that there might have been collusion between Mild and DeStancy, the former agreeing to take the captain's place and act as blindtill the last moment. A greater question was, could Paula have beenaware of this, and would she perform as the Princess of France now DeStancy was to be her lover?

'Does Miss Power know of this change?' he inquired. 

'She did not till quite a short time ago. '

He controlled his impatience till the beginning of the second act. ThePrincess entered; it was Paula. But whether the slight embarrassmentwith which she pronounced her opening words, 'Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, Needs not the painted flourish of your praise, '

was due to the newness of her situation, or to her knowledge that DeStancy had usurped Mild's part of her lover, he could not guess. DeStancy appeared, and Somerset felt grim as he listened to the gallantcaptain's salutation of the Princess, and her response. 

 De S. Fair Princess, welcome to the court of Navarre. Paula. Fair, I give you back again: and welcome, I havenot yet. 

Somerset listened to this and to all that which followed of the samesort, with the reflection that, after all, the Princess never throughoutthe piece compromised her dignity by showing her love for the King; andthat the latter never addressed her in words in which passion got thebetter of courtesy. Moreover, as Paula had herself observed, they didnot marry at the end of the piece, as in Shakespeare's other comedies. Somewhat calm in this assurance, he waited on while the other couplesrespectively indulged in their love-making, and banter, including Mrs. Camperton as the sprightly Rosaline. But he was doomed to be surprisedout of his humour when the end of the act came on. In abridging the playfor the convenience of representation, the favours or gifts from thegentlemen to the ladies were personally presented: and now Somerset sawDe Stancy advance with the necklace fetched by Paula from London, andclasp it on her neck. 

This seemed to throw a less pleasant light on her hasty journey. Tofetch a valuable ornament to lend it to a poorer friend was estimable;but to fetch it that the friend's brother should have somethingmagnificent to use as a lover's offering to herself in public, thatwore a different complexion. And if the article were recognized bythe spectators as the same that Charlotte had worn at the ball, thepresentation by De Stancy of what must seem to be an heirloom of hishouse would be read as symbolizing a union of the families. 

De Stancy's mode of presenting the necklace, though unauthorized byShakespeare, had the full approval of the company, and set them ingood humour to receive Major Camperton as Armado the braggart. Nothingcalculated to stimulate jealousy occurred again till the fifth act; andthen there arose full cause for it. 

The scene was the outside of the Princess's pavilion. De Stancy, asthe King of Navarre, stood with his group of attendants awaiting thePrincess, who presently entered from her door. The two began to converseas the play appointed, De Stancy turning to her with this reply--

 'Rebuke me not for that which you provoke; The virtue of your eye must break my oath. '

So far all was well; and Paula opened her lips for the set rejoinder. But before she had spoken De Stancy continued--

 'If I profane with my unworthy hand (Taking her hand) This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this-- My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. '

Somerset stared. Surely in this comedy the King never addressed thePrincess in such warm words; and yet they were Shakespeare's, for theywere quite familiar to him. A dim suspicion crossed his mind. Mrs. Goodman had brought a copy of Shakespeare with her, which she kept inher lap and never looked at: borrowing it, Somerset turned to 'Romeo andJuliet, ' and there he saw the words which De Stancy had introduced asgag, to intensify the mild love-making of the other play. Meanwhile DeStancy continued--

 'O then, dear Saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purg'd!'

Could it be that De Stancy was going to do what came next in the stagedirection--kiss her? Before there was time for conjecture on that pointthe sound of a very sweet and long-drawn osculation spread through theroom, followed by loud applause from the people in the cheap seats. DeStancy withdrew from bending over Paula, and she was very red in theface. Nothing seemed clearer than that he had actually done the deed. The applause continuing, Somerset turned his head. Five hundredfaces had regarded the act, without a consciousness that it was aninterpolation; and four hundred and fifty mouths in those faces weresmiling. About one half of them were tender smiles; these came from thewomen. The other half were at best humorous, and mainly satirical; thesecame from the men. It was a profanation without parallel, and his faceblazed like a coal. 

The play was now nearly at an end, and Somerset sat on, feeling whathe could not express. More than ever was he assured that there had beencollusion between the two artillery officers to bring about this end. That he should have been the unhappy man to design those picturesquedresses in which his rival so audaciously played the lover to his, Somerset's, mistress, was an added point to the satire. He couldhardly go so far as to assume that Paula was a consenting party to thisstartling interlude; but her otherwise unaccountable wish that his ownlove should be clandestinely shown lent immense force to a doubt of hersincerity. The ghastly thought that she had merely been keeping him on, like a pet spaniel, to amuse her leisure moments till she should havefound appropriate opportunity for an open engagement with some one else, trusting to his sense of chivalry to keep secret their little episode, filled him with a grim heat. 

IX. 

At the back of the room the applause had been loud at the moment of thekiss, real or counterfeit. The cause was partly owing to an exceptionalcircumstance which had occurred in that quarter early in the play. 

The people had all seated themselves, and the first act had begun, when the tapestry that screened the door was lifted gently and a figureappeared in the opening. The general attention was at this momentabsorbed by the newly disclosed stage, and scarcely a soul noticed thestranger. Had any one of the audience turned his head, there would havebeen sufficient in the countenance to detain his gaze, notwithstandingthe counter-attraction forward. 

He was obviously a man who had come from afar. There was not a squareinch about him that had anything to do with modern English life. Hisvisage, which was of the colour of light porphyry, had little of itsoriginal surface left; it was a face which had been the plaything ofstrange fires or pestilences, that had moulded to whatever shape theychose his originally supple skin, and left it pitted, puckered, andseamed like a dried water-course. But though dire catastrophes orthe treacherous airs of remote climates had done their worst upon hisexterior, they seemed to have affected him but little within, to judgefrom a certain robustness which showed itself in his manner of standing. 

The face-marks had a meaning, for any one who could read them, beyondthe mere suggestion of their origin: they signified that this manhad either been the victim of some terrible necessity as regarded theoccupation to which he had devoted himself, or that he was a man ofdogged obstinacy, from sheer sang froid holding his ground amid malignforces when others would have fled affrighted away. 

As nobody noticed him, he dropped the door hangings after a while, walked silently along the matted alley, and sat down in one of the backchairs. His manner of entry was enough to show that the strength ofcharacter which he seemed to possess had phlegm for its base and notardour. One might have said that perhaps the shocks he had passedthrough had taken all his original warmth out of him. His beaver hat, which he had retained on his head till this moment, he now placed underthe seat, where he sat absolutely motionless till the end of the firstact, as if he were indulging in a monologue which did not quite reachhis lips. 

When Paula entered at the beginning of the second act he showed as muchexcitement as was expressed by a slight movement of the eyes. When shespoke he turned to his next neighbour, and asked him in cold level wordswhich had once been English, but which seemed to have lost the accentof nationality: 'Is that the young woman who is the possessor of thiscastle--Power by name?'

His neighbour happened to be the landlord at Sleeping-Green, and heinformed the stranger that she was what he supposed. 

'And who is that gentleman whose line of business seems to be to makelove to Power?'

'He's Captain De Stancy, Sir William De Stancy's son, who used to ownthis property. '

'Baronet or knight?'

'Baronet--a very old-established family about here. '

The stranger nodded, and the play went on, no further word being spokentill the fourth act was reached, when the stranger again said, withouttaking his narrow black eyes from the stage: 'There's something in thatlove-making between Stancy and Power that's not all sham!'

'Well, ' said the landlord, 'I have heard different stories about that, and wouldn't be the man to zay what I couldn't swear to. The story isthat Captain De Stancy, who is as poor as a gallicrow, is in full crya'ter her, and that his on'y chance lies in his being heir to a titleand the wold name. But she has not shown a genuine hanker for anybodyyet. '

'If she finds the money, and this Stancy finds the name and blood, 'twould be a very neat match between 'em, --hey?'

'That's the argument. '

Nothing more was said again for a long time, but the stranger's eyesshowed more interest in the passes between Paula and De Stancy than theyhad shown before. At length the crisis came, as described in the lastchapter, De Stancy saluting her with that semblance of a kiss which gavesuch umbrage to Somerset. The stranger's thin lips lengthened a coupleof inches with satisfaction; he put his hand into his pocket, drew outtwo half-crowns which he handed to the landlord, saying, 'Just applaudthat, will you, and get your comrades to do the same. '

The landlord, though a little surprised, took the money, and began toclap his hands as desired. The example was contagious, and spread allover the room; for the audience, gentle and simple, though they mightnot have followed the blank verse in all its bearings, could at leastappreciate a kiss. It was the unusual acclamation raised by this meanswhich had led Somerset to turn his head. 

When the play had ended the stranger was the first to rise, and goingdownstairs at the head of the crowd he passed out of doors, and was lostto view. Some questions were asked by the landlord as to the stranger'sindividuality; but few had seen him; fewer had noticed him, singular ashe was; and none knew his name. 

While these things had been going on in the quarter allotted to thecommonalty, Somerset in front had waited the fall of the curtain withthose sick and sorry feelings which should be combated by the aid ofphilosophy and a good conscience, but which really are only subdued bytime and the abrading rush of affairs. He was, however, stoical enough, when it was all over, to accept Mrs. Goodman's invitation to accompanyher to the drawing-room, fully expecting to find there a large company, including Captain De Stancy. 

But none of the acting ladies and gentlemen had emerged from theirdressing-rooms as yet. Feeling that he did not care to meet any of themthat night, he bade farewell to Mrs. Goodman after a few minutes ofconversation, and left her. While he was passing along the corridor, at the side of the gallery which had been used as the theatre, Paulacrossed it from the latter apartment towards an opposite door. She wasstill in the dress of the Princess, and the diamond and pearl necklacestill hung over her bosom as placed there by Captain De Stancy. 

Her eye caught Somerset's, and she stopped. Probably there was somethingin his face which told his mind, for she invited him by a smile into theroom she was entering. 

'I congratulate you on your performance, ' he said mechanically, when shepushed to the door. 

'Do you really think it was well done?' She drew near him with asociable air. 

'It was startlingly done--the part from "Romeo and Juliet" pre-eminentlyso. '

'Do you think I knew he was going to introduce it, or do you think Ididn't know?' she said, with that gentle sauciness which shows itself inthe loved one's manner when she has had a triumphant evening without thelover's assistance. 

'I think you may have known. '

'No, ' she averred, decisively shaking her head. 'It took me as much bysurprise as it probably did you. But why should I have told!'

Without answering that question Somerset went on. 'Then what he did atthe end of his gag was of course a surprise also. '

'He didn't really do what he seemed to do, ' she serenely answered. 

'Well, I have no right to make observations--your actions are notsubject to my surveillance; you float above my plane, ' said the youngman with some bitterness. 'But to speak plainly, surely he--kissed you?'

'No, ' she said. 'He only kissed the air in front of me--ever so faroff. '

'Was it six inches off?'

'No, not six inches. '

'Nor three. '

'It was quite one, ' she said with an ingenuous air. 

'I don't call that very far. '

'A miss is as good as a mile, says the time-honoured proverb; and it isnot for us modern mortals to question its truth. '

'How can you be so off-hand?' broke out Somerset. 'I love you wildly anddesperately, Paula, and you know it well!'

'I have never denied knowing it, ' she said softly. 

'Then why do you, with such knowledge, adopt an air of levity at such amoment as this! You keep me at arm's-length, and won't say whether youcare for me one bit, or no. I have owned all to you; yet never once haveyou owned anything to me!'

'I have owned much. And you do me wrong if you consider that I showlevity. But even if I had not owned everything, and you all, it is notaltogether such a grievous thing. '

'You mean to say that it is not grievous, even if a man does love awoman, and suffers all the pain of feeling he loves in vain? Well, I sayit is quite the reverse, and I have grounds for knowing. '

'Now, don't fume so, George Somerset, but hear me. My not owning allmay not have the dreadful meaning you think, and therefore it may notbe really such a grievous thing. There are genuine reasons for women'sconduct in these matters as well as for men's, though it is sometimessupposed to be regulated entirely by caprice. And if I do not give wayto every feeling--I mean demonstration--it is because I don't want to. There now, you know what that implies; and be content. '

'Very well, ' said Somerset, with repressed sadness, 'I will not expectyou to say more. But you do like me a little, Paula?'

'Now!' she said, shaking her head with symptoms of tenderness andlooking into his eyes. 'What have you just promised? Perhaps I like youa little more than a little, which is much too much! Yes, --Shakespearesays so, and he is always right. Do you still doubt me? Ah, I see youdo!'

'Because somebody has stood nearer to you to-night than I. '

'A fogy like him!--half as old again as either of us! How can you mindhim? What shall I do to show you that I do not for a moment let him comebetween me and you?'

'It is not for me to suggest what you should do. Though what you shouldpermit ME to do is obvious enough. '

She dropped her voice: 'You mean, permit you to do really and in earnestwhat he only seemed to do in the play. '

Somerset signified by a look that such had been his thought. 

Paula was silent. 'No, ' she murmured at last. 'That cannot be. He didnot, nor must you. '

It was said none the less decidedly for being spoken low. 

'You quite resent such a suggestion: you have a right to. I beg yourpardon, not for speaking of it, but for thinking it. '

'I don't resent it at all, and I am not offended one bit. But I am notthe less of opinion that it is possible to be premature in some things;and to do this just now would be premature. I know what you wouldsay--that you would not have asked it, but for that unfortunateimprovisation of it in the play. But that I was not responsible for, andtherefore owe no reparation to you now. .. . Listen!'

'Paula--Paula! Where in the world are you?' was heard resounding alongthe corridor in the voice of her aunt. 'Our friends are all ready toleave, and you will surely bid them good-night!'

'I must be gone--I won't ring for you to be shown out--come this way. '

'But how will you get on in repeating the play tomorrow evening if thatinterpolation is against your wish?' he asked, looking her hard in theface. 

'I'll think it over during the night. Come to-morrow morning to help mesettle. But, ' she added, with coy yet genial independence, 'listen tome. Not a word more about a--what you asked for, mind! I don't want togo so far, and I will not--not just yet anyhow--I mean perhaps never. You must promise that, or I cannot see you again alone. '

'It shall be as you request. '

'Very well. And not a word of this to a soul. My aunt suspects: but sheis a good aunt and will say nothing. Now that is clearly understood, Ishould be glad to consult with you tomorrow early. I will come to you inthe studio or Pleasance as soon as I am disengaged. '

She took him to a little chamfered doorway in the corner, which openedinto a descending turret; and Somerset went down. When he had unfastenedthe door at the bottom, and stepped into the lower corridor, she asked, 'Are you down?' And on receiving an affirmative reply she closed the topdoor. 

X. 

Somerset was in the studio the next morning about ten o'clocksuperintending the labours of Knowles, Bowles, and Cockton, whom hehad again engaged to assist him with the drawings on his appointmentto carry out the works. When he had set them going he ascended thestaircase of the great tower for some purpose that bore upon theforthcoming repairs of this part. Passing the door of the telegraph-roomhe heard little sounds from the instrument, which somebody was working. Only two people in the castle, to the best of his knowledge, knew thetrick of this; Miss Power, and a page in her service called John. MissDe Stancy could also despatch messages, but she was at Myrtle Villa. 

The door was closed, and much as he would have liked to enter, thepossibility that Paula was not the performer led him to withhold hissteps. He went on to where the uppermost masonry had resisted the mightyhostility of the elements for five hundred years without receiving worsedilapidation than half-a-century produces upon the face of man. But hestill wondered who was telegraphing, and whether the message bore onhousekeeping, architecture, theatricals, or love. 

Could Somerset have seen through the panels of the door in passing, hewould have beheld the room occupied by Paula alone. 

It was she who sat at the instrument, and the message she wasdespatching ran as under:--

'Can you send down a competent actress, who will undertake the part ofPrincess of France in "Love's Labour's Lost" this evening in a temporarytheatre here? Dresses already provided suitable to a lady about themiddle height. State price. '

The telegram was addressed to a well-known theatrical agent in London. 

Off went the message, and Paula retired into the next room, leaving thedoor open between that and the one she had just quitted. Here shebusied herself with writing some letters, till in less than an hour thetelegraph instrument showed signs of life, and she hastened back to itsside. The reply received from the agent was as follows:--

'Miss Barbara Bell of the Regent's Theatre could come. Quite competent. Her terms would be about twenty-five guineas. '

Without a moment's pause Paula returned for answer:--

'The terms are quite satisfactory. '

Presently she heard the instrument again, and emerging from the nextroom in which she had passed the intervening time as before, she read:--

'Miss Barbara Bell's terms were accidentally understated. They would beforty guineas, in consequence of the distance. Am waiting at the officefor a reply. '

Paula set to work as before and replied:--

'Quite satisfactory; only let her come at once. '

She did not leave the room this time, but went to an arrow-slit hardby and gazed out at the trees till the instrument began to speak again. Returning to it with a leisurely manner, implying a full persuasion thatthe matter was settled, she was somewhat surprised to learn that, 'Miss Bell, in stating her terms, understands that she will not berequired to leave London till the middle of the afternoon. If itis necessary for her to leave at once, ten guineas extra would beindispensable, on account of the great inconvenience of such a shortnotice. '

Paula seemed a little vexed, but not much concerned she sent back with areadiness scarcely politic in the circumstances:--

'She must start at once. Price agreed to. '

Her impatience for the answer was mixed with curiosity as to whether itwas due to the agent or to Miss Barbara Bell that the prices had grownlike Jack's Bean-stalk in the negotiation. Another telegram duly came:--

'Travelling expenses are expected to be paid. '

With decided impatience she dashed off:--

'Of course; but nothing more will be agreed to. '

Then, and only then, came the desired reply:--

'Miss Bell starts by the twelve o'clock train. '

This business being finished, Paula left the chamber and descended intothe inclosure called the Pleasance, a spot grassed down like a lawn. Here stood Somerset, who, having come down from the tower, was lookingon while a man searched for old foundations under the sod with acrowbar. He was glad to see her at last, and noticed that she lookedserene and relieved; but could not for the moment divine the cause. Paula came nearer, returned his salutation, and regarded the man'soperations in silence awhile till his work led him to a distance fromthem. 

'Do you still wish to consult me?' asked Somerset. 

'About the building perhaps, ' said she. 'Not about the play. '

'But you said so?'

'Yes; but it will be unnecessary. '

Somerset thought this meant skittishness, and merely bowed. 

'You mistake me as usual, ' she said, in a low tone. 'I am not going toconsult you on that matter, because I have done all you could have askedfor without consulting you. I take no part in the play to-night. '

'Forgive my momentary doubt!'

'Somebody else will play for me--an actress from London. But on noaccount must the substitution be known beforehand or the performanceto-night will never come off: and that I should much regret. '

'Captain De Stancy will not play his part if he knows you will not playyours--that's what you mean?'

'You may suppose it is, ' she said, smiling. 'And to guard against thisyou must help me to keep the secret by being my confederate. '

To be Paula's confederate; to-day, indeed, time had brought himsomething worth waiting for. 'In anything!' cried Somerset. 

'Only in this!' said she, with soft severity. 'And you know what youhave promised, George! And you remember there is to be no--what wetalked about! Now will you go in the one-horse brougham to MarktonStation this afternoon, and meet the four o'clock train? Inquire for alady for Stancy Castle--a Miss Bell; see her safely into the carriage, and send her straight on here. I am particularly anxious that she shouldnot enter the town, for I think she once came to Markton in a starringcompany, and she might be recognized, and my plan be defeated. '

Thus she instructed her lover and devoted friend; and when he could stayno longer he left her in the garden to return to his studio. As Somersetwent in by the garden door he met a strange-looking personage coming outby the same passage--a stranger, with the manner of a Dutchman, the faceof a smelter, and the clothes of an inhabitant of Guiana. The stranger, whom we have already seen sitting at the back of the theatre the nightbefore, looked hard from Somerset to Paula, and from Paula again toSomerset, as he stepped out. Somerset had an unpleasant conviction thatthis queer gentleman had been standing for some time in the doorwayunnoticed, quizzing him and his mistress as they talked together. If sohe might have learnt a secret. 

When he arrived upstairs, Somerset went to a window commanding a viewof the garden. Paula still stood in her place, and the stranger wasearnestly conversing with her. Soon they passed round the corner anddisappeared. 

It was now time for him to see about starting for Markton, anintelligible zest for circumventing the ardent and coercive captain ofartillery saving him from any unnecessary delay in the journey. He wasat the station ten minutes before the train was due; and when it drewup to the platform the first person to jump out was Captain De Stancy insportsman's attire and with a gun in his hand. Somerset nodded, and DeStancy spoke, informing the architect that he had been ten miles up theline shooting waterfowl. 'That's Miss Power's carriage, I think, ' headded. 

'Yes, ' said Somerset carelessly. 'She expects a friend, I believe. Weshall see you at the castle again to-night?'

De Stancy assured him that they would, and the two men parted, CaptainDe Stancy, when he had glanced to see that the carriage was empty, goingon to where a porter stood with a couple of spaniels. 

Somerset now looked again to the train. While his back had been turnedto converse with the captain, a lady of five-and-thirty had alightedfrom the identical compartment occupied by De Stancy. She made aninquiry about getting to Stancy Castle, upon which Somerset, who had nottill now observed her, went forward, and introducing himself assistedher to the carriage and saw her safely off. 

De Stancy had by this time disappeared, and Somerset walked on to hisrooms at the Lord-Quantock-Arms, where he remained till he had dined, picturing the discomfiture of his alert rival when there should enter tohim as Princess, not Paula Power, but Miss Bell of the Regent's Theatre, London. Thus the hour passed, till he found that if he meant to see theissue of the plot it was time to be off. 

On arriving at the castle, Somerset entered by the public door from thehall as before, a natural delicacy leading him to feel that though hemight be welcomed as an ally at the stage-door--in other words, the doorfrom the corridor--it was advisable not to take too ready an advantageof a privilege which, in the existing secrecy of his understanding withPaula, might lead to an overthrow of her plans on that point. 

Not intending to sit out the whole performance, Somerset contentedhimself with standing in a window recess near the proscenium, whence hecould observe both the stage and the front rows of spectators. He wasquite uncertain whether Paula would appear among the audience to-night, and resolved to wait events. Just before the rise of the curtain theyoung lady in question entered and sat down. When the scenery wasdisclosed and the King of Navarre appeared, what was Somerset's surpriseto find that, though the part was the part taken by De Stancy on theprevious night, the voice was that of Mr. Mild; to him, at the appointedseason, entered the Princess, namely, Miss Barbara Bell. 

Before Somerset had recovered from his crestfallen sensation at DeStancy's elusiveness, that officer himself emerged in evening dress frombehind a curtain forming a wing to the proscenium, and Somerset remarkedthat the minor part originally allotted to him was filled by thesubaltern who had enacted it the night before. De Stancy glanced across, whether by accident or otherwise Somerset could not determine, and hisglance seemed to say he quite recognized there had been a trial of witsbetween them, and that, thanks to his chance meeting with Miss Bell inthe train, his had proved the stronger. 

The house being less crowded to-night there were one or two vacantchairs in the best part. De Stancy, advancing from where he had stoodfor a few moments, seated himself comfortably beside Miss Power. 

On the other side of her he now perceived the same queer elderlyforeigner (as he appeared) who had come to her in the garden thatmorning. Somerset was surprised to perceive also that Paula withvery little hesitation introduced him and De Stancy to each other. Aconversation ensued between the three, none the less animated for beingcarried on in a whisper, in which Paula seemed on strangely intimateterms with the stranger, and the stranger to show feelings ofgreat friendship for De Stancy, considering that they must be newacquaintances. 

The play proceeded, and Somerset still lingered in his corner. He couldnot help fancying that De Stancy's ingenious relinquishment of his part, and its obvious reason, was winning Paula's admiration. His conduct washomage carried to unscrupulous and inconvenient lengths, a sort of thingwhich a woman may chide, but which she can never resent. Who coulddo otherwise than talk kindly to a man, incline a little to him, andcondone his fault, when the sole motive of so audacious an exercise ofhis wits was to escape acting with any other heroine than herself. 

His conjectures were brought to a pause by the ending of the comedy, andthe opportunity afforded him of joining the group in front. The mass ofpeople were soon gone, and the knot of friends assembled around Paulawere discussing the merits and faults of the two days' performance. 

'My uncle, Mr. Abner Power, ' said Paula suddenly to Somerset, as he camenear, presenting the stranger to the astonished young man. 'I could notsee you before the performance, as I should have liked to do. The returnof my uncle is so extraordinary that it ought to be told in a lesshurried way than this. He has been supposed dead by all of us for nearlyten years--ever since the time we last heard from him. '

'For which I am to blame, ' said Mr. Power, nodding to Paula's architect. 'Yet not I, but accident and a sluggish temperament. There are times, Mr Somerset, when the human creature feels no interest in his kind, and assumes that his kind feels no interest in him. The feeling is notactive enough to make him fly from their presence; but sufficient tokeep him silent if he happens to be away. I may not have described itprecisely; but this I know, that after my long illness, and the fanciedneglect of my letters--'

'For which my father was not to blame, since he did not receive them, 'said Paula. 

'For which nobody was to blame--after that, I say, I wrote no more. '

'You have much pleasure in returning at last, no doubt, ' said Somerset. 

'Sir, as I remained away without particular pain, so I return withoutparticular joy. I speak the truth, and no compliments. I may add thatthere is one exception to this absence of feeling from my heart, namely, that I do derive great satisfaction from seeing how mightily this youngwoman has grown and prevailed. '

This address, though delivered nominally to Somerset, was listened to byPaula, Mrs. Goodman, and De Stancy also. After uttering it, the speakerturned away, and continued his previous conversation with CaptainDe Stancy. From this time till the group parted he never again spokedirectly to Somerset, paying him barely so much attention as he mighthave expected as Paula's architect, and certainly less than he mighthave supposed his due as her accepted lover. 

The result of the appearance, as from the tomb, of this wintry man wasthat the evening ended in a frigid and formal way which gave littlesatisfaction to the sensitive Somerset, who was abstracted andconstrained by reason of thoughts on how this resuscitation of the unclewould affect his relation with Paula. It was possibly also the thoughtof two at least of the others. There had, in truth, scarcely yet beentime enough to adumbrate the possibilities opened up by this gentleman'sreturn. 

The only private word exchanged by Somerset with any one that night waswith Mrs. Goodman, in whom he always recognized a friend to his cause, though the fluidity of her character rendered her but a feeble one atthe best of times. She informed him that Mr. Power had no sort of legalcontrol over Paula, or direction in her estates; but Somerset could notdoubt that a near and only blood relation, even had he possessed buthalf the static force of character that made itself apparent in Mr. Power, might exercise considerable moral influence over the girl ifhe chose. And in view of Mr. Power's marked preference for De Stancy, Somerset had many misgivings as to its operating in a directionfavourable to himself. 

XI. 

Somerset was deeply engaged with his draughtsmen and builders duringthe three following days, and scarcely entered the occupied wing of thecastle. 

At his suggestion Paula had agreed to have the works executed assuch operations were carried out in old times, before the advent ofcontractors. Each trade required in the building was to be representedby a master-tradesman of that denomination, who should stand responsiblefor his own section of labour, and for no other, Somerset himself aschief technicist working out his designs on the spot. By this means thethoroughness of the workmanship would be greatly increased in comparisonwith the modern arrangement, whereby a nominal builder, seldom present, who can certainly know no more than one trade intimately and well, andwho often does not know that, undertakes the whole. 

But notwithstanding its manifest advantages to the proprietor, the planadded largely to the responsibilities of the architect, who, withhis master-mason, master-carpenter, master-plumber, and what not, hadscarcely a moment to call his own. Still, the method being upon the faceof it the true one, Somerset supervised with a will. 

But there seemed to float across the court to him from the inhabitedwing an intimation that things were not as they had been before; thatan influence adverse to himself was at work behind the ashlared face ofinner wall which confronted him. Perhaps this was because he never sawPaula at the windows, or heard her footfall in that half of the buildinggiven over to himself and his myrmidons. There was really no reasonother than a sentimental one why he should see her. The uninhabitedpart of the castle was almost an independent structure, and it was quitenatural to exist for weeks in this wing without coming in contact withresidents in the other. 

A more pronounced cause than vague surmise was destined to perturbhim, and this in an unexpected manner. It happened one morning that heglanced through a local paper while waiting at the Lord-Quantock-Armsfor the pony-carriage to be brought round in which he often drove to thecastle. The paper was two days old, but to his unutterable amazement heread therein a paragraph which ran as follows:--

'We are informed that a marriage is likely to be arranged betweenCaptain De Stancy, of the Royal Horse Artillery, only surviving son ofSir William De Stancy, Baronet, and Paula, only daughter of the lateJohn Power, Esq. , M. P. , of Stancy Castle. '

Somerset dropped the paper, and stared out of the window. Fortunatelyfor his emotions, the horse and carriage were at this moment brought tothe door, so that nothing hindered Somerset in driving off to the spotat which he would be soonest likely to learn what truth or otherwisethere was in the newspaper report. From the first he doubted it: andyet how should it have got there? Such strange rumours, like paradoxicalmaxims, generally include a portion of truth. Five days had elapsedsince he last spoke to Paula. 

Reaching the castle he entered his own quarters as usual, and aftersetting the draughtsmen to work walked up and down pondering how hemight best see her without making the paragraph the ground of hisrequest for an interview; for if it were a fabrication, such a reasonwould wound her pride in her own honour towards him, and if it werepartly true, he would certainly do better in leaving her alone than inreproaching her. It would simply amount to a proof that Paula was anarrant coquette. 

In his meditation he stood still, closely scanning one of thejamb-stones of a doorless entrance, as if to discover where the oldhinge-hook had entered the stonework. He heard a footstep behind him, and looking round saw Paula standing by. She held a newspaper in herhand. The spot was one quite hemmed in from observation, a fact of whichshe seemed to be quite aware. 

'I have something to tell you, ' she said; 'something important. But youare so occupied with that old stone that I am obliged to wait. '

'It is not true surely!' he said, looking at the paper. 

'No, look here, ' she said, holding up the sheet. It was not what he hadsupposed, but a new one--the local rival to that which had containedthe announcement, and was still damp from the press. She pointed, and heread--

'We are authorized to state that there is no foundation whatever for theassertion of our contemporary that a marriage is likely to be arrangedbetween Captain De Stancy and Miss Power of Stancy Castle. '

Somerset pressed her hand. 'It disturbed me, ' he said, 'though I did notbelieve it. '

'It astonished me, as much as it disturbed you; and I sent thiscontradiction at once. '

'How could it have got there?'

She shook her head. 

'You have not the least knowledge?'

'Not the least. I wish I had. '

'It was not from any friends of De Stancy's? or himself?'

'It was not. His sister has ascertained beyond doubt that he knewnothing of it. Well, now, don't say any more to me about the matter. '

'I'll find out how it got into the paper. '

'Not now--any future time will do. I have something else to tell you. '

'I hope the news is as good as the last, ' he said, looking into her facewith anxiety; for though that face was blooming, it seemed full of adoubt as to how her next information would be taken. 

'O yes; it is good, because everybody says so. We are going to take adelightful journey. My new-created uncle, as he seems, and I, and myaunt, and perhaps Charlotte, if she is well enough, are going to Nice, and other places about there. '

'To Nice!' said Somerset, rather blankly. 'And I must stay here?'

'Why, of course you must, considering what you have undertaken!' shesaid, looking with saucy composure into his eyes. 'My uncle's reason forproposing the journey just now is, that he thinks the alterationswill make residence here dusty and disagreeable during the spring. Theopportunity of going with him is too good a one for us to lose, as Ihave never been there. '

'I wish I was going to be one of the party!. .. What do YOU wish aboutit?'

She shook her head impenetrably. 'A woman may wish some things she doesnot care to tell!'

'Are you really glad you are going, dearest?--as I MUST call you justonce, ' said the young man, gazing earnestly into her face, which struckhim as looking far too rosy and radiant to be consistent with ever solittle regret at leaving him behind. 

'I take great interest in foreign trips, especially to the shores ofthe Mediterranean: and everybody makes a point of getting away when thehouse is turned out of the window. '

'But you do feel a little sadness, such as I should feel if ourpositions were reversed?'

'I think you ought not to have asked that so incredulously, ' shemurmured. 'We can be near each other in spirit, when our bodies are farapart, can we not?' Her tone grew softer and she drew a little closer tohis side with a slightly nestling motion, as she went on, 'May I be surethat you will not think unkindly of me when I am absent from your sight, and not begrudge me any little pleasure because you are not there toshare it with me?'

'May you! Can you ask it?. .. As for me, I shall have no pleasure to bebegrudged or otherwise. The only pleasure I have is, as you well know, in you. When you are with me, I am happy: when you are away, I take nopleasure in anything. '

'I don't deserve it. I have no right to disturb you so, ' she said, verygently. 'But I have given you some pleasure, have I not? A little morepleasure than pain, perhaps?'

'You have, and yet. .. . But I don't accuse you, dearest. Yes, you havegiven me pleasure. One truly pleasant time was when we stood togetherin the summer-house on the evening of the garden-party, and you said youliked me to love you. '

'Yes, it was a pleasant time, ' she returned thoughtfully. 'How the raincame down, and formed a gauze between us and the dancers, did it not;and how afraid we were--at least I was--lest anybody should discover usthere, and how quickly I ran in after the rain was over!'

'Yes', said Somerset, 'I remember it. But no harm came of it to you. .. . And perhaps no good will come of it to me. '

'Do not be premature in your conclusions, sir, ' she said archly. 'If youreally do feel for me only half what you say, we shall--you will makegood come of it--in some way or other. '

'Dear Paula--now I believe you, and can bear anything. '

'Then we will say no more; because, as you recollect, we agreed not togo too far. No expostulations, for we are going to be practical youngpeople; besides, I won't listen if you utter them. I simply echo yourwords, and say I, too, believe you. Now I must go. Have faith in me, anddon't magnify trifles light as air. '

'I THINK I understand you. And if I do, it will make a great differencein my conduct. You will have no cause to complain. '

'Then you must not understand me so much as to make much difference; foryour conduct as my architect is perfect. But I must not linger longer, though I wished you to know this news from my very own lips. '

'Bless you for it! When do you leave?'

'The day after to-morrow. '

'So early? Does your uncle guess anything? Do you wish him to be toldjust yet?'

'Yes, to the first; no, to the second. '

'I may write to you?'

'On business, yes. It will be necessary. '

'How can you speak so at a time of parting?'

'Now, George--you see I say George, and not Mr. Somerset, and you maydraw your own inference--don't be so morbid in your reproaches! I haveinformed you that you may write, or still better, telegraph, since thewire is so handy--on business. Well, of course, it is for you to judgewhether you will add postscripts of another sort. There, you make mesay more than a woman ought, because you are so obtuse and literal. Goodafternoon--good-bye! This will be my address. '

She handed him a slip of paper, and flitted away. 

Though he saw her again after this, it was during the bustle ofpreparation, when there was always a third person present, usually inthe shape of that breathing refrigerator, her uncle. Hence the fewwords that passed between them were of the most formal description, andchiefly concerned the restoration of the castle, and a church at Nicedesigned by him, which he wanted her to inspect. 

They were to leave by an early afternoon train, and Somerset was invitedto lunch on that day. The morning was occupied by a long businessconsultation in the studio with Mr. Power and Mrs. Goodman on what roomswere to be left locked up, what left in charge of the servants, andwhat thrown open to the builders and workmen under the surveillance ofSomerset. At present the work consisted mostly of repairs to existingrooms, so as to render those habitable which had long been used only asstores for lumber. Paula did not appear during this discussion; butwhen they were all seated in the dining-hall she came in dressed forthe journey, and, to outward appearance, with blithe anticipation atits prospect blooming from every feature. Next to her came CharlotteDe Stancy, still with some of the pallor of an invalid, but wonderfullybrightened up, as Somerset thought, by the prospect of a visit to adelightful shore. It might have been this; and it might have been thatSomerset's presence had a share in the change. 

It was in the hall, when they were in the bustle of leave-taking, thatthere occurred the only opportunity for the two or three private wordswith Paula to which his star treated him on that last day. His took thehasty form of, 'You will write soon?'

'Telegraphing will be quicker, ' she answered in the same low tone; andwhispering 'Be true to me!' turned away. 

How unreasonable he was! In addition to those words, warm as they were, he would have preferred a little paleness of cheek, or trembling oflip, instead of the bloom and the beauty which sat upon her undisturbedmaidenhood, to tell him that in some slight way she suffered at hisloss. 

Immediately after this they went to the carriages waiting at the door. Somerset, who had in a measure taken charge of the castle, accompaniedthem and saw them off, much as if they were his visitors. She steppedin, a general adieu was spoken, and she was gone. 

While the carriages rolled away, he ascended to the top of the tower, where he saw them lessen to spots on the road, and turn the corner outof sight. The chances of a rival seemed to grow in proportion as Paulareceded from his side; but he could not have answered why. He had biddenher and her relatives adieu on her own doorstep, like a privilegedfriend of the family, while De Stancy had scarcely seen her since theplay-night. That the silence into which the captain appeared to havesunk was the placidity of conscious power, was scarcely probable; yetthat adventitious aids existed for De Stancy he could not deny. The linkformed by Charlotte between De Stancy and Paula, much as he liked theingenuous girl, was one that he could have wished away. It constituted abridge of access to Paula's inner life and feelings which nothing couldrival; except that one fact which, as he firmly believed, did actuallyrival it, giving him faith and hope; his own primary occupation ofPaula's heart. Moreover, Mrs. Goodman would be an influence favourableto himself and his cause during the journey; though, to be sure, to setagainst her there was the phlegmatic and obstinate Abner Power, in whom, apprised by those subtle media of intelligence which lovers possess, hefancied he saw no friend. 

Somerset remained but a short time at the castle that day. The lightof its chambers had fled, the gross grandeur of the dictatorial towersoppressed him, and the studio was hateful. He remembered a promise madelong ago to Mr. Woodwell of calling upon him some afternoon; and avisit which had not much attractiveness in it at other times recommendeditself now, through being the one possible way open to him of hearingPaula named and her doings talked of. Hence in walking back toMarkton, instead of going up the High Street, he turned aside into theunfrequented footway that led to the minister's cottage. 

Mr. Woodwell was not indoors at the moment of his call, and Somersetlingered at the doorway, and cast his eyes around. It was a house whichtypified the drearier tenets of its occupier with great exactness. It stood upon its spot of earth without any natural union with it: nomosses disguised the stiff straight line where wall met earth; nota creeper softened the aspect of the bare front. The garden walk wasstrewn with loose clinkers from the neighbouring foundry, which rolledunder the pedestrian's foot and jolted his soul out of him before hereached the porchless door. But all was clean, and clear, and dry. 

Whether Mr. Woodwell was personally responsible for this condition ofthings there was not time to closely consider, for Somerset perceivedthe minister coming up the walk towards him. Mr. Woodwell welcomedhim heartily; and yet with the mien of a man whose mind has scarcelydismissed some scene which has preceded the one that confronts him. Whatthat scene was soon transpired. 

'I have had a busy afternoon, ' said the minister, as they walkedindoors; 'or rather an exciting afternoon. Your client at Stancy Castle, whose uncle, as I imagine you know, has so unexpectedly returned, hasleft with him to-day for the south of France; and I wished to ask herbefore her departure some questions as to how a charity organized byher father was to be administered in her absence. But I have been veryunfortunate. She could not find time to see me at her own house, and Iawaited her at the station, all to no purpose, owing to the presence ofher friends. Well, well, I must see if a letter will find her. '

Somerset asked if anybody of the neighbourhood was there to see themoff. 

'Yes, that was the trouble of it. Captain De Stancy was there, and quitemonopolized her. I don't know what 'tis coming to, and perhaps I have nobusiness to inquire, since she is scarcely a member of our church now. Who could have anticipated the daughter of my old friend John Powerdeveloping into the ordinary gay woman of the world as she has done? Whocould have expected her to associate with people who show contempt fortheir Maker's intentions by flippantly assuming other characters thanthose in which He created them?'

'You mistake her, ' murmured Somerset, in a voice which he vainlyendeavoured to attune to philosophy. 'Miss Power has some very rare andbeautiful qualities in her nature, though I confess I tremble--fear lestthe De Stancy influence should be too strong. '

'Sir, it is already! Do you remember my telling you that I thought theforce of her surroundings would obscure the pure daylight of her spirit, as a monkish window of coloured images attenuates the rays of God's sun?I do not wish to indulge in rash surmises, but her oscillation fromher family creed of Calvinistic truth towards the traditions of the DeStancys has been so decided, though so gradual, that--well, I may bewrong. '

'That what?' said the young man sharply. 

'I sometimes think she will take to her as husband the presentrepresentative of that impoverished line--Captain De Stancy--which shemay easily do, if she chooses, as his behaviour to-day showed. '

'He was probably there on account of his sister, ' said Somerset, tryingto escape the mental picture of farewell gallantries bestowed on Paula. 

'It was hinted at in the papers the other day. '

'And it was flatly contradicted. '

'Yes. Well, we shall see in the Lord's good time; I can do no more forher. And now, Mr. Somerset, pray take a cup of tea. '

The revelations of the minister depressed Somerset a little, and he didnot stay long. As he went to the door Woodwell said, 'There is a worthyman--the deacon of our chapel, Mr. Havill--who would like to be friendlywith you. Poor man, since the death of his wife he seems to havesomething on his mind--some trouble which my words will not reach. Ifever you are passing his door, please give him a look in. He fears thatcalling on you might be an intrusion. '

Somerset did not clearly promise, and went his way. The minister'sallusion to the announcement of the marriage reminded Somerset that shehad expressed a wish to know how the paragraph came to be inserted. Thewish had been carelessly spoken; but he went to the newspaper office tomake inquiries on the point. 

The reply was unexpected. The reporter informed his questioner that inreturning from the theatricals, at which he was present, he shared a flywith a gentleman who assured him that such an alliance was certain, so obviously did it recommend itself to all concerned, as a means ofstrengthening both families. The gentleman's knowledge of the Powers wasso precise that the reporter did not hesitate to accept his assertion. He was a man who had seen a great deal of the world, and his face wasnoticeable for the seams and scars on it. 

Somerset recognized Paula's uncle in the portrait. 

Hostilities, then, were beginning. The paragraph had been meant as thefirst slap. Taking her abroad was the second. 

BOOK THE FOURTH. SOMERSET, DARE AND DE STANCY. 

I. 

There was no part of Paula's journey in which Somerset did not think ofher. He imagined her in the hotel at Havre, in her brief rest at Paris;her drive past the Place de la Bastille to the Boulevart Mazas to takethe train for Lyons; her tedious progress through the dark of a winternight till she crossed the isothermal line which told of the beginningof a southern atmosphere, and onwards to the ancient blue sea. 

Thus, between the hours devoted to architecture, he passed the nextthree days. One morning he set himself, by the help of John, to practiseon the telegraph instrument, expecting a message. But though he watchedthe machine at every opportunity, or kept some other person on the alertin its neighbourhood, no message arrived to gratify him till after thelapse of nearly a fortnight. Then she spoke from her new habitation ninehundred miles away, in these meagre words:--

'Are settled at the address given. Can now attend to any inquiry aboutthe building. '

The pointed implication that she could attend to inquiries about nothingelse, breathed of the veritable Paula so distinctly that he couldforgive its sauciness. His reply was soon despatched:--

'Will write particulars of our progress. Always the same. '

The last three words formed the sentimental appendage which she hadassured him she could tolerate, and which he hoped she might desire. 

He spent the remainder of the day in making a little sketch to show whathad been done in the castle since her departure. This he despatched witha letter of explanation ending in a paragraph of a different tenor:--

'I have demonstrated our progress as well as I could; but anothersubject has been in my mind, even whilst writing the former. Askyourself if you use me well in keeping me a fortnight before you so muchas say that you have arrived? The one thing that reconciled me to yourdeparture was the thought that I should hear early from you: my idea ofbeing able to submit to your absence was based entirely upon that. 

'But I have resolved not to be out of humour, and to believe that yourscheme of reserve is not unreasonable; neither do I quarrel with yourinjunction to keep silence to all relatives. I do not know anything Ican say to show you more plainly my acquiescence in your wish "not to gotoo far" (in short, to keep yourself dear--by dear I mean not cheap--youhave been dear in the other sense a long time, as you know), than by noturging you to go a single degree further in warmth than you please. '

When this was posted he again turned his attention to her walls andtowers, which indeed were a dumb consolation in many ways for the lackof herself. There was no nook in the castle to which he had not accessor could not easily obtain access by applying for the keys, and thispropinquity of things belonging to her served to keep her image beforehim even more constantly than his memories would have done. 

Three days and a half after the despatch of his subdued effusion thetelegraph called to tell him the good news that

'Your letter and drawing are just received. Thanks for the latter. Willreply to the former by post this afternoon. '

It was with cheerful patience that he attended to his three draughtsmenin the studio, or walked about the environs of the fortress during thefifty hours spent by her presumably tender missive on the road. A lightfleece of snow fell during the second night of waiting, inverting theposition of long-established lights and shades, and lowering to a dingygrey the approximately white walls of other weathers; he could trace thepostman's footmarks as he entered over the bridge, knowing them by thedot of his walking-stick: on entering the expected letter was waitingupon his table. He looked at its direction with glad curiosity; it wasthe first letter he had ever received from her. 

'HOTEL ---, NICE, Feb. 14. 

'MY DEAR MR. SOMERSET' (the 'George, ' then, to which she had so kindlytreated him in her last conversation, was not to be continued in blackand white), --

'Your letter explaining the progress of the work, aided by the sketchenclosed, gave me as clear an idea of the advance made since mydeparture as I could have gained by being present. I feel everyconfidence in you, and am quite sure the restoration is in good hands. In this opinion both my aunt and my uncle coincide. Please actentirely on your own judgment in everything, and as soon as you give acertificate to the builders for the first instalment of their money itwill be promptly sent by my solicitors. 

'You bid me ask myself if I have used you well in not sendingintelligence of myself till a fortnight after I had left you. Now, George, don't be unreasonable! Let me remind you that, as a certainapostle said, there are a thousand things lawful which are notexpedient. I say this, not from pride in my own conduct, but to offeryou a very fair explanation of it. Your resolve not to be out of humourwith me suggests that you have been sorely tempted that way, else whyshould such a resolve have been necessary?

'If you only knew what passes in my mind sometimes you would perhapsnot be so ready to blame. Shall I tell you? No. For, if it is a greatemotion, it may afford you a cruel satisfaction at finding I sufferthrough separation; and if it be a growing indifference to you, it willbe inflicting gratuitous unhappiness upon you to say so, if you care forme; as I SOMETIMES think you may do A LITTLE. '

('O, Paula!' said Somerset. )

'Please which way would you have it? But it is better that youshould guess at what I feel than that you should distinctly know it. Notwithstanding this assertion you will, I know, adhere to your firstprepossession in favour of prompt confessions. In spite of that, I fearthat upon trial such promptness would not produce that happiness whichyour fancy leads you to expect. Your heart would weary in time, and whenonce that happens, good-bye to the emotion you have told me of. Imaginesuch a case clearly, and you will perceive the probability of what Isay. At the same time I admit that a woman who is ONLY a creature ofevasions and disguises is very disagreeable. 

'Do not write VERY frequently, and never write at all unless you havesome real information about the castle works to communicate. I willexplain to you on another occasion why I make this request. You willpossibly set it down as additional evidence of my cold-heartedness. If so you must. Would you also mind writing the business letter onan independent sheet, with a proper beginning and ending? Whether youinclose another sheet is of course optional. --Sincerely yours, PAULAPOWER. '

Somerset had a suspicion that her order to him not to neglect thebusiness letter was to escape any invidious remarks from her uncle. Hewished she would be more explicit, so that he might know exactly howmatters stood with them, and whether Abner Power had ever ventured toexpress disapproval of him as her lover. 

But not knowing, he waited anxiously for a new architectural event onwhich he might legitimately send her another line. This occurred abouta week later, when the men engaged in digging foundations discoveredremains of old ones which warranted a modification of the original plan. He accordingly sent off his professional advice on the point, requestingher assent or otherwise to the amendment, winding up the inquiry with'Yours faithfully. ' On another sheet he wrote:--'Do you suffer from anyunpleasantness in the manner of others on account of me? If so, informme, Paula. I cannot otherwise interpret your request for the separatesheets. While on this point I will tell you what I have learnt relativeto the authorship of that false paragraph about your engagement. Itwas communicated to the paper by your uncle. Was the wish father to thethought, or could he have been misled, as many were, by appearances atthe theatricals?

'If I am not to write to you without a professional reason, surelyyou can write to me without such an excuse? When you write tell me ofyourself. There is nothing I so much wish to hear of. Write a great dealabout your daily doings, for my mind's eye keeps those sweet operationsmore distinctly before me than my bodily sight does my own. 

'You say nothing of having been to look at the chapel-of-ease I toldyou of, the plans of which I made when an architect's pupil, working inmetres instead of feet and inches, to my immense perplexity, that thedrawings might be understood by the foreign workmen. Go there and tellme what you think of its design. I can assure you that every curvethereof is my own. 

'How I wish you would invite me to run over and see you, if only fora day or two, for my heart runs after you in a most distracted manner. Dearest, you entirely fill my life! But I forget; we have resolvednot to go VERY FAR. But the fact is I am half afraid lest, with suchreticence, you should not remember how very much I am yours, and withwhat a dogged constancy I shall always remember you. Paula, sometimes Ihave horrible misgivings that something will divide us, especially ifwe do not make a more distinct show of our true relationship. True do Isay? I mean the relationship which I think exists between us, but whichyou do not affirm too clearly. --Yours always. '

Away southward like the swallow went the tender lines. He wondered ifshe would notice his hint of being ready to pay her a flying visit, ifpermitted to do so. His fancy dwelt on that further side of France, the very contours of whose shore were now lines of beauty for him. He prowled in the library, and found interest in the mustiest factsrelating to that place, learning with aesthetic pleasure that the numberof its population was fifty thousand, that the mean temperature of itsatmosphere was 60 degrees Fahrenheit, and that the peculiarities of amistral were far from agreeable. 

He waited overlong for her reply; but it ultimately came. After theusual business preliminary, she said:--

'As requested, I have visited the little church you designed. It gave megreat pleasure to stand before a building whose outline and details hadcome from the brain of such a valued friend and adviser. '

('Valued friend and adviser, ' repeated Somerset critically. )

'I like the style much, especially that of the windows--Early Englishare they not? I am going to attend service there next Sunday, BECAUSEYOU WERE THE ARCHITECT, AND FOR NO GODLY REASON AT ALL. Does thatcontent you? Fie for your despondency! Remember M. Aurelius: "This isthe chief thing: Be not perturbed; for all things are of the natureof the Universal. " Indeed I am a little surprised at your havingforebodings, after my assurance to you before I left. I have none. Myopinion is that, to be happy, it is best to think that, as we are theproduct of events, events will continue to produce that which is inharmony with us. .. . You are too faint-hearted, and that's the truth ofit. I advise you not to abandon yourself to idolatry too readily; youknow what I mean. It fills me with remorse when I think how very farbelow such a position my actual worth removes me. 

'I should like to receive another letter from you as soon as you havegot over the misgiving you speak of, but don't write too soon. I wish Icould write anything to raise your spirits, but you may be so perversethat if, in order to do this, I tell you of the races, routs, scenery, gaieties, and gambling going on in this place and neighbourhood (intowhich of course I cannot help being a little drawn), you may declarethat my words make you worse than ever. Don't pass the line I have setdown in the way you were tempted to do in your last; and not too manyDearests--at least as yet. This is not a time for effusion. You have myvery warm affection, and that's enough for the present. '

As a love-letter this missive was tantalizing enough, but since its formwas simply a continuation of what she had practised before she left, it produced no undue misgiving in him. Far more was he impressed by heromitting to answer the two important questions he had put to her. First, concerning her uncle's attitude towards them, and his conduct in givingsuch strange information to the reporter. Second, on his, Somerset's, paying her a flying visit some time during the spring. Since she hadrequested it, he made no haste in his reply. When penned, it ran inthe words subjoined, which, in common with every line of theircorrespondence, acquired from the strangeness of subsequentcircumstances an interest and a force that perhaps they did notintrinsically possess. 

'People cannot' (he wrote) 'be for ever in good spirits on this gloomyside of the Channel, even though you seem to be so on yours. However, that I can abstain from letting you know whether my spirits are good orotherwise, I will prove in our future correspondence. I admire you moreand more, both for the warm feeling towards me which I firmly believeyou have, and for your ability to maintain side by side with it so muchdignity and resolution with regard to foolish sentiment. Sometimes Ithink I could have put up with a little more weakness if it had broughtwith it a little more tenderness, but I dismiss all that when I mentallysurvey your other qualities. I have thought of fifty things to say toyou of the TOO FAR sort, not one of any other; so that your prohibitionis very unfortunate, for by it I am doomed to say things that do notrise spontaneously to my lips. You say that our shut-up feelings are notto be mentioned yet. How long is the yet to last?

'But, to speak more solemnly, matters grow very serious with us, Paula--at least with me: and there are times when this restraint isreally unbearable. It is possible to put up with reserve when thereserved being is by one's side, for the eyes may reveal what the lipsdo not. But when she is absent, what was piquancy becomes harshness, tender railleries become cruel sarcasm, and tacit understandingsmisunderstandings. However that may be, you shall never be able toreproach me for touchiness. I still esteem you as a friend; I admire youand love you as a woman. This I shall always do, however unconfiding youprove. '

II. 

Without knowing it, Somerset was drawing near to a crisis in this softcorrespondence which would speedily put his assertions to the test; butthe knowledge came upon him soon enough for his peace. 

Her next letter, dated March 9th, was the shortest of all he hadreceived, and beyond the portion devoted to the building-works itcontained only the following sentences:--

'I am almost angry with you, George, for being vexed because I am notmore effusive. Why should the verbal I LOVE YOU be ever uttered betweentwo beings of opposite sex who have eyes to see signs? During the sevenor eight months that we have known each other, you have discoveredmy regard for you, and what more can you desire? Would a reiteratedassertion of passion really do any good? Remember it is a naturalinstinct with us women to retain the power of obliging a man to hope, fear, pray, and beseech as long as we think fit, before we confess to areciprocal affection. 

'I am now going to own to a weakness about which I had intended to keepsilent. It will not perhaps add to your respect for me. My uncle, whom in many ways I like, is displeased with me for keeping up thiscorrespondence so regularly. I am quite perverse enough to ventureto disregard his feelings; but considering the relationship, and hiskindness in other respects, I should prefer not to do so at present. Honestly speaking, I want the courage to resist him in some things. Hesaid to me the other day that he was very much surprised that I did notdepend upon his judgment for my future happiness. Whether that meantmuch or little, I have resolved to communicate with you only bytelegrams for the remainder of the time we are here. Please reply by thesame means only. There, now, don't flush and call me names! It is forthe best, and we want no nonsense, you and I. Dear George, I feel morethan I say, and if I do not speak more plainly, you will understand whatis behind after all I have hinted. I can promise you that you will notlike me less upon knowing me better. Hope ever. I would give up a gooddeal for you. Good-bye!'

This brought Somerset some cheerfulness and a good deal of gloom. Hesilently reproached her, who was apparently so independent, for lackingindependence in such a vital matter. Perhaps it was mere sex, perhapsit was peculiar to a few, that her independence and courage, likeCleopatra's, failed her occasionally at the last moment. 

One curious impression which had often haunted him now returned withredoubled force. He could not see himself as the husband of Paula Powerin any likely future. He could not imagine her his wife. People were aptto run into mistakes in their presentiments; but though he could pictureher as queening it over him, as avowing her love for him unreservedly, even as compromising herself for him, he could not see her in a state ofdomesticity with him. 

Telegrams being commanded, to the telegraph he repaired, when, after twodays, an immediate wish to communicate with her led him to dismissvague conjecture on the future situation. His first telegram took thefollowing form:--

'I give up the letter writing. I will part with anything to please youbut yourself. Your comfort with your relative is the first thing to beconsidered: not for the world do I wish you to make divisions withindoors. Yours. '

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday passed, and on Saturday a telegram came inreply:--

'I can fear, grieve at, and complain of nothing, having your nicepromise to consider my comfort always. '

This was very pretty; but it admitted little. Such short messages werein themselves poor substitutes for letters, but their speed and easyfrequency were good qualities which the letters did not possess. Threedays later he replied:--

'You do not once say to me "Come. " Would such a strange accident as myarrival disturb you much?'

She replied rather quickly:--

'I am indisposed to answer you too clearly. Keep your heart strong: 'tisa censorious world. '

The vagueness there shown made Somerset peremptory, and he could nothelp replying somewhat more impetuously than usual:-- 'Why do you giveme so much cause for anxiety! Why treat me to so much mystification! Sayonce, distinctly, that what I have asked is given. '

He awaited for the answer, one day, two days, a week; but none came. Itwas now the end of March, and when Somerset walked of an afternoonby the river and pool in the lower part of the grounds, his ear newlygreeted by the small voices of frogs and toads and other creatures whohad been torpid through the winter, he became doubtful and uneasy thatshe alone should be silent in the awakening year. 

He waited through a second week, and there was still no reply. It waspossible that the urgency of his request had tempted her to punish him, and he continued his walks, to, fro, and around, with as close an ear tothe undertones of nature, and as attentive an eye to the charms of hisown art, as the grand passion would allow. Now came the days of battlebetween winter and spring. On these excursions, though spring was to theforward during the daylight, winter would reassert itself at night, andnot unfrequently at other moments. Tepid airs and nipping breezes met onthe confines of sunshine and shade; trembling raindrops that were stillakin to frost crystals dashed themselves from the bushes as he pursuedhis way from town to castle; the birds were like an orchestra waitingfor the signal to strike up, and colour began to enter into the countryround. 

But he gave only a modicum of thought to these proceedings. He ratherthought such things as, 'She can afford to be saucy, and to find asource of blitheness in my love, considering the power that wealth givesher to pick and choose almost where she will. ' He was bound to own, however, that one of the charms of her conversation was the completeabsence of the note of the heiress from its accents. That, other thingsequal, her interest would naturally incline to a person bearing the nameof De Stancy, was evident from her avowed predilections. His originalassumption, that she was a personification of the modern spirit, whohad been dropped, like a seed from the bill of a bird, into a chink ofmediaevalism, required some qualification. Romanticism, which willexist in every human breast as long as human nature itself exists, hadasserted itself in her. Veneration for things old, not because of anymerit in them, but because of their long continuance, had developed inher; and her modern spirit was taking to itself wings and flying away. Whether his image was flying with the other was a question which movedhim all the more deeply now that her silence gave him dread of anaffirmative answer. 

For another seven days he stoically left in suspension all forecasts ofhis possibly grim fate in being the employed and not the beloved. Theweek passed: he telegraphed: there was no reply: he had sudden fears forher personal safety and resolved to break her command by writing. 

 'STANCY CASTLE, April13. 

'DEAR PAULA, --Are you ill or in trouble? It is impossible in the veryunquiet state you have put me into by your silence that I should abstainfrom writing. Without affectation, you sorely distress me, and I thinkyou would hardly have done it could you know what a degree of anxietyyou cause. Why, Paula, do you not write or send to me? What have I donethat you should treat me like this? Do write, if it is only to reproachme. I am compelled to pass the greater part of the day in this castle, which reminds me constantly of you, and yet eternally lacks yourpresence. I am unfortunate indeed that you have not been able to findhalf-an-hour during the last month to tell me at least that you arealive. 

'You have always been ambiguous, it is true; but I thought I sawencouragement in your eyes; encouragement certainly was in your eyes, and who would not have been deluded by them and have believed themsincere? Yet what tenderness can there be in a heart that can cause mepain so wilfully!

'There may, of course, be some deliberate scheming on the part of yourrelations to intercept our letters; but I cannot think it. I know thatthe housekeeper has received a letter from your aunt this very week, inwhich she incidentally mentions that all are well, and in the same placeas before. How then can I excuse you?

'Then write, Paula, or at least telegraph, as you proposed. Otherwise Iam resolved to take your silence as a signal to treat your fair words aswind, and to write to you no more. '

III. 

He despatched the letter, and half-an-hour afterwards felt sure that itwould mortally offend her. But he had now reached a state of temporaryindifference, and could contemplate the loss of such a tantalizingproperty with reasonable calm. 

In the interim of waiting for a reply he was one day walking to Markton, when, passing Myrtle Villa, he saw Sir William De Stancy ambling abouthis garden-path and examining the crocuses that palisaded its edge. SirWilliam saw him and asked him to come in. Somerset was in the mood forany diversion from his own affairs, and they seated themselves by thedrawing-room fire. 

'I am much alone now, ' said Sir William, 'and if the weather were notvery mild, so that I can get out into the garden every day, I shouldfeel it a great deal. '

'You allude to your daughter's absence?'

'And my son's. Strange to say, I do not miss her so much as I miss him. She offers to return at any moment; but I do not wish to deprive her ofthe advantages of a little foreign travel with her friend. Always, Mr. Somerset, give your spare time to foreign countries, especially thosewhich contrast with your own in topography, language, and art. That'smy advice to all young people of your age. Don't waste your money onexpensive amusements at home. Practise the strictest economy at home, tohave a margin for going abroad. '

Economy, which Sir William had never practised, but to which, afterexhausting all other practices, he now raised an altar, as the Atheniansdid to the unknown God, was a topic likely to prolong itself on thebaronet's lips, and Somerset contrived to interrupt him by asking--

'Captain De Stancy, too, has gone? Has the artillery, then, left thebarracks?'

'No, ' said Sir William. 'But my son has made use of his leave in runningover to see his sister at Nice. '

The current of quiet meditation in Somerset changed to a busy whirl atthis reply. That Paula should become indifferent to his existence from asense of superiority, physical, spiritual, or social, was a sufficientlyironical thing; but that she should have relinquished him because of thepresence of a rival lent commonplace dreariness to her cruelty. 

Sir William, noting nothing, continued in the tone of cleverchildishness which characterized him: 'It is very singular how thepresent situation has been led up to by me. Policy, and policy alone, has been the rule of my conduct for many years past; and when I say thatI have saved my family by it, I believe time will show that I am withinthe truth. I hope you don't let your passions outrun your policy, as somany young men are apt to do. Better be poor and politic, than rich andheadstrong: that's the opinion of an old man. However, I was goingto say that it was purely from policy that I allowed a friendship todevelop between my daughter and Miss Power, and now events are provingthe wisdom of my course. Straws show how the wind blows, and there arelittle signs that my son Captain De Stancy will return to Stancy Castleby the fortunate step of marrying its owner. I say nothing to either ofthem, and they say nothing to me; but my wisdom lies in doing nothing tohinder such a consummation, despite inherited prejudices. '

Somerset had quite time enough to rein himself in during the oldgentleman's locution, and the voice in which he answered was so cold andreckless that it did not seem his own: 'But how will they live happilytogether when she is a Dissenter, and a Radical, and a New-light, anda Neo-Greek, and a person of red blood; while Captain De Stancy is thereverse of them all!'

'I anticipate no difficulty on that score, ' said the baronet. 'My son'sstar lies in that direction, and, like the Magi, he is following itwithout trifling with his opportunity. You have skill in architecture, therefore you follow it. My son has skill in gallantry, and now he isabout to exercise it profitably. '

'May nobody wish him more harm in that exercise than I do!' saidSomerset fervently. 

A stagnant moodiness of several hours which followed his visit to MyrtleVilla resulted in a resolve to journey over to Paula the very next day. He now felt perfectly convinced that the inviting of Captain De Stancyto visit them at Nice was a second stage in the scheme of Paula's uncle, the premature announcement of her marriage having been the first. Theroundness and neatness of the whole plan could not fail to recommendit to the mind which delighted in putting involved things straight, and such a mind Abner Power's seemed to be. In fact, the felicity, ina politic sense, of pairing the captain with the heiress furnishedno little excuse for manoeuvring to bring it about, so long as thatmanoeuvring fell short of unfairness, which Mr. Power's could scarcelybe said to do. 

The next day was spent in furnishing the builders with such instructionsas they might require for a coming week or ten days, and in dropping ashort note to Paula; ending as follows:--

'I am coming to see you. Possibly you will refuse me an interview. Nevermind, I am coming--Yours, G. SOMERSET. '

The morning after that he was up and away. Between him and Paulastretched nine hundred miles by the line of journey that he found itnecessary to adopt, namely, the way of London, in order to inform hisfather of his movements and to make one or two business calls. Theafternoon was passed in attending to these matters, the night inspeeding onward, and by the time that nine o'clock sounded next morningthrough the sunless and leaden air of the English Channel coasts, he hadreduced the number of miles on his list by two hundred, and cut off thesea from the impediments between him and Paula. 

On awakening from a fitful sleep in the grey dawn of the morningfollowing he looked out upon Lyons, quiet enough now, the citizensunaroused to the daily round of bread-winning, and enveloped in a hazeof fog. 

Six hundred and fifty miles of his journey had been got over; therestill intervened two hundred and fifty between him and the end ofsuspense. When he thought of that he was disinclined to pause; andpressed on by the same train, which set him down at Marseilles atmid-day. 

Here he considered. By going on to Nice that afternoon he wouldarrive at too late an hour to call upon her the same evening: it wouldtherefore be advisable to sleep in Marseilles and proceed the nextmorning to his journey's end, so as to meet her in a brighter conditionthan he could boast of to-day. This he accordingly did, and leavingMarseilles the next morning about eight, found himself at Nice early inthe afternoon. 

Now that he was actually at the centre of his gravitation he seemed evenfurther away from a feasible meeting with her than in England. Whileafar off, his presence at Nice had appeared to be the one thing needfulfor the solution of his trouble, but the very house fronts seemed now toask him what right he had there. Unluckily, in writing from England, hehad not allowed her time to reply before his departure, so that hedid not know what difficulties might lie in the way of her seeing himprivately. Before deciding what to do, he walked down the Avenue de laGare to the promenade between the shore and the Jardin Public, and satdown to think. 

The hotel which she had given him as her address looked right out uponhim and the sea beyond, and he rested there with the pleasing hope thather eyes might glance from a window and discover his form. Everythingin the scene was sunny and gay. Behind him in the gardens a band wasplaying; before him was the sea, the Great sea, the historical andoriginal Mediterranean; the sea of innumerable characters in history andlegend that arranged themselves before him in a long frieze of memoriesso diverse as to include both AEneas and St. Paul. 

Northern eyes are not prepared on a sudden for the impact of such imagesof warmth and colour as meet them southward, or for the vigorouslight that falls from the sky of this favoured shore. In any othercircumstances the transparency and serenity of the air, the perfume ofthe sea, the radiant houses, the palms and flowers, would have actedupon Somerset as an enchantment, and wrapped him in a reverie; but atpresent he only saw and felt these things as through a thick glass whichkept out half their atmosphere. 

At last he made up his mind. He would take up his quarters at herhotel, and catch echoes of her and her people, to learn somehow if theirattitude towards him as a lover were actually hostile, before formallyencountering them. Under this crystalline light, full of gaieties, sentiment, languor, seductiveness, and ready-made romance, the memory ofa solitary unimportant man in the lugubrious North might have faded fromher mind. He was only her hired designer. He was an artist; but he hadbeen engaged by her, and was not a volunteer; and she did not as yetknow that he meant to accept no return for his labours but the pleasureof presenting them to her as a love-offering. 

So off he went at once towards the imposing building whither his lettershad preceded him. Owing to a press of visitors there was a moment'sdelay before he could be attended to at the bureau, and he turned to thelarge staircase that confronted him, momentarily hoping that her figuremight descend. Her skirts must indeed have brushed the carpeting ofthose steps scores of times. He engaged his room, ordered his luggage tobe sent for, and finally inquired for the party he sought. 

'They left Nice yesterday, monsieur, ' replied madame. 

Was she quite sure, Somerset asked her?

Yes, she was quite sure. Two of the hotel carriages had driven them tothe station. 

Did she know where they had gone to?

This and other inquiries resulted in the information that they hadgone to the hotel at Monte Carlo; that how long they were going to staythere, and whether they were coming back again, was not known. His finalquestion whether Miss Power had received a letter from England whichmust have arrived the day previous was answered in the affirmative. 

Somerset's first and sudden resolve was to follow on after them to thehotel named; but he finally decided to make his immediate visit to MonteCarlo only a cautious reconnoitre, returning to Nice to sleep. 

Accordingly, after an early dinner, he again set forth through the broadAvenue de la Gare, and an hour on the coast railway brought him to thebeautiful and sinister little spot to which the Power and De Stancyparty had strayed in common with the rest of the frivolous throng. 

He assumed that their visit thither would be chiefly one of curiosity, and therefore not prolonged. This proved to be the case in even greatermeasure than he had anticipated. On inquiry at the hotel he learnt thatthey had stayed only one night, leaving a short time before his arrival, though it was believed that some of the party were still in the town. 

In a state of indecision Somerset strolled into the gardens of theCasino, and looked out upon the sea. There it still lay, calm yetlively; of an unmixed blue, yet variegated; hushed, but articulate evento melodiousness. Everything about and around this coast appeared indeedjaunty, tuneful, and at ease, reciprocating with heartiness the rays ofthe splendid sun; everything, except himself. The palms and flowers onthe terraces before him were undisturbed by a single cold breath. Themarble work of parapets and steps was unsplintered by frosts. The wholewas like a conservatory with the sky for its dome. 

For want of other occupation he went round towards the public entranceto the Casino, and ascended the great staircase into the pillared hall. It was possible, after all, that upon leaving the hotel and sending ontheir luggage they had taken another turn through the rooms, tofollow by a later train. With more than curiosity he scanned first thereading-rooms, only however to see not a face that he knew. He thencrossed the vestibule to the gaming-tables. 

IV. 

Here he was confronted by a heated phantasmagoria of splendour and ahigh pressure of suspense that seemed to make the air quiver. A lowwhisper of conversation prevailed, which might probably have been notwrongly defined as the lowest note of social harmony. 

The people gathered at this negative pole of industry had come fromall civilized countries; their tongues were familiar with many forms ofutterance, that of each racial group or type being unintelligible in itssubtler variations, if not entirely, to the rest. But the language ofmeum and tuum they collectively comprehended without translation. In ahalf-charmed spell-bound state they had congregated in knots, standing, or sitting in hollow circles round the notorious oval tables marked withfigures and lines. The eyes of all these sets of people were watchingthe Roulette. Somerset went from table to table, looking among theloungers rather than among the regular players, for faces, or at leastfor one face, which did not meet his gaze. 

The suggestive charm which the centuries-old impersonality Gaming, rather than games and gamesters, had for Somerset, led him to loiter oneven when his hope of meeting any of the Power and De Stancy party hadvanished. As a non-participant in its profits and losses, fevers andfrenzies, it had that stage effect upon his imagination which isusually exercised over those who behold Chance presented to them withspectacular piquancy without advancing far enough in its acquaintance tosuffer from its ghastly reprisals and impish tricks. He beheld a hundreddiametrically opposed wishes issuing from the murky intelligences arounda table, and spreading down across each other upon the figured diagramin their midst, each to its own number. It was a network of hopes; whichat the announcement, 'Sept, Rouge, Impair, et Manque, ' disappeared likemagic gossamer, to be replaced in a moment by new. That all the peoplethere, including himself, could be interested in what to the eye ofperfect reason was a somewhat monotonous thing--the property of numbersto recur at certain longer or shorter intervals in a machine containingthem--in other words, the blind groping after fractions of a resultthe whole of which was well known--was one testimony among many of thepowerlessness of logic when confronted with imagination. 

At this juncture our lounger discerned at one of the tables about thelast person in the world he could have wished to encounter there. It wasDare, whom he had supposed to be a thousand miles off, hanging about thepurlieus of Markton. 

Dare was seated beside a table in an attitude of application whichseemed to imply that he had come early and engaged in this pursuit ina systematic manner. Somerset had never witnessed Dare and De Stancytogether, neither had he heard of any engagement of Dare by thetravelling party as artist, courier, or otherwise; and yet it crossedhis mind that Dare might have had something to do with them, or at leasthave seen them. This possibility was enough to overmaster Somerset'sreluctance to speak to the young man, and he did so as soon as anopportunity occurred. 

Dare's face was as rigid and dry as if it had been encrusted withplaster, and he was like one turned into a computing machine which nolonger had the power of feeling. He recognized Somerset as indifferentlyas if he had met him in the ward of Stancy Castle, and replying to hisremarks by a word or two, concentrated on the game anew. 

'Are you here alone?' said Somerset presently. 

'Quite alone. ' There was a silence, till Dare added, 'But I have seensome friends of yours. ' He again became absorbed in the events of thetable. Somerset retreated a few steps, and pondered the question whetherDare could know where they had gone. He disliked to be beholden to Darefor information, but he would give a great deal to know. While pausinghe watched Dare's play. He staked only five-franc pieces, but it wasdone with an assiduity worthy of larger coin. At every half-minute orso he placed his money on a certain spot, and as regularly had themortification of seeing it swept away by the croupier's rake. After awhile he varied his procedure. He risked his money, which from thelook of his face seemed rather to have dwindled than increased, lessrecklessly against long odds than before. Leaving off backing numbers enplein, he laid his venture a cheval; then tried it upon the dozens; thenupon two numbers; then upon a square; and, apparently getting nearer andnearer defeat, at last upon the simple chances of even or odd, over orunder, red or black. Yet with a few fluctuations in his favour fortunebore steadily against him, till he could breast her blows no longer. Herose from the table and came towards Somerset, and they both moved ontogether into the entrance-hall. 

Dare was at that moment the victim of an overpowering mania for moremoney. His presence in the South of Europe had its origin, as may beguessed, in Captain De Stancy's journey in the same direction, whomhe had followed, and troubled with persistent request for more funds, carefully keeping out of sight of Paula and the rest. His dream ofinvolving Paula in the De Stancy pedigree knew no abatement. ButSomerset had lighted upon him at an instant when that idea, though notdisplaced, was overwhelmed by a rage for play. In hope of being able tocontinue it by Somerset's aid he was prepared to do almost anything toplease the architect. 

'You asked me, ' said Dare, stroking his impassive brow, 'if I had seenanything of the Powers. I have seen them; and if I can be of any use toyou in giving information about them I shall only be too glad. '

'What information can you give?'

'I can tell you where they are gone to. '

'Where?'

'To the Grand Hotel, Genoa. They went on there this afternoon. '

'Whom do you refer to by they?'

'Mrs. Goodman, Mr. Power, Miss Power, Miss De Stancy, and the worthycaptain. He leaves them tomorrow: he comes back here for a day on hisway to England. '

Somerset was silent. Dare continued: 'Now I have done you a favour, willyou do me one in return?'

Somerset looked towards the gaming-rooms, and said dubiously, 'Well?'

'Lend me two hundred francs. '

'Yes, ' said Somerset; 'but on one condition: that I don't give them toyou till you are inside the hotel you are staying at. '

'That can't be; it's at Nice. '

'Well I am going back to Nice, and I'll lend you the money the instantwe get there. '

'But I want it here, now, instantly!' cried Dare; and for the firsttime there was a wiry unreasonableness in his voice that fortified hiscompanion more firmly than ever in his determination to lend the youngman no money whilst he remained inside that building. 

'You want it to throw it away. I don't approve of it; so come with me. '

'But, ' said Dare, 'I arrived here with a hundred napoleons and more, expressly to work out my theory of chances and recurrences, which issound; I have studied it hundreds of times by the help of this. ' Hepartially drew from his pocket the little volume that we have beforeseen in his hands. 'If I only persevere in my system, the certainty thatI must win is almost mathematical. I have staked and lost two hundredand thirty-three times. Allowing out of that one chance in everythirty-six, which is the average of zero being marked, and two hundredand four times for the backers of the other numbers, I have themathematical expectation of six times at least, which would nearlyrecoup me. And shall I, then, sacrifice that vast foundation of wastechances that I have laid down, and paid for, merely for want of a littleready money?'

'You might persevere for a twelvemonth, and still not get the better ofyour reverses. Time tells in favour of the bank. Just imagine for thesake of argument that all the people who have ever placed a stake upon acertain number to be one person playing continuously. Has that imaginaryperson won? The existence of the bank is a sufficient answer. '

'But a particular player has the option of leaving off at anypoint favourable to himself, which the bank has not; and there's myopportunity. '

'Which from your mood you will be sure not to take advantage of. '

'I shall go on playing, ' said Dare doggedly. 

'Not with my money. '

'Very well; we won't part as enemies, ' replied Dare, with the flawlesspoliteness of a man whose speech has no longer any kinship with hisfeelings. 'Shall we share a bottle of wine? You will not? Well, I hopeyour luck with your lady will be more magnificent than mine has beenhere; but--mind Captain De Stancy! he's a fearful wildfowl for you. '

'He's a harmless inoffensive soldier, as far as I know. If he isnot--let him be what he may for me. '

'And do his worst to cut you out, I suppose?'

'Ay--if you will. ' Somerset, much against his judgment, was beingstimulated by these pricks into words of irritation. 'Captain De Stancymight, I think, be better employed than in dangling at the heels of alady who can well dispense with his company. And you might be betteremployed than in wasting your wages here. '

'Wages--a fit word for my money. May I ask you at what stage in theappearance of a man whose way of existence is unknown, his money ceasesto be called wages and begins to be called means?'

Somerset turned and left him without replying, Dare following hisreceding figure with a look of ripe resentment, not less likely to ventitself in mischief from the want of moral ballast in him who emitted it. He then fixed a nettled and unsatisfied gaze upon the gaming-rooms, andin another minute or two left the Casino also. 

Dare and Somerset met no more that day. The latter returned to Nice bythe evening train and went straight to the hotel. He now thanked hisfortune that he had not precipitately given up his room there, for atelegram from Paula awaited him. His hand almost trembled as he openedit, to read the following few short words, dated from the Grand Hotel, Genoa:--

'Letter received. Am glad to hear of your journey. We are not returningto Nice, but stay here a week. I direct this at a venture. '

This tantalizing message--the first breaking of her recent silence--wassaucy, almost cruel, in its dry frigidity. It led him to give up hisidea of following at once to Genoa. That was what she obviously expectedhim to do, and it was possible that his non-arrival might draw a letteror message from her of a sweeter composition than this. That would atleast be the effect of his tardiness if she cared in the least for him;if she did not he could bear the worst. The argument was good enough asfar as it went, but, like many more, failed from the narrowness of itspremises, the contingent intervention of Dare being entirely undreamtof. It was altogether a fatal miscalculation, which cost him dear. 

Passing by the telegraph-office in the Rue Pont-Neuf at an early hourthe next morning he saw Dare coming out from the door. It was Somerset'smomentary impulse to thank Dare for the information given as to Paula'swhereabouts, information which had now proved true. But Dare did notseem to appreciate his friendliness, and after a few words of studiedcivility the young man moved on. 

And well he might. Five minutes before that time he had thrown open agulf of treachery between himself and the architect which nothing inlife could ever close. Before leaving the telegraph-office Dare haddespatched the following message to Paula direct, as a set-off againstwhat he called Somerset's ingratitude for valuable information, thoughit was really the fruit of many passions, motives, and desires:--

'G. Somerset, Nice, to Miss Power, Grand Hotel, Genoa. 

'Have lost all at Monte Carlo. Have learnt that Captain D. S. Returnshere to-morrow. Please send me one hundred pounds by him, and saveme from disgrace. Will await him at eleven o'clock and four, on thePont-Neuf. '

V. 

Five hours after the despatch of that telegram Captain De Stancy wasrattling along the coast railway of the Riviera from Genoa to Nice. He was returning to England by way of Marseilles; but before turningnorthwards he had engaged to perform on Miss Power's account a peculiarand somewhat disagreeable duty. This was to place in Somerset's hands ahundred and twenty-five napoleons which had been demanded from her by amessage in Somerset's name. The money was in his pocket--all in gold, in a canvas bag, tied up by Paula's own hands, which he had observed totremble as she tied it. 

As he leaned in the corner of the carriage he was thinking over theevents of the morning which had culminated in that liberal response. Atten o'clock, before he had gone out from the hotel where he had taken uphis quarters, which was not the same as the one patronized by Paulaand her friends, he had been summoned to her presence in a mannerso unexpected as to imply that something serious was in question. On entering her room he had been struck by the absence of thatsaucy independence usually apparent in her bearing towards him, notwithstanding the persistency with which he had hovered near her forthe previous month, and gradually, by the position of his sister, andthe favour of Paula's uncle in intercepting one of Somerset's lettersand several of his telegrams, established himself as an intimate memberof the travelling party. His entry, however, this time as always, had had the effect of a tonic, and it was quite with her customaryself-possession that she had told him of the object of her message. 

'You think of returning to Nice this afternoon?' she inquired. 

De Stancy informed her that such was his intention, and asked if hecould do anything for her there. 

Then, he remembered, she had hesitated. 'I have received a telegram, 'she said at length; and so she allowed to escape her bit by bit theinformation that her architect, whose name she seemed reluctant toutter, had travelled from England to Nice that week, partly to consulther, partly for a holiday trip; that he had gone on to Monte Carlo, hadthere lost his money and got into difficulties, and had appealed to herto help him out of them by the immediate advance of some ready cash. Itwas a sad case, an unexpected case, she murmured, with her eyes fixed onthe window. Indeed she could not comprehend it. 

To De Stancy there appeared nothing so very extraordinary in Somerset'sapparent fiasco, except in so far as that he should have applied toPaula for relief from his distresses instead of elsewhere. It was aself-humiliation which a lover would have avoided at all costs, hethought. Yet after a momentary reflection on his theory of Somerset'scharacter, it seemed sufficiently natural that he should leanpersistently on Paula, if only with a view of keeping himself linked toher memory, without thinking too profoundly of his own dignity. Thatthe esteem in which she had held Somerset up to that hour suffereda tremendous blow by his apparent scrape was clearly visible in her, reticent as she was; and De Stancy, while pitying Somerset, thanked himin his mind for having gratuitously given a rival an advantage whichthat rival's attentions had never been able to gain of themselves. 

After a little further conversation she had said: 'Since you are to bemy messenger, I must tell you that I have decided to send the hundredpounds asked for, and you will please to deliver them into no hands buthis own. ' A curious little blush crept over her sobered face--perhaps itwas a blush of shame at the conduct of the young man in whom she hadof late been suspiciously interested--as she added, 'He will be on thePont-Neuf at four this afternoon and again at eleven tomorrow. Can youmeet him there?'

'Certainly, ' De Stancy replied. 

She then asked him, rather anxiously, how he could account for Mr. Somerset knowing that he, Captain De Stancy, was about to return toNice?

De Stancy informed her that he left word at the hotel of his intentionto return, which was quite true; moreover, there did not lurk in hismind at the moment of speaking the faintest suspicion that Somerset hadseen Dare. 

She then tied the bag and handed it to him, leaving him with a sereneand impenetrable bearing, which he hoped for his own sake meant anacquired indifference to Somerset and his fortunes. Her sending thearchitect a sum of money which she could easily spare might be setdown to natural generosity towards a man with whom she was artisticallyco-operating for the improvement of her home. 

She came back to him again for a moment. 'Could you possibly get therebefore four this afternoon?' she asked, and he informed her that hecould just do so by leaving almost at once, which he was very willingto do, though by so forestalling his time he would lose the projectedmorning with her and the rest at the Palazzo Doria. 

'I may tell you that I shall not go to the Palazzo Doria either, ifit is any consolation to you to know it, ' was her reply. 'I shall sitindoors and think of you on your journey. '

The answer admitted of two translations, and conjectures thereon filledthe gallant soldier's mind during the greater part of the journey. Hearrived at the hotel they had all stayed at in succession about sixhours after Somerset had left it for a little excursion to San Remo andits neighbourhood, as a means of passing a few days till Paula shouldwrite again to inquire why he had not come on. De Stancy saw no one heknew, and in obedience to Paula's commands he promptly set off on footfor the Pont-Neuf. 

Though opposed to the architect as a lover, De Stancy felt for him asa poor devil in need of money, having had experiences of that sorthimself, and he was really anxious that the needful supply entrustedto him should reach Somerset's hands. He was on the bridge five minutesbefore the hour, and when the clock struck a hand was laid on hisshoulder: turning he beheld Dare. 

Knowing that the youth was loitering somewhere along the coast, for theyhad frequently met together on De Stancy's previous visit, the lattermerely said, 'Don't bother me for the present, Willy, I have anengagement. You can see me at the hotel this evening. '

'When you have given me the hundred pounds I will fly like a rocket, captain, ' said the young gentleman. 'I keep the appointment instead ofthe other man. '

De Stancy looked hard at him. 'How--do you know about this?' he askedbreathlessly. 

'I have seen him. '

De Stancy took the young man by the two shoulders and gazed into hiseyes. The scrutiny seemed not altogether to remove the suspicion whichhad suddenly started up in his mind. 'My soul, ' he said, dropping hisarms, 'can this be true?'

'What?'

'You know. '

Dare shrugged his shoulders; 'Are you going to hand over the money orno?' he said. 

'I am going to make inquiries, ' said De Stancy, walking away with avehement tread. 

'Captain, you are without natural affection, ' said Dare, walking by hisside, in a tone which showed his fear that he had over-estimated thatemotion. 'See what I have done for you. You have been my constant careand anxiety for I can't tell how long. I have stayed awake at nightthinking how I might best give you a good start in the world byarranging this judicious marriage, when you have been sleeping as soundas a top with no cares upon your mind at all, and now I have got intoa scrape--as the most thoughtful of us may sometimes--you go to makeinquiries. '

'I have promised the lady to whom this money belongs--whose generosityhas been shamefully abused in some way--that I will deliver it into nohands but those of one man, and he has not yet appeared. I therefore goto find him. '

Dare laid his hand upon De Stancy's arm. 'Captain, we are both warm, andpunctilious on points of honour; this will come to a split between us ifwe don't mind. So, not to bring matters to a crisis, lend me ten poundshere to enable me to get home, and I'll disappear. '

In a state bordering on distraction, eager to get the young man outof his sight before worse revelations should rise up between them, DeStancy without pausing in his walk gave him the sum demanded. He soonreached the post-office, where he inquired if a Mr. Somerset had leftany directions for forwarding letters. 

It was just what Somerset had done. De Stancy was told that Mr. Somersethad commanded that any letters should be sent on to him at the HotelVictoria, San Remo. 

It was now evident that the scheme of getting money from Paula waseither of Dare's invention, or that Somerset, ashamed of his firstimpulse, had abandoned it as speedily as it had been formed. De Stancyturned and went out. Dare, in keeping with his promise, had vanished. Captain De Stancy resolved to do nothing in the case till further eventsshould enlighten him, beyond sending a line to Miss Power to inform herthat Somerset had not appeared, and that he therefore retained the moneyfor further instructions. 

BOOK THE FIFTH. DE STANCY AND PAULA. 

I. 

Miss Power was reclining on a red velvet couch in the bedroom of anold-fashioned red hotel at Strassburg, and her friend Miss De Stancy wassitting by a window of the same apartment. They were both rather weariedby a long journey of the previous day. The hotel overlooked the largeopen Kleber Platz, erect in the midst of which the bronze statue ofGeneral Kleber received the rays of a warm sun that was powerless tobrighten him. The whole square, with its people and vehicles going toand fro as if they had plenty of time, was visible to Charlotte in herchair; but Paula from her horizontal position could see nothing belowthe level of the many dormered house-tops on the opposite side of thePlatz. After watching this upper storey of the city for some time insilence, she asked Charlotte to hand her a binocular lying on the table, through which instrument she quietly regarded the distant roofs. 

'What strange and philosophical creatures storks are, ' she said. 'Theygive a taciturn, ghostly character to the whole town. '

The birds were crossing and recrossing the field of the glass in theirflight hither and thither between the Strassburg chimneys, their sadgrey forms sharply outlined against the sky, and their skinny legsshowing beneath like the limbs of dead martyrs in Crivelli's emaciatedimaginings. The indifference of these birds to all that was going onbeneath them impressed her: to harmonize with their solemn and silentmovements the houses beneath should have been deserted, and grassgrowing in the streets. 

Behind the long roofs thus visible to Paula over the window-sill, with their tiers of dormer-windows, rose the cathedral spire inairy openwork, forming the highest object in the scene; it suggestedsomething which for a long time she appeared unwilling to utter; butnatural instinct had its way. 

'A place like this, ' she said, 'where he can study Gothic architecture, would, I should have thought, be a spot more congenial to him thanMonaco. '

The person referred to was the misrepresented Somerset, whom the two hadbeen gingerly discussing from time to time, allowing any casual subject, such as that of the storks, to interrupt the personal one at every twoor three sentences. 

'It would be more like him to be here, ' replied Miss De Stancy, trustingher tongue with only the barest generalities on this matter. 

Somerset was again dismissed for the stork topic, but Paula couldnot let him alone; and she presently resumed, as if an irresistiblefascination compelled what judgment had forbidden: 'The strongest-mindedpersons are sometimes caught unawares at that place, if they once thinkthey will retrieve their first losses; and I am not aware that he isparticularly strong-minded. '

For a moment Charlotte looked at her with a mixed expression, in whichthere was deprecation that a woman with any feeling should criticizeSomerset so frigidly, and relief that it was Paula who did so. For, notwithstanding her assumption that Somerset could never be anythingmore to her than he was already, Charlotte's heart would occasionallystep down and trouble her views so expressed. 

Whether looking through a glass at distant objects enabled Paula tobottle up her affection for the absent one, or whether her friendCharlotte had so little personality in Paula's regard that she couldcommune with her as with a lay figure, it was certain that she evincedremarkable ease in speaking of Somerset, resuming her words about him inthe tone of one to whom he was at most an ordinary professional adviser. 'It would be very awkward for the works at the castle if he has gotinto a scrape. I suppose the builders were well posted with instructionsbefore he left: but he ought certainly to return soon. Why did he leaveEngland at all just now?'

'Perhaps it was to see you. '

'He should have waited; it would not have been so dreadfully long to Mayor June. Charlotte, how can a man who does such a hare-brained thing asthis be deemed trustworthy in an important work like that of rebuildingStancy Castle?'

There was such stress in the inquiry that, whatever factitiousness hadgone before, Charlotte perceived Paula to be at last speaking her mind;and it seemed as if Somerset must have considerably lost ground in heropinion, or she would not have criticized him thus. 

'My brother will tell us full particulars when he comes: perhaps it isnot at all as we suppose, ' said Charlotte. She strained her eyes acrossthe Platz and added, 'He ought to have been here before this time. '

While they waited and talked, Paula still observing the storks, thehotel omnibus came round the corner from the station. 'I believe he hasarrived, ' resumed Miss De Stancy; 'I see something that looks like hisportmanteau on the top of the omnibus. .. . Yes; it is his baggage. I'llrun down to him. '

De Stancy had obtained six weeks' additional leave on account of hishealth, which had somewhat suffered in India. The first use he made ofhis extra time was in hastening back to meet the travelling ladies hereat Strassburg. Mr. Power and Mrs. Goodman were also at the hotel, andwhen Charlotte got downstairs, the former was welcoming De Stancy at thedoor. 

Paula had not seen him since he set out from Genoa for Nice, commissioned by her to deliver the hundred pounds to Somerset. His note, stating that he had failed to meet Somerset, contained no details, and she guessed that he would soon appear before her now to answer anyquestion about that peculiar errand. 

Her anticipations were justified by the event; she had no sooner goneinto the next sitting-room than Charlotte De Stancy appeared and askedif her brother might come up. The closest observer would have been indoubt whether Paula's ready reply in the affirmative was prompted bypersonal consideration for De Stancy, or by a hope to hear more of hismission to Nice. As soon as she had welcomed him she reverted at once tothe subject. 

'Yes, as I told you, he was not at the place of meeting, ' De Stancyreplied. And taking from his pocket the bag of ready money he placed itintact upon the table. 

De Stancy did this with a hand that shook somewhat more than a longrailway journey was adequate to account for; and in truth it was thevision of Dare's position which agitated the unhappy captain: for hadthat young man, as De Stancy feared, been tampering with Somerset'sname, his fate now trembled in the balance; Paula would unquestionablyand naturally invoke the aid of the law against him if she discoveredsuch an imposition. 

'Were you punctual to the time mentioned?' she asked curiously. 

De Stancy replied in the affirmative. 

'Did you wait long?' she continued. 

'Not very long, ' he answered, his instinct to screen the possibly guiltyone confining him to guarded statements, while still adhering to theliteral truth. 

'Why was that?'

'Somebody came and told me that he would not appear. '

'Who?'

'A young man who has been acting as his clerk. His name is Dare. Heinformed me that Mr. Somerset could not keep the appointment. '

'Why?'

'He had gone on to San Remo. '

'Has he been travelling with Mr. Somerset?'

'He had been with him. They know each other very well. But as youcommissioned me to deliver the money into no hands but Mr. Somerset's, Iadhered strictly to your instructions. '

'But perhaps my instructions were not wise. Should it in your opinionhave been sent by this young man? Was he commissioned to ask you forit?'

De Stancy murmured that Dare was not commissioned to ask for it; thatupon the whole he deemed her instructions wise; and was still of opinionthat the best thing had been done. 

Although De Stancy was distracted between his desire to preserve Darefrom the consequences of folly, and a gentlemanly wish to keep as closeto the truth as was compatible with that condition, his answers had notappeared to Paula to be particularly evasive, the conjuncture being onein which a handsome heiress's shrewdness was prone to overleap itselfby setting down embarrassment on the part of the man she questioned to amere lover's difficulty in steering between honour and rivalry. 

She put but one other question. 'Did it appear as if he, Mr. Somerset, after telegraphing, had--had--regretted doing so, and evaded the resultby not keeping the appointment?'

'That's just how it appears. ' The words, which saved Dare from ignominy, cost De Stancy a good deal. He was sorry for Somerset, sorry forhimself, and very sorry for Paula. But Dare was to De Stancy whatSomerset could never be: and 'for his kin that is near unto him shall aman be defiled. '

After that interview Charlotte saw with warring impulses that Somersetslowly diminished in Paula's estimate; slowly as the moon wanes, but ascertainly. Charlotte's own love was of a clinging, uncritical sort, andthough the shadowy intelligence of Somerset's doings weighed down hersoul with regret, it seemed to make not the least difference in heraffection for him. 

In the afternoon the whole party, including De Stancy, drove about thestreets. Here they looked at the house in which Goethe had lived, andafterwards entered the cathedral. Observing in the south transepta crowd of people waiting patiently, they were reminded that theyunwittingly stood in the presence of the popular clock-work ofSchwilgue. 

Mr. Power and Mrs. Goodman decided that they would wait with the rest ofthe idlers and see the puppets perform at the striking. Charlotte alsowaited with them; but as it wanted eight minutes to the hour, and asPaula had seen the show before, she moved on into the nave. 

Presently she found that De Stancy had followed. He did not come closetill she, seeing him stand silent, said, 'If it were not for thiscathedral, I should not like the city at all; and I have even seencathedrals I like better. Luckily we are going on to Baden to-morrow. '

'Your uncle has just told me. He has asked me to keep you company. '

'Are you intending to?' said Paula, probing the base-moulding of a pierwith her parasol. 

'I have nothing better to do, nor indeed half so good, ' said De Stancy. 'I am abroad for my health, you know, and what's like the Rhine and itsneighbourhood in early summer, before the crowd comes? It is delightfulto wander about there, or anywhere, like a child, influenced by no fixedmotive more than that of keeping near some friend, or friends, includingthe one we most admire in the world. '

'That sounds perilously like love-making. '

''Tis love indeed. '

'Well, love is natural to men, I suppose, ' rejoined the young lady. 'Butyou must love within bounds; or you will be enervated, and cease to beuseful as a heavy arm of the service. '

'My dear Miss Power, your didactic and respectable rules won't do forme. If you expect straws to stop currents, you are sadly mistaken! Butno--let matters be: I am a happy contented mortal at present, say whatyou will. .. . You don't ask why? Perhaps you know. It is because all Icare for in the world is near me, and that I shall never be more than ahundred yards from her as long as the present arrangement continues. '

'We are in a cathedral, remember, Captain De Stancy, and should not keepup a secular conversation. '

'If I had never said worse in a cathedral than what I have said here, I should be content to meet my eternal judge without absolution. Youruncle asked me this morning how I liked you. '

'Well, there was no harm in that. '

'How I like you! Harm, no; but you should have seen how silly I looked. Fancy the inadequacy of the expression when my whole sense is absorbedby you. '

'Men allow themselves to be made ridiculous by their own feelings in aninconceivable way. '

'True, I am a fool; but forgive me, ' he rejoined, observing her gaze, which wandered critically from roof to clerestory, and then to thepillars, without once lighting on him. 'Don't mind saying Yes. --You lookat this thing and that thing, but you never look at me, though I standhere and see nothing but you. '

'There, the clock is striking--and the cock crows. Please go across tothe transept and tell them to come out this way. '

De Stancy went. When he had gone a few steps he turned his head. Shehad at last ceased to study the architecture, and was looking at him. Perhaps his words had struck her, for it seemed at that moment as if heread in her bright eyes a genuine interest in him and his fortunes. 

II. 

Next day they went on to Baden. De Stancy was beginning to cultivate thepassion of love even more as an escape from the gloomy relations ofhis life than as matrimonial strategy. Paula's juxtaposition had theattribute of making him forget everything in his own history. She was amagic alterative; and the most foolish boyish shape into which he couldthrow his feelings for her was in this respect to be aimed at as the actof highest wisdom. 

He supplemented the natural warmth of feeling that she had wrought inhim by every artificial means in his power, to make the distraction themore complete. He had not known anything like this self-obscuration fora dozen years, and when he conjectured that she might really learn tolove him he felt exalted in his own eyes and purified from the dross ofhis former life. Such uneasiness of conscience as arose when he suddenlyremembered Dare, and the possibility that Somerset was getting oustedunfairly, had its weight in depressing him; but he was inclined toaccept his fortune without much question. 

The journey to Baden, though short, was not without incidents on whichhe could work out this curious hobby of cultivating to superlative poweran already positive passion. Handing her in and out of the carriage, accidentally getting brushed by her clothes, of all such as this he madeavailable fuel. Paula, though she might have guessed the general natureof what was going on, seemed unconscious of the refinements he wastrying to throw into it, and sometimes, when in stepping into or from arailway carriage she unavoidably put her hand upon his arm, the obviousinsignificance she attached to the action struck him with misgiving. 

One of the first things they did at Baden was to stroll into theTrink-halle, where Paula sipped the water. She was about to put down theglass, when De Stancy quickly took it from her hands as though to makeuse of it himself. 

'O, if that is what you mean, ' she said mischievously, 'you shouldhave noticed the exact spot. It was there. ' She put her finger on aparticular portion of its edge. 

'You ought not to act like that, unless you mean something, Miss Power, 'he replied gravely. 

'Tell me more plainly. '

'I mean, you should not do things which excite in me the hope that youcare something for me, unless you really do. '

'I put my finger on the edge and said it was there. '

'Meaning, "It was there my lips touched; let yours do the same. "'

'The latter part I wholly deny, ' she answered, with disregard, afterwhich she went away, and kept between Charlotte and her aunt for therest of the afternoon. 

Since the receipt of the telegram Paula had been frequently silent; shefrequently stayed in alone, and sometimes she became quite gloomy--analtogether unprecedented phase for her. This was the case on the morningafter the incident in the Trink-halle. Not to intrude on her, Charlottewalked about the landings of the sunny white hotel in which they hadtaken up their quarters, went down into the court, and petted thetortoises that were creeping about there among the flowers and plants;till at last, on going to her friend, she caught her reading some oldletters of Somerset's. 

Paula made no secret of them, and Miss De Stancy could see that morethan half were written on blue paper, with diagrams amid the writing:they were, in fact, simply those sheets of his letters which related tothe rebuilding. Nevertheless, Charlotte fancied she had caught Paula ina sentimental mood; and doubtless could Somerset have walked in atthis moment instead of Charlotte it might have fared well with him, so insidiously do tender memories reassert themselves in the face ofoutward mishaps. 

They took a drive down the Lichtenthal road and then into the forest, DeStancy and Abner Power riding on horseback alongside. The sun streamedyellow behind their backs as they wound up the long inclines, lightingthe red trunks, and even the blue-black foliage itself. The summer hadalready made impression upon that mass of uniform colour by tippingevery twig with a tiny sprout of virescent yellow; while the minutesounds which issued from the forest revealed that the apparently stillplace was becoming a perfect reservoir of insect life. 

Abner Power was quite sentimental that day. 'In such places as these, 'he said, as he rode alongside Mrs. Goodman, 'nature's powers in themultiplication of one type strike me as much as the grandeur of themass. '

Mrs. Goodman agreed with him, and Paula said, 'The foliage forms theroof of an interminable green crypt, the pillars being the trunks, andthe vault the interlacing boughs. '

'It is a fine place in a thunderstorm, ' said De Stancy. 'I am not anenthusiast, but to see the lightning spring hither and thither, like lazy-tongs, bristling, and striking, and vanishing, is ratherimpressive. '

'It must be indeed, ' said Paula. 

'And in the winter winds these pines sigh like ten thousand spirits introuble. '

'Indeed they must, ' said Paula. 

'At the same time I know a little fir-plantation about a mile squarenot far from Markton, ' said De Stancy, 'which is precisely like thisin miniature, --stems, colours, slopes, winds, and all. If we were to gothere any time with a highly magnifying pair of spectacles it would lookas fine as this--and save a deal of travelling. '

'I know the place, and I agree with you, ' said Paula. 

'You agree with me on all subjects but one, ' he presently observed, in avoice not intended to reach the others. 

Paula looked at him, but was silent. 

Onward and upward they went, the same pattern and colour of treerepeating themselves endlessly, till in a couple of hours they reachedthe castle hill which was to be the end of their journey, and beheldstretched beneath them the valley of the Murg. They alighted and enteredthe fortress. 

'What did you mean by that look of kindness you bestowed upon me justnow, when I said you agreed with me on all subjects but one?' askedDe Stancy half humorously, as he held open a little door for her, theothers having gone ahead. 

'I meant, I suppose, that I was much obliged to you for not requiringagreement on that one subject, ' she said, passing on. 

'Not more than that?' said De Stancy, as he followed her. 'But wheneverI involuntarily express towards you sentiments that there can be nomistaking, you seem truly compassionate. '

'If I seem so, I feel so. '

'If you mean no more than mere compassion, I wish you would show nothingat all, for your mistaken kindness is only preparing more misery for methan I should have if let alone to suffer without mercy. '

'I implore you to be quiet, Captain De Stancy! Leave me, and look outof the window at the view here, or at the pictures, or at the armour, orwhatever it is we are come to see. '

'Very well. But pray don't extract amusement from my harmless remarks. Such as they are I mean them. '

She stopped him by changing the subject, for they had entered anoctagonal chamber on the first floor, presumably full of pictures andcuriosities; but the shutters were closed, and only stray beams of lightgleamed in to suggest what was there. 

'Can't somebody open the windows?' said Paula. 

'The attendant is about to do it, ' said her uncle; and as he spoke theshutters to the east were flung back, and one of the loveliest views inthe forest disclosed itself outside. 

Some of them stepped out upon the balcony. The river lay along thebottom of the valley, irradiated with a silver shine. Little rafts ofpinewood floated on its surface like tiny splinters, the men who steeredthem not appearing larger than ants. 

Paula stood on the balcony, looking for a few minutes upon the sight, and then came into the shadowy room, where De Stancy had remained. Whilethe rest were still outside she resumed: 'You must not suppose that Ishrink from the subject you so persistently bring before me. I respectdeep affection--you know I do; but for me to say that I have any suchfor you, of the particular sort you only will be satisfied with, wouldbe absurd. I don't feel it, and therefore there can be nothing betweenus. One would think it would be better to feel kindly towards you thanto feel nothing at all. But if you object to that I'll try to feelnothing. '

'I don't really object to your sympathy, ' said De Stancy, rather struckby her seriousness. 'But it is very saddening to think you can feelnothing more. '

'It must be so, since I CAN feel no more, ' she decisively replied, adding, as she stopped her seriousness: 'You must pray for strength toget over it. '

'One thing I shall never pray for; to see you give yourself to anotherman. But I suppose I shall witness that some day. '

'You may, ' she gravely returned. 

'You have no doubt chosen him already, ' cried the captain bitterly. 

'No, Captain De Stancy, ' she said shortly, a faint involuntary blushcoming into her face as she guessed his allusion. 

This, and a few glances round at the pictures and curiosities, completedtheir survey of the castle. De Stancy knew better than to trouble herfurther that day with special remarks. During the return journey he rodeahead with Mr. Power and she saw no more of him. 

She would have been astonished had she heard the conversation of the twogentlemen as they wound gently downwards through the trees. 

'As far as I am concerned, ' Captain De Stancy's companion was saying, 'nothing would give me more unfeigned delight than that you shouldpersevere and win her. But you must understand that I have no authorityover her--nothing more than the natural influence that arises from mybeing her father's brother. '

'And for exercising that much, whatever it may be, in my favour I thankyou heartily, ' said De Stancy. 'But I am coming to the conclusion thatit is useless to press her further. She is right! I am not the man forher. I am too old, and too poor; and I must put up as well as I can withher loss--drown her image in old Falernian till I embark in Charon'sboat for good!--Really, if I had the industry I could write some goodHoratian verses on my inauspicious situation!. .. Ah, well;--in this wayI affect levity over my troubles; but in plain truth my life will not bethe brightest without her. '

'Don't be down-hearted! you are too--too gentlemanly, De Stancy, inthis matter--you are too soon put off--you should have a touch of thecanvasser about you in approaching her; and not stick at things. Youhave my hearty invitation to travel with us all the way till we cross toEngland, and there will be heaps of opportunities as we wander on. I'llkeep a slow pace to give you time. '

'You are very good, my friend! Well, I will try again. I am full ofdoubt and indecision, mind, but at present I feel that I will try again. There is, I suppose, a slight possibility of something or other turningup in my favour, if it is true that the unexpected always happens--forI foresee no chance whatever. .. . Which way do we go when we leave hereto-morrow?'

'To Carlsruhe, she says, if the rest of us have no objection. '

'Carlsruhe, then, let it be, with all my heart; or anywhere. '

To Carlsruhe they went next day, after a night of soft rain whichbrought up a warm steam from the Schwarzwald valleys, and caused theyoung tufts and grasses to swell visibly in a few hours. After theBaden slopes the flat thoroughfares of 'Charles's Rest' seemed somewhatuninteresting, though a busy fair which was proceeding in thestreets created a quaint and unexpected liveliness. On reaching theold-fashioned inn in the Lange-Strasse that they had fixed on, thewomen of the party betook themselves to their rooms and showed littleinclination to see more of the world that day than could be gleaned fromthe hotel windows. 

III. 

While the malignant tongues had been playing havoc with Somerset'sfame in the ears of Paula and her companion, the young man himself wasproceeding partly by rail, partly on foot, below and amid the olive-cladhills, vineyards, carob groves, and lemon gardens of the Mediterraneanshores. Arrived at San Remo he wrote to Nice to inquire for letters, and such as had come were duly forwarded; but not one of them was fromPaula. This broke down his resolution to hold off, and he hasteneddirectly to Genoa, regretting that he had not taken this step when hefirst heard that she was there. 

Something in the very aspect of the marble halls of that city, which atany other time he would have liked to linger over, whispered to him thatthe bird had flown; and inquiry confirmed the fancy. Nevertheless, thearchitectural beauties of the palace-bordered street, looking as ifmountains of marble must have been levelled to supply the materialsfor constructing it, detained him there two days: or rather a featof resolution, by which he set himself to withstand the drag-chain ofPaula's influence, was operative for that space of time. 

At the end of it he moved onward. There was no difficulty in discoveringtheir track northwards; and feeling that he might as well return toEngland by the Rhine route as by any other, he followed in the coursethey had chosen, getting scent of them in Strassburg, missing them atBaden by a day, and finally overtaking them at Carlsruhe, which town hereached on the morning after the Power and De Stancy party had takenup their quarters at the ancient inn above mentioned. When Somersetwas about to get out of the train at this place, little dreaming whata meaning the word Carlsruhe would have for him in subsequent years, hewas disagreeably surprised to see no other than Dare stepping out of theadjoining carriage. A new brown leather valise in one of his hands, anew umbrella in the other, and a new suit of fashionable clothes onhis back, seemed to denote considerable improvement in the young man'sfortunes. Somerset was so struck by the circumstance of his being onthis spot that he almost missed his opportunity for alighting. 

Dare meanwhile had moved on without seeing his former employer, andSomerset resolved to take the chance that offered, and let him go. Therewas something so mysterious in their common presence simultaneouslyat one place, five hundred miles from where they had last met, thathe exhausted conjecture on whether Dare's errand this way could haveanything to do with his own, or whether their juxtaposition a secondtime was the result of pure accident. Greatly as he would have likedto get this answered by a direct question to Dare himself, he did notcounteract his first instinct, and remained unseen. 

They went out in different directions, when Somerset for the first timeremembered that, in learning at Baden that the party had flitted towardsCarlsruhe, he had taken no care to ascertain the name of the hotelthey were bound for. Carlsruhe was not a large place and the point wasimmaterial, but the omission would necessitate a little inquiry. Tofollow Dare on the chance of his having fixed upon the same quarterswas a course which did not commend itself. He resolved to get some lunchbefore proceeding with his business--or fatuity--of discovering theelusive lady, and drove off to a neighbouring tavern, which did nothappen to be, as he hoped it might, the one chosen by those who hadpreceded him. 

Meanwhile Dare, previously master of their plans, went straight to thehouse which sheltered them, and on entering under the archway from theLange-Strasse was saved the trouble of inquiring for Captain De Stancyby seeing him drinking bitters at a little table in the court. HadSomerset chosen this inn for his quarters instead of the one in theMarket-Place which he actually did choose, the three must inevitablyhave met here at this moment, with some possibly striking dramaticresults; though what they would have been remains for ever hidden in thedarkness of the unfulfilled. 

De Stancy jumped up from his chair, and went forward to the new-comer. 'You are not long behind us, then, ' he said, with laconic disquietude. 'I thought you were going straight home?'

'I was, ' said Dare, 'but I have been blessed with what I may call asmall competency since I saw you last. Of the two hundred francs yougave me I risked fifty at the tables, and I have multiplied them, howmany times do you think? More than four hundred times. '

De Stancy immediately looked grave. 'I wish you had lost them, ' he said, with as much feeling as could be shown in a place where strangers werehovering near. 

'Nonsense, captain! I have proceeded purely on a calculation of chances;and my calculations proved as true as I expected, notwithstanding alittle in-and-out luck at first. Witness this as the result. ' He smackedhis bag with his umbrella, and the chink of money resounded from within. 'Just feel the weight of it!'

'It is not necessary. I take your word. '

'Shall I lend you five pounds?'

'God forbid! As if that would repay me for what you have cost me! Butcome, let's get out of this place to where we can talk more freely. ' Heput his hand through the young man's arm, and led him round the cornerof the hotel towards the Schloss-Platz. 

'These runs of luck will be your ruin, as I have told you before, 'continued Captain De Stancy. 'You will be for repeating and repeatingyour experiments, and will end by blowing your brains out, as wiserheads than yours have done. I am glad you have come away, at any rate. Why did you travel this way?'

'Simply because I could afford it, of course. --But come, captain, something has ruffled you to-day. I thought you did not look in the besttemper the moment I saw you. Every sip you took of your pick-up as yousat there showed me something was wrong. Tell your worry!'

'Pooh--I can tell you in two words, ' said the captain satirically. 'Yourarrangement for my wealth and happiness--for I suppose you still claimit to be yours--has fallen through. The lady has announced to-day thatshe means to send for Somerset instantly. She is coming to a personalexplanation with him. So woe to me--and in another sense, woe to you, asI have reason to fear. '

'Send for him!' said Dare, with the stillness of complete abstraction. 'Then he'll come. '

'Well, ' said De Stancy, looking him in the face. 'And does it make youfeel you had better be off? How about that telegram? Did he ask you tosend it, or did he not?'

'One minute, or I shall be up such a tree as nobody ever saw the likeof. '

'Then what did you come here for?' burst out De Stancy. ''Tis my beliefyou are no more than a--But I won't call you names; I'll tell you quiteplainly that if there is anything wrong in that message to her--whichI believe there is--no, I can't believe, though I fear it--you have thechance of appearing in drab clothes at the expense of the Governmentbefore the year is out, and I of being eternally disgraced!'

'No, captain, you won't be disgraced. I am bad to beat, I can tell you. And come the worst luck, I don't say a word. '

'But those letters pricked in your skin would say a good deal, itstrikes me. '

'What! would they strip me?--but it is not coming to that. Look here, now, I'll tell you the truth for once; though you don't believe mecapable of it. I DID concoct that telegram--and sent it; just as apractical joke; and many a worse one has been only laughed at by honestmen and officers. I could show you a bigger joke still--a joke ofjokes--on the same individual. '

Dare as he spoke put his hand into his breast-pocket, as if the saidjoke lay there; but after a moment he withdrew his hand empty, as hecontinued:

'Having invented it I have done enough; I was going to explain it toyou, that you might carry it out. But you are so serious, that I willleave it alone. My second joke shall die with me. '

'So much the better, ' said De Stancy. 'I don't like your jokes, eventhough they are not directed against myself. They express a kind ofhumour which does not suit me. '

'You may have reason to alter your mind, ' said Dare carelessly. 'Yoursuccess with your lady may depend on it. The truth is, captain, wearistocrats must not take too high a tone. Our days as an independentdivision of society, which holds aloof from other sections, are past. This has been my argument (in spite of my strong Norman feelings) eversince I broached the subject of your marrying this girl, who representsboth intellect and wealth--all, in fact, except the historical prestigethat you represent. And we mustn't flinch at things. The case is evenmore pressing than ordinary cases--owing to the odd fact that therepresentative of the new blood who has come in our way actually livesin your own old house, and owns your own old lands. The ordinary reasonfor such alliances is quintupled in our case. Do then just think andbe reasonable, before you talk tall about not liking my jokes, and allthat. Beggars mustn't be choosers. '

'There's really much reason in your argument, ' said De Stancy, with abitter laugh: 'and my own heart argues much the same way. But, leavingme to take care of my aristocratic self, I advise your aristocraticself to slip off at once to England like any hang-gallows dog; and ifSomerset is here, and you have been doing wrong in his name, and it allcomes out, I'll try to save you, as far as an honest man can. If youhave done no wrong, of course there is no fear; though I should beobliged by your going homeward as quickly as possible, as being betterboth for you and for me. .. . Hullo--Damnation!'

They had reached one side of the Schloss-Platz, nobody apparently beingnear them save a sentinel who was on duty before the Palace; but turningas he spoke, De Stancy beheld a group consisting of his sister, Paula, and Mr. Power, strolling across the square towards them. 

It was impossible to escape their observation, and putting a bold frontupon it, De Stancy advanced with Dare at his side, till in a few momentsthe two parties met, Paula and Charlotte recognizing Dare at once as theyoung man who assisted at the castle. 

'I have met my young photographer, ' said De Stancy cheerily. 'What asmall world it is, as everybody truly observes! I am wishing he couldtake some views for us as we go on; but you have no apparatus with you, I suppose, Mr. Dare?'

'I have not, sir, I am sorry to say, ' replied Dare respectfully. 

'You could get some, I suppose?' asked Paula of the interesting youngphotographer. 

Dare declared that it would be not impossible: whereupon De Stancy saidthat it was only a passing thought of his; and in a few minutes the twoparties again separated, going their several ways. 

'That was awkward, ' said De Stancy, trembling with excitement. 'I wouldadvise you to keep further off in future. '

Dare said thoughtfully that he would be careful, adding, 'She is a prizefor any man, indeed, leaving alone the substantial possessions behindher! Now was I too enthusiastic? Was I a fool for urging you on?'

'Wait till success justifies the undertaking. In case of failure it willhave been anything but wise. It is no light matter to have a carefullypreserved repose broken in upon for nothing--a repose that could neverbe restored!'

They walked down the Carl-Friedrichs-Strasse to the Margrave's Pyramid, and back to the hotel, where Dare also decided to take up his stay. DeStancy left him with the book-keeper at the desk, and went upstairs tosee if the ladies had returned. 

IV. 

He found them in their sitting-room with their bonnets on, as if theyhad just come in. Mr. Power was also present, reading a newspaper, butMrs. Goodman had gone out to a neighbouring shop, in the windows ofwhich she had seen something which attracted her fancy. 

When De Stancy entered, Paula's thoughts seemed to revert to Dare, foralmost at once she asked him in what direction the youth was travelling. With some hesitation De Stancy replied that he believed Mr. Dare wasreturning to England after a spring trip for the improvement of hismind. 

'A very praiseworthy thing to do, ' said Paula. 'What places has hevisited?'

'Those which afford opportunities for the study of the old masters, Ibelieve, ' said De Stancy blandly. 'He has also been to Turin, Genoa, Marseilles, and so on. ' The captain spoke the more readily to herquestioning in that he divined her words to be dictated, not by anysuspicions of his relations with Dare, but by her knowledge of Dare asthe draughtsman employed by Somerset. 

'Has he been to Nice?' she next demanded. 'Did he go there in companywith my architect?'

'I think not. '

'Has he seen anything of him? My architect Somerset once employed him. They know each other. '

'I think he saw Somerset for a short time. '

Paula was silent. 'Do you know where this young man Dare is at thepresent moment?' she asked quickly. 

De Stancy said that Dare was staying at the same hotel with themselves, and that he believed he was downstairs. 

'I think I can do no better than send for him, ' said she. 'He may beable to throw some light upon the matter of that telegram. '

She rang and despatched the waiter for the young man in question, DeStancy almost visibly trembling for the result. But he opened the towndirectory which was lying on a table, and affected to be engrossed inthe names. 

Before Dare was shown in she said to her uncle, 'Perhaps you will speakto him for me?'

Mr. Power, looking up from the paper he was reading, assented to herproposition. Dare appeared in the doorway, and the waiter retired. Dareseemed a trifle startled out of his usual coolness, the message havingevidently been unexpected, and he came forward somewhat uneasily. 

'Mr. Dare, we are anxious to know something of Miss Power's architect;and Captain De Stancy tells us you have seen him lately, ' said Mr. Powersonorously over the edge of his newspaper. 

Not knowing whether danger menaced or no, or, if it menaced, from whatquarter it was to be expected, Dare felt that honesty was as good asanything else for him, and replied boldly that he had seen Mr. Somerset, De Stancy continuing to cream and mantle almost visibly, in anxiety atthe situation of the speaker. 

'And where did you see him?' continued Mr. Power. 

'In the Casino at Monte Carlo. '

'How long did you see him?'

'Only for half an hour. I left him there. '

Paula's interest got the better of her reserve, and she cut in upon heruncle: 'Did he seem in any unusual state, or in trouble?'

'He was rather excited, ' said Dare. 

'And can you remember when that was?'

Dare considered, looked at his pocket-book, and said that it was on theevening of April the twenty-second. 

The answer had a significance for Paula, De Stancy, and Charlotte, towhich Abner Power was a stranger. The telegraphic request for money, which had been kept a secret from him by his niece, because of hisalready unfriendly tone towards Somerset, arrived on the morning of thetwenty-third--a date which neighboured with painfully suggestive nicetyupon that now given by Dare. 

She seemed to be silenced, and asked no more questions. Dare havingfurbished himself up to a gentlemanly appearance with some of his recentwinnings, was invited to stay on awhile by Paula's uncle, who, as becamea travelled man, was not fastidious as to company. Being a youth of theworld, Dare made himself agreeable to that gentleman, and afterwardstried to do the same with Miss De Stancy. At this the captain, to whomthe situation for some time had been amazingly uncomfortable, pleadedsome excuse for going out, and left the room. 

Dare continued his endeavours to say a few polite nothings to CharlotteDe Stancy, in the course of which he drew from his pocket his new silkhandkerchief. By some chance a card came out with the handkerchief, andfluttered downwards. His momentary instinct was to make a grasp at thecard and conceal it: but it had already tumbled to the floor, where itlay face upward beside Charlotte De Stancy's chair. 

It was neither a visiting nor a playing card, but one bearing aphotographic portrait of a peculiar nature. It was what Dare hadcharacterized as his best joke in speaking on the subject to Captain DeStancy: he had in the morning put it ready in his pocket to give to thecaptain, and had in fact held it in waiting between his finger and thumbwhile talking to him in the Platz, meaning that he should make use of itagainst his rival whenever convenient. But his sharp conversation withthat soldier had dulled his zest for this final joke at Somerset'sexpense, had at least shown him that De Stancy would not adopt the jokeby accepting the photograph and using it himself, and determined him tolay it aside till a more convenient time. So fully had he made up hismind on this course, that when the photograph slipped out he did not atfirst perceive the appositeness of the circumstance, in putting into hisown hands the role he had intended for De Stancy; though it was assertedafterwards that the whole scene was deliberately planned. However, oncehaving seen the accident, he resolved to take the current as it served. 

The card having fallen beside her, Miss De Stancy glanced over it, whichindeed she could not help doing. The smile that had previously hung uponher lips was arrested as if by frost and she involuntarily uttered alittle distressed cry of 'O!' like one in bodily pain. 

Paula, who had been talking to her uncle during this interlude, startedround, and wondering what had happened, inquiringly crossed the roomto poor Charlotte's side, asking her what was the matter. Charlotte hadregained self-possession, though not enough to enable her to reply, andPaula asked her a second time what had made her exclaim like that. MissDe Stancy still seemed confused, whereupon Paula noticed that her eyeswere continually drawn as if by fascination towards the photograph onthe floor, which, contrary to his first impulse, Dare, as has beensaid, now seemed in no hurry to regain. Surmising at last that the card, whatever it was, had something to do with the exclamation, Paula pickedit up. 

It was a portrait of Somerset; but by a device known in photographythe operator, though contriving to produce what seemed to be a perfectlikeness, had given it the distorted features and wild attitude of a manadvanced in intoxication. No woman, unless specially cognizant of suchpossibilities, could have looked upon it and doubted that the photographwas a genuine illustration of a customary phase in the young man'sprivate life. 

Paula observed it, thoroughly took it in; but the effect upon her was byno means clear. Charlotte's eyes at once forsook the portrait to dwellon Paula's face. It paled a little, and this was followed by a hotblush--perceptibly a blush of shame. That was all. She flung the picturedown on the table, and moved away. 

It was now Mr. Power's turn. Anticipating Dare, who was advancing witha deprecatory look to seize the photograph, he also grasped it. When hesaw whom it represented he seemed both amused and startled, and afterscanning it a while handed it to the young man with a queer smile. 

'I am very sorry, ' began Dare in a low voice to Mr. Power. 'I fear I wasto blame for thoughtlessness in not destroying it. But I thought it wasrather funny that a man should permit such a thing to be done, and thatthe humour would redeem the offence. '

'In you, for purchasing it, ' said Paula with haughty quickness from theother side of the room. 'Though probably his friends, if he has any, would say not in him. '

There was silence in the room after this, and Dare, finding himselfrather in the way, took his leave as unostentatiously as a cat that hasupset the family china, though he continued to say among his apologiesthat he was not aware Mr. Somerset was a personal friend of the ladies. 

Of all the thoughts which filled the minds of Paula and Charlotte DeStancy, the thought that the photograph might have been a fabricationwas probably the last. To them that picture of Somerset had all thecogency of direct vision. Paula's experience, much less Charlotte's, hadnever lain in the fields of heliographic science, and they would as soonhave thought that the sun could again stand still upon Gibeon, asthat it could be made to falsify men's characters in delineating theirfeatures. What Abner Power thought he himself best knew. He might haveseen such pictures before; or he might never have heard of them. 

While pretending to resume his reading he closely observed Paula, as didalso Charlotte De Stancy; but thanks to the self-management whichwas Miss Power's as much by nature as by art, she dissembled whateveremotion was in her. 

'It is a pity a professional man should make himself so ludicrous, ' shesaid with such careless intonation that it was almost impossible, even for Charlotte, who knew her so well, to believe her indifferencefeigned. 

'Yes, ' said Mr. Power, since Charlotte did not speak: 'it is what Iscarcely should have expected. '

'O, I am not surprised!' said Paula quickly. 'You don't know all. ' Theinference was, indeed, inevitable that if her uncle were made aware ofthe telegram he would see nothing unlikely in the picture. 'Well, youare very silent!' continued Paula petulantly, when she found that nobodywent on talking. 'What made you cry out "O, " Charlotte, when Mr. Daredropped that horrid photograph?'

'I don't know; I suppose it frightened me, ' stammered the girl. 

'It was a stupid fuss to make before such a person. One would think youwere in love with Mr. Somerset. '

'What did you say, Paula?' inquired her uncle, looking up from thenewspaper which he had again resumed. 

'Nothing, Uncle Abner. ' She walked to the window, and, as if to tideover what was plainly passing in their minds about her, she began tomake remarks on objects in the street. 'What a quaint being--look, Charlotte!' It was an old woman sitting by a stall on the opposite sideof the way, which seemed suddenly to hit Paula's sense of the humorous, though beyond the fact that the dame was old and poor, and wore a whitehandkerchief over her head, there was really nothing noteworthy abouther. 

Paula seemed to be more hurt by what the silence of her companionsimplied--a suspicion that the discovery of Somerset's depravity waswounding her heart--than by the wound itself. The ostensible ease withwhich she drew them into a bye conversation had perhaps the defectof proving too much: though her tacit contention that no love was inquestion was not incredible on the supposition that affronted pridealone caused her embarrassment. The chief symptom of her heart beingreally tender towards Somerset consisted in her apparent blindness toCharlotte's secret, so obviously suggested by her momentary agitation. 

V. 

And where was the subject of their condemnatory opinions all thiswhile? Having secured a room at his inn, he came forth to complete thediscovery of his dear mistress's halting-place without delay. Afterone or two inquiries he ascertained where such a party of English werestaying; and arriving at the hotel, knew at once that he had trackedthem to earth by seeing the heavier portion of the Power luggageconfronting him in the hall. He sent up intelligence of his presence, and awaited her reply with a beating heart. 

In the meanwhile Dare, descending from his pernicious interview withPaula and the rest, had descried Captain De Stancy in the publicdrawing-room, and entered to him forthwith. It was while they were heretogether that Somerset passed the door and sent up his name to Paula. 

The incident at the railway station was now reversed, Somerset beingthe observed of Dare, as Dare had then been the observed of Somerset. Immediately on sight of him Dare showed real alarm. He had imagined thatSomerset would eventually impinge on Paula's route, but he had scarcelyexpected it yet; and the architect's sudden appearance led Dare toask himself the ominous question whether Somerset had discovered histelegraphic trick, and was in the mood for prompt measures. 

'There is no more for me to do here, ' said the boy hastily to De Stancy. 'Miss Power does not wish to ask me any more questions. I may as wellproceed on my way, as you advised. '

De Stancy, who had also gazed with dismay at Somerset's passing figure, though with dismay of another sort, was recalled from his vexation byDare's remarks, and turning upon him he said sharply, 'Well may you bein such a hurry all of a sudden!'

'True, I am superfluous now. '

'You have been doing a foolish thing, and you must suffer itsinconveniences. --Will, I am sorry for one thing; I am sorry I everowned you; for you are not a lad to my heart. You have disappointedme--disappointed me almost beyond endurance. '

'I have acted according to my illumination. What can you expect of a manborn to dishonour?'

'That's mere speciousness. Before you knew anything of me, and whileyou thought you were the child of poverty on both sides, you were wellenough; but ever since you thought you were more than that, you have leda life which is intolerable. What has become of your plan of alliancebetween the De Stancys and the Powers now? The man is gone upstairs whocan overthrow it all. '

'If the man had not gone upstairs, you wouldn't have complained of mynature or my plans, ' said Dare drily. 'If I mistake not, he will comedown again with the flea in his ear. However, I have done; my play isplayed out. All the rest remains with you. But, captain, grant me this!If when I am gone this difficulty should vanish, and things should gowell with you, and your suit should prosper, will you think of him, badas he is, who first put you on the track of such happiness, and let himknow it was not done in vain?'

'I will, ' said De Stancy. 'Promise me that you will be a better boy?'

'Very well--as soon as ever I can afford it. Now I am up and away, whenI have explained to them that I shall not require my room. '

Dare fetched his bag, touched his hat with his umbrella to the captainand went out of the hotel archway. De Stancy sat down in the stuffydrawing-room, and wondered what other ironies time had in store for him. 

A waiter in the interim had announced Somerset to the group upstairs. Paula started as much as Charlotte at hearing the name, and Abner Powerstared at them both. 

'If Mr. Somerset wishes to see me ON BUSINESS, show him in, ' said Paula. 

In a few seconds the door was thrown open for Somerset. On receipt ofthe pointed message he guessed that a change had come. Time, absence, ambition, her uncle's influence, and a new wooer, seemed to accountsufficiently well for that change, and he accepted his fate. But astoical instinct to show her that he could regard vicissitudes with theequanimity that became a man; a desire to ease her mind of any fearshe might entertain that his connection with her past would render himtroublesome in future, induced him to accept her permission, and see theact to the end. 

'How do you do, Mr. Somerset?' said Abner Power, with sardonicgeniality: he had been far enough about the world not to be greatlyconcerned at Somerset's apparent failing, particularly when it helped toreduce him from the rank of lover to his niece to that of professionaladviser. 

Miss De Stancy faltered a welcome as weak as that of the Maid ofNeidpath, and Paula said coldly, 'We are rather surprised to see you. Perhaps there is something urgent at the castle which makes it necessaryfor you to call?'

'There is something a little urgent, ' said Somerset slowly, as heapproached her; 'and you have judged rightly that it is the cause ofmy call. ' He sat down near her chair as he spoke, put down his hat, anddrew a note-book from his pocket with a despairing sang froid that wasfar more perfect than had been Paula's demeanour just before. 

'Perhaps you would like to talk over the business with Mr. Somersetalone?' murmured Charlotte to Miss Power, hardly knowing what she said. 

'O no, ' said Paula, 'I think not. Is it necessary?' she said, turning tohim. 

'Not in the least, ' replied he, bestowing a penetrating glance uponhis questioner's face, which seemed however to produce no effect; andturning towards Charlotte, he added, 'You will have the goodness, I amsure, Miss De Stancy, to excuse the jargon of professional details. '

He spread some tracings on the table, and pointed out certain modifiedfeatures to Paula, commenting as he went on, and exchanging occasionallya few words on the subject with Mr. Abner Power by the distant window. 

In this architectural dialogue over his sketches, Somerset's head andPaula's became unavoidably very close. The temptation was too much forthe young man. Under cover of the rustle of the tracings, he murmured, 'Paula, I could not get here before!' in a low voice inaudible to theother two. 

She did not reply, only busying herself the more with the notes andsketches; and he said again, 'I stayed a couple of days at Genoa, andsome days at San Remo, and Mentone. '

'But it is not the least concern of mine where you stayed, is it?' shesaid, with a cold yet disquieted look. 

'Do you speak seriously?' Somerset brokenly whispered. 

Paula concluded her examination of the drawings and turned from him withsorrowful disregard. He tried no further, but, when she had signifiedher pleasure on the points submitted, packed up his papers, and rosewith the bearing of a man altogether superior to such a class ofmisfortune as this. Before going he turned to speak a few words of ageneral kind to Mr. Power and Charlotte. 

'You will stay and dine with us?' said the former, rather with the airof being unhappily able to do no less than ask the question. 'My chargeshere won't go down to the table-d'hote, I fear, but De Stancy and myselfwill be there. '

Somerset excused himself, and in a few minutes withdrew. At the doorhe looked round for an instant, and his eyes met Paula's. There was thesame miles-off expression in hers that they had worn when he entered;but there was also a look of distressful inquiry, as if she wereearnestly expecting him to say something more. This of course Somersetdid not comprehend. Possibly she was clinging to a hope of some excusefor the message he was supposed to have sent, or for the other and moredegrading matter. Anyhow, Somerset only bowed and went away. 

A moment after he had gone, Paula, impelled by something or other, crossed the room to the window. In a short time she saw his form in thebroad street below, which he traversed obliquely to an opposite corner, his head somewhat bent, and his eyes on the ground. Before vanishinginto the Ritterstrasse he turned his head and glanced at the hotelwindows, as if he knew that she was watching him. Then he disappeared;and the only real sign of emotion betrayed by Paula during the wholeepisode escaped her at this moment. It was a slight trembling of the lipand a sigh so slowly breathed that scarce anybody could hear--scarcelyeven Charlotte, who was reclining on a couch her face on her hand andher eyes downcast. 

Not more than two minutes had elapsed when Mrs. Goodman came in with amanner of haste. 

'You have returned, ' said Mr. Power. 'Have you made your purchases?'

Without answering, she asked, 'Whom, of all people on earth, do youthink I have met? Mr. Somerset! Has he been here?--he passed me almostwithout speaking!'

'Yes, he has been here, ' said Paula. 'He is on the way from Genoa home, and called on business. '

'You will have him here to dinner, of course?'

'I asked him, ' said Mr. Power, 'but he declined. '

'O, that's unfortunate! Surely we could get him to come. You would liketo have him here, would you not, Paula?'

'No, indeed. I don't want him here, ' said she. 

'You don't?'

'No!' she said sharply. 

'You used to like him well enough, anyhow, ' bluntly rejoined Mrs. Goodman. 

Paula sedately: 'It is a mistake to suppose that I ever particularlyliked the gentleman mentioned. '

'Then you are wrong, Mrs. Goodman, it seems, ' said Mr. Power. 

Mrs. Goodman, who had been growing quietly indignant, notwithstandinga vigorous use of her fan, at this said. 'Fie, fie, Paula! you did likehim. You said to me only a week or two ago that you should not at allobject to marry him. '

'It is a mistake, ' repeated Paula calmly. 'I meant the other one of thetwo we were talking about. '

'What, Captain De Stancy?'

'Yes. '

Knowing this to be a fiction, Mrs. Goodman made no remark, and hearinga slight noise behind, turned her head. Seeing her aunt's action, Paula also looked round. The door had been left ajar, and De Stancy wasstanding in the room. The last words of Mrs. Goodman, and Paula's reply, must have been quite audible to him. 

They looked at each other much as if they had unexpectedly met atthe altar; but after a momentary start Paula did not flinch fromthe position into which hurt pride had betrayed her. De Stancy bowedgracefully, and she merely walked to the furthest window, whither hefollowed her. 

'I am eternally grateful to you for avowing that I have won favour inyour sight at last, ' he whispered. 

She acknowledged the remark with a somewhat reserved bearing. 'ReallyI don't deserve your gratitude, ' she said. 'I did not know you werethere. '

'I know you did not--that's why the avowal is so sweet to me. Can I takeyou at your word?'

'Yes, I suppose. '

'Then your preference is the greatest honour that has ever fallen to mylot. It is enough: you accept me?'

'As a lover on probation--no more. '

The conversation being carried on in low tones, Paula's uncle and aunttook it as a hint that their presence could be spared, and severallyleft the room--the former gladly, the latter with some vexation. Charlotte De Stancy followed. 

'And to what am I indebted for this happy change?' inquired De Stancy, as soon as they were alone. 

'You shouldn't look a gift-horse in the mouth, ' she replied brusquely, and with tears in her eyes for one gone. 

'You mistake my motive. I am like a reprieved criminal, and can scarcelybelieve the news. '

'You shouldn't say that to me, or I shall begin to think I have been tookind, ' she answered, some of the archness of her manner returning. 'Now, I know what you mean to say in answer; but I don't want to hear more atpresent; and whatever you do, don't fall into the mistake of supposingI have accepted you in any other sense than the way I say. If you don'tlike such a limitation you can go away. I dare say I shall get over it. '

'Go away! Could I go away?--But you are beginning to tease, and willsoon punish me severely; so I will make my escape while all is well. Itwould be presumptuous to expect more in one day. '

'It would indeed, ' said Paula, with her eyes on a bunch of flowers. 

VI. 

On leaving the hotel, Somerset's first impulse was to get out ofsight of its windows, and his glance upward had perhaps not the tendersignificance that Paula imagined, the last look impelled by any suchwhiff of emotion having been the lingering one he bestowed upon her inpassing out of the room. Unluckily for the prospects of this attachment, Paula's conduct towards him now, as a result of misrepresentation, had enough in common with her previous silence at Nice to make it notunreasonable as a further development of that silence. Moreover, hersocial position as a woman of wealth, always felt by Somerset as aperceptible bar to that full and free eagerness with which he would fainhave approached her, rendered it impossible for him to return to thecharge, ascertain the reason of her coldness, and dispel it by anexplanation, without being suspected of mercenary objects. Continuallydoes it happen that a genial willingness to bottle up affronts isset down to interested motives by those who do not know what generousconduct means. Had she occupied the financial position of Miss DeStancy he would readily have persisted further and, not improbably, havecleared up the cloud. 

Having no further interest in Carlsruhe, Somerset decided to leave by anevening train. The intervening hour he spent in wandering into the thickof the fair, where steam roundabouts, the proprietors of wax-workshows, and fancy-stall keepers maintained a deafening din. Theanimated environment was better than silence, for it fostered in himan artificial indifference to the events that had just happened--anindifference which, though he too well knew it was only destined to betemporary, afforded a passive period wherein to store up strength thatshould enable him to withstand the wear and tear of regrets which wouldsurely set in soon. It was the case with Somerset as with others of histemperament, that he did not feel a blow of this sort immediately; andwhat often seemed like stoicism after misfortune was only the neutralnumbness of transition from palpitating hope to assured wretchedness. 

He walked round and round the fair till all the exhibitors knew him bysight, and when the sun got low he turned into the Erbprinzen-Strasse, now raked from end to end by ensaffroned rays of level light. Seekinghis hotel he dined there, and left by the evening train for Heidelberg. 

Heidelberg with its romantic surroundings was not precisely the placecalculated to heal Somerset's wounded heart. He had known the town ofyore, and his recollections of that period, when, unfettered in fancy, he had transferred to his sketch-book the fine Renaissance details ofthe Otto-Heinrichs-Bau came back with unpleasant force. He knew of somecarved cask-heads and other curious wood-work in the castle cellars, copies of which, being unobtainable by photographs, he had intended tomake if all went well between Paula and himself. The zest for this wasnow well-nigh over. But on awaking in the morning and looking upthe valley towards the castle, and at the dark green height of theKonigsstuhl alongside, he felt that to become vanquished by a passion, driven to suffer, fast, and pray in the dull pains and vapours ofdespised love, was a contingency not to be welcomed too readily. Thereupon he set himself to learn the sad science of renunciation, whicheverybody has to learn in his degree--either rebelling throughout thelesson, or, like Somerset, taking to it kindly by force of judgment. A more obstinate pupil might have altogether escaped the lesson in thepresent case by discovering its illegality. 

Resolving to persevere in the heretofore satisfactory paths of art whilelife and faculties were left, though every instinct must proclaim thatthere would be no longer any collateral attraction in that pursuit, hewent along under the trees of the Anlage and reached the castle vaults, in whose cool shades he spent the afternoon, working out his intentionswith fair result. When he had strolled back to his hotel in the eveningthe time was approaching for the table-d'hote. Having seated himselfrather early, he spent the few minutes of waiting in looking overhis pocket-book, and putting a few finishing touches to the afternoonperformance whilst the objects were fresh in his memory. Thus occupiedhe was but dimly conscious of the customary rustle of dresses andpulling up of chairs by the crowd of other diners as they gatheredaround him. Serving began, and he put away his book and prepared for themeal. He had hardly done this when he became conscious that the personon his left hand was not the typical cosmopolite with boundless hotelknowledge and irrelevant experiences that he was accustomed to find nexthim, but a face he recognized as that of a young man whom he had metand talked to at Stancy Castle garden-party, whose name he had nowforgotten. This young fellow was conversing with somebody on his lefthand--no other personage than Paula herself. Next to Paula he beheldDe Stancy, and De Stancy's sister beyond him. It was one of thosegratuitous encounters which only happen to discarded lovers who haveshown commendable stoicism under disappointment, as if on purpose toreopen and aggravate their wounds. 

It seemed as if the intervening traveller had met the other party byaccident there and then. In a minute he turned and recognized Somerset, and by degrees the young men's cursory remarks to each other developedinto a pretty regular conversation, interrupted only when he turned tospeak to Paula on his left hand. 

'Your architectural adviser travels in your party: how very convenient, 'said the young tourist to her. 'Far pleasanter than having a medicalattendant in one's train!'

Somerset, who had no distractions on the other side of him, couldhear every word of this. He glanced at Paula. She had not known of hispresence in the room till now. Their eyes met for a second, and shebowed sedately. Somerset returned her bow, and her eyes were quicklywithdrawn with scarcely visible confusion. 

'Mr. Somerset is not travelling with us, ' she said. 'We have met byaccident. Mr. Somerset came to me on business a little while ago. '

'I must congratulate you on having put the castle into good hands, 'continued the enthusiastic young man. 

'I believe Mr. Somerset is quite competent, ' said Paula stiffly. 

To include Somerset in the conversation the young man turned to him andadded: 'You carry on your work at the castle con amore, no doubt?'

'There is work I should like better, ' said Somerset. 

'Indeed?'

The frigidity of his manner seemed to set her at ease by dispersing allfear of a scene; and alternate dialogues of this sort with the gentlemanin their midst were more or less continued by both Paula and Somersettill they rose from table. 

In the bustle of moving out the two latter for one moment stood side byside. 

'Miss Power, ' said Somerset, in a low voice that was obscured by therustle, 'you have nothing more to say to me?'

'I think there is nothing more?' said Paula, lifting her eyes withlonging reticence. 

'Then I take leave of you; and tender my best wishes that you may have apleasant time before you!. .. . I set out for England to-night. '

'With a special photographer, no doubt?'

It was the first time that she had addressed Somerset with a meaningdistinctly bitter; and her remark, which had reference to the forgedphotograph, fell of course without its intended effect. 

'No, Miss Power, ' said Somerset gravely. 'But with a deeper sense ofwoman's thoughtless trifling than time will ever eradicate. '

'Is not that a mistake?' she asked in a voice that distinctly trembled. 

'A mistake? How?'

'I mean, do you not forget many things?' (throwing on him a troubledglance). 'A woman may feel herself justified in her conduct, although itadmits of no explanation. '

'I don't contest the point for a moment. .. . Goodbye. '

'Good-bye. '

They parted amid the flowering shrubs and caged birds in the hall, and he saw her no more. De Stancy came up, and spoke a few commonplacewords, his sister having gone out, either without perceiving Somerset, or with intention to avoid him. 

That night, as he had said, he was on his way to England. 

VII. 

The De Stancys and Powers remained in Heidelberg for some days. Allremarked that after Somerset's departure Paula was frequently irritable, though at other times as serene as ever. Yet even when in a blithe andsaucy mood there was at bottom a tinge of melancholy. Something did notlie easy in her undemonstrative heart, and all her friends excused theinequalities of a humour whose source, though not positively known, could be fairly well guessed. 

De Stancy had long since discovered that his chance lay chiefly inher recently acquired and fanciful predilection d'artiste for hoarymediaeval families with ancestors in alabaster and primogenitive renown. Seeing this he dwelt on those topics which brought out that aspect ofhimself more clearly, talking feudalism and chivalry with a zest thathe had never hitherto shown. Yet it was not altogether factitious. For, discovering how much this quondam Puritan was interested in theattributes of long-chronicled houses, a reflected interest in himselfarose in his own soul, and he began to wonder why he had not prizedthese things before. Till now disgusted by the failure of his family tohold its own in the turmoil between ancient and modern, he had grown toundervalue its past prestige; and it was with corrective ardour that headopted while he ministered to her views. 

Henceforward the wooing of De Stancy took the form of an intermittentaddress, the incidents of their travel furnishing pegs whereon to hanghis subject; sometimes hindering it, but seldom failing to produce inher a greater tolerance of his presence. His next opportunity was theday after Somerset's departure from Heidelberg. They stood on the greatterrace of the Schloss-Garten, looking across the intervening ravineto the north-east front of the castle which rose before them in all itscustomary warm tints and battered magnificence. 

'This is a spot, if any, which should bring matters to a crisis betweenyou and me, ' he asserted good-humouredly. 'But you have been so silentto-day that I lose the spirit to take advantage of my privilege. '

She inquired what privilege he spoke of, as if quite another subject hadbeen in her mind than De Stancy. 

'The privilege of winning your heart if I can, which you gave me atCarlsruhe. '

'O, ' she said. 'Well, I've been thinking of that. But I do not feelmyself absolutely bound by the statement I made in that room; and Ishall expect, if I withdraw it, not to be called to account by you. '

De Stancy looked rather blank. 

'If you recede from your promise you will doubtless have good reason. But I must solemnly beg you, after raising my hopes, to keep as near asyou can to your word, so as not to throw me into utter despair. '

Paula dropped her glance into the Thier-Garten below them, where gaypromenaders were clambering up between the bushes and flowers. At lengthshe said, with evident embarrassment, but with much distinctness: 'Ideserve much more blame for what I have done than you can express to me. I will confess to you the whole truth. All that I told you in the hotelat Carlsruhe was said in a moment of pique at what had happened justbefore you came in. It was supposed I was much involved with anotherman, and circumstances made the supposition particularly objectionable. To escape it I jumped at the alternative of yourself. '

'That's bad for me!' he murmured. 

'If after this avowal you bind me to my words I shall say no more: I donot wish to recede from them without your full permission. '

'What a caprice! But I release you unconditionally, ' he said. 'And I begyour pardon if I seemed to show too much assurance. Please put it downto my gratified excitement. I entirely acquiesce in your wish. I will goaway to whatever place you please, and not come near you but by your ownpermission, and till you are quite satisfied that my presence and whatit may lead to is not undesirable. I entirely give way before you, andwill endeavour to make my future devotedness, if ever we meet again, anew ground for expecting your favour. '

Paula seemed struck by the generous and cheerful fairness of hisremarks, and said gently, 'Perhaps your departure is not absolutelynecessary for my happiness; and I do not wish from what you callcaprice--'

'I retract that word. '

'Well, whatever it is, I don't wish you to do anything which shouldcause you real pain, or trouble, or humiliation. '

'That's very good of you. '

'But I reserve to myself the right to accept or refuse youraddresses--just as if those rash words of mine had never been spoken. '

'I must bear it all as best I can, I suppose, ' said De Stancy, withmelancholy humorousness. 

'And I shall treat you as your behaviour shall seem to deserve, ' shesaid playfully. 

'Then I may stay?'

'Yes; I am willing to give you that pleasure, if it is one, in returnfor the attentions you have shown, and the trouble you have taken tomake my journey pleasant. '

She walked on and discovered Mrs. Goodman near, and presently the wholeparty met together. De Stancy did not find himself again at her sidetill later in the afternoon, when they had left the immediate precinctsof the castle and decided on a drive to the Konigsstuhl. 

The carriage, containing only Mrs. Goodman, was driven a short way upthe winding incline, Paula, her uncle, and Miss De Stancy walking behindunder the shadow of the trees. Then Mrs. Goodman called to them andasked when they were going to join her. 

'We are going to walk up, ' said Mr. Power. 

Paula seemed seized with a spirit of boisterousness quite unlike herusual behaviour. 'My aunt may drive up, and you may walk up; but Ishall run up, ' she said. 'See, here's a way. ' She tripped towards a paththrough the bushes which, instead of winding like the regular track, made straight for the summit. 

Paula had not the remotest conception of the actual distance to the top, imagining it to be but a couple of hundred yards at the outside, whereasit was really nearer a mile, the ascent being uniformly steep all theway. When her uncle and De Stancy had seen her vanish they stoodstill, the former evidently reluctant to forsake the easy ascent for adifficult one, though he said, 'We can't let her go alone that way, Isuppose. '

'No, of course not, ' said De Stancy. 

They then followed in the direction taken by Paula, Charlotte enteringthe carriage. When Power and De Stancy had ascended about fifty yardsthe former looked back, and dropped off from the pursuit, to return tothe easy route, giving his companion a parting hint concerning Paula. Whereupon De Stancy went on alone. He soon saw Paula above him in thepath, which ascended skyward straight as Jacob's Ladder, but was sooverhung by the brushwood as to be quite shut out from the sun. When hereached her side she was moving easily upward, apparently enjoying theseclusion which the place afforded. 

'Is not my uncle with you?' she said, on turning and seeing him. 

'He went back, ' said De Stancy. 

She replied that it was of no consequence; that she should meet him atthe top, she supposed. 

Paula looked up amid the green light which filtered through the leafageas far as her eyes could stretch. But the top did not appear, and sheallowed De Stancy to get in front. 'It did not seem such a long way asthis, to look at, ' she presently said. 

He explained that the trees had deceived her as to the real height, byreason of her seeing the slope foreshortened when she looked up from thecastle. 'Allow me to help you, ' he added. 

'No, thank you, ' said Paula lightly; 'we must be near the top. '

They went on again; but no Konigsstuhl. When next De Stancy turned hefound that she was sitting down; immediately going back he offered hisarm. She took it in silence, declaring that it was no wonder her uncledid not come that wearisome way, if he had ever been there before. 

De Stancy did not explain that Mr. Power had said to him at parting, 'There's a chance for you, if you want one, ' but at once went on withthe subject begun on the terrace. 'If my behaviour is good, you willreaffirm the statement made at Carlsruhe?'

'It is not fair to begin that now!' expostulated Paula; 'I can onlythink of getting to the top. '

Her colour deepening by the exertion, he suggested that she should sitdown again on one of the mossy boulders by the wayside. Nothing loth shedid, De Stancy standing by, and with his cane scratching the moss fromthe stone. 

'This is rather awkward, ' said Paula, in her usual circumspect way. 'Myrelatives and your sister will be sure to suspect me of having arrangedthis scramble with you. '

'But I know better, ' sighed De Stancy. 'I wish to Heaven you hadarranged it!'

She was not at the top, but she took advantage of the halt to answer hisprevious question. 'There are many points on which I must be satisfiedbefore I can reaffirm anything. Do you not see that you are mistakenin clinging to this idea?--that you are laying up mortification anddisappointment for yourself?'

'A negative reply from you would be disappointment, early or late. '

'And you prefer having it late to accepting it now? If I were a man, Ishould like to abandon a false scent as soon as possible. '

'I suppose all that has but one meaning: that I am to go. '

'O no, ' she magnanimously assured him, bounding up from her seat; 'Iadhere to my statement that you may stay; though it is true somethingmay possibly happen to make me alter my mind. '

He again offered his arm, and from sheer necessity she leant upon it asbefore. 

'Grant me but a moment's patience, ' he began. 

'Captain De Stancy! Is this fair? I am physically obliged to hold yourarm, so that I MUST listen to what you say!'

'No, it is not fair; 'pon my soul it is not!' said De Stancy. 'I won'tsay another word. '

He did not; and they clambered on through the boughs, nothing disturbingthe solitude but the rustle of their own footsteps and the singing ofbirds overhead. They occasionally got a peep at the sky; and whenever atwig hung out in a position to strike Paula's face the gallant captainbent it aside with his stick. But she did not thank him. Perhaps he wasjust as well satisfied as if she had done so. 

Paula, panting, broke the silence: 'Will you go on, and discover if thetop is near?'

He went on. This time the top was near. When he returned she was sittingwhere he had left her among the leaves. 'It is quite near now, ' he toldher tenderly, and she took his arm again without a word. Soon the pathchanged its nature from a steep and rugged watercourse to a level greenpromenade. 

'Thank you, Captain De Stancy, ' she said, letting go his arm as ifrelieved. 

Before them rose the tower, and at the base they beheld two of theirfriends, Mr. Power being seen above, looking over the parapet throughhis glass. 

'You will go to the top now?' said De Stancy. 

'No, I take no interest in it. My interest has turned to fatigue. I onlywant to go home. '

He took her on to where the carriage stood at the foot of the tower, and leaving her with his sister ascended the turret to the top. Thelandscape had quite changed from its afternoon appearance, and hadbecome rather marvellous than beautiful. The air was charged with alurid exhalation that blurred the extensive view. He could see thedistant Rhine at its junction with the Neckar, shining like a threadof blood through the mist which was gradually wrapping up the decliningsun. The scene had in it something that was more than melancholy, and not much less than tragic; but for De Stancy such evening effectspossessed little meaning. He was engaged in an enterprise that taxed allhis resources, and had no sentiments to spare for air, earth, or skies. 

'Remarkable scene, ' said Power, mildly, at his elbow. 

'Yes; I dare say it is, ' said De Stancy. 'Time has been when I shouldhave held forth upon such a prospect, and wondered if its livid coloursshadowed out my own life, et caetera, et caetera. But, begad, I havealmost forgotten there's such a thing as Nature, and I care for nothingbut a comfortable life, and a certain woman who does not care for me!. .. Now shall we go down?'

VIII. 

It was quite true that De Stancy at the present period of his existencewished only to escape from the hurly-burly of active life, and to winthe affection of Paula Power. There were, however, occasions when arecollection of his old renunciatory vows would obtrude itself upon him, and tinge his present with wayward bitterness. So much was this the casethat a day or two after they had arrived at Mainz he could not refrainfrom making remarks almost prejudicial to his cause, saying to her, 'Iam unfortunate in my situation. There are, unhappily, worldly reasonswhy I should pretend to love you, even if I do not: they are so strongthat, though really loving you, perhaps they enter into my thoughts ofyou. '

'I don't want to know what such reasons are, ' said Paula, withpromptness, for it required but little astuteness to discover that healluded to the alienated Wessex home and estates. 'You lack tone, ' shegently added: 'that's why the situation of affairs seems distasteful toyou. '

'Yes, I suppose I am ill. And yet I am well enough. '

These remarks passed under a tree in the public gardens during an oddminute of waiting for Charlotte and Mrs. Goodman; and he said no more toher in private that day. Few as her words had been he liked them betterthan any he had lately received. The conversation was not resumed tillthey were gliding 'between the banks that bear the vine, ' on board oneof the Rhine steamboats, which, like the hotels in this early summertime, were comparatively free from other English travellers; so thateverywhere Paula and her party were received with open arms and cheerfulcountenances, as among the first swallows of the season. 

The saloon of the steamboat was quite empty, the few passengers beingoutside; and this paucity of voyagers afforded De Stancy a roomyopportunity. 

Paula saw him approach her, and there appearing in his face signs thathe would begin again on the eternal subject, she seemed to be struckwith a sense of the ludicrous. 

De Stancy reddened. 'Something seems to amuse you, ' he said. 

'It is over, ' she replied, becoming serious. 

'Was it about me, and this unhappy fever in me?'

'If I speak the truth I must say it was. '

'You thought, "Here's that absurd man again, going to begin his dailysupplication. "'

'Not "absurd, "' she said, with emphasis; 'because I don't think it isabsurd. '

She continued looking through the windows at the Lurlei Heights underwhich they were now passing, and he remained with his eyes on her. 

'May I stay here with you?' he said at last. 'I have not had a word withyou alone for four-and-twenty hours. '

'You must be cheerful, then. '

'You have said such as that before. I wish you would say "loving"instead of "cheerful. "'

'Yes, I know, I know, ' she responded, with impatient perplexity. 'Butwhy must you think of me--me only? Is there no other woman in the worldwho has the power to make you happy? I am sure there must be. '

'Perhaps there is; but I have never seen her. '

'Then look for her; and believe me when I say that you will certainlyfind her. '

He shook his head. 

'Captain De Stancy, I have long felt for you, ' she continued, with afrank glance into his face. 'You have deprived yourself too long ofother women's company. Why not go away for a little time? and whenyou have found somebody else likely to make you happy, you can meet meagain. I will see you at your father's house, and we will enjoy all thepleasure of easy friendship. '

'Very correct; and very cold, O best of women!'

'You are too full of exclamations and transports, I think!'

They stood in silence, Paula apparently much interested in themanoeuvring of a raft which was passing by. 'Dear Miss Power, ' heresumed, 'before I go and join your uncle above, let me just ask, Do Istand any chance at all yet? Is it possible you can never be more pliantthan you have been?'

'You put me out of all patience!'

'But why did you raise my hopes? You should at least pity me after doingthat. '

'Yes; it's that again! I unfortunately raised your hopes because I wasa fool--was not myself that moment. Now question me no more. As it is Ithink you presume too much upon my becoming yours as the consequence ofmy having dismissed another. '

'Not on becoming mine, but on listening to me. '

'Your argument would be reasonable enough had I led you to believe Iwould listen to you--and ultimately accept you; but that I have notdone. I see now that a woman who gives a man an answer one shade lessperemptory than a harsh negative may be carried beyond her intentions, and out of her own power before she knows it. '

'Chide me if you will; I don't care!'

She looked steadfastly at him with a little mischief in her eyes. 'YouDO care, ' she said. 

'Then why don't you listen to me? I would not persevere for a momentlonger if it were against the wishes of your family. Your uncle says itwould give him pleasure to see you accept me. '

'Does he say why?' she asked thoughtfully. 

'Yes; he takes, of course, a practical view of the matter; he thinks itcommends itself so to reason and common sense that the owner of StancyCastle should become a member of the De Stancy family. '

'Yes, that's the horrid plague of it, ' she said, with a nonchalancewhich seemed to contradict her words. 'It is so dreadfully reasonablethat we should marry. I wish it wasn't!'

'Well, you are younger than I, and perhaps that's a natural wish. But tome it seems a felicitous combination not often met with. I confess thatyour interest in our family before you knew me lent a stability to myhopes that otherwise they would not have had. '

'My interest in the De Stancys has not been a personal interest exceptin the case of your sister, ' she returned. 'It has been an historicalinterest only; and is not at all increased by your existence. '

'And perhaps it is not diminished?'

'No, I am not aware that it is diminished, ' she murmured, as sheobserved the gliding shore. 

'Well, you will allow me to say this, since I say it without referenceto your personality or to mine--that the Power and De Stancy familiesare the complements to each other; and that, abstractedly, they callearnestly to one another: "How neat and fit a thing for us to joinhands!"'

Paula, who was not prudish when a direct appeal was made to her commonsense, answered with ready candour: 'Yes, from the point of view ofdomestic politics, that undoubtedly is the case. But I hope I am not socalculating as to risk happiness in order to round off a social idea. '

'I hope not; or that I am either. Still the social idea exists, and myincreased years make its excellence more obvious to me than to you. '

The ice once broken on this aspect of the question, the subject seemedfurther to engross her, and she spoke on as if daringly inclined toventure where she had never anticipated going, deriving pleasure fromthe very strangeness of her temerity: 'You mean that in the fitness ofthings I ought to become a De Stancy to strengthen my social position?'

'And that I ought to strengthen mine by alliance with the heiress of aname so dear to engineering science as Power. '

'Well, we are talking with unexpected frankness. '

'But you are not seriously displeased with me for saying what, afterall, one can't help feeling and thinking?'

'No. Only be so good as to leave off going further for the present. Indeed, of the two, I would rather have the other sort of address. Imean, ' she hastily added, 'that what you urge as the result of a realaffection, however unsuitable, I have some remote satisfaction inlistening to--not the least from any reciprocal love on my side, butfrom a woman's gratification at being the object of anybody's devotion;for that feeling towards her is always regarded as a merit in a woman'seye, and taken as a kindness by her, even when it is at the expense ofher convenience. '

She had said, voluntarily or involuntarily, better things than heexpected, and perhaps too much in her own opinion, for she hardly gavehim an opportunity of replying. 

They passed St. Goar and Boppard, and when steering round the sharpbend of the river just beyond the latter place De Stancy met her again, exclaiming, 'You left me very suddenly. '

'You must make allowances, please, ' she said; 'I have always stood inneed of them. '

'Then you shall always have them. '

'I don't doubt it, ' she said quickly; but Paula was not to be caughtagain, and kept close to the side of her aunt while they glided pastBrauback and Oberlahnstein. Approaching Coblenz her aunt said, 'Paula, let me suggest that you be not so much alone with Captain De Stancy. '

'And why?' said Paula quietly. 

'You'll have plenty of offers if you want them, without taking trouble, 'said the direct Mrs. Goodman. 'Your existence is hardly known to theworld yet, and Captain De Stancy is too near middle-age for a girl likeyou. ' Paula did not reply to either of these remarks, being seemingly sointerested in Ehrenbreitstein's heights as not to hear them. 

IX. 

It was midnight at Coblenz, and the travellers had retired to rest intheir respective apartments, overlooking the river. Finding that therewas a moon shining, Paula leant out of her window. The tall rock ofEhrenbreitstein on the opposite shore was flooded with light, and abelated steamer was drawing up to the landing-stage, where it presentlydeposited its passengers. 

'We should have come by the last boat, so as to have been touched intoromance by the rays of this moon, like those happy people, ' said avoice. 

She looked towards the spot whence the voice proceeded, which was awindow quite near at hand. De Stancy was smoking outside it, and shebecame aware that the words were addressed to her. 

'You left me very abruptly, ' he continued. 

Paula's instinct of caution impelled her to speak. 

'The windows are all open, ' she murmured. 'Please be careful. '

'There are no English in this hotel except ourselves. I thank you forwhat you said to-day. '

'Please be careful, ' she repeated. 

'My dear Miss P----'

'Don't mention names, and don't continue the subject!'

'Life and death perhaps depend upon my renewing it soon!'

She shut the window decisively, possibly wondering if De Stancy haddrunk a glass or two of Steinberg more than was good for him, and sawno more of moonlit Ehrenbreitstein that night, and heard no more of DeStancy. But it was some time before he closed his window, and previousto doing so saw a dark form at an adjoining one on the other side. 

It was Mr. Power, also taking the air. 'Well, what luck to-day?' saidPower. 

'A decided advance, ' said De Stancy. 

None of the speakers knew that a little person in the room above heardall this out-of-window talk. Charlotte, though not looking out, had lefther casement open; and what reached her ears set her wondering as to theresult. 

It is not necessary to detail in full De Stancy's imperceptible advanceswith Paula during that northward journey--so slowly performed that itseemed as if she must perceive there was a special reason for delayingher return to England. At Cologne one day he conveniently overtook herwhen she was ascending the hotel staircase. Seeing him, she went to thewindow of the entresol landing, which commanded a view of the Rhine, meaning that he should pass by to his room. 

'I have been very uneasy, ' began the captain, drawing up to her side;'and I am obliged to trouble you sooner than I meant to do. '

Paula turned her eyes upon him with some curiosity as to what was comingof this respectful demeanour. 'Indeed!' she said. 

He then informed her that he had been overhauling himself since theylast talked, and had some reason to blame himself for bluntness andgeneral want of euphemism; which, although he had meant nothing by it, must have been very disagreeable to her. But he had always aimed atsincerity, particularly as he had to deal with a lady who despisedhypocrisy and was above flattery. However, he feared he might havecarried his disregard for conventionality too far. But from that timehe would promise that she should find an alteration by which he hopedhe might return the friendship at least of a young lady he honoured morethan any other in the world. 

This retrograde movement was evidently unexpected by the honoured younglady herself. After being so long accustomed to rebuke him for hispersistence there was novelty in finding him do the work for her. Theguess might even have been hazarded that there was also disappointment. 

Still looking across the river at the bridge of boats which stretched tothe opposite suburb of Deutz: 'You need not blame yourself, ' she said, with the mildest conceivable manner, 'I can make allowances. All I wishis that you should remain under no misapprehension. '

'I comprehend, ' he said thoughtfully. 'But since, by a perverse fate, Ihave been thrown into your company, you could hardly expect me to feeland act otherwise. '

'Perhaps not. '

'Since I have so much reason to be dissatisfied with myself, ' he added, 'I cannot refrain from criticizing elsewhere to a slight extent, andthinking I have to do with an ungenerous person. '

'Why ungenerous?'

'In this way; that since you cannot love me, you see no reason at allfor trying to do so in the fact that I so deeply love you; hence I saythat you are rather to be distinguished by your wisdom than by yourhumanity. '

'It comes to this, that if your words are all seriously meant it is muchto be regretted we ever met, ' she murmured. 'Now will you go on to whereyou were going, and leave me here?'

Without a remonstrance he went on, saying with dejected whimsicality ashe smiled back upon her, 'You show a wisdom which for so young a lady isperfectly surprising. '

It was resolved to prolong the journey by a circuit through Holland andBelgium; but nothing changed in the attitudes of Paula and Captain DeStancy till one afternoon during their stay at the Hague, when they hadgone for a drive down to Scheveningen by the long straight avenue ofchestnuts and limes, under whose boughs tufts of wild parsley wavedtheir flowers, except where the buitenplaatsen of retired merchantsblazed forth with new paint of every hue. On mounting the dune whichkept out the sea behind the village a brisk breeze greeted their faces, and a fine sand blew up into their eyes. De Stancy screened Paula withhis umbrella as they stood with their backs to the wind, looking downon the red roofs of the village within the sea wall, and pulling at thelong grass which by some means found nourishment in the powdery soil ofthe dune. 

When they had discussed the scene he continued, 'It always seems to methat this place reflects the average mood of human life. I mean, if westrike the balance between our best moods and our worst we shall findour average condition to stand at about the same pitch in emotionalcolour as these sandy dunes and this grey scene do in landscape. '

Paula contended that he ought not to measure everybody by himself. 

'I have no other standard, ' said De Stancy; 'and if my own is wrong, itis you who have made it so. Have you thought any more of what I said atCologne?'

'I don't quite remember what you did say at Cologne?'

'My dearest life!' Paula's eyes rounding somewhat, he corrected theexclamation. 'My dear Miss Power, I will, without reserve, tell it toyou all over again. '

'Pray spare yourself the effort, ' she said drily. 'What has that onefatal step betrayed me into!. .. Do you seriously mean to say that I amthe cause of your life being coloured like this scene of grass and sand?If so, I have committed a very great fault!'

'It can be nullified by a word. '

'Such a word!'

'It is a very short one. '

'There's a still shorter one more to the purpose. Frankly, I believe yoususpect me to have some latent and unowned inclination for you--that youthink speaking is the only point upon which I am backward. .. . There now, it is raining; what shall we do? I thought this wind meant rain. '

'Do? Stand on here, as we are standing now. '

'Your sister and my aunt are gone under the wall. I think we will walktowards them. '

'You had made me hope, ' he continued (his thoughts apparently far awayfrom the rain and the wind and the possibility of shelter), 'that youmight change your mind, and give to your original promise a liberalmeaning in renewing it. In brief I mean this, that you would allow it tomerge into an engagement. Don't think it presumptuous, ' he went on, ashe held the umbrella over her; 'I am sure any man would speak as I do. Adistinct permission to be with you on probation--that was what you gaveme at Carlsruhe: and flinging casuistry on one side, what does thatmean?'

'That I am artistically interested in your family history. ' And she wentout from the umbrella to the shelter of the hotel where she found heraunt and friend. 

De Stancy could not but feel that his persistence had made someimpression. It was hardly possible that a woman of independent naturewould have tolerated his dangling at her side so long, if his presencewere wholly distasteful to her. That evening when driving back to theHague by a devious route through the dense avenues of the Bosch heconversed with her again; also the next day when standing by the Vijverlooking at the swans; and in each case she seemed to have at leastgot over her objection to being seen talking to him, apart from theremainder of the travelling party. 

Scenes very similar to those at Scheveningen and on the Rhine wereenacted at later stages of their desultory journey. Mr. Power hadproposed to cross from Rotterdam; but a stiff north-westerly breezeprevailing Paula herself became reluctant to hasten back to StancyCastle. Turning abruptly they made for Brussels. 

It was here, while walking homeward from the Park one morning, that heruncle for the first time alluded to the situation of affairs betweenherself and her admirer. The captain had gone up the Rue Royale with hissister and Mrs. Goodman, either to show them the house in which the balltook place on the eve of Quatre Bras or some other site of interest, andthe two Powers were thus left to themselves. To reach their hotel theypassed into a little street sloping steeply down from the Rue Royale tothe Place Ste. Gudule, where, at the moment of nearing the cathedral, awedding party emerged from the porch and crossed in front of uncle andniece. 

'I hope, ' said the former, in his passionless way, 'we shall see aperformance of this sort between you and Captain De Stancy, not so verylong after our return to England. '

'Why?' asked Paula, following the bride with her eyes. 

'It is diplomatically, as I may say, such a highly correct thing--suchan expedient thing--such an obvious thing to all eyes. '

'Not altogether to mine, uncle, ' she returned. 

''Twould be a thousand pities to let slip such a neat offer of adjustingdifficulties as accident makes you in this. You could marry more tin, that's true; but you don't want it, Paula. You want a name, and historicwhat-do-they-call-it. Now by coming to terms with the captain you'll beLady De Stancy in a few years: and a title which is useless to him, anda fortune and castle which are in some degree useless to you, will makea splendid whole useful to you both. '

'I've thought it over--quite, ' she answered. 'And I quite see whatthe advantages are. But how if I don't care one atom for artisticcompleteness and a splendid whole; and do care very much to do what myfancy inclines me to do?'

'Then I should say that, taking a comprehensive view of human natureof all colours, your fancy is about the silliest fancy existing on thisearthly ball. '

Paula laughed indifferently, and her uncle felt that, persistent as washis nature, he was the wrong man to influence her by argument. Paula'sblindness to the advantages of the match, if she were blind, was that ofa woman who wouldn't see, and the best argument was silence. 

This was in some measure proved the next morning. When Paula made herappearance Mrs. Goodman said, holding up an envelope: 'Here's a letterfrom Mr. Somerset. '

'Dear me, ' said she blandly, though a quick little flush ascended hercheek. 'I had nearly forgotten him!'

The letter on being read contained a request as brief as it wasunexpected. Having prepared all the drawings necessary for therebuilding, Somerset begged leave to resign the superintendence of thework into other hands. 

'His letter caps your remarks very aptly, ' said Mrs. Goodman, withsecret triumph. 'You are nearly forgetting him, and he is quiteforgetting you. '

'Yes, ' said Paula, affecting carelessness. 'Well, I must get somebodyelse, I suppose. '

X. 

They next deviated to Amiens, intending to stay there only one night;but their schemes were deranged by the sudden illness of Charlotte. Shehad been looking unwell for a fortnight past, though, with her usualself-abnegation, she had made light of her ailment. Even now shedeclared she could go on; but this was said over-night, and inthe morning it was abundantly evident that to move her was highlyunadvisable. Still she was not in serious danger, and having called in aphysician, who pronounced rest indispensable, they prepared to remain inthe old Picard capital two or three additional days. Mr. Power thoughthe would take advantage of the halt to run up to Paris, leaving DeStancy in charge of the ladies. 

In more ways than in the illness of Charlotte this day was the harbingerof a crisis. 

It was a summer evening without a cloud. Charlotte had fallen asleepin her bed, and Paula, who had been sitting by her, looked out into thePlace St. Denis, which the hotel commanded. The lawn of the square wasall ablaze with red and yellow clumps of flowers, the acacia trees werebrightly green, the sun was soft and low. Tempted by the prospect Paulawent and put on her hat; and arousing her aunt, who was nodding in thenext room, to request her to keep an ear on Charlotte's bedroom, Pauladescended into the Rue de Noyon alone, and entered the green enclosure. 

While she walked round, two or three little children in charge of anurse trundled a large variegated ball along the grass, and it rolledto Paula's feet. She smiled at them, and endeavoured to return it by aslight kick. The ball rose in the air, and passing over the back ofa seat which stood under one of the trees, alighted in the lap of agentleman hitherto screened by its boughs. The back and shoulders provedto be those of De Stancy. He turned his head, jumped up, and was at herside in an instant, a nettled flush having meanwhile crossed Paula'sface. 

'I thought you had gone to the Hotoie Promenade, ' she said hastily. 'Iam going to the cathedral;' (obviously uttered lest it should seem thatshe had seen him from the hotel windows, and entered the square for hiscompany). 

'Of course: there is nothing else to go to here--even for Roundheads. '

'If you mean ME by that, you are very much mistaken, ' said she testily. 

'The Roundheads were your ancestors, and they knocked down my ancestors'castle, and broke the stained glass and statuary of the cathedral, 'said De Stancy slily; 'and now you go not only to a cathedral, but to aservice of the unreformed Church in it. '

'In a foreign country it is different from home, ' said Paulain extenuation; 'and you of all men should not reproach me fortergiversation--when it has been brought about by--by my sympathieswith--'

'With the troubles of the De Stancys. '

'Well, you know what I mean, ' she answered, with considerable anxietynot to be misunderstood; 'my liking for the old castle, and what itcontains, and what it suggests. I declare I will not explain to youfurther--why should I? I am not answerable to you!'

Paula's show of petulance was perhaps not wholly because she hadappeared to seek him, but also from being reminded by his criticism thatMr. Woodwell's prophecy on her weakly succumbing to surroundings wasslowly working out its fulfilment. 

She moved forward towards the gate at the further end of the square, beyond which the cathedral lay at a very short distance. Paula did notturn her head, and De Stancy strolled slowly after her down the Rue duCollege. The day happened to be one of the church festivals, and peoplewere a second time flocking into the lofty monument of Catholicism atits meridian. Paula vanished into the porch with the rest; and, almostcatching the wicket as it flew back from her hand, he too enteredthe high-shouldered edifice--an edifice doomed to labour under themelancholy misfortune of seeming only half as vast as it really is, andas truly as whimsically described by Heine as a monument built with thestrength of Titans, and decorated with the patience of dwarfs. 

De Stancy walked up the nave, so close beside her as to touch her dress;but she would not recognize his presence; the darkness that evening hadthrown over the interior, which was scarcely broken by the few candlesdotted about, being a sufficient excuse if she required one. 

'Miss Power, ' De Stancy said at last, 'I am coming to the service withyou. '

She received the intelligence without surprise, and he knew she had beenconscious of him all the way. 

Paula went no further than the middle of the nave, where there washardly a soul, and took a chair beside a solitary rushlight which lookedamid the vague gloom of the inaccessible architecture like a lighthouseat the foot of tall cliffs. 

He put his hand on the next chair, saying, 'Do you object?'

'Not at all, ' she replied; and he sat down. 

'Suppose we go into the choir, ' said De Stancy presently. 'Nobody sitsout here in the shadows. '

'This is sufficiently near, and we have a candle, ' Paula murmured. 

Before another minute had passed the candle flame began to drown in itsown grease, slowly dwindled, and went out. 

'I suppose that means I am to go into the choir in spite of myself. Heaven is on your side, ' said Paula. And rising they left their nowtotally dark corner, and joined the noiseless shadowy figures who intwos and threes kept passing up the nave. 

Within the choir there was a blaze of light, partly from the altar, andmore particularly from the image of the saint whom they had assembledto honour, which stood, surrounded by candles and a thicket of floweringplants, some way in advance of the foot-pace. A secondary radiance fromthe same source was reflected upward into their faces by the polishedmarble pavement, except when interrupted by the shady forms of theofficiating priests. 

When it was over and the people were moving off, De Stancy and hiscompanion went towards the saint, now besieged by numbers of womenanxious to claim the respective flower-pots they had lent for thedecoration. As each struggled for her own, seized and marched off withit, Paula remarked--'This rather spoils the solemn effect of what hasgone before. '

'I perceive you are a harsh Puritan. '

'No, Captain De Stancy! Why will you speak so? I am far too muchotherwise. I have grown to be so much of your way of thinking, thatI accuse myself, and am accused by others, of being worldly, andhalf-and-half, and other dreadful things--though it isn't that at all. '

They were now walking down the nave, preceded by the sombre figures withthe pot flowers, who were just visible in the rays that reached themthrough the distant choir screen at their back; while above the greynight sky and stars looked in upon them through the high clerestorywindows. 

'Do be a little MORE of my way of thinking!' rejoined De Stancypassionately. 

'Don't, don't speak, ' she said rapidly. 'There are Milly and Champreau!'

Milly was one of the maids, and Champreau the courier and valet who hadbeen engaged by Abner Power. They had been sitting behind the other pairthroughout the service, and indeed knew rather more of the relationsbetween Paula and De Stancy than Paula knew herself. 

Hastening on the two latter went out, and walked together silently upthe short street. The Place St. Denis was now lit up, lights shonefrom the hotel windows, and the world without the cathedral had so faradvanced in nocturnal change that it seemed as if they had been gonefrom it for hours. Within the hotel they found the change even greaterthan without. Mrs. Goodman met them half-way on the stairs. 

'Poor Charlotte is worse, ' she said. 'Quite feverish, and almostdelirious. '

Paula reproached herself with 'Why did I go away!'

The common interest of De Stancy and Paula in the sufferer at oncereproduced an ease between them as nothing else could have done. Thephysician was again called in, who prescribed certain draughts, andrecommended that some one should sit up with her that night. If Paulaallowed demonstrations of love to escape her towards anybody itwas towards Charlotte, and her instinct was at once to watch by theinvalid's couch herself, at least for some hours, it being deemedunnecessary to call in a regular nurse unless she should sicken further. 

'But I will sit with her, ' said De Stancy. 'Surely you had better go tobed?' Paula would not be persuaded; and thereupon De Stancy, saying hewas going into the town for a short time before retiring, left the room. 

The last omnibus returned from the last train, and the inmates of thehotel retired to rest. Meanwhile a telegram had arrived for Captain DeStancy; but as he had not yet returned it was put in his bedroom, withdirections to the night-porter to remind him of its arrival. 

Paula sat on with the sleeping Charlotte. Presently she retired into theadjacent sitting-room with a book, and flung herself on a couch, leavingthe door open between her and her charge, in case the latter shouldawake. While she sat a new breathing seemed to mingle with the regularsound of Charlotte's that reached her through the doorway: she turnedquickly, and saw her uncle standing behind her. 

'O--I thought you were in Paris!' said Paula. 

'I have just come from there--I could not stay. Something has occurredto my mind about this affair. ' His strangely marked visage, now morenoticeable from being worn with fatigue, had a spectral effect by thenight-light. 

'What affair?'

'This marriage. .. . Paula, De Stancy is a good fellow enough, but youmust not accept him just yet. '

Paula did not answer. 

'Do you hear? You must not accept him, ' repeated her uncle, 'till I havebeen to England and examined into matters. I start in an hour's time--bythe ten-minutes-past-two train. '

'This is something very new!'

'Yes--'tis new, ' he murmured, relapsing into his Dutch manner. 'You mustnot accept him till something is made clear to me--something about aqueer relationship. I have come from Paris to say so. '

'Uncle, I don't understand this. I am my own mistress in all matters, and though I don't mind telling you I have by no means resolved toaccept him, the question of her marriage is especially a woman's ownaffair. '

Her uncle stood irresolute for a moment, as if his convictions weremore than his proofs. 'I say no more at present, ' he murmured. 'Can I doanything for you about a new architect?'

'Appoint Havill. '

'Very well. Good night. ' And then he left her. In a short time she heardhim go down and out of the house to cross to England by the morningsteamboat. 

With a little shrug, as if she resented his interference in so delicatea point, she settled herself down anew to her book. 

One, two, three hours passed, when Charlotte awoke, but soon slumberedsweetly again. Milly had stayed up for some time lest her mistressshould require anything; but the girl being sleepy Paula sent her tobed. 

It was a lovely night of early summer, and drawing aside the windowcurtains she looked out upon the flowers and trees of the Place, nowquite visible, for it was nearly three o'clock, and the morning lightwas growing strong. She turned her face upwards. Except in the case ofone bedroom all the windows on that side of the hotel were in darkness. The room being rather close she left the casement ajar, and opening thedoor walked out upon the staircase landing. A number of caged canarieswere kept here, and she observed in the dim light of the landinglamp how snugly their heads were all tucked in. On returning to thesitting-room again she could hear that Charlotte was still slumbering, and this encouraging circumstance disposed her to go to bed herself. Before, however, she had made a move a gentle tap came to the door. 

Paula opened it. There, in the faint light by the sleeping canaries, stood Charlotte's brother. 

'How is she now?' he whispered. 

'Sleeping soundly, ' said Paula. 

'That's a blessing. I have not been to bed. I came in late, and have nowcome down to know if I had not better take your place?'

'Nobody is required, I think. But you can judge for yourself. '

Up to this point they had conversed in the doorway of the sitting-room, which De Stancy now entered, crossing it to Charlotte's apartment. Hecame out from the latter at a pensive pace. 

'She is doing well, ' he said gently. 'You have been very good to her. Was the chair I saw by her bed the one you have been sitting in allnight?'

'I sometimes sat there; sometimes here. '

'I wish I could have sat beside you, and held your hand--I speakfrankly. '

'To excess. '

'And why not? I do not wish to hide from you any corner of my breast, futile as candour may be. Just Heaven! for what reason is it orderedthat courtship, in which soldiers are usually so successful, should be afailure with me?'

'Your lack of foresight chiefly in indulging feelings that were notencouraged. That, and my uncle's indiscreet permission to you to travelwith us, have precipitated our relations in a way that I could neitherforesee nor avoid, though of late I have had apprehensions that it mightcome to this. You vex and disturb me by such words of regret. '

'Not more than you vex and disturb me. But you cannot hate the man wholoves you so devotedly?'

'I have said before I don't hate you. I repeat that I am interested inyour family and its associations because of its complete contrast withmy own. ' She might have added, 'And I am additionally interested justnow because my uncle has forbidden me to be. '

'But you don't care enough for me personally to save my happiness. '

Paula hesitated; from the moment De Stancy confronted her she hadfelt that this nocturnal conversation was to be a grave business. Thecathedral clock struck three. 'I have thought once or twice, ' she saidwith a naivete unusual in her, 'that if I could be sure of giving peaceand joy to your mind by becoming your wife, I ought to endeavour todo so and make the best of it--merely as a charity. But I believe thatfeeling is a mistake: your discontent is constitutional, and would go onjust the same whether I accepted you or no. My refusal of you is purelyan imaginary grievance. '

'Not if I think otherwise. '

'O no, ' she murmured, with a sense that the place was very lonely andsilent. 'If you think it otherwise, I suppose it is otherwise. '

'My darling; my Paula!' he said, seizing her hand. 'Do promise mesomething. You must indeed!'

'Captain De Stancy!' she said, trembling and turning away. 'Captain DeStancy!' She tried to withdraw her fingers, then faced him, exclaimingin a firm voice a third time, 'Captain De Stancy! let go my hand; for Itell you I will not marry you!'

'Good God!' he cried, dropping her hand. 'What have I driven you to sayin your anger! Retract it--O, retract it!'

'Don't urge me further, as you value my good opinion!'

'To lose you now, is to lose you for ever. Come, please answer!'

'I won't be compelled!' she interrupted with vehemence. 'I am resolvednot to be yours--not to give you an answer to-night! Never, never will Ibe reasoned out of my intention; and I say I won't answer you to-night!I should never have let you be so much with me but for pity of you; andnow it is come to this!'

She had sunk into a chair, and now leaned upon her hand, and buried herface in her handkerchief. He had never caused her any such agitation asthis before. 

'You stab me with your words, ' continued De Stancy. 'The experienceI have had with you is without parallel, Paula. It seems like adistracting dream. '

'I won't be hurried by anybody!'

'That may mean anything, ' he said, with a perplexed, passionate air. 'Well, mine is a fallen family, and we must abide caprices. Would toHeaven it were extinguished!'

'What was extinguished?' she murmured. 

'The De Stancys. Here am I, a homeless wanderer, living on my pay;in the next room lies she, my sister, a poor little fragile feverishinvalid with no social position--and hardly a friend. We two representthe De Stancy line; and I wish we were behind the iron door of ourold vault at Sleeping-Green. It can be seen by looking at us and ourcircumstances that we cry for the earth and oblivion!'

'Captain De Stancy, it is not like that, I assure you, ' sympathizedPaula with damp eyelashes. 'I love Charlotte too dearly for you to talklike that, indeed. I don't want to marry you exactly: and yet I cannotbring myself to say I permanently reject you, because I remember youare Charlotte's brother, and do not wish to be the cause of any morbidfeelings in you which would ruin your future prospects. '

'My dear life, what is it you doubt in me? Your earnestness not to do meharm makes it all the harder for me to think of never being more than afriend. '

'Well, I have not positively refused!' she exclaimed, in mixed tonesof pity and distress. 'Let me think it over a little while. It is notgenerous to urge so strongly before I can collect my thoughts, and atthis midnight time!'

'Darling, forgive it!--There, I'll say no more. '

He then offered to sit up in her place for the remainder of the night;but Paula declined, assuring him that she meant to stay only anotherhalf-hour, after which nobody would be necessary. 

He had already crossed the landing to ascend to his room, when shestepped after him, and asked if he had received his telegram. 

'No, ' said De Stancy. 'Nor have I heard of one. '

Paula explained that it was put in his room, that he might see it themoment he came in. 

'It matters very little, ' he replied, 'since I shall see it now. Good-night, dearest: good-night!' he added tenderly. 

She gravely shook her head. 'It is not for you to express yourself likethat, ' she answered. 'Good-night, Captain De Stancy. '

He went up the stairs to the second floor, and Paula returned to thesitting-room. Having left a light burning De Stancy proceeded to lookfor the telegram, and found it on the carpet, where it had beenswept from the table. When he had opened the sheet a sudden solemnityoverspread his face. He sat down, rested his elbow on the table, and hisforehead on his hands. 

Captain De Stancy did not remain thus long. Rising he went softlydownstairs. The grey morning had by this time crept into the hotel, rendering a light no longer necessary. The old clock on the landing waswithin a few minutes of four, and the birds were hopping up and downtheir cages, and whetting their bills. He tapped at the sitting-room, and she came instantly. 

'But I told you it was not necessary--' she began. 

'Yes, but the telegram, ' he said hurriedly. 'I wanted to let you knowfirst that--it is very serious. Paula--my father is dead! He diedsuddenly yesterday, and I must go at once. .. . About Charlotte--and howto let her know--'

'She must not be told yet, ' said Paula. .. . 'Sir William dead!'

'You think we had better not tell her just yet?' said De Stancyanxiously. 'That's what I want to consult you about, if you--don't mindmy intruding. '

'Certainly I don't, ' she said. 

They continued the discussion for some time; and it was decided thatCharlotte should not be informed of what had happened till the doctorhad been consulted, Paula promising to account for her brother'sdeparture. 

De Stancy then prepared to leave for England by the first morning train, and roused the night-porter, which functionary, having packed off AbnerPower, was discovered asleep on the sofa of the landlord's parlour. Athalf-past five Paula, who in the interim had been pensively sitting withher hand to her chin, quite forgetting that she had meant to go to bed, heard wheels without, and looked from the window. A fly had been broughtround, and one of the hotel servants was in the act of putting up aportmanteau with De Stancy's initials upon it. A minute afterwards thecaptain came to her door. 

'I thought you had not gone to bed, after all. '

'I was anxious to see you off, ' said she, 'since neither of the othersis awake; and you wished me not to rouse them. '

'Quite right, you are very good;' and lowering his voice: 'Paula, it isa sad and solemn time with me. Will you grant me one word--not on ourlast sad subject, but on the previous one--before I part with you to goand bury my father?'

'Certainly, ' she said, in gentle accents. 

'Then have you thought over my position? Will you at last have pity uponmy loneliness by becoming my wife?'

Paula sighed deeply; and said, 'Yes. '

'Your hand upon it. '

She gave him her hand: he held it a few moments, then raised it to hislips, and was gone. 

When Mrs. Goodman rose she was informed of Sir William's death, and ofhis son's departure. 

'Then the captain is now Sir William De Stancy!' she exclaimed. 'Really, Paula, since you would be Lady De Stancy by marrying him, I almostthink--'

'Hush, aunt!'

'Well; what are you writing there?'

'Only entering in my diary that I accepted him this morning for pity'ssake, in spite of Uncle Abner. They'll say it was for the title, butknowing it was not I don't care. '

XI. 

On the evening of the fourth day after the parting between Paula and DeStancy at Amiens, when it was quite dark in the Markton highway, except in so far as the shades were broken by the faint lights from theadjacent town, a young man knocked softly at the door of Myrtle Villa, and asked if Captain De Stancy had arrived from abroad. He was answeredin the affirmative, and in a few moments the captain himself came froman adjoining room. 

Seeing that his visitor was Dare, from whom, as will be remembered, hehad parted at Carlsruhe in no very satisfied mood, De Stancy did not askhim into the house, but putting on his hat went out with the youth intothe public road. Here they conversed as they walked up and down, Darebeginning by alluding to the death of Sir William, the suddenness ofwhich he feared would delay Captain De Stancy's overtures for the handof Miss Power. 

'No, ' said De Stancy moodily. 'On the contrary, it has precipitatedmatters. '

'She has accepted you, captain?'

'We are engaged to be married. '

'Well done. I congratulate you. ' The speaker was about to proceed tofurther triumphant notes on the intelligence, when casting his eye uponthe upper windows of the neighbouring villa, he appeared to reflect onwhat was within them, and checking himself, 'When is the funeral to be?'

'To-morrow, ' De Stancy replied. 'It would be advisable for you not tocome near me during the day. '

'I will not. I will be a mere spectator. The old vault of our ancestorswill be opened, I presume, captain?'

'It is opened. '

'I must see it--and ruminate on what we once were: it is a thing I likedoing. The ghosts of our dead--Ah, what was that?'

'I heard nothing. '

'I thought I heard a footstep behind us. '

They stood still; but the road appeared to be quite deserted, and likelyto continue so for the remainder of that evening. They walked on again, speaking in somewhat lower tones than before. 

'Will the late Sir William's death delay the wedding much?' asked theyounger man curiously. 

De Stancy languidly answered that he did not see why it should doso. Some little time would of course intervene, but, since therewere several reasons for despatch, he should urge Miss Power and herrelatives to consent to a virtually private wedding which might takeplace at a very early date; and he thought there would be a generalconsent on that point. 

'There are indeed reasons for despatch. Your title, Sir William, is anew safeguard over her heart, certainly; but there is many a slip, andyou must not lose her now. '

'I don't mean to lose her!' said De Stancy. 'She is too good to be lost. And yet--since she gave her promise I have felt more than once thatI would not engage in such a struggle again. It was not a thing of mybeginning, though I was easily enough inflamed to follow. But I will notlose her now. --For God's sake, keep that secret you have so foolishlypricked on your breast. It fills me with remorse to think what she withher scrupulous notions will feel, should she ever know of you and yourhistory, and your relation to me!'

Dare made no reply till after a silence, when he said, 'Of course mum'sthe word till the wedding is over. '

'And afterwards--promise that for her sake?'

'And probably afterwards. '

Sir William De Stancy drew a dejected breath at the tone of the answer. They conversed but a little while longer, the captain hinting to Darethat it was time for them to part; not, however, before he had uttereda hope that the young man would turn over a new leaf and engage in someregular pursuit. Promising to call upon him at his lodgings De Stancywent indoors, and Dare briskly retraced his steps to Markton. 

When his footfall had died away, and the door of the house opposite hadbeen closed, another man appeared upon the scene. He came gently out ofthe hedge opposite Myrtle Villa, which he paused to regard for a moment. But instead of going townward, he turned his back upon the distantsprinkle of lights, and did not check his walk till he reached the lodgeof Stancy Castle. 

Here he pulled the wooden acorn beside the arch, and when the porterappeared his light revealed the pedestrian's countenance to be scathed, as by lightning. 

'I beg your pardon, Mr. Power, ' said the porter with sudden deferenceas he opened the wicket. 'But we wasn't expecting anybody to-night, asthere is nobody at home, and the servants on board wages; and that's whyI was so long a-coming. '

'No matter, no matter, ' said Abner Power. 'I have returned on suddenbusiness, and have not come to stay longer than to-night. Your mistressis not with me. I meant to sleep in Markton, but have changed my mind. '

Mr. Power had brought no luggage with him beyond a small hand-bag, andas soon as a room could be got ready he retired to bed. 

The next morning he passed in idly walking about the grounds andobserving the progress which had been made in the works--now temporarilysuspended. But that inspection was less his object in remaining therethan meditation, was abundantly evident. When the bell began to tollfrom the neighbouring church to announce the burial of Sir William DeStancy, he passed through the castle, and went on foot in the directionindicated by the sound. Reaching the margin of the churchyard he lookedover the wall, his presence being masked by bushes and a group ofidlers from Markton who stood in front. Soon a funeral procession ofsimple--almost meagre and threadbare--character arrived, but Power didnot join the people who followed the deceased into the church. De Stancywas the chief mourner and only relation present, the other followers ofthe broken-down old man being an ancient lawyer, a couple of faithfulservants, and a bowed villager who had been page to the late SirWilliam's father--the single living person left in the parish whoremembered the De Stancys as people of wealth and influence, and whofirmly believed that family would come into its rights ere long, andoust the uncircumcized Philistines who had taken possession of the oldlands. 

The funeral was over, and the rusty carriages had gone, together withmany of the spectators; but Power lingered in the churchyard as if hewere looking for some one. At length he entered the church, passing bythe cavernous pitfall with descending steps which stood open outside thewall of the De Stancy aisle. Arrived within he scanned the few idlersof antiquarian tastes who had remained after the service to inspect themonuments; and beside a recumbent effigy--the effigy in alabasterwhose features Paula had wiped with her handkerchief when there withSomerset--he beheld the man it had been his business to find. AbnerPower went up and touched this person, who was Dare, on the shoulder. 

'Mr. Power--so it is!' said the youth. 'I have not seen you since we metin Carlsruhe. '

'You shall see all the more of me now to make up for it. Shall we walkround the church?'

'With all my heart, ' said Dare. 

They walked round; and Abner Power began in a sardonic recitative: 'Iam a traveller, and it takes a good deal to astonish me. So I neitherswooned nor screamed when I learnt a few hours ago what I had suspectedfor a week, that you are of the house and lineage of Jacob. ' He flung anod towards the canopied tombs as he spoke. --'In other words, that youare of the same breed as the De Stancys. '

Dare cursorily glanced round. Nobody was near enough to hear theirwords, the nearest persons being two workmen just outside, who werebringing their tools up from the vault preparatively to closing it. 

Having observed this Dare replied, 'I, too, am a traveller; and neitherdo I swoon nor scream at what you say. But I assure you that if youbusy yourself about me, you may truly be said to busy yourself aboutnothing. '

'Well, that's a matter of opinion. Now, there's no scarlet left in myface to blush for men's follies; but as an alliance is afoot between myniece and the present Sir William, this must be looked into. '

Dare reflectively said 'O, ' as he observed through the window one ofthe workmen bring up a candle from the vault and extinguish it with hisfingers. 

'The marriage is desirable, and your relationship in itself is of noconsequence, ' continued the elder, 'but just look at this. You haveforced on the marriage by unscrupulous means, your object being only tooclearly to live out of the proceeds of that marriage. '

'Mr. Power, you mock me, because I labour under the misfortune of havingan illegitimate father to provide for. I really deserve commiseration. '

'You might deserve it if that were all. But it looks bad for myniece's happiness as Lady De Stancy, that she and her husband are to beperpetually haunted by a young chevalier d'industrie, who can forge atelegram on occasion, and libel an innocent man by an ingenious devicein photography. It looks so bad, in short, that, advantageous as a titleand old family name would be to her and her children, I won't let mybrother's daughter run the risk of having them at the expense of beingin the grip of a man like you. There are other suitors in the world, andother titles: and she is a beautiful woman, who can well afford to befastidious. I shall let her know at once of these things, and break offthe business--unless you do ONE THING. '

A workman brought up another candle from the vault, and prepared to letdown the slab. 'Well, Mr. Power, and what is that one thing?'

'Go to Peru as my agent in a business I have just undertaken there. '

'And settle there?'

'Of course. I am soon going over myself, and will bring you anything yourequire. '

'How long will you give me to consider?' said Dare. 

Power looked at his watch. 'One, two, three, four hours, ' he said. 'Ileave Markton by the seven o'clock train this evening. '

'And if I meet your proposal with a negative?'

'I shall go at once to my niece and tell her the wholecircumstances--tell her that, by marrying Sir William, she alliesherself with an unhappy gentleman in the power of a criminal son whomakes his life a burden to him by perpetual demands upon his purse; whowill increase those demands with his accession to wealth, threaten todegrade her by exposing her husband's antecedents if she opposes hisextortions, and who will make her miserable by letting her know that herold lover was shamefully victimized by a youth she is bound to screenout of respect to her husband's feelings. Now a man does not care to lethis own flesh and blood incur the danger of such anguish as that, andI shall do what I say to prevent it. Knowing what a lukewarm sentimenthers is for Sir William at best, I shall not have much difficulty. '

'Well, I don't feel inclined to go to Peru. '

'Neither do I want to break off the match, though I am ready to do it. But you care about your personal freedom, and you might be made to wearthe broad arrow for your tricks on Somerset. '

'Mr. Power, I see you are a hard man. '

'I am a hard man. You will find me one. Well, will you go to Peru? OrI don't mind Australia or California as alternatives. As long as youchoose to remain in either of those wealth-producing places, so longwill Cunningham Haze go uninformed. '

'Mr. Power, I am overcome. Will you allow me to sit down? Suppose we gointo the vestry. It is more comfortable. '

They entered the vestry, and seated themselves in two chairs, one ateach end of the table. 

'In the meantime, ' continued Dare, 'to lend a little romance to sternrealities, I'll tell you a singular dream I had just before you returnedto England. ' Power looked contemptuous, but Dare went on: 'I dreamtthat once upon a time there were two brothers, born of a Nonconformistfamily, one of whom became a railway-contractor, and the other amechanical engineer. '

'A mechanical engineer--good, ' said Power, beginning to attend. 

'When the first went abroad in his profession, and became engaged oncontinental railways, the second, a younger man, looking round for astart, also betook himself to the continent. But though ingenious andscientific, he had not the business capacity of the elder, whoserebukes led to a sharp quarrel between them; and they parted in bitterestrangement--never to meet again as it turned out, owing to the doggedobstinacy and self-will of the younger man. He, after this, seemed tolose his moral ballast altogether, and after some eccentric doings hewas reduced to a state of poverty, and took lodgings in a court in aback street of a town we will call Geneva, considerably in doubt as towhat steps he should take to keep body and soul together. '

Abner Power was shooting a narrow ray of eyesight at Dare from thecorner of his nearly closed lids. 'Your dream is so interesting, ' hesaid, with a hard smile, 'that I could listen to it all day. '

'Excellent!' said Dare, and went on: 'Now it so happened that the houseopposite to the one taken by the mechanician was peculiar. It was a tallnarrow building, wholly unornamented, the walls covered with a layer ofwhite plaster cracked and soiled by time. I seem to see that house now!Six stone steps led up to the door, with a rusty iron railing on eachside, and under these steps were others which went down to a cellar--inmy dream of course. '

'Of course--in your dream, ' said Power, nodding comprehensively. 

'Sitting lonely and apathetic without a light, at his own chamber-windowat night time, our mechanician frequently observed dark figuresdescending these steps and ultimately discovered that the house was themeeting-place of a fraternity of political philosophers, whose objectwas the extermination of tyrants and despots, and the overthrow ofestablished religions. The discovery was startling enough, but our herowas not easily startled. He kept their secret and lived on as before. Atlast the mechanician and his affairs became known to the society, as theaffairs of the society had become known to the mechanician, and, insteadof shooting him as one who knew too much for their safety, they werestruck with his faculty for silence, and thought they might be able tomake use of him. '

'To be sure, ' said Abner Power. 

'Next, like friend Bunyan, I saw in my dream that denunciation wasthe breath of life to this society. At an earlier date in its history, objectionable persons in power had been from time to time murdered, andcuriously enough numbered; that is, upon the body of each was set a markor seal, announcing that he was one of a series. But at this time thequestion before the society related to the substitution for the dagger, which was vetoed as obsolete, of some explosive machine that would beboth more effectual and less difficult to manage; and in short, a largereward was offered to our needy Englishman if he would put their ideasof such a machine into shape. '

Abner Power nodded again, his complexion being peculiar--which mightpartly have been accounted for by the reflection of window-light fromthe green-baize table-cloth. 

'He agreed, though no politician whatever himself, to exercise his witson their account, and brought his machine to such a pitch of perfection, that it was the identical one used in the memorable attempt--' (Darewhispered the remainder of the sentence in tones so low that not a mousein the corner could have heard. ) 'Well, the inventor of that explosivehas naturally been wanted ever since by all the heads of police inEurope. But the most curious--or perhaps the most natural part of mystory is, that our hero, after the catastrophe, grew disgusted withhimself and his comrades, acquired, in a fit of revulsion, quite aconservative taste in politics, which was strengthened greatly by thenews he indirectly received of the great wealth and respectability ofhis brother, who had had no communion with him for years, and supposedhim dead. He abjured his employers and resolved to abandon them;but before coming to England he decided to destroy all trace of hiscombustible inventions by dropping them into the neighbouring lake atnight from a boat. You feel the room close, Mr. Power?'

'No, I suffer from attacks of perspiration whenever I sit in aconsecrated edifice--that's all. Pray go on. '

'In carrying out this project, an explosion occurred, just as he wasthrowing the stock overboard--it blew up into his face, wounding himseverely, and nearly depriving him of sight. The boat was upset, buthe swam ashore in the darkness, and remained hidden till he recovered, though the scars produced by the burns had been set on him for ever. This accident, which was such a misfortune to him as a man, was anadvantage to him as a conspirators' engineer retiring from practice, and afforded him a disguise both from his own brotherhood and from thepolice, which he has considered impenetrable, but which is getting seenthrough by one or two keen eyes as time goes on. Instead of coming toEngland just then, he went to Peru, connected himself with the guanotrade, I believe, and after his brother's death revisited England, hisold life obliterated as far as practicable by his new principles. He isknown only as a great traveller to his surviving relatives, though heseldom says where he has travelled. Unluckily for himself, he is WANTEDby certain European governments as badly as ever. '

Dare raised his eyes as he concluded his narration. As has beenremarked, he was sitting at one end of the vestry-table, Power at theother, the green cloth stretching between them. On the edge of the tableadjoining Mr. Power a shining nozzle of metal was quietly resting, likea dog's nose. It was directed point-blank at the young man. 

Dare started. 'Ah--a revolver?' he said. 

Mr. Power nodded placidly, his hand still grasping the pistol behindthe edge of the table. 'As a traveller I always carry one of 'em, ' hereturned; 'and for the last five minutes I have been closely consideringwhether your numerous brains are worth blowing out or no. The vaultyonder has suggested itself as convenient and snug for one of thesame family; but the mental problem that stays my hand is, how am I todespatch and bury you there without the workmen seeing?'

''Tis a strange problem, certainly, ' replied Dare, 'and one on which Ifear I could not give disinterested advice. Moreover, while you, as atraveller, always carry a weapon of defence, as a traveller so do I. Andfor the last three-quarters of an hour I have been thinking concerningyou, an intensified form of what you have been thinking of me, butwithout any concern as to your interment. See here for a proof of it. 'And a second steel nose rested on the edge of the table opposite to thefirst, steadied by Dare's right hand. 

They remained for some time motionless, the tick of the tower clockdistinctly audible. 

Mr. Power spoke first. 

'Well, 'twould be a pity to make a mess here under such dubiouscircumstances. Mr. Dare, I perceive that a mean vagabond can be as sharpas a political regenerator. I cry quits, if you care to do the same?'

Dare assented, and the pistols were put away. 

'Then we do nothing at all, either side; but let the course of true loverun on to marriage--that's the understanding, I think?' said Dare as herose. 

'It is, ' said Power; and turning on his heel, he left the vestry. 

Dare retired to the church and thence to the outside, where he idledaway a few minutes in looking at the workmen, who were now loweringinto its place a large stone slab, bearing the words 'DE STANCY, ' whichcovered the entrance to the vault. When the footway of the churchyardwas restored to its normal condition Dare pursued his way to Markton. 

Abner Power walked back to the castle at a slow and equal pace, asthough he carried an over-brimming vessel on his head. He silently lethimself in, entered the long gallery, and sat down. The length oftime that he sat there was so remarkable as to raise that interval ofinanition to the rank of a feat. 

Power's eyes glanced through one of the window-casements: from a holewithout he saw the head of a tomtit protruding. He listlessly watchedthe bird during the successive epochs of his thought, till night came, without any perceptible change occurring in him. Such fixity would havemeant nothing else than sudden death in any other man, but in Mr. Power it merely signified that he was engaged in ruminations whichnecessitated a more extensive survey than usual. At last, at half-pasteight, after having sat for five hours with his eyes on the residence ofthe tomtits, to whom night had brought cessation of thought, if not tohim who had observed them, he rose amid the shades of the furniture, andrang the bell. There were only a servant or two in the castle, one ofwhom presently came with a light in her hand and a startled look uponher face, which was not reduced when she recognized him; for in theopinion of that household there was something ghoul-like in Mr. Power, which made him no desirable guest. 

He ate a late meal, and retired to bed, where he seemed to sleep notunsoundly. The next morning he received a letter which afforded himinfinite satisfaction and gave his stagnant impulses a new momentum. Heentered the library, and amid objects swathed in brown holland sat downand wrote a note to his niece at Amiens. Therein he stated that, findingthat the Anglo-South-American house with which he had recently connectedhimself required his presence in Peru, it obliged him to leave withoutwaiting for her return. He felt the less uneasy at going, since he hadlearnt that Captain De Stancy would return at once to Amiens to his sicksister, and see them safely home when she improved. He afterwards leftthe castle, disappearing towards a railway station some miles aboveMarkton, the road to which lay across an unfrequented down. 

XII. 

It was a fine afternoon of late summer, nearly three months subsequentto the death of Sir William De Stancy and Paula's engagement tomarry his successor in the title. George Somerset had started on aprofessional journey that took him through the charming district whichlay around Stancy Castle. Having resigned his appointment as architectto that important structure--a resignation which had been accepted byPaula through her solicitor--he had bidden farewell to the localityafter putting matters in such order that his successor, whoever he mightbe, should have no difficulty in obtaining the particulars necessaryto the completion of the work in hand. Hardly to his surprise thissuccessor was Havill. 

Somerset's resignation had been tendered in no hasty mood. On returningto England, and in due course to the castle, everything bore in uponhis mind the exceeding sorrowfulness--he would not say humiliation--ofcontinuing to act in his former capacity for a woman who, from seemingmore than a dear friend, had become less than an acquaintance. 

So he resigned; but now, as the train drew on into that once belovedtract of country, the images which met his eye threw him back in pointof emotion to very near where he had been before making himself astranger here. The train entered the cutting on whose brink he hadwalked when the carriage containing Paula and her friends surprised himthe previous summer. He looked out of the window: they were passing thewell-known curve that led up to the tunnel constructed by her father, into which he had gone when the train came by and Paula had been alarmedfor his life. There was the path they had both climbed afterwards, involuntarily seizing each other's hand; the bushes, the grass, theflowers, everything just the same:

 '-----Here was the pleasant place, And nothing wanting was, save She, alas!'

When they came out of the tunnel at the other end he caught a glimpse ofthe distant castle-keep, and the well-remembered walls beneath it. Theexperience so far transcended the intensity of what is called mournfulpleasure as to make him wonder how he could have miscalculated himselfto the extent of supposing that he might pass the spot with controllableemotion. 

On entering Markton station he withdrew into a remote corner of thecarriage, and closed his eyes with a resolve not to open them till theembittering scenes should be passed by. He had not long to wait forthis event. When again in motion his eye fell upon the skirt of a lady'sdress opposite, the owner of which had entered and seated herself sosoftly as not to attract his attention. 

'Ah indeed!' he exclaimed as he looked up to her face. 'I had not anotion that it was you!' He went over and shook hands with Charlotte DeStancy. 

'I am not going far, ' she said; 'only to the next station. We often rundown in summer time. Are you going far?'

'I am going to a building further on; thence to Normandy by way ofCherbourg, to finish out my holiday. '

Miss De Stancy thought that would be very nice. 

'Well, I hope so. But I fear it won't. '

After saying that Somerset asked himself why he should mince matterswith so genuine and sympathetic a girl as Charlotte De Stancy? She couldtell him particulars which he burned to know. He might never again havean opportunity of knowing them, since she and he would probably not meetfor years to come, if at all. 

'Have the castle works progressed pretty rapidly under the newarchitect?' he accordingly asked. 

'Yes, ' said Charlotte in her haste--then adding that she was not quitesure if they had progressed so rapidly as before; blushingly correctingherself at this point and that, in the tinkering manner of a nervousorganization aiming at nicety where it was not required. 

'Well, I should have liked to carry out the undertaking to its end, 'said Somerset. 'But I felt I could not consistently do so. Miss Power--'(here a lump came into Somerset's throat--so responsive was he yet toher image)--'seemed to have lost confidence in me, and--it was best thatthe connection should be severed. '

There was a long pause. 'She was very sorry about it, ' said Charlottegently. 

'What made her alter so?--I never can think!'

Charlotte waited again as if to accumulate the necessary force forhonest speaking at the expense of pleasantness. 'It was the telegramthat began it of course, ' she answered. 

'Telegram?'

She looked up at him in quite a frightened way--little as there wasto be frightened at in a quiet fellow like him in this sad time of hislife--and said, 'Yes: some telegram--I think--when you were in trouble?Forgive my alluding to it; but you asked me the question. '

Somerset began reflecting on what messages he had sent Paula, troublousor otherwise. All he had sent had been sent from the castle, and wereas gentle and mellifluous as sentences well could be which had neitherarticles nor pronouns. 'I don't understand, ' he said. 'Will you explaina little more--as plainly as you like--without minding my feelings?'

'A telegram from Nice, I think?'

'I never sent one. '

'O! The one I meant was about money. '

Somerset shook his head. 'No, ' he murmured, with the composure of a manwho, knowing he had done nothing of the sort himself, was blinded by hisown honesty to the possibility that another might have done it for him. 'That must be some other affair with which I had nothing to do. O no, it was nothing like that; the reason for her change of manner was quitedifferent!'

So timid was Charlotte in Somerset's presence, that her timidity at thisjuncture amounted to blameworthiness. The distressing scene whichmust have followed a clearing up there and then of any possiblemisunderstanding, terrified her imagination; and quite confounded bycontradictions that she could not reconcile, she held her tongue, andnervously looked out of the window. 

'I have heard that Miss Power is soon to be married, ' continuedSomerset. 

'Yes, ' Charlotte murmured. 'It is sooner than it ought to be by rights, considering how recently my dear father died; but there are reasons inconnection with my brother's position against putting it off: and it isto be absolutely simple and private. '

There was another interval. 'May I ask when it is to be?' he said. 

'Almost at once--this week. '

Somerset started back as if some stone had hit his face. 

Still there was nothing wonderful in such promptitude: engagementsbroken in upon by the death of a near relative of one of the parties hadbeen often carried out in a subdued form with no longer delay. 

Charlotte's station was now at hand. She bade him farewell; and herattled on to the building he had come to inspect, and next to Budmouth, whence he intended to cross the Channel by steamboat that night. 

He hardly knew how the evening passed away. He had taken up his quartersat an inn near the quay, and as the night drew on he stood gazing fromthe coffee-room window at the steamer outside, which nearly thrust itsspars through the bedroom casements, and at the goods that were beingtumbled on board as only shippers can tumble them. All the goods wereladen, a lamp was put on each side the gangway, the engines broke intoa crackling roar, and people began to enter. They were only waiting forthe last train: then they would be off. Still Somerset did not move;he was thinking of that curious half-told story of Charlotte's, abouta telegram to Paula for money from Nice. Not once till within the lasthalf-hour had it recurred to his mind that he had met Dare both at Niceand at Monte Carlo; that at the latter place he had been absolutely outof money and wished to borrow, showing considerable sinister feelingwhen Somerset declined to lend: that on one or two previous occasions hehad reasons for doubting Dare's probity; and that in spite of the youngman's impoverishment at Monte Carlo he had, a few days later, beheldhim in shining raiment at Carlsruhe. Somerset, though misty in hisconjectures, was seized with a growing conviction that there wassomething in Miss De Stancy's allusion to the telegram which ought to beexplained. 

He felt an insurmountable objection to cross the water that night, ortill he had been able to see Charlotte again, and learn more of hermeaning. He countermanded the order to put his luggage on board, watchedthe steamer out of the harbour, and went to bed. He might as well havegone to battle, for any rest that he got. On rising the next morning hefelt rather blank, though none the less convinced that a matter requiredinvestigation. He left Budmouth by a morning train, and about eleveno'clock found himself in Markton. 

The momentum of a practical inquiry took him through that ancientborough without leaving him much leisure for those reveries which hadyesterday lent an unutterable sadness to every object there. It was justbefore noon that he started for the castle, intending to arrive at atime of the morning when, as he knew from experience, he could speak toCharlotte without difficulty. The rising ground soon revealed the oldtowers to him, and, jutting out behind them, the scaffoldings for thenew wing. 

While halting here on the knoll in some doubt about his movements hebeheld a man coming along the road, and was soon confronted by hisformer competitor, Havill. The first instinct of each was to pass with anod, but a second instinct for intercourse was sufficient to bring themto a halt. After a few superficial words had been spoken Somerset said, 'You have succeeded me. '

'I have, ' said Havill; 'but little to my advantage. I have just heardthat my commission is to extend no further than roofing in the wing thatyou began, and had I known that before, I would have seen the castlefall flat as Jericho before I would have accepted the superintendence. But I know who I have to thank for that--De Stancy. '

Somerset still looked towards the distant battlements. On thescaffolding, among the white-jacketed workmen, he could discern onefigure in a dark suit. 

'You have a clerk of the works, I see, ' he observed. 

'Nominally I have, but practically I haven't. '

'Then why do you keep him?'

'I can't help myself. He is Mr. Dare; and having been recommended by ahigher power than I, there he must stay in spite of me. '

'Who recommended him?'

'The same--De Stancy. '

'It is very odd, ' murmured Somerset, 'but that young man is the objectof my visit. '

'You had better leave him alone, ' said Havill drily. 

Somerset asked why. 

'Since I call no man master over that way I will inform you. ' Havillthen related in splenetic tones, to which Somerset did not care tolisten till the story began to advance itself, how he had passed thenight with Dare at the inn, and the incidents of that night, relatinghow he had seen some letters on the young man's breast which long hadpuzzled him. 'They were an E, a T, an N, and a C. I thought over themlong, till it eventually occurred to me that the word when filled outwas "De Stancy, " and that kinship explains the offensive and defensivealliance between them. '

'But, good heavens, man!' said Somerset, more and more disturbed. 'Doesshe know of it?'

'You may depend she does not yet; but she will soon enough. Hark--thereit is!' The notes of the castle clock were heard striking noon. 'Then itis all over. '

'What?--not their marriage!'

'Yes. Didn't you know it was the wedding day? They were to be at thechurch at half-past eleven. I should have waited to see her go, but itwas no sight to hinder business for, as she was only going to drive overin her brougham with Miss De Stancy. '

'My errand has failed!' said Somerset, turning on his heel. 'I'll walkback to the town with you. '

However he did not walk far with Havill; society was too much at thatmoment. As soon as opportunity offered he branched from the road bya path, and avoiding the town went by railway to Budmouth, whence heresumed, by the night steamer, his journey to Normandy. 

XIII. 

To return to Charlotte De Stancy. When the train had borne Somerset fromher side, and she had regained her self-possession, she became consciousof the true proportions of the fact he had asserted. And, further, ifthe telegram had not been his, why should the photographic distortionbe trusted as a phase of his existence? But after a while it seemed soimprobable to her that God's sun should bear false witness, that insteadof doubting both evidences she was inclined to readmit the first. Still, upon the whole, she could not question for long the honesty ofSomerset's denial and if that message had indeed been sent by him, itmust have been done while he was in another such an unhappy stateas that exemplified by the portrait. The supposition reconciled alldifferences; and yet she could not but fight against it with all thestrength of a generous affection. 

All the afternoon her poor little head was busy on this perturbingquestion, till she inquired of herself whether after all it might notbe possible for photographs to represent people as they had never been. Before rejecting the hypothesis she determined to have the word of aprofessor on the point, which would be better than all her surmises. Returning to Markton early, she told the coachman whom Paula had sent, to drive her to the shop of Mr. Ray, an obscure photographic artist inthat town, instead of straight home. 

Ray's establishment consisted of two divisions, the respectable and theshabby. If, on entering the door, the visitor turned to the left, he found himself in a magazine of old clothes, old furniture, china, umbrellas, guns, fishing-rods, dirty fiddles, and split flutes. Enteringthe right-hand room, which had originally been that of an independenthouse, he was in an ordinary photographer's and print-collector'sdepository, to which a certain artistic solidity was imparted by afew oil paintings in the background. Charlotte made for the latterdepartment, and when she was inside Mr. Ray appeared in person from thelumber-shop adjoining, which, despite its manginess, contributed by farthe greater share to his income. 

Charlotte put her question simply enough. The man did not answer herdirectly, but soon found that she meant no harm to him. He told her thatsuch misrepresentations were quite possible, and that they embodied aform of humour which was getting more and more into vogue among certainfacetious persons of society. 

Charlotte was coming away when she asked, as on second thoughts, if hehad any specimens of such work to show her. 

'None of my own preparation, ' said Mr. Ray, with unimpeachable probityof tone. 'I consider them libellous myself. Still, I have one or twosamples by me, which I keep merely as curiosities. --There's one, ' hesaid, throwing out a portrait card from a drawer. 'That represents theGerman Emperor in a violent passion: this one shows the Prime Ministerout of his mind; this the Pope of Rome the worse for liquor. '

She inquired if he had any local specimens. 

'Yes, ' he said, 'but I prefer not to exhibit them unless you really askfor a particular one that you mean to buy. '

'I don't want any. '

'O, I beg pardon, miss. Well, I shouldn't myself own such things wereproduced, if there had not been a young man here at one time who wasvery ingenious in these matters--a Mr. Dare. He was quite a gent, andonly did it as an amusement, and not for the sake of getting a living. '

Charlotte had no wish to hear more. On her way home she burst intotears: the entanglement was altogether too much for her to tear asunder, even had not her own instincts been urging her two ways, as they were. 

To immediately right Somerset's wrong was her impetuous desire asan honest woman who loved him; but such rectification would be thejeopardizing of all else that gratified her--the marriage of her brotherwith her dearest friend--now on the very point of accomplishment. It wasa marriage which seemed to promise happiness, or at least comfort, ifthe old flutter that had transiently disturbed Paula's bosom could bekept from reviving, to which end it became imperative to hide from herthe discovery of injustice to Somerset. It involved the advantage ofleaving Somerset free; and though her own tender interest in him hadbeen too well schooled by habitual self-denial to run ahead on vainpersonal hopes, there was nothing more than human in her feelingpleasure in prolonging Somerset's singleness. Paula might even beallowed to discover his wrongs when her marriage had put him out of herpower. But to let her discover his ill-treatment now might upset theimpending union of the families, and wring her own heart with the sightof Somerset married in her brother's place. 

Why Dare, or any other person, should have set himself to advance herbrother's cause by such unscrupulous blackening of Somerset's characterwas more than her sagacity could fathom. Her brother was, as far as shecould see, the only man who could directly profit by the machination, and was therefore the natural one to suspect of having set it going. Butshe would not be so disloyal as to entertain the thought long; and whoor what had instigated Dare, who was undoubtedly the proximate cause ofthe mischief, remained to her an inscrutable mystery. 

The contention of interests and desires with honour in her heart shookCharlotte all that night; but good principle prevailed. The weddingwas to be solemnized the very next morning, though for before-mentionedreasons this was hardly known outside the two houses interested; andthere were no visible preparations either at villa or castle. De Stancyand his groomsman--a brother officer--slept at the former residence. 

De Stancy was a sorry specimen of a bridegroom when he met his sisterin the morning. Thick-coming fancies, for which there was more than goodreason, had disturbed him only too successfully, and he was as full ofapprehension as one who has a league with Mephistopheles. Charlotte toldhim nothing of what made her likewise so wan and anxious, but droveoff to the castle, as had been planned, about nine o'clock, leaving herbrother and his friend at the breakfast-table. 

That clearing Somerset's reputation from the stain which had been thrownon it would cause a sufficient reaction in Paula's mind to dislocatepresent arrangements she did not so seriously anticipate, now thatmorning had a little calmed her. Since the rupture with her formerarchitect Paula had sedulously kept her own counsel, but Charlotteassumed from the ease with which she seemed to do it that her feelingstowards him had never been inconveniently warm; and she hoped that Paulawould learn of Somerset's purity with merely the generous pleasure of afriend, coupled with a friend's indignation against his traducer. 

Still, the possibility existed of stronger emotions, and it was only tooevident to poor Charlotte that, knowing this, she had still less excusefor delaying the intelligence till the strongest emotion would bepurposeless. 

On approaching the castle the first object that caught her eye wasDare, standing beside Havill on the scaffolding of the new wing. Hewas looking down upon the drive and court, as if in anticipation of theevent. His contiguity flurried her, and instead of going straight toPaula she sought out Mrs. Goodman. 

'You are come early; that's right!' said the latter. 'You might as wellhave slept here last night. We have only Mr. Wardlaw, the London lawyeryou have heard of, in the house. Your brother's solicitor was hereyesterday; but he returned to Markton for the night. We miss Mr. Powerso much--it is so unfortunate that he should have been obliged to goabroad, and leave us unprotected women with so much responsibility. '

'Yes, I know, ' said Charlotte quickly, having a shy distaste for thedetails of what troubled her so much in the gross. 

'Paula has inquired for you. '

'What is she doing?'

'She is in her room: she has not begun to dress yet. Will you go toher?'

Charlotte assented. 'I have to tell her something, ' she said, 'whichwill make no difference, but which I should like her to know thismorning--at once. I have discovered that we have been entirely mistakenabout Mr. Somerset. ' She nerved herself to relate succinctly what hadcome to her knowledge the day before. 

Mrs. Goodman was much impressed. She had never clearly heard before whatcircumstances had attended the resignation of Paula's architect. 'We hadbetter not tell her till the wedding is over, ' she presently said; 'itwould only disturb her, and do no good. '

'But will it be right?' asked Miss De Stancy. 

'Yes, it will be right if we tell her afterwards. O yes--it mustbe right, ' she repeated in a tone which showed that her opinion wasunstable enough to require a little fortification by the voice. 'Sheloves your brother; she must, since she is going to marry him; and itcan make little difference whether we rehabilitate the character of afriend now, or some few hours hence. The author of those wicked trickson Mr. Somerset ought not to go a moment unpunished. '

'That's what I think; and what right have we to hold our tongues evenfor a few hours?'

Charlotte found that by telling Mrs. Goodman she had simply made twoirresolute people out of one, and as Paula was now inquiring for her, she went upstairs without having come to any decision. 

XIV. 

Paula was in her boudoir, writing down some notes previous to beginningher wedding toilet, which was designed to harmonize with the simplicitythat characterized the other arrangements. She owned that it wasdepriving the neighbourhood of a pageant which it had a right to expectof her; but the circumstance was inexorable. 

Mrs. Goodman entered Paula's room immediately behind Charlotte. Perhapsthe only difference between the Paula of to-day and the Paula of lastyear was an accession of thoughtfulness, natural to the circumstances inany case, and more particularly when, as now, the bride's isolation madeself-dependence a necessity. She was sitting in a light dressing-gown, and her face, which was rather pale, flushed at the entrance ofCharlotte and her aunt. 

'I knew you were come, ' she said, when Charlotte stooped and kissedher. 'I heard you. I have done nothing this morning, and feel dreadfullyunsettled. Is all well?'

The question was put without thought, but its aptness seemed almost toimply an intuitive knowledge of their previous conversation. 'Yes, ' saidCharlotte tardily. 

'Well, now, Clementine shall dress you, and I can do with Milly, 'continued Paula. 'Come along. Well, aunt--what's the matter?--and you, Charlotte? You look harassed. '

'I have not slept well, ' said Charlotte. 

'And have not you slept well either, aunt? You said nothing about it atbreakfast. '

'O, it is nothing, ' said Mrs. Goodman quickly. 'I have been disturbedby learning of somebody's villainy. I am going to tell you all some timeto-day, but it is not important enough to disturb you with now. '

'No mystery!' argued Paula. 'Come! it is not fair. '

'I don't think it is quite fair, ' said Miss De Stancy, looking from oneto the other in some distress. 'Mrs. Goodman--I must tell her! Paula, Mr. Som--'

'He's dead!' cried Paula, sinking into a chair and turning as pale asmarble. 'Is he dead?--tell me!' she whispered. 

'No, no--he's not dead--he is very well, and gone to Normandy for aholiday!'

'O--I am glad to hear it, ' answered Paula, with a sudden coolmannerliness. 

'He has been misrepresented, ' said Mrs. Goodman. 'That's all. '

'Well?' said Paula, with her eyes bent on the floor. 

'I have been feeling that I ought to tell you clearly, dear Paula, 'declared her friend. 'It is absolutely false about his telegraphing toyou for money--it is absolutely false that his character is such as thatdreadful picture represented it. There--that's the substance of it, andI can tell you particulars at any time. '

But Paula would not be told at any time. A dreadful sorrow sat in herface; she insisted upon learning everything about the matter there andthen, and there was no withstanding her. 

When it was all explained she said in a low tone: 'It is thatpernicious, evil man Dare--yet why is it he?--what can he have meantby it! Justice before generosity, even on one's wedding-day. Before Ibecome any man's wife this morning I'll see that wretch in jail! Theaffair must be sifted. .. . O, it was a wicked thing to serve anybodyso!--I'll send for Cunningham Haze this moment--the culprit is even nowon the premises, I believe--acting as clerk of the works!' The usuallywell-balanced Paula was excited, and scarcely knowing what she did wentto the bell-pull. 

'Don't act hastily, Paula, ' said her aunt. 'Had you not better consultSir William? He will act for you in this. '

'Yes--He is coming round in a few minutes, ' said Charlotte, jumping atthis happy thought of Mrs. Goodman's. 'He's going to run across to seehow you are getting on. He will be here by ten. '

'Yes--he promised last night. '

She had scarcely done speaking when the prancing of a horse was heard inthe ward below, and in a few minutes a servant announced Sir William DeStancy. 

De Stancy entered saying, 'I have ridden across for ten minutes, as Isaid I would do, to know if everything is easy and straightforward foryou. There will be time enough for me to get back and prepare if I startshortly. Well?'

'I am ruffled, ' said Paula, allowing him to take her hand. 

'What is it?' said her betrothed. 

As Paula did not immediately answer Mrs. Goodman beckoned to Charlotte, and they left the room together. 

'A man has to be given in charge, or a boy, or a demon, ' she replied. 'Iwas going to do it, but you can do it better than I. He will run away ifwe don't mind. '

'But, my dear Paula, who is it?--what has he done?'

'It is Dare--that young man you see out there against the sky. ' Shelooked from the window sideways towards the new wing, on the roof ofwhich Dare was walking prominently about, after having assisted two ofthe workmen in putting a red streamer on the tallest scaffold-pole. 'Youmust send instantly for Mr. Cunningham Haze!'

'My dearest Paula, ' repeated De Stancy faintly, his complexion changingto that of a man who had died. 

'Please send for Mr. Haze at once, ' returned Paula, with gracefulfirmness. 'I said I would be just to a wronged man before I was generousto you--and I will. That lad Dare--to take a practical view of it--hasattempted to defraud me of one hundred pounds sterling, and he shallsuffer. I won't tell you what he has done besides, for though it isworse, it is less tangible. When he is handcuffed and sent off to jailI'll proceed with my dressing. Will you ring the bell?'

'Had you not better consider?' began De Stancy. 

'Consider!' said Paula, with indignation. 'I have considered. Will youkindly ring, Sir William, and get Thomas to ride at once to Mr. Haze? Ormust I rise from this chair and do it myself?'

'You are very hasty and abrupt this morning, I think, ' he faltered. 

Paula rose determinedly from the chair. 'Since you won't do it, I must, 'she said. 

'No, dearest!--Let me beg you not to!'

'Sir William De Stancy!'

She moved towards the bell-pull; but he stepped before and interceptedher. 

'You must not ring the bell for that purpose, ' he said with huskydeliberateness, looking into the depths of her face. 

'It wants two hours to the time when you might have a right to expresssuch a command as that, ' she said haughtily. 

'I certainly have not the honour to be your husband yet, ' he sadlyreplied, 'but surely you can listen? There exist reasons against givingthis boy in charge which I could easily get you to admit by explanation;but I would rather, without explanation, have you take my word, when Isay that by doing so you are striking a blow against both yourself andme. '

Paula, however, had rung the bell. 

'You are jealous of somebody or something perhaps!' she said, in toneswhich showed how fatally all this was telling against the intention ofthat day. 'I will not be a party to baseness, if it is to save all myfortune!'

The bell was answered quickly. But De Stancy, though plainly in greatmisery, did not give up his point. Meeting the servant at the doorbefore he could enter the room he said. 'It is nothing; you can goagain. '

Paula looked at the unhappy baronet in amazement; then turning to theservant, who stood with the door in his hand, said, 'Tell Thomas tosaddle the chestnut, and--'

'It's all a mistake, ' insisted De Stancy. 'Leave the room, James!'

James looked at his mistress. 

'Yes, James, leave the room, ' she calmly said, sitting down. 'Now whathave you to say?' she asked, when they were again alone. 'Why must I notissue orders in my own house? Who is this young criminal, that youvalue his interests higher than my honour? I have delayed for onemoment sending my messenger to the chief constable to hear yourexplanation--only for that. '

'You will still persevere?'

'Certainly. Who is he?'

'Paula. .. He is my son. '

She remained still as death while one might count ten; then turned herback upon him. 'I think you had better go away, ' she whispered. 'Youneed not come again. '

He did not move. 'Paula--do you indeed mean this?' he asked. 

'I do. '

De Stancy walked a few paces, then said in a low voice: 'Miss Power, I knew--I guessed just now, as soon as it began--that we were going tosplit on this rock. Well--let it be--it cannot be helped; destiny issupreme. The boy was to be my ruin; he is my ruin, and rightly. Butbefore I go grant me one request. Do not prosecute him. Believe me, Iwill do everything I can to get him out of your way. He shall annoy youno more. .. . Do you promise?'

'I do, ' she said. 'Now please leave me. '

'Once more--am I to understand that no marriage is to take place to-daybetween you and me?'

'You are. '

Sir William De Stancy left the room. It was noticeable throughout theinterview that his manner had not been the manner of a man altogethertaken by surprise. During the few preceding days his mood had been thatof the gambler seasoned in ill-luck, who adopts pessimist surmises as asafe background to his most sanguine hopes. 

She remained alone for some time. Then she rang, and requested thatMr. Wardlaw, her father's solicitor and friend, would come up to her. Amessenger was despatched, not to Mr. Cunningham Haze, but to the parsonof the parish, who in his turn sent to the clerk and clerk's wife, then busy in the church. On receipt of the intelligence the two latterfunctionaries proceeded to roll up the carpet which had been laid fromthe door to the gate, put away the kneeling-cushions, locked the doors, and went off to inquire the reason of so strange a countermand. It wassoon proclaimed in Markton that the marriage had been postponed for afortnight in consequence of the bride's sudden indisposition: and lesspublic emotion was felt than the case might have drawn forth, from theignorance of the majority of the populace that a wedding had been goingto take place at all. 

Meanwhile Miss De Stancy had been closeted with Paula for more than anhour. It was a difficult meeting, and a severe test to any friendshipbut that of the most sterling sort. In the turmoil of her distractionCharlotte had the consolation of knowing that if her act of justice toSomerset at such a moment were the act of a simpleton, it was the onlycourse open to honesty. But Paula's cheerful serenity in somemeasure laid her own troubles to rest, till they were reawakened by arumour--which got wind some weeks later, and quite drowned all othersurprises--of the true relation between the vanished clerk of works, Mr. Dare, and the fallen family of De Stancy. 

BOOK THE SIXTH. PAULA. 

I. 

'I have decided that I cannot see Sir William again: I shall go away, 'said Paula on the evening of the next day, as she lay on her bed in aflushed and highly-strung condition, though a person who had heard herwords without seeing her face would have assumed perfect equanimity tobe the mood which expressed itself with such quietness. This was thecase with her aunt, who was looking out of the window at some idlersfrom Markton walking round the castle with their eyes bent upon itswindows, and she made no haste to reply. 

'Those people have come to see me, as they have a right to do whena person acts so strangely, ' Paula continued. 'And hence I am betteraway. '

'Where do you think to go to?'

Paula replied in the tone of one who was actuated entirely by practicalconsiderations: 'Out of England certainly. And as Normandy lies nearest, I think I shall go there. It is a very nice country to ramble in. '

'Yes, it is a very nice country to ramble in, ' echoed her aunt, inmoderate tones. 'When do you intend to start?'

'I should like to cross to-night. You must go with me, aunt; will younot?'

Mrs. Goodman expostulated against such suddenness. 'It will redoublethe rumours that are afloat, if, after being supposed ill, you are seengoing off by railway perfectly well. '

'That's a contingency which I am quite willing to run the risk of. Well, it would be rather sudden, as you say, to go to-night. But we'll goto-morrow night at latest. ' Under the influence of the decision shebounded up like an elastic ball and went to the glass, which showeda light in her eye that had not been there before this resolution totravel in Normandy had been taken. 

The evening and the next morning were passed in writing a finaland kindly note of dismissal to Sir William De Stancy, in makingarrangements for the journey, and in commissioning Havill to takeadvantage of their absence by emptying certain rooms of their furniture, and repairing their dilapidations--a work which, with that in hand, would complete the section for which he had been engaged. Mr. Wardlawhad left the castle; so also had Charlotte, by her own wish, herresidence there having been found too oppressive to herself to becontinued for the present. Accompanied by Mrs. Goodman, Milly, andClementine, the elderly French maid, who still remained with them, Pauladrove into Markton in the twilight and took the train to Budmouth. 

When they got there they found that an unpleasant breeze was blowing outat sea, though inland it had been calm enough. Mrs. Goodman proposed tostay at Budmouth till the next day, in hope that there might be smoothwater; but an English seaport inn being a thing that Paula dislikedmore than a rough passage, she would not listen to this counsel. Otherimpatient reasons, too, might have weighed with her. When night cametheir looming miseries began. Paula found that in addition to her owntroubles she had those of three other people to support; but she did notaudibly complain. 

'Paula, Paula, ' said Mrs. Goodman from beneath her load of wretchedness, 'why did we think of undergoing this?'

A slight gleam of humour crossed Paula's not particularly blooming face, as she answered, 'Ah, why indeed?'

'What is the real reason, my dear? For God's sake tell me!'

'It begins with S. '

'Well, I would do anything for that young man short of personalmartyrdom; but really when it comes to that--'

'Don't criticize me, auntie, and I won't criticize you. '

'Well, I am open to criticism just now, I am sure, ' said her aunt, witha green smile; and speech was again discontinued. 

The morning was bright and beautiful, and it could again be seen inPaula's looks that she was glad she had come, though, in takingtheir rest at Cherbourg, fate consigned them to an hotel breathing anatmosphere that seemed specially compounded for depressing the spiritsof a young woman; indeed nothing had particularly encouraged her thusfar in her somewhat peculiar scheme of searching out and expressingsorrow to a gentleman for having believed those who traduced him; andthis coup d'audace to which she had committed herself began to looksomewhat formidable. When in England the plan of following him toNormandy had suggested itself as the quickest, sweetest, and most honestway of making amends; but having arrived there she seemed further offfrom his sphere of existence than when she had been at Stancy Castle. Virtually she was, for if he thought of her at all, he probably thoughtof her there; if he sought her he would seek her there. However, as hewould probably never do the latter, it was necessary to go on. It hadbeen her sudden dream before starting, to light accidentally upon him insome romantic old town of this romantic old province, but she had becomeaware that the recorded fortune of lovers in that respect was not to betrusted too implicitly. 

Somerset's search for her in the south was now inversely imitated. By diligent inquiry in Cherbourg during the gloom of evening, in thedisguise of a hooded cloak, she learnt out the place of his stay whilethere, and that he had gone thence to Lisieux. What she knew of thearchitectural character of Lisieux half guaranteed the truth of theinformation. Without telling her aunt of this discovery she announcedto that lady that it was her great wish to go on and see the beauties ofLisieux. 

But though her aunt was simple, there were bounds to her simplicity. 'Paula, ' she said, with an undeceivable air, 'I don't think you shouldrun after a young man like this. Suppose he shouldn't care for you bythis time. '

It was no occasion for further affectation. 'I am SURE he will, 'answered her niece flatly. 'I have not the least fear about it--norwould you, if you knew how he is. He will forgive me anything. '

'Well, pray don't show yourself forward. Some people are apt to fly intoextremes. '

Paula blushed a trifle, and reflected, and made no answer. However, herpurpose seemed not to be permanently affected, for the next morningshe was up betimes and preparing to depart; and they proceeded almostwithout stopping to the architectural curiosity-town which had soquickly interested her. Nevertheless her ardent manner of yesterdayunderwent a considerable change, as if she had a fear that, as her auntsuggested, in her endeavour to make amends for cruel injustice, she wasallowing herself to be carried too far. 

On nearing the place she said, 'Aunt, I think you had better call uponhim; and you need not tell him we have come on purpose. Let him think, if he will, that we heard he was here, and would not leave withoutseeing him. You can also tell him that I am anxious to clear up amisunderstanding, and ask him to call at our hotel. '

But as she looked over the dreary suburban erections which lined theroad from the railway to the old quarter of the town, it occurred to herthat Somerset would at that time of day be engaged in one or other ofthe mediaeval buildings thereabout, and that it would be a much neaterthing to meet him as if by chance in one of these edifices than to callupon him anywhere. Instead of putting up at any hotel, they left themaids and baggage at the station; and hiring a carriage, Paula told thecoachman to drive them to such likely places as she could think of. 

'He'll never forgive you, ' said her aunt, as they rumbled into the town. 

'Won't he?' said Paula, with soft faith. 'I'll see about that. '

'What are you going to do when you find him? Tell him point-blank thatyou are in love with him?'

'Act in such a manner that he may tell me he is in love with me. '

They first visited a large church at the upper end of a square thatsloped its gravelled surface to the western shine, and was pricked outwith little avenues of young pollard limes. The church within was one tomake any Gothic architect take lodgings in its vicinity for a fortnight, though it was just now crowded with a forest of scaffolding for repairsin progress. Mrs. Goodman sat down outside, and Paula, entering, took awalk in the form of a horse-shoe; that is, up the south aisle, round theapse, and down the north side; but no figure of a melancholy youngman sketching met her eye anywhere. The sun that blazed in at the westdoorway smote her face as she emerged from beneath it and revealed realsadness there. 

'This is not all the old architecture of the town by far, ' she said toher aunt with an air of confidence. 'Coachman, drive to St. Jacques'. '

He was not at St. Jacques'. Looking from the west end of that buildingthe girl observed the end of a steep narrow street of antique character, which seemed a likely haunt. Beckoning to her aunt to follow in the flyPaula walked down the street. 

She was transported to the Middle Ages. It contained the shops oftinkers, braziers, bellows-menders, hollow-turners, and other quaintesttrades, their fronts open to the street beneath stories of timberoverhanging so far on each side that a slit of sky was left at the topfor the light to descend, and no more. A blue misty obscurity pervadedthe atmosphere, into which the sun thrust oblique staves of light. Itwas a street for a mediaevalist to revel in, toss up his hat and shouthurrah in, send for his luggage, come and live in, die and be buried in. She had never supposed such a street to exist outside the imaginationsof antiquarians. Smells direct from the sixteenth century hung in theair in all their original integrity and without a modern taint. Thefaces of the people in the doorways seemed those of individuals whohabitually gazed on the great Francis, and spoke of Henry the Eighth asthe king across the sea. 

She inquired of a coppersmith if an English artist had been seen herelately. With a suddenness that almost discomfited her he announcedthat such a man had been seen, sketching a house just below--the 'VieuxManoir de Francois premier. ' Just turning to see that her aunt wasfollowing in the fly, Paula advanced to the house. The wood framework ofthe lower story was black and varnished; the upper story was brown andnot varnished; carved figures of dragons, griffins, satyrs, and mermaidsswarmed over the front; an ape stealing apples was the subject of thiscantilever, a man undressing of that. These figures were cloaked withlittle cobwebs which waved in the breeze, so that each figure seemedalive. 

She examined the woodwork closely; here and there she discernedpencil-marks which had no doubt been jotted thereon by Somerset aspoints of admeasurement, in the way she had seen him mark them at thecastle. Some fragments of paper lay below: there were pencilled lines onthem, and they bore a strong resemblance to a spoilt leaf of Somerset'ssketch-book. Paula glanced up, and from a window above protruded an oldwoman's head, which, with the exception of the white handkerchief tiedround it, was so nearly of the colour of the carvings that she mighteasily have passed as of a piece with them. The aged woman continuedmotionless, the remains of her eyes being bent upon Paula, who asked herin Englishwoman's French where the sketcher had gone. Without replying, the crone produced a hand and extended finger from her side, and pointedtowards the lower end of the street. 

Paula went on, the carriage following with difficulty, on account ofthe obstructions in the thoroughfare. At bottom, the street abutted ona wide one with customary modern life flowing through it; and as shelooked, Somerset crossed her front along this street, hurrying as if fora wager. 

By the time that Paula had reached the bottom Somerset was a long wayto the left, and she recognized to her dismay that the busy transversestreet was one which led to the railway. She quickened her pace to arun; he did not see her; he even walked faster. She looked behind forthe carriage. The driver in emerging from the sixteenth-century streetto the nineteenth had apparently turned to the right, instead of to theleft as she had done, so that her aunt had lost sight of her. However, she dare not mind it, if Somerset would but look back! He partly turned, but not far enough, and it was only to hail a passing omnibus upon whichshe discerned his luggage. Somerset jumped in, the omnibus drove on, anddiminished up the long road. Paula stood hopelessly still, and in a fewminutes puffs of steam showed her that the train had gone. 

She turned and waited, the two or three children who had gatheredround her looking up sympathizingly in her face. Her aunt, having nowdiscovered the direction of her flight, drove up and beckoned to her. 

'What's the matter?' asked Mrs. Goodman in alarm. 

'Why?'

'That you should run like that, and look so woebegone. '

'Nothing: only I have decided not to stay in this town. '

'What! he is gone, I suppose?'

'Yes!' exclaimed Paula, with tears of vexation in her eyes. 'It isn'tevery man who gets a woman of my position to run after him on foot, andalone, and he ought to have looked round! Drive to the station; I wantto make an inquiry. '

On reaching the station she asked the booking-clerk some questions, andreturned to her aunt with a cheerful countenance. 'Mr. Somerset has onlygone to Caen, ' she said. 'He is the only Englishman who went by thistrain, so there is no mistake. There is no other train for two hours. Wewill go on then--shall we?'

'I am indifferent, ' said Mrs. Goodman. 'But, Paula, do you think thisquite right? Perhaps he is not so anxious for your forgiveness as youthink. Perhaps he saw you, and wouldn't stay. '

A momentary dismay crossed her face, but it passed, and she answered, 'Aunt, that's nonsense. I know him well enough, and can assure you thatif he had only known I was running after him, he would have looked roundsharply enough, and would have given his little finger rather than havemissed me! I don't make myself so silly as to run after a gentlemanwithout good grounds, for I know well that it is an undignified thing todo. Indeed, I could never have thought of doing it, if I had not been somiserably in the wrong!'

II. 

That evening when the sun was dropping out of sight they started for thecity of Somerset's pilgrimage. Paula seated herself with her face towardthe western sky, watching from her window the broad red horizon, acrosswhich moved thin poplars lopped to human shapes, like the walking formsin Nebuchadnezzar's furnace. It was dark when the travellers drove intoCaen. 

She still persisted in her wish to casually encounter Somerset in someaisle, lady-chapel, or crypt to which he might have betaken himself tocopy and learn the secret of the great artists who had erected thosenooks. Mrs. Goodman was for discovering his inn, and calling upon him ina straightforward way; but Paula seemed afraid of it, and they went outin the morning on foot. First they searched the church of St. Sauveur;he was not there; next the church of St. Jean; then the church of St. Pierre; but he did not reveal himself, nor had any verger seen or heardof such a man. Outside the latter church was a public flower-garden, andshe sat down to consider beside a round pool in which water-lilies grewand gold-fish swam, near beds of fiery geraniums, dahlias, and verbenasjust past their bloom. Her enterprise had not been justified by itsresults so far; but meditation still urged her to listen to the littlevoice within and push on. She accordingly rejoined her aunt, and theydrove up the hill to the Abbaye aux Dames, the day by this time havinggrown hot and oppressive. 

The church seemed absolutely empty, the void being emphasized by itsgrateful coolness. But on going towards the east end they perceived abald gentleman close to the screen, looking to the right and to theleft as if much perplexed. Paula merely glanced over him, his back beingtoward her, and turning to her aunt said softly, 'I wonder how we getinto the choir?'

'That's just what I am wondering, ' said the old gentleman, abruptlyfacing round, and Paula discovered that the countenance was notunfamiliar to her eye. Since knowing Somerset she had added to hergallery of celebrities a photograph of his father, the Academician, andhe it was now who confronted her. 

For the moment embarrassment, due to complicated feelings, brought aslight blush to her cheek, but being well aware that he did not knowher, she answered, coolly enough, 'I suppose we must ask some one. '

'And we certainly would if there were any one to ask, ' he said, stilllooking eastward, and not much at her. 'I have been here a long time, but nobody comes. Not that I want to get in on my own account; forthough it is thirty years since I last set foot in this place, Iremember it as if it were but yesterday. '

'Indeed. I have never been here before, ' said Paula. 

'Naturally. But I am looking for a young man who is making sketches insome of these buildings, and it is as likely as not that he is in thecrypt under this choir, for it is just such out-of-the-way nooks thathe prefers. It is very provoking that he should not have told me moredistinctly in his letter where to find him. '

Mrs. Goodman, who had gone to make inquiries, now came back, andinformed them that she had learnt that it was necessary to pass throughthe Hotel-Dieu to the choir, to do which they must go outside. Thereuponthey walked on together, and Mr. Somerset, quite ignoring his troubles, made remarks upon the beauty of the architecture; and in absence ofmind, by reason either of the subject, or of his listener, retained hishat in his hand after emerging from the church, while they walked allthe way across the Place and into the Hospital gardens. 

'A very civil man, ' said Mrs. Goodman to Paula privately. 

'Yes, ' said Paula, who had not told her aunt that she recognized him. 

One of the Sisters now preceded them towards the choir and crypt, Mr. Somerset asking her if a young Englishman was or had been sketchingthere. On receiving a reply in the negative, Paula nearly betrayedherself by turning, as if her business there, too, ended with theinformation. However, she went on again, and made a pretence of lookinground, Mr. Somerset also staying in a spirit of friendly attention tohis countrywomen. They did not part from him till they had come out fromthe crypt, and again reached the west front, on their way to which headditionally explained that it was his son he was looking for, who hadarranged to meet him here, but had mentioned no inn at which he might beexpected. 

When he had left them, Paula informed her aunt whose company they hadbeen sharing. Her aunt began expostulating with Paula for not tellingMr. Somerset what they had seen of his son's movements. 'It would haveeased his mind at least, ' she said. 

'I was not bound to ease his mind at the expense of showing what I wouldrather conceal. I am continually hampered in such generosity as that bythe circumstance of being a woman!'

'Well, it is getting too late to search further tonight. '

It was indeed almost evening twilight in the streets, though thegraceful freestone spires to a depth of about twenty feet from theirsummits were still dyed with the orange tints of a vanishing sun. Thetwo relatives dined privately as usual, after which Paula looked outof the window of her room, and reflected upon the events of the day. Atower rising into the sky quite near at hand showed her that some churchor other stood within a few steps of the hotel archway, and sayingnothing to Mrs. Goodman, she quietly cloaked herself, and went outtowards it, apparently with the view of disposing of a portion of a dulldispiriting evening. The church was open, and on entering she foundthat it was only lighted by seven candles burning before the altar of achapel on the south side, the mass of the building being in deepshade. Motionless outlines, which resolved themselves into the formsof kneeling women, were darkly visible among the chairs, and in thetriforium above the arcades there was one hitherto unnoticed radiance, dim as that of a glow-worm in the grass. It was seemingly the effect ofa solitary tallow-candle behind the masonry. 

A priest came in, unlocked the door of a confessional with a click whichsounded in the silence, and entered it; a woman followed, disappearedwithin the curtain of the same, emerging again in about five minutes, followed by the priest, who locked up his door with another loud click, like a tradesman full of business, and came down the aisle to go out. In the lobby he spoke to another woman, who replied, 'Ah, oui, Monsieurl'Abbe!'

Two women having spoken to him, there could be no harm in a third doinglikewise. 'Monsieur l'Abbe, ' said Paula in French, 'could you indicateto me the stairs of the triforium?' and she signified her reason forwishing to know by pointing to the glimmering light above. 

'Ah, he is a friend of yours, the Englishman?' pleasantly said thepriest, recognizing her nationality; and taking her to a little door heconducted her up a stone staircase, at the top of which he showed herthe long blind story over the aisle arches which led round to where thelight was. Cautioning her not to stumble over the uneven floor, he lefther and descended. His words had signified that Somerset was here. 

It was a gloomy place enough that she found herself in, but the sevencandles below on the opposite altar, and a faint sky light from theclerestory, lent enough rays to guide her. Paula walked on to the bendof the apse: here were a few chairs, and the origin of the light. 

This was a candle stuck at the end of a sharpened stick, the latterentering a joint in the stones. A young man was sketching by theglimmer. But there was no need for the blush which had prepareditself beforehand; the young man was Mr. Cockton, Somerset's youngestdraughtsman. 

Paula could have cried aloud with disappointment. Cockton recognizedMiss Power, and appearing much surprised, rose from his seat with a bow, and said hastily, 'Mr. Somerset left to-day. '

'I did not ask for him, ' said Paula. 

'No, Miss Power: but I thought--'

'Yes, yes--you know, of course, that he has been my architect. Well, ithappens that I should like to see him, if he can call on me. Which waydid he go?'

'He's gone to Etretat. '

'What for? There are no abbeys to sketch at Etretat. '

Cockton looked at the point of his pencil, and with a hesitating motionof his lip answered, 'Mr. Somerset said he was tired. '

'Of what?'

'He said he was sick and tired of holy places, and would go to somewicked spot or other, to get that consolation which holiness could notgive. But he only said it casually to Knowles, and perhaps he did notmean it. '

'Knowles is here too?'

'Yes, Miss Power, and Bowles. Mr. Somerset has been kind enough to giveus a chance of enlarging our knowledge of French Early-pointed, and payshalf the expenses. '

Paula said a few other things to the young man, walked slowly roundthe triforium as if she had come to examine it, and returned down thestaircase. On getting back to the hotel she told her aunt, who had justbeen having a nap, that next day they would go to Etretat for a change. 

'Why? There are no old churches at Etretat. '

'No. But I am sick and tired of holy places, and want to go to somewicked spot or other to find that consolation which holiness cannotgive. '

'For shame, Paula! Now I know what it is; you have heard that he's gonethere! You needn't try to blind me. '

'I don't care where he's gone!' cried Paula petulantly. In a moment, however, she smiled at herself, and added, 'You must take that for whatit is worth. I have made up my mind to let him know from my own lips howthe misunderstanding arose. That done, I shall leave him, and probablynever see him again. My conscience will be clear. '

The next day they took the steamboat down the Orne, intending toreach Etretat by way of Havre. Just as they were moving off an elderlygentleman under a large white sunshade, and carrying his hat in hishand, was seen leisurely walking down the wharf at some distance, butobviously making for the boat. 

'A gentleman!' said the mate. 

'Who is he?' said the captain. 

'An English, ' said Clementine. 

Nobody knew more, but as leisure was the order of the day the engineswere stopped, on the chance of his being a passenger, and all eyes werebent upon him in conjecture. He disappeared and reappeared from behinda pile of merchandise and approached the boat at an easy pace, whereuponthe gangway was replaced, and he came on board, removing his hat toPaula, quietly thanking the captain for stopping, and saying to Mrs. Goodman, 'I am nicely in time. '

It was Mr. Somerset the elder, who by degrees informed our travellers, as sitting on their camp-stools they advanced between the green banksbordered by elms, that he was going to Etretat; that the young man hehad spoken of yesterday had gone to that romantic watering-place insteadof studying art at Caen, and that he was going to join him there. 

Paula preserved an entire silence as to her own intentions, partly fromnatural reticence, and partly, as it appeared, from the difficulty ofexplaining a complication which was not very clear to herself. At Havrethey parted from Mr. Somerset, and did not see him again till they weredriving over the hills towards Etretat in a carriage and four, when thewhite umbrella became visible far ahead among the outside passengers ofthe coach to the same place. In a short time they had passed and cut inbefore this vehicle, but soon became aware that their carriage, like thecoach, was one of a straggling procession of conveyances, some mile anda half in length, all bound for the village between the cliffs. 

In descending the long hill shaded by lime-trees which sheltered theirplace of destination, this procession closed up, and they perceived thatall the visitors and native population had turned out to welcomethem, the daily arrival of new sojourners at this hour being the chiefexcitement of Etretat. The coach which had preceded them all the way, atmore or less remoteness, was now quite close, and in passing along thevillage street they saw Mr. Somerset wave his hand to somebody in thecrowd below. A felt hat was waved in the air in response, the coachswept into the inn-yard, followed by the idlers, and all disappeared. Paula's face was crimson as their own carriage swept round in theopposite direction to the rival inn. 

Once in her room she breathed like a person who had finished a longchase. They did not go down before dinner, but when it was almost darkPaula begged her aunt to wrap herself up and come with her to the shorehard by. The beach was deserted, everybody being at the Casino; thegate stood invitingly open, and they went in. Here the brilliantly litterrace was crowded with promenaders, and outside the yellow palings, surmounted by its row of lamps, rose the voice of the invisible sea. Groups of people were sitting under the verandah, the women mostly inwraps, for the air was growing chilly. Through the windows at theirback an animated scene disclosed itself in the shape of a room-full ofwaltzers, the strains of the band striving in the ear for mastery overthe sounds of the sea. The dancers came round a couple at a time, andwere individually visible to those people without who chose to look thatway, which was what Paula did. 

'Come away, come away!' she suddenly said. 'It is not right for us to behere. '

Her exclamation had its origin in what she had at that moment seenwithin, the spectacle of Mr. George Somerset whirling round the roomwith a young lady of uncertain nationality but pleasing figure. Paulawas not accustomed to show the white feather too clearly, but she soonhad passed out through those yellow gates and retreated, till the mixedmusic of sea and band had resolved into that of the sea alone. 

'Well!' said her aunt, half in soliloquy, 'do you know who I saw dancingthere, Paula? Our Mr. Somerset, if I don't make a great mistake!'

'It was likely enough that you did, ' sedately replied her niece. 'Heleft Caen with the intention of seeking distractions of a lighter kindthan those furnished by art, and he has merely succeeded in findingthem. But he has made my duty rather a difficult one. Still, it wasmy duty, for I very greatly wronged him. Perhaps, however, I have doneenough for honour's sake. I would have humiliated myself by an apologyif I had found him in any other situation; but, of course, one can't heexpected to take MUCH trouble when he is seen going on like that!'

The coolness with which she began her remarks had developed intosomething like warmth as she concluded. 

'He is only dancing with a lady he probably knows very well. '

'He doesn't know her! The idea of his dancing with a woman of thatdescription! We will go away tomorrow. This place has been greatlyover-praised. '

'The place is well enough, as far as I can see. '

'He is carrying out his programme to the letter. He plunges intoexcitement in the most reckless manner, and I tremble for theconsequences! I can do no more: I have humiliated myself into followinghim, believing that in giving too ready credence to appearances I hadbeen narrow and inhuman, and had caused him much misery. But he does notmind, and he has no misery; he seems just as well as ever. How much thisfinding him has cost me! After all, I did not deceive him. He musthave acquired a natural aversion for me. I have allowed myself to beinterested in a man of very common qualities, and am now bitterly aliveto the shame of having sought him out. I heartily detest him! I willgo back--aunt, you are right--I had no business to come. .. . His lightconduct has rendered him uninteresting to me!'

III. 

When she rose the next morning the bell was clanging for the secondbreakfast, and people were pouring in from the beach in every varietyof attire. Paula, whom a restless night had left with a headache, which, however, she said nothing about, was reluctant to emerge from theseclusion of her chamber, till her aunt, discovering what was the matterwith her, suggested that a few minutes in the open air would refreshher; and they went downstairs into the hotel gardens. 

The clatter of the big breakfast within was audible from this spot, andthe noise seemed suddenly to inspirit Paula, who proposed to enter. Her aunt assented. In the verandah under which they passed was a rustichat-stand in the form of a tree, upon which hats and other body-gearhung like bunches of fruit. Paula's eye fell upon a felt hat to whicha small block-book was attached by a string. She knew that hat andblock-book well, and turning to Mrs. Goodman said, 'After all, I don'twant the breakfast they are having: let us order one of our own asusual. And we'll have it here. '

She led on to where some little tables were placed under the tallshrubs, followed by her aunt, who was in turn followed by theproprietress of the hotel, that lady having discovered from the Frenchmaid that there was good reason for paying these ladies ample personalattention. 

'Is the gentleman to whom that sketch-book belongs staying here?' Paulacarelessly inquired, as she indicated the object on the hat-stand. 

'Ah, no!' deplored the proprietress. 'The Hotel was full when Mr. Somerset came. He stays at a cottage beyond the Rue Anicet Bourgeois: heonly has his meals here. '

Paula had taken her seat under the fuchsia-trees in such a manner thatshe could observe all the exits from the salle a manger; but for thepresent none of the breakfasters emerged, the only moving objects on thescene being the waitresses who ran hither and thither across the court, the cook's assistants with baskets of long bread, and the laundresseswith baskets of sun-bleached linen. Further back towards the inn-yard, stablemen were putting in the horses for starting the flys and coachesto Les Ifs, the nearest railway-station. 

'Suppose the Somersets should be going off by one of these conveyances, 'said Mrs. Goodman as she sipped her tea. 

'Well, aunt, then they must, ' replied the younger lady with composure. 

Nevertheless she looked with some misgiving at the nearest stableman ashe led out four white horses, harnessed them, and leisurely brought abrush with which he began blacking their yellow hoofs. All the vehicleswere ready at the door by the time breakfast was over, and the inmatessoon turned out, some to mount the omnibuses and carriages, some toramble on the adjacent beach, some to climb the verdant slopes, and someto make for the cliffs that shut in the vale. The fuchsia-trees whichsheltered Paula's breakfast-table from the blaze of the sun, alsoscreened it from the eyes of the outpouring company, and she sat onwith her aunt in perfect comfort, till among the last of the stream cameSomerset and his father. Paula reddened at being so near the former atlast. It was with sensible relief that she observed them turn towardsthe cliffs and not to the carriages, and thus signify that they were notgoing off that day. 

Neither of the two saw the ladies, and when the latter had finishedtheir tea and coffee they followed to the shore, where they sat fornearly an hour, reading and watching the bathers. At length footstepscrunched among the pebbles in their vicinity, and looking out from hersunshade Paula saw the two Somersets close at hand. 

The elder recognized her, and the younger, observing his father's actionof courtesy, turned his head. It was a revelation to Paula, for she wasshocked to see that he appeared worn and ill. The expression of hisface changed at sight of her, increasing its shade of paleness; but heimmediately withdrew his eyes and passed by. 

Somerset was as much surprised at encountering her thus as she had beendistressed to see him. As soon as they were out of hearing, he asked hisfather quietly, 'What strange thing is this, that Lady De Stancy shouldbe here and her husband not with her? Did she bow to me, or to you?'

'Lady De Stancy--that young lady?' asked the puzzled painter. Heproceeded to explain all he knew; that she was a young lady he had meton his journey at two or three different times; moreover, that ifshe were his son's client--the woman who was to have become Lady DeStancy--she was Miss Power still; for he had seen in some newspapertwo days before leaving England that the wedding had been postponed onaccount of her illness. 

Somerset was so greatly moved that he could hardly speak connectedly tohis father as they paced on together. 'But she is not ill, as far as Ican see, ' he said. 'The wedding postponed?--You are sure the word waspostponed?--Was it broken off?'

'No, it was postponed. I meant to have told you before, knowing youwould be interested as the castle architect; but it slipped my memory inthe bustle of arriving. '

'I am not the castle architect. '

'The devil you are not--what are you then?'

'Well, I am not that. '

Somerset the elder, though not of penetrating nature, began to see thathere lay an emotional complication of some sort, and reserved furtherinquiry till a more convenient occasion. They had reached the end ofthe level beach where the cliff began to rise, and as this impedimentnaturally stopped their walk they retraced their steps. On again nearingthe spot where Paula and her aunt were sitting, the painter would havedeviated to the hotel; but as his son persisted in going straight on, indue course they were opposite the ladies again. By this time MissPower, who had appeared anxious during their absence, regained herself-control. Going towards her old lover she said, with a smile, 'Ihave been looking for you!'

'Why have you been doing that?' said Somerset, in a voice which hefailed to keep as steady as he could wish. 

'Because--I want some architect to continue the restoration. Do youwithdraw your resignation?'

Somerset appeared unable to decide for a few instants. 'Yes, ' he thenanswered. 

For the moment they had ignored the presence of the painter and Mrs. Goodman, but Somerset now made them known to one another, and there wasfriendly intercourse all round. 

'When will you be able to resume operations at the castle?' she asked, as soon as she could again speak directly to Somerset. 

'As soon as I can get back. Of course I only resume it at your specialrequest. '

'Of course. ' To one who had known all the circumstances it would haveseemed a thousand pities that, after again getting face to face withhim, she did not explain, without delay, the whole mischief thathad separated them. But she did not do it--perhaps from the inherentawkwardness of such a topic at this idle time. She confined herselfsimply to the above-mentioned business-like request, and when the partyhad walked a few steps together they separated, with mutual promises tomeet again. 

'I hope you have explained your mistake to him, and how it arose, andeverything?' said her aunt when they were alone. 

'No, I did not. '

'What, not explain after all?' said her amazed relative. 

'I decided to put it off. '

'Then I think you decided very wrongly. Poor young man, he looked soill!'

'Did you, too, think he looked ill? But he danced last night. Why did hedance?' She turned and gazed regretfully at the corner round which theSomersets had disappeared. 

'I don't know why he danced; but if I had known you were going to be sosilent, I would have explained the mistake myself. '

'I wish you had. But no; I have said I would; and I must. '

Paula's avoidance of tables d'hote did not extend to the present one. It was quite with alacrity that she went down; and with her entry theantecedent hotel beauty who had reigned for the last five days at thatmeal, was unceremoniously deposed by the guests. Mr. Somerset the eldercame in, but nobody with him. His seat was on Paula's left hand, Mrs. Goodman being on Paula's right, so that all the conversation was betweenthe Academician and the younger lady. When the latter had again retiredupstairs with her aunt, Mrs. Goodman expressed regret that young Mr. Somerset was absent from the table. 'Why has he kept away?' she asked. 

'I don't know--I didn't ask, ' said Paula sadly. 'Perhaps he doesn't careto meet us again. '

'That's because you didn't explain. '

'Well--why didn't the old man give me an opportunity?' exclaimed theniece with suppressed excitement. 'He would scarcely say anything butyes and no, and gave me no chance at all of introducing the subject. Iwanted to explain--I came all the way on purpose--I would have beggedGeorge's pardon on my two knees if there had been any way of beginning;but there was not, and I could not do it!'

Though she slept badly that night, Paula promptly appeared in the publicroom to breakfast, and that not from motives of vanity; for, while notunconscious of her accession to the unstable throne of queen-beauty inthe establishment, she seemed too preoccupied to care for the honourjust then, and would readily have changed places with her unhappypredecessor, who lingered on in the background like a candle aftersunrise. 

Mrs. Goodman was determined to trust no longer to Paula for putting anend to what made her so restless and self-reproachful. Seeing old Mr. Somerset enter to a little side-table behind for lack of room at thecrowded centre tables, again without his son, she turned her head andasked point-blank where the young man was. 

Mr. Somerset's face became a shade graver than before. 'My son isunwell, ' he replied; 'so unwell that he has been advised to stay indoorsand take perfect rest. '

'I do hope it is nothing serious. '

'I hope so too. The fact is, he has overdone himself a little. He wasnot well when he came here; and to make himself worse he must needs godancing at the Casino with this lady and that--among others with a youngAmerican lady who is here with her family, and whom he met in Londonlast year. I advised him against it, but he seemed desperatelydetermined to shake off lethargy by any rash means, and wouldn't listento me. Luckily he is not in the hotel, but in a quiet cottage a hundredyards up the hill. '

Paula, who had heard all, did not show or say what she felt at the news:but after breakfast, on meeting the landlady in a passage alone, sheasked with some anxiety if there were a really skilful medical man inEtretat; and on being told that there was, and his name, she went backto look for Mr. Somerset; but he had gone. 

They heard nothing more of young Somerset all that morning, but towardsevening, while Paula sat at her window, looking over the heads offuchsias upon the promenade beyond, she saw the painter walk by. Sheimmediately went to her aunt and begged her to go out and ask Mr. Somerset if his son had improved. 

'I will send Milly or Clementine, ' said Mrs. Goodman. 

'I wish you would see him yourself. '

'He has gone on. I shall never find him. '

'He has only gone round to the front, ' persisted Paula. 'Do walk thatway, auntie, and ask him. '

Thus pressed, Mrs. Goodman acquiesced, and brought back intelligence toMiss Power, who had watched them through the window, that his son didnot positively improve, but that his American friends were very kind tohim. 

Having made use of her aunt, Paula seemed particularly anxious to getrid of her again, and when that lady sat down to write letters, Paulawent to her own room, hastily dressed herself without assistance, askedprivately the way to the cottage, and went off thitherward unobserved. 

At the upper end of the lane she saw a little house answering to thedescription, whose front garden, window-sills, palings, and doorstepwere literally ablaze with nasturtiums in bloom. 

She entered this inhabited nosegay, quietly asked for the invalid, andif he were well enough to see Miss Power. The woman of the house soonreturned, and she was conducted up a crooked staircase to Somerset'smodest apartments. It appeared that some rooms in this dwelling hadbeen furnished by the landlady of the inn, who hired them of the tenantduring the summer season to use as an annexe to the hotel. 

Admitted to the outer room she beheld her architect looking asunarchitectural as possible; lying on a small couch which was drawn upto the open casement, whence he had a back view of the window flowers, and enjoyed a green transparency through the undersides of the samenasturtium leaves that presented their faces to the passers without. 

When the latch had again clicked into the catch of the closed door Paulawent up to the invalid, upon whose pale and interesting face a flush hadarisen simultaneously with the announcement of her name. He would havesprung up to receive her, but she pressed him down, and throwingall reserve on one side for the first time in their intercourse, shecrouched beside the sofa, whispering with roguish solicitude, her facenot too far from his own: 'How foolish you are, George, to get ill justnow when I have been wanting so much to see you again!--I am so sorry tosee you like this--what I said to you when we met on the shore was notwhat I had come to say!'

Somerset took her by the hand. 'Then what did you come to say, Paula?'he asked. 

'I wanted to tell you that the mere wanton wandering of a capriciousmind was not the cause of my estrangement from you. There has been agreat deception practised--the exact nature of it I cannot tell youplainly just at present; it is too painful--but it is all over, andI can assure you of my sorrow at having behaved as I did, and of mysincere friendship now as ever. '

'There is nothing I shall value so much as that. It will make my work atthe castle very pleasant to feel that I can consult you about it withoutfear of intruding on you against your wishes. '

'Yes, perhaps it will. But--you do not comprehend me. '

'You have been an enigma always. '

'And you have been provoking; but never so provoking as now. I wouldn'tfor the world tell you the whole of my fancies as I came hither thisevening: but I should think your natural intuition would suggest whatthey were. '

'It does, Paula. But there are motives of delicacy which prevent myacting on what is suggested to me. '

'Delicacy is a gift, and you should thank God for it; but in some casesit is not so precious as we would persuade ourselves. '

'Not when the woman is rich, and the man is poor?'

'O, George Somerset--be cold, or angry, or anything, but don't belike this! It is never worth a woman's while to show regret for herinjustice; for all she gets by it is an accusation of want of delicacy. '

'Indeed I don't accuse you of that--I warmly, tenderly thank you foryour kindness in coming here to see me. '

'Well, perhaps you do. But I am now in I cannot tell what mood--I willnot tell what mood, for it would be confessing more than I ought. Thisfinding you out is a piece of weakness that I shall not repeat; and Ihave only one thing more to say. I have served you badly, George, I knowthat; but it is never too late to mend; and I have come back to you. However, I shall never run after you again, trust me for that, for it isnot the woman's part. Still, before I go, that there may be no mistakeas to my meaning, and misery entailed on us for want of a word, I'll addthis: that if you want to marry me, as you once did, you must say so;for I am here to be asked. '

It would be superfluous to transcribe Somerset's reply, and theremainder of the scene between the pair. Let it suffice thathalf-an-hour afterwards, when the sun had almost gone down, Paula walkedbriskly into the hotel, troubled herself nothing about dinner, but wentupstairs to their sitting-room, where her aunt presently found her uponthe couch looking up at the ceiling through her fingers. They talked ondifferent subjects for some time till the old lady said 'Mr. Somerset'scottage is the one covered with flowers up the lane, I hear. '

'Yes, ' said Paula. 

'How do you know?'

'I've been there. .. . We are going to be married, aunt. '

'Indeed!' replied Mrs. Goodman. 'Well, I thought this might be the endof it: you were determined on the point; and I am not much surprised atyour news. Your father was very wise after all in entailing everythingso strictly upon your offspring; for if he had not I should have beendriven wild with the responsibility!'

'And now that the murder is out, ' continued Paula, passing over thatview of the case, 'I don't mind telling you that somehow or other I havegot to like George Somerset as desperately as a woman can care for anyman. I thought I should have died when I saw him dancing, and fearedI had lost him! He seemed ten times nicer than ever then! So silly wewomen are, that I wouldn't marry a duke in preference to him. There, that's my honest feeling, and you must make what you can of it; myconscience is clear, thank Heaven!'

'Have you fixed the day?'

'No, ' continued the young lady, still watching the sleeping flies on theceiling. 'It is left unsettled between us, while I come and ask you ifthere would be any harm--if it could conveniently be before we return toEngland?'

'Paula, this is too precipitate!'

'On the contrary, aunt. In matrimony, as in some other things, youshould be slow to decide, but quick to execute. Nothing on earth wouldmake me marry another man; I know every fibre of his character; andhe knows a good many fibres of mine; so as there is nothing more to belearnt, why shouldn't we marry at once? On one point I am firm: I willnever return to that castle as Miss Power. A nameless dread comes overme when I think of it--a fear that some uncanny influence of the deadDe Stancys would drive me again from him. O, if it were to do that, 'she murmured, burying her face in her hands, 'I really think it would bemore than I could bear!'

'Very well, ' said Mrs. Goodman; 'we will see what can be done. I willwrite to Mr. Wardlaw. '

IV. 

On a windy afternoon in November, when more than two months had closedover the incidents previously recorded, a number of farmers were sittingin a room of the Lord-Quantock-Arms Inn, Markton, that was used for theweekly ordinary. It was a long, low apartment, formed by the union oftwo or three smaller rooms, with a bow-window looking upon the street, and at the present moment was pervaded by a blue fog from tobacco-pipes, and a temperature like that of a kiln. The body of farmers who stillsat on there was greater than usual, owing to the cold air without, thetables having been cleared of dinner for some time and their surfacestamped with liquid circles by the feet of the numerous glasses. 

Besides the farmers there were present several professional men ofthe town, who found it desirable to dine here on market-days for theopportunity it afforded them of increasing their practice among theagriculturists, many of whom were men of large balances, even luxuriouslivers, who drove to market in elegant phaetons drawn by horses ofsupreme blood, bone, and action, in a style never anticipated by theirfathers when jogging thither in light carts, or afoot with a butterbasket on each arm. 

The buzz of groggy conversation was suddenly impinged on by the notes ofa peal of bells from the tower hard by. Almost at the same instant thedoor of the room opened, and there entered the landlord of the littleinn at Sleeping-Green. Drawing his supply of cordials from this superiorhouse, to which he was subject, he came here at stated times like aprebendary to the cathedral of his diocesan, afterwards retailing tohis own humbler audience the sentiments which he had learnt of this. Butcuriosity being awakened by the church bells the usual position was forthe moment reversed, and one of the farmers, saluting him by name, askedhim the reason of their striking up at that time of day. 

'My mis'ess out yonder, ' replied the rural landlord, nodding sideways, 'is coming home with her fancy-man. They have been a-gaying togetherthis turk of a while in foreign parts--Here, maid!--what with the wind, and standing about, my blood's as low as water--bring us a thimbleful ofthat that isn't gin and not far from it. '

'It is true, then, that she's become Mrs. Somerset?' indifferently askeda farmer in broadcloth, tenant of an estate in quite another directionthan hers, as he contemplated the grain of the table immediatelysurrounding the foot of his glass. 

'True--of course it is, ' said Havill, who was also present, in the toneof one who, though sitting in this rubicund company, was not of it. 'Icould have told you the truth of it any day these last five weeks. '

Among those who had lent an ear was Dairyman Jinks, an old gnarledcharacter who wore a white fustian coat and yellow leggings; the onlyman in the room who never dressed up in dark clothes for marketing. Henow asked, 'Married abroad, was they? And how long will a wedding abroadstand good for in this country?'

'As long as a wedding at home. '

'Will it? Faith; I didn't know: how should I? I thought it might be somenew plan o' folks for leasing women now they be so plentiful, so as toget rid o' 'em when the men be tired o' 'em, and hev spent all theirmoney. '

'He won't be able to spend her money, ' said the landlord ofSleeping-Green. ''Tis her very own person's--settled upon the hairs ofher head for ever. '

'O nation! Then if I were the man I shouldn't care for such a one-eyedbenefit as that, ' said Dairyman Jinks, turning away to listen to thetalk on his other hand. 

'Is that true?' asked the gentleman-farmer in broadcloth. 

'It is sufficiently near the truth, ' said Havill. 'There is nothing atall unusual in the arrangement; it was only settled so to prevent anyschemer making a beggar of her. If Somerset and she have any children, which probably they will, it will be theirs; and what can a man wantmore? Besides, there is a large portion of property left to her personaluse--quite as much as they can want. Oddly enough, the curiositiesand pictures of the castle which belonged to the De Stancys are notrestricted from sale; they are hers to do what she likes with. Old Powerdidn't care for articles that reminded him so much of his predecessors. '

'Hey?' said Dairyman Jinks, turning back again, having decided that theconversation on his right hand was, after all, the more interesting. 'Well--why can't 'em hire a travelling chap to touch up the picters intoher own gaffers and gammers? Then they'd be worth sommat to her. '

'Ah, here they are? I thought so, ' said Havill, who had been standing upat the window for the last few moments. 'The ringers were told to beginas soon as the train signalled. '

As he spoke a carriage drew up to the hotel-door, followed by anotherwith the maid and luggage. The inmates crowded to the bow-window, exceptDairyman Jinks, who had become absorbed in his own reflections. 

'What be they stopping here for?' asked one of the previous speakers. 

'They are going to stay here to-night, ' said Havill. 'They have comequite unexpectedly, and the castle is in such a state of turmoil thatthere is not a single carpet down, or room for them to use. We shall gettwo or three in order by next week. '

'Two little people like them will be lost in the chammers of thatwandering place!' satirized Dairyman Jinks. 'They will be bound to havea randy every fortnight to keep the moth out of the furniture!'

By this time Somerset was handing out the wife of his bosom, andDairyman Jinks went on: 'That's no more Miss Power that was, than myniece's daughter Kezia is Miss Power--in short it is a different womanaltogether!'

'There is no mistake about the woman, ' said the landlord; 'it is her furclothes that make her look so like a caterpillar on end. Well, she isnot a bad bargain! As for Captain De Stancy, he'll fret his gizzardgreen. '

'He's the man she ought to ha' married, ' declared the farmer inbroadcloth. 'As the world goes she ought to have been Lady De Stancy. She gave up her chapel-going, and you might have thought she wouldhave given up her first young man: but she stuck to him, though by allaccounts he would soon have been interested in another party. '

''Tis woman's nature to be false except to a man, and man's nature to betrue except to a woman, ' said the landlord of Sleeping-Green. 'However, all's well that ends well, and I have something else to think of thannew-married couples;' saying which the speaker moved off, and theothers returned to their seats, the young pair who had been their themevanishing through the hotel into some private paradise to rest and dine. 

By this time their arrival had become known, and a crowd soon gatheredoutside, acquiring audacity with continuance there. Raising a hurrah, the group would not leave till Somerset had showed himself on thebalcony above; and then declined to go away till Paula also hadappeared; when, remarking that her husband seemed a quiet young manenough, and would make a very good borough member when their present onemisbehaved himself, the assemblage good-humouredly dispersed. 

Among those whose ears had been reached by the hurrahs of these idlerswas a man in silence and solitude, far out of the town. He was leaningover a gate that divided two meads in a watery level between StancyCastle and Markton. He turned his head for a few seconds, then continuedhis contemplative gaze towards the towers of the castle, visible overthe trees as far as was possible in the leaden gloom of the Novembereve. The military form of the solitary lounger was recognizable as thatof Sir William De Stancy, notwithstanding the failing light and hisattitude of so resting his elbows on the gate that his hands enclosedthe greater part of his face. 

The scene was inexpressibly cheerless. No other human creature wasapparent, and the only sounds audible above the wind were those of thetrickling streams which distributed the water over the meadow. A heronhad been standing in one of these rivulets about twenty yards fromthe officer, and they vied with each other in stillness till the birdsuddenly rose and flew off to the plantation in which it was his customto pass the night with others of his tribe. De Stancy saw the heronrise, and seemed to imagine the creature's departure without a supperto be owing to the increasing darkness; but in another minute he becameconscious that the heron had been disturbed by sounds too distant toreach his own ears at the time. They were nearer now, and there camealong under the hedge a young man known to De Stancy exceedingly well. 

'Ah, ' he said listlessly, 'you have ventured back. '

'Yes, captain. Why do you walk out here?'

'The bells began ringing because she and he were expected, and mythoughts naturally dragged me this way. Thank Heaven the battery leavesMarkton in a few days, and then the precious place will know me nomore!'

'I have heard of it. ' Turning to where the dim lines of the castle rosehe continued: 'Well, there it stands. '

'And I am not in it. '

'They are not in it yet either. '

'They soon will be. '

'Well--what tune is that you were humming, captain?'

'ALL IS LOST NOW, ' replied the captain grimly. 

'O no; you have got me, and I am a treasure to any man. I have anothermatch in my eye for you, and shall get you well settled yet, if you keepyourself respectable. So thank God, and take courage!'

'Ah, Will--you are a flippant young fool--wise in your own conceit; Isay it to my sorrow! 'Twas your dishonesty spoilt all. That lady wouldhave been my wife by fair dealing--time was all I required. But baseattacks on a man's character never deserve to win, and if I had oncebeen certain that you had made them, my course would have been verydifferent, both towards you and others. But why should I talk to youabout this? If I cared an atom what becomes of you I would take you inhand severely enough; not caring, I leave you alone, to go to the devilyour own way. '

'Thank you kindly, captain. Well, since you have spoken plainly, I willdo the same. We De Stancys are a worn-out old party--that's the longand the short of it. We represent conditions of life that have had theirday--especially me. Our one remaining chance was an alliance with newaristocrats; and we have failed. We are past and done for. Our line hashad five hundred years of glory, and we ought to be content. Enfin lesrenards se trouvent chez le pelletier. '

'Speak for yourself, young Consequence, and leave the destinies of oldfamilies to respectable philosophers. This fiasco is the direct resultof evil conduct, and of nothing else at all. I have managed badly; Icountenanced you too far. When I saw your impish tendencies I shouldhave forsworn the alliance. '

'Don't sting me, captain. What I have told you is true. As for myconduct, cat will after kind, you know. You should have held your tongueon the wedding morning, and have let me take my chance. '

'Is that all I get for saving you from jail? Gad--I alone am thesufferer, and feel I am alone the fool!. .. Come, off with you--I neverwant to see you any more. '

'Part we will, then--till we meet again. It will be a light nighthereabouts, I think, this evening. '

'A very dark one for me. '

'Nevertheless, I think it will be a light night. Au revoir!'

Dare went his way, and after a while De Stancy went his. Both were soonlost in the shades. 

V. 

The castle to-night was as gloomy as the meads. As Havill had explained, the habitable rooms were just now undergoing a scour, and the main blockof buildings was empty even of the few servants who had been retained, they having for comfort's sake taken up their quarters in the detachedrooms adjoining the entrance archway. Hence not a single light shonefrom the lonely windows, at which ivy leaves tapped like woodpeckers, moved by gusts that were numerous and contrary rather than violent. Within the walls all was silence, chaos, and obscurity, till towardseleven o'clock, when the thick immovable cloud that had dulled thedaytime broke into a scudding fleece, through which the moon forded herway as a nebulous spot of watery white, sending light enough, thoughof a rayless kind, into the castle chambers to show the confusion thatreigned there. 

At this time an eye might have noticed a figure flitting in and aboutthose draughty apartments, and making no more noise in so doing than apuff of wind. Its motion hither and thither was rapid, but methodical, its bearing absorbed, yet cautious. Though it ran more or less throughall the principal rooms, the chief scene of its operations was the LongGallery overlooking the Pleasance, which was covered by an ornamentalwood-and-plaster roof, and contained a whole throng of family portraits, besides heavy old cabinets and the like. The portraits which were ofvalue as works of art were smaller than these, and hung in adjoiningrooms. 

The manifest occupation of the figure was that of removing these smalland valuable pictures from other chambers to the gallery in which therest were hung, and piling them in a heap in the midst. Included in thegroup were nine by Sir Peter Lely, five by Vandyck, four by CorneliusJansen, one by Salvator Rosa (remarkable as being among the few Englishportraits ever painted by that master), many by Kneller, and twoby Romney. Apparently by accident, the light being insufficient todistinguish them from portraits, the figure also brought a RaffaelleVirgin-and-Child, a magnificent Tintoretto, a Titian, and a Giorgione. 

On these was laid a large collection of enamelled miniature portraitsof the same illustrious line; afterwards tapestries and cushionsembroidered with the initials 'De S. '; and next the cradle presented byCharles the First to the contemporary De Stancy mother, till at lengththere arose in the middle of the floor a huge heap containing most ofwhat had been personal and peculiar to members of the De Stancy familyas distinct from general furniture. 

Then the figure went from door to door, and threw open each that wasunfastened. It next proceeded to a room on the ground floor, at presentfitted up as a carpenter's shop, and knee-deep in shavings. An armful ofthese was added to the pile of objects in the gallery; a window at eachend of the gallery was opened, causing a brisk draught along the walls;and then the activity of the figure ceased, and it was seen no more. 

Five minutes afterwards a light shone upon the lawn from the windows ofthe Long Gallery, which glowed with more brilliancy than it had known inthe meridian of its Caroline splendours. Thereupon the framed gentlemanin the lace collar seemed to open his eyes more widely; he with theflowing locks and turn-up mustachios to part his lips; he in the armour, who was so much like Captain De Stancy, to shake the plates of hismail with suppressed laughter; the lady with the three-stringed pearlnecklace, and vast expanse of neck, to nod with satisfaction andtriumphantly signify to her adjoining husband that this was a meet andglorious end. 

The flame increased, and blown upon by the wind roared round thepictures, the tapestries, and the cradle, up to the plaster ceiling andthrough it into the forest of oak timbers above. 

The best sitting-room at the Lord-Quantock-Arms in Markton was as cosythis evening as a room can be that lacks the minuter furniture on whichcosiness so largely depends. By the fire sat Paula and Somerset, theformer with a shawl round her shoulders to keep off the draught which, despite the curtains, forced its way in on this gusty night through thewindows opening upon the balcony. Paula held a letter in her hand, thecontents of which formed the subject of their conversation. Happy as shewas in her general situation, there was for the nonce a tear in her eye. 

'MY EVER DEAR PAULA (ran the letter), --Your last letter has just reachedme, and I have followed your account of your travels and intentions withmore interest than I can tell. You, who know me, need no assurance ofthis. At the present moment, however, I am in the whirl of a change thathas resulted from a resolution taken some time ago, but concealed fromalmost everybody till now. Why? Well, I will own--from cowardice--fearlest I should be reasoned out of my plan. I am going to steal from theworld, Paula, from the social world, for whose gaieties and ambitionsI never had much liking, and whose circles I have not the ability tograce. My home, and resting-place till the great rest comes, is with theProtestant Sisterhood at -----. Whatever shortcomings may be found insuch a community, I believe that I shall be happier there than in anyother place. 

'Whatever you may think of my judgment in taking this step, I can assureyou that I have not done it without consideration. My reasons are good, and my determination is unalterable. But, my own very best friend, and more than sister, don't think that I mean to leave my love andfriendship for you behind me. No, Paula, you will ALWAYS be with me, and I believe that if an increase in what I already feel for you bepossible, it will be furthered by the retirement and meditation I shallenjoy in my secluded home. My heart is very full, dear--too full towrite more. God bless you, and your husband. You must come and see methere; I have not so many friends that I can afford to lose you who havebeen so kind. I write this with the fellow-pen to yours, that you gaveme when we went to Budmouth together. Good-bye!--Ever your own sister, CHARLOTTE. '

Paula had first read this through silently, and now in reading it asecond time aloud to Somerset her voice faltered, and she wept outright. 'I had been expecting her to live with us always, ' she said through hertears, 'and to think she should have decided to do this!'

'It is a pity certainly, ' said Somerset gently. 'She was genuine, ifanybody ever was; and simple as she was true. '

'I am the more sorry, ' Paula presently resumed, 'because of a littleplan I had been thinking of with regard to her. You know that thepictures and curiosities of the castle are not included in the things Icannot touch, or impeach, or whatever it is. They are our own to dowhat we like with. My father felt in devising the estate that, howeverinteresting to the De Stancys those objects might be, they did notconcern us--were indeed rather in the way, having been come by sostrangely, through Mr. Wilkins, though too valuable to be treatedlightly. Now I was going to suggest that we would not sell them--indeedI could not bear to do such a thing with what had belonged toCharlotte's forefathers--but to hand them over to her as a gift, eitherto keep for herself, or to pass on to her brother, as she should choose. Now I fear there is no hope of it: and yet I shall never like to seethem in the house. '

'It can be done still, I should think. She can accept them for herbrother when he settles, without absolutely taking them into her ownpossession. '

'It would be a kind of generosity which hardly amounts to more thanjustice (although they were purchased) from a recusant usurper to a dearfriend--not that I am a usurper exactly; well, from a representative ofthe new aristocracy of internationality to a representative of the oldaristocracy of exclusiveness. '

'What do you call yourself, Paula, since you are not of your father'screed?'

'I suppose I am what poor Mr. Woodwell said--by the way, we must calland see him--something or other that's in Revelation, neither cold norhot. But of course that's a sub-species--I may be a lukewarm anything. What I really am, as far as I know, is one of that body to whomlukewarmth is not an accident but a provisional necessity, till they seea little more clearly. ' She had crossed over to his side, and pullinghis head towards her whispered a name in his ear. 

'Why, Mr. Woodwell said you were that too! You carry your beliefs verycomfortably. I shall be glad when enthusiasm is come again. '

'I am going to revise and correct my beliefs one of these days when Ihave thought a little further. ' She suddenly breathed a sigh andadded, 'How transitory our best emotions are! In talking of myself I amheartlessly forgetting Charlotte, and becoming happy again. I won't behappy to-night for her sake!'

A few minutes after this their attention was attracted by a noise offootsteps running along the street; then a heavy tramp of horses, andlumbering of wheels. Other feet were heard scampering at intervals, andsoon somebody ascended the staircase and approached their door. The headwaiter appeared. 

'Ma'am, Stancy Castle is all afire!' said the waiter breathlessly. 

Somerset jumped up, drew aside the curtains, and stepped into thebow-window. Right before him rose a blaze. The window looked upon thestreet and along the turnpike road to the very hill on which the castlestood, the keep being visible in the daytime above the trees. Hererose the light, which appeared little further off than a stone's throwinstead of nearly three miles. Every curl of the smoke and every waveof the flame was distinct, and Somerset fancied he could hear thecrackling. 

Paula had risen from her seat and joined him in the window, where sheheard some people in the street saying that the servants were all safe;after which she gave her mind more fully to the material aspects of thecatastrophe. 

The whole town was now rushing off to the scene of the conflagration, which, shining straight along the street, showed the burgesses' runningfigures distinctly upon the illumined road. Paula was quite ready to actupon Somerset's suggestion that they too should hasten to the spot, anda fly was got ready in a few minutes. With lapse of time Paula evincedmore anxiety as to the fate of her castle, and when they had driven asnear as it was prudent to do, they dismounted, and went on foot intothe throng of people which was rapidly gathering from the town andsurrounding villages. Among the faces they recognized Mr. Woodwell, Havill the architect, the rector of the parish, the curate, and manyothers known to them by sight. These, as soon as they saw the youngcouple, came forward with words of condolence, imagining them to havebeen burnt out of bed, and vied with each other in offering them alodging. Somerset explained where they were staying and that theyrequired no accommodation, Paula interrupting with 'O my poor horses, what has become of them?'

'The fire is not near the stables, ' said Mr. Woodwell. 'It broke outin the body of the building. The horses, however, are driven into thefield. '

'I can assure you, you need not be alarmed, madam, ' said Havill. 'Thechief constable is here, and the two town engines, and I am doing all Ican. The castle engine unfortunately is out of repair. '

Somerset and Paula then went on to another point of view near thegymnasium, where they could not be seen by the crowd. Three-quarters ofa mile off, on their left hand, the powerful irradiation fell upon thebrick chapel in which Somerset had first seen the woman who nowstood beside him as his wife. It was the only object visible in thatdirection, the dull hills and trees behind failing to catch the light. She significantly pointed it out to Somerset, who knew her meaning, andthey turned again to the more serious matter. 

It had long been apparent that in the face of such a wind all the pigmyappliances that the populace could bring to act upon such a mass ofcombustion would be unavailing. As much as could burn that night wasburnt, while some of that which would not burn crumbled and fell asa formless heap, whence new flames towered up, and inclined to thenorth-east so far as to singe the trees of the park. The thicker wallsof Norman date remained unmoved, partly because of their thickness, andpartly because in them stone vaults took the place of wood floors. 

The tower clock kept manfully going till it had struck one, its facesmiling out from the smoke as if nothing were the matter, after whichhour something fell down inside, and it went no more. 

Cunningham Haze, with his body of men, was devoted in his attention, andcame up to say a word to our two spectators from time to time. Towardsfour o'clock the flames diminished, and feeling thoroughly weary, Somerset and Paula remained no longer, returning to Markton as they hadcome. 

On their journey they pondered and discussed what course it would bebest to pursue in the circumstances, gradually deciding not to attemptrebuilding the castle unless they were absolutely compelled. True, the main walls were still standing as firmly as ever; but there wasa feeling common to both of them that it would be well to make anopportunity of a misfortune, and leaving the edifice in ruins starttheir married life in a mansion of independent construction hard by theold one, unencumbered with the ghosts of an unfortunate line. 

'We will build a new house from the ground, eclectic in style. We willremove the ashes, charred wood, and so on from the ruin, and plant moreivy. The winter rains will soon wash the unsightly smoke from the walls, and Stancy Castle will be beautiful in its decay. You, Paula, will beyourself again, and recover, if you have not already, from the warpgiven to your mind (according to Woodwell) by the mediaevalism of thatplace. '

'And be a perfect representative of "the modern spirit"?' she inquired;'representing neither the senses and understanding, nor the heart andimagination; but what a finished writer calls "the imaginative reason"?'

'Yes; for since it is rather in your line you may as well keep straighton. '

'Very well, I'll keep straight on; and we'll build a new house besidethe ruin, and show the modern spirit for evermore. .. . But, George, Iwish--' And Paula repressed a sigh. 

'Well?'

'I wish my castle wasn't burnt; and I wish you were a De Stancy!'