A MODERN CHRONICLE

By Winston Churchill

BOOK I. 

Volume 2. 

CHAPTER VII

THE OLYMPIAN ORDER

Lying back in the chair of the Pullman and gazing over the wide Hudsonshining in the afternoon sun, Honora's imagination ran riot until theseeming possibilities of life became infinite. At every click of therails she was drawing nearer to that great world of which she haddreamed, a world of country houses inhabited by an Olympian order. To besure, Susan, who sat reading in the chair behind her, was but a humblerepresentative of that order--but Providence sometimes makes use of suchinstruments. The picture of the tall and brilliant Ethel Wing standingbehind the brass rail of the platform of the car was continuallyrecurring to Honora as emblematic: of Ethel, in a blue tailor-made gowntrimmed with buff braid, and which fitted her slender figure withmilitary exactness. Her hair, the colour of the yellowest of gold, in themanner of its finish seemed somehow to give the impression of that metal;and the militant effect of the costume had been heightened by a smallcolonial cocked hat. If the truth be told, Honora had secretly idealizedMiss Wing, and had found her insouciance, frankness, and tendency toridicule delightful. Militant--that was indeed Ethel's note--militantand positive. 

"You're not going home with Susan!" she had exclaimed, making a littleface when Honora had told her. "They say that Silverdale is as slow as anunnery--and you're on your knees all the time. You ought to have come toNewport with me. "

It was characteristic of Miss Wing that she seemed to have taken noaccount of the fact that she had neglected to issue this alluringinvitation. Life at Silverdale slow! How could it be slow amidst suchbeauty and magnificence?

The train was stopping at a new little station on which hung the legend, in gold letters, "Sutton. " The sun was well on his journey towards thewestern hills. Susan had touched her on the shoulder. 

"Here we are, Honora, " she said, and added, with an unusual tremor in hervoice, "at last!"

On the far side of the platform a yellow, two-seated wagon was waiting, and away they drove through the village, with its old houses and itssleepy streets and its orchards, and its ancient tavern dating fromstage-coach days. Just outside of it, on the tree-dotted slope of a longhill, was a modern brick building, exceedingly practical in appearance, surrounded by spacious grounds enclosed in a paling fence. That, Susansaid, was the Sutton Home. 

"Your mother's charity?"

A light came into the girl's eyes. 

"So you have heard of it? Yes, it is the, thing that interests mothermore than anything else in the world. "

"Oh, " said Honora, "I hope she will let me go through it. "

"I'm sure she will want to take you there to-morrow, " answered Susan, andshe smiled. 

The road wound upwards, by the valley of a brook, through the hills, nowwooded, now spread with pastures that shone golden green in the eveninglight, the herds gathering at the gate-bars. Presently they came to agothic-looking stone building, with a mediaeval bridge thrown across thestream in front of it, and massive gates flung open. As they passed, Honora had a glimpse of a blue driveway under the arch of the forest. Anelderly woman looked out at them through the open half of a leadedlattice. 

"That's the Chamberlin estate, " Susan volunteered. "Mr. Chamberlin hasbuilt a castle on the top of that hill. "

Honora caught her breath. 

"Are many of the places here like that?" she asked. Susan laughed. 

"Some people don't think the place is very--appropriate, " she contentedherself with replying. 

A little later, as they climbed higher, other houses could be discerneddotted about the country-side, nearly all of them varied expressions ofthe passion for a new architecture which seemed to possess the rich. Mostof them were in conspicuous positions, and surrounded by wide acres. Each, to Honora, was an inspiration. 

"I had no idea there were so many people here, " she said. 

"I'm afraid Sutton is becoming fashionable, " answered Susan. 

"And don't you want it to?" asked Honora. 

"It was very nice before, " said Susan, quietly. 

Honora was silent. They turned in between two simple stone pillars thatdivided a low wall, overhung from the inside by shrubbery growing underthe forest. Susan seized her friend's hand and pressed it. 

"I'm always so glad to get back here, " she whispered. "I hope you'll likeit. "

Honora returned the pressure. 

The grey road forked, and forked again. Suddenly the forest came to anend in a sort of premeditated tangle of wild garden, and across a widelawn the great house loomed against the western sky. Its architecture wasof the '60's and '70's, with a wide porte-cochere that sheltered the highentrance doors. These were both flung open, a butler and two footmen werestanding impassively beside them, and a neat maid within. Honora climbedthe steps as in a dream, followed Susan through a hall with ablack-walnut, fretted staircase, and where she caught a glimpse of twohuge Chinese vases, to a porch on the other side of the house spread withwicker chairs and tables. Out of a group of people at the farther end ofthis porch arose an elderly lady, who came forward and clasped Susan inher arms. 

"And is this Honora? How do you do, my dear? I had the pleasure ofknowing you when you were much younger. "

Honora, too, was gathered to that ample bosom. Released, she beheld alady in a mauve satin gown, at the throat of which a cameo brooch wasfastened. Mrs. Holt's face left no room for conjecture as to thecharacter of its possessor. Her hair, of a silvering blend, parted in themiddle, fitted tightly to her head. She wore earrings. In short, herappearance was in every way suggestive of momentum, of a force which thewise would respect. 

"Where are you, Joshua?" she said. "This is the baby we brought fromNice. Come and tell me whether you would recognize her. "

Mr. Holt released his--daughter. He had a mild blue eye, whitemutton-chop whiskers, and very thin hands, and his tweed suit wasdecidedly the worse for wear. 

"I can't say that I should, Elvira, " he replied; "although it is not hardto believe that such a beautiful baby should, prove to be such a--er--good-looking young woman. "

"I've always felt very grateful to you for bringing me back, " saidHonora. 

"Tut, tut, child, " said Mrs. Holt; "there was no one else to do it. Andbe careful how you pay young women compliments, Joshua. They grow vainenough. By the way, my dear, what ever became of your maternalgrandfather, old Mr. Allison--wasn't that his name?"

"He died when I was very young, " replied Honora. 

"He was too fond of the good things of this life, " said Mrs. Holt. 

"My dear Elvira!" her husband protested. 

"I can't help it, he was, " retorted that lady. "I am a judge of humannature, and I was relieved, I can tell you, my dear" (to Honora), "when Isaw your uncle and aunt on the wharf that morning. I knew that I hadconfided you to good hands. "

"They have done everything for me, Mrs. Holt, " said Honora. 

The good lady patted her approvingly on the shoulder. 

"I'm sure of it, my dear, " she said. "And I am glad to see you appreciateit. And now you must renew your acquaintance with the family. "

A sister and a brother, Honora had already learned from Susan, had diedsince she had crossed the ocean with them. Robert and Joshua, Junior, remained. Both were heavyset, with rather stern faces, both hadclose-cropped, tan-coloured mustaches and wide jaws, with blue eyes likeSusan's. Both were, with women at least, what the French would calldifficult--Robert less so than Joshua. They greeted Honora reservedlyand--she could not help feeling--a little suspiciously. And theirappearance was something of a shock to her; they did not, somehow, "gowith the house, " and they dressed even more carelessly than Peter Erwin. This was particularly true of Joshua, whose low, turned-down collarrevealed a porous, brick-red, and extremely virile neck, and whoseclothes were creased at the knees and across the back. 

As for their wives, Mrs. Joshua was a merry, brown-eyed little ladyalready inclining to stoutness, and Honora felt at home with her at once. Mrs. Robert was tall and thin, with an olive face and dark eyes whichgave the impression of an uncomfortable penetration. She was dressedsimply in a shirtwaist and a dark skirt, but Honora thought her strikinglooking. 

The grandchildren, playing on and off the porch, seemed legion, and theywere besieging Susan. In reality there were seven of them, of all sizesand sexes, from the third Joshua with a tennis-bat to the youngest whowas weeping at being sent to bed, and holding on to her Aunt Susan withdesperation. When Honora had greeted them all, and kissed some of them, she was informed that there were two more upstairs, safely tucked away incribs. 

"I'm sure you love children, don't you?" said Mrs. Joshua. She spokeimpulsively, and yet with a kind of childlike shyness. 

"I adore them, " exclaimed Honora. 

A trellised arbour (which some years later would have been called apergola) led from the porch up the hill to an old-fashioned summer-houseon the crest. And thither, presently, Susan led Honora for a view of thedistant western hills silhouetted in black against a flaming western sky, before escorting her to her room. The vastness of the house, the width ofthe staircase, and the size of the second-story hall impressed ourheroine. 

"I'll send a maid to you later, dear, " Susan said. "If you care to liedown for half an hour, no one will disturb you. And I hope you will becomfortable. "

Comfortable! When the door had closed, Honora glanced around her andsighed, "comfort" seemed such a strangely inadequate word. She wasreminded of the illustrations she had seen of English country houses. Thebed alone would almost have filled her little room at home. On thefarther side, in an alcove, was a huge dressing-table; a fire was laid inthe grate of the marble mantel, the curtains in the bay window weretightly drawn, and near by was a lounge with a reading-light. A hugemahogany wardrobe occupied one corner; in another stood a pier glass, andin another, near the lounge, was a small bookcase filled with books. Honora looked over them curiously. "Robert Elsmere" and a life of Christ, "Mr. Isaacs, " a book of sermons by an eminent clergyman, "InnocentsAbroad, " Hare's "Walks in Rome, " "When a Man's Single, " by Barrie, a bookof meditations, and "Organized Charities for Women. "

Adjoining the bedroom was a bathroom in proportion, evidently all herown, --with a huge porcelain tub and a table set with toilet bottlescontaining liquids of various colours. 

Dreamily, Honora slipped on the new dressing-gown Aunt Mary had made forher, and took a book out of the bookcase. It was the volume of sermons. But she could not read: she was forever looking about the room, andthinking of the family she had met downstairs. Of course, when one livedin a house like this, one could afford to dress and act as one liked. Shewas aroused from her reflections by the soft but penetrating notes of aJapanese gong, followed by a gentle knock on the door and the entrance ofan elderly maid, who informed her it was time to dress for dinner. 

"If you'll excuse me, Miss, " said that hitherto silent individual whenthe operation was completed, "you do look lovely. "

Honora, secretly, was of that opinion too as she surveyed herself in thelong glass. The simple summer silk, of a deep and glowing pink, rivalledthe colour in her cheeks, and contrasted with the dark and shining massesof her hair; and on her neck glistened a little pendant of her mother'sjewels, which Aunt Mary, with Cousin Eleanor's assistance, had had set inNew York. Honora's figure was that of a woman of five and twenty: herneck was a slender column, her head well set, and the look of race, whichhad been hers since childhood, was at nineteen more accentuated. All thisshe saw, and went down the stairs in a kind of exultation. And when onthe threshold of the drawing-room she paused, the conversation suddenlyceased. Mr. Holt and his sons got up somewhat precipitately, and Mrs. Holt came forward to meet her. 

"I hope you weren't waiting for me, " said Honora, timidly. 

"No indeed, my dear, " said Mrs. Holt. Tucking Honora's hand under herarm, she led the way majestically to the dining-room, a large apartmentwith a dimly lighted conservatory at the farther end, presided over bythe decorous butler and his assistants. A huge chandelier with prismshung over the flowers at the centre of the table, which sparkled withglass and silver, while dishes of vermilion and yellow fruits relievedthe whiteness of the cloth. Honora found herself beside Mr. Holt, wholooked more shrivelled than ever in his evening clothes. And she wasabout to address him when, with a movement as though to forestall her, heleaned forward convulsively and began a mumbling grace. 

The dinner itself was more like a ceremony than a meal, and as itproceeded, Honora found it increasingly difficult to rid herself of acurious feeling of being on probation. 

Joshua, who sat on her other side and ate prodigiously, scarcelyaddressed a word to her; but she gathered from his remarks to his fatherand brother that he was interested in cows. And Mr. Holt was almostexclusively occupied in slowly masticating the special dishes which thebutler impressively laid before him. He asked her a few questions aboutMiss Turner's school, but it was not until she had admired the mass ofpeonies in the centre of the table that his eyes brightened, and hesmiled. 

"You like flowers?" he asked. 

"I love them, " slid Honora. 

"I am the gardener here, " he said. "You must see my garden, MissLeffingwell. I am in it by half-past six every morning, rain or shine. "

Honora looked up, and surprised Mrs. Robert's eyes fixed on her with thesame strange expression she had noticed on her arrival. And for somesenseless reason, she flushed. 

The conversation was chiefly carried on by kindly little Mrs. Joshua andby Mrs. Holt, who seemed at once to preside and to dominate. She praisedHonora's gown, but left a lingering impression that she thought heroverdressed, without definitely saying so. And she made innumerable--andoften embarrassing--inquiries about Honora's aunt and uncle, and her lifein St. Louis, and her friends there, and how she had happened to go toSutcliffe to school. Sometimes Honora blushed, but she answered them allgood-naturedly. And when at length the meal had marched sedately down tothe fruit, Mrs. Holt rose and drew Honora out of the dining room. 

"It is a little hard on you, my dear, " she said, "to give you so muchfamily on your arrival. But there are some other people coming to-morrow, when it will be gayer, I hope, for you and Susan. "

"It is so good of you and Susan to want me, Mrs. Holt, " replied Honora, "I am enjoying it so much. I have never been in a big country house likethis, and I am glad there is no one else here. I have heard my aunt speakof you so often, and tell how kind you were to take charge of me, that Ihave always hoped to know you sometime or other. And it seems thestrangest of coincidences that I should have roomed with Susan atSutcliffe. "

"Susan has grown very fond of you, " said Mrs. Holt, graciously. "We arevery glad to have you, my dear, and I must own that I had a curiosity tosee you again. Your aunt struck me as a good and sensible woman, and itwas a positive relief to know that you were to be confided to her care. "Mrs. Holt, however, shook her head and regarded Honora, and her nextremark might have been taken as a clew to her thoughts. "But we are notvery gay at Silverdale, Honora. "

Honora's quick intuition detected the implication of a frivolity whicheven her sensible aunt had not been able to eradicate. 

"Oh, Mrs. Holt, " she cried, "I shall be so happy here, just seeing thingsand being among you. And I am so interested in the little bit I have seenalready. I caught a glimpse of your girls' home on my way from thestation. I hope you will take me there. "

Mrs. Holt gave her a quick look, but beheld in Honora's clear eyes onlyeagerness and ingenuousness. 

The change in the elderly lady's own expression, and incidentally in theatmosphere which enveloped her, was remarkable. 

"Would you really like to go, my dear?"

"Oh, yes indeed, " cried Honora. "You see, I have heard so much of it, andI should like to write my aunt about it. She is interested in the workyou are doing, and she has kept a magazine with an article in it, and apicture of the institution. "

"Dear me!" exclaimed the lady, now visibly pleased. "It is a very modestlittle work, my dear. I had no idea that--out in St. Louis--that thebeams of my little candle had carried so far. Indeed you shall see it, Honora. We will go down the first thing in the morning. "

Mrs. Robert, who had been sitting on the other side of the room, roseabruptly and came towards them. There was something very like a smile onher face, --although it wasn't really a smile--as she bent over and kissedher mother-in-law on the cheek. 

"I am glad to hear you are interested in--charities, Miss Leffingwell, "she said. 

Honora's face grew warm. 

"I have not so far had very much to do with them, I am afraid, " sheanswered. 

"How should she?" demanded Mrs. Holt. "Gwendolen, you're not going upalready?"

"I have some letters to write, " said Mrs. Robert. 

"Gwen has helped me immeasurably, " said Mrs. Holt, looking after the tallfigure of her daughter-in-law, "but she has a curious, reservedcharacter. You have to know her, my dear. She is not at all like Susan, for instance. "

Honora awoke the next morning to a melody, and lay for some minutes in adelicious semi-consciousness, wondering where she was. Presently shediscovered that the notes were those of a bird on a tree immediatelyoutside of her window--a tree of wonderful perfection, the lower branchesof which swept the ground. Other symmetrical trees, of many varieties, dotted a velvet lawn, which formed a great natural terrace above theforested valley of Silver Brook. On the grass, dew-drenched cobwebsgleamed in the early sun, and the breeze that stirred the curtains wascharged with the damp, fresh odours of the morning. Voices caught herear, and two figures appeared in the distance. One she recognized as Mr. Holt, and the other was evidently a gardener. The gilt clock on themantel pointed to a quarter of seven. 

It is far too late in this history to pretend that Honora was, bypreference, an early riser, and therefore it must have been theexcitement caused by her surroundings that made her bathe and dress withalacrity that morning. A housemaid was dusting the stairs as shedescended into the empty hall. She crossed the lawn, took a path throughthe trees that bordered it, and came suddenly upon an old-fashionedgarden in all the freshness of its early morning colour. In one of thewinding paths she stopped with a little exclamation. Mr. Holt rose fromhis knees in front of her, where he had been digging industriously with atrowel. His greeting, when contrasted with his comparative taciturnity atdinner the night before, was almost effusive--and a little pathetic. 

"My dear young lady, " he exclaimed, "up so early?" He held upforbiddingly a mould-covered palm. "I can't shake hands with you. "

Honora laughed. 

"I couldn't resist the temptation to see your garden, " she said. 

A gentle light gleamed in his blue eyes, and he paused before a trellisof June roses. With his gardening knife he cut three of them, and heldthem gallantly against her white gown. Her sensitive colour responded asshe thanked him, and she pinned them deftly at her waist. 

"You like gardens?" he said. 

"I was brought up with them, " she answered; "I mean, " she correctedherself swiftly, "in a very modest way. My uncle is passionately fond offlowers, and he makes our little yard bloom with them all summer. But ofcourse, " Honora added, "I've never seen anything like this. "

"It has been a life work, " answered Mr. Holt, proudly, "and yet I feel asthough I had not yet begun. Come, I will show you the peonies--they areat their best--before I go in and make myself respectable for breakfast. "

Ten minutes later, as they approached the house in amicable and evenlively conversation, they beheld Susan and Mrs. Robert standing on thesteps under the porte-cochere, watching them. 

"Why, Honora, " cried Susan, "how energetic you are! I actually had ashock when I went to your room and found you'd gone. I'll have to writeMiss Turner. "

"Don't, " pleaded Honora; "you see, I had every inducement to get up. "

"She has been well occupied, " put in Mr. Holt. "She has been admiring mygarden. "

"Indeed I have, " said Honora. 

"Oh, then, you have won father's heart!" cried Susan. Gwendolen Holtsmiled. Her eyes were fixed upon the roses in Honora's belt. 

"Good morning, Miss Leffingwell, " she said, simply. 

Mr. Holt having removed the loam from his hands, the whole family, excepting Joshua, Junior, and including an indefinite number of children, and Carroll, the dignified butler, and Martha, the elderly maid, troopedinto the library for prayers. Mr. Holt sat down before a teak-wood tableat the end of the room, on which reposed a great, morocco-covered Bible. Adjusting his spectacles, he read, in a mild but impressive voice, achapter of Matthew, while Mrs. Joshua tried to quiet her youngest. Honorasat staring at a figure on the carpet, uncomfortably aware that Mrs. Robert was still studying her. Mr. Holt closed the Bible reverently, andannounced a prayer, whereupon the family knelt upon the floor and leanedtheir elbows on the seats of their chairs. Honora did likewise, wonderingat the facility with which Mr. Holt worded his appeal, and at the numberof things he found to pray for. Her knees had begun to ache before he hadfinished. 

At breakfast such a cheerful spirit prevailed that Honora began almost tofeel at home. Even Robert indulged occasionally in raillery. 

"Where in the world is Josh?" asked Mrs. Holt, after they were seated. 

"I forgot to tell you, mother, " little Mrs. Joshua chirped up, "that hegot up at an unearthly hour, and went over to Grafton to look at a cow. "

"A cow!" sighed Mrs: Holt. "Oh, dear, I might have known it. You mustunderstand, Honora, that every member of the Holt family has a hobby. Joshua's is Jerseys. "

"I'm sure I should adore them if I lived in the country, " Honoradeclared. 

"If you and Joshua would only take that Sylvester farm, and build ahouse, Annie, " said Mr. Holt, munching the dried bread which wasspecially prepared for him, "I should be completely happy. Then, " headded, turning to Honora, "I should have both my sons settled on theplace. Robert and Gwen are sensible in building. "

"It's cheaper to live with you, granddad, " laughed Mrs. Joshua. "Joshsays if we do that, he has more money to buy cows. "

At this moment a footman entered, and presented Mrs. Holt with some mailon a silver tray. 

"The Vicomte de Toqueville is coming this afternoon, Joshua, " sheannounced, reading rapidly from a sheet on which was visible a largecrown. "He landed in New York last week, and writes to know if I couldhave him. "

"Another of mother's menagerie, " remarked Robert. 

"I don't think that's nice of you, Robert, " said his mother. "The Vicomtewas very kind to your father and me in Paris, and invited us to hischateau in Provence. "

Robert was sceptical. 

"Are you sure he had one?" he insisted. 

Even Mr. Holt laughed. 

"Robert, " said his mother, "I wish Gwen could induce you to travel more. Perhaps you would learn that all foreigners aren't fortune-hunters. "

I've had an opportunity to observe the ones who come over here, mother. "

"I won't have a prospective guest discussed, " Mrs. Holt declared, withfinality. "Joshua, you remember my telling you last spring that MarthaSpence's son called on me?" she asked. "He is in business with a mannamed Dallam, I believe, and making a great deal of money for a youngman. He is just a year younger than you, Robert. "

"Do you mean that fat, tow-headed boy that used to come up here and eatmelons and ride my pony?" inquired Robert. "Howard Spence?"

Mrs. Holt smiled. 

"He isn't fat any longer, Robert. Indeed, he's quite good-looking. Sincehis mother died, I had lost trace of him. But I found a photograph ofhers when I was clearing up my desk some months ago, and sent it to him, and he came to thank me. I forgot to tell you that I invited him for afortnight any time he chose, and he has just written to ask if he maycome now. I regret to say that he's on the Stock Exchange--but I was veryfond of his mother. It doesn't seem to me quite a legitimate business. "

"Why!" exclaimed little Mrs. Joshua, unexpectedly, "I'm given tounderstand that the Stock Exchange is quite aristocratic in these days. "

"I'm afraid I am old-fashioned, my dear, " said Mrs. Holt, rising. "It hasalways seemed to me little better than a gambling place. Honora, if youstill wish to go to the Girls' Home, I have ordered the carriage in aquarter of an hour. "

CHAPTER VIII

A CHAPTER OF CONQUESTS

Honora's interest in the Institution was so lively, and she asked so manyquestions and praised so highly the work with which the indiscreet youngwomen were occupied that Mrs. Holt patted her hand as they drovehomeward. 

"My dear, " she said, "I begin to wish I'd adopted you myself. Perhaps, later on, we can find a husband for you, and you will marry and settledown near us here at Silverdale, and then you can help me with the work. "

"Oh, Mrs. Holt, " she replied, "I should so like to help you, I mean. Andit would be wonderful to live in such a place. And as for marriage, itseems such a long way off that somehow I never think of it. "

"Naturally, " ejaculated Mrs. Holt, with approval, "a young girl of yourage should not. But, my dear, I am afraid you are destined to have manyadmirers. If you had not been so well brought up, and were not naturallyso sensible, I should fear for you. "

"Oh, Mrs. Holt!" exclaimed Honora, deprecatingly, and blushing veryprettily. 

"Whatever else I am, " said Mrs. Holt, vigorously, "I am not a flatterer. I am telling you something for your own good--which you probably knowalready. "

Honora was discreetly silent. She thought of the proud and unsusceptibleGeorge Hanbury, whom she had cast down from the tower of his sophomoredignity with such apparent ease; and of certain gentlemen at home, youngand middle-aged, who had behaved foolishly during the Christmas holidays. 

At lunch both the Roberts and the Joshuas were away. 

Afterwards, they romped with the children--she and Susan. They were shyat first, especially the third Joshua, but Honora captivated him byplaying two sets of tennis in the broiling sun, at the end of whichexercise he regarded her with a new-born admiration in his eyes. He wasthirteen. 

"I didn't think you were that kind at all, " he said. 

"What kind did you think I was?" asked Honora, passing her arm around hisshoulder as they walked towards the house. 

The boy grew scarlet. 

"Oh, I didn't think you--you could play tennis, " he stammered. 

Honora stopped, and seized his chin and tilted his face upward. 

"Now, Joshua, " she said, "look at me and say that over again. "

"Well, " he replied desperately, "I thought you wouldn't want to get allmussed up and hot. "

"That's better, " said Honora. "You thought I was vain, didn't you?"

"But I don't think so any more, " he avowed passionately. "I think you'rea trump. And we'll play again to-morrow, won't we?"

"We'll play any day you like, " she declared. 

It is unfair to suppose that the arrival of a real vicomte and of ayoung, good-looking, and successful member of the New York Stock Exchangewere responsible for Honora's appearance, an hour later, in theembroidered linen gown which Cousin Eleanor had given her that spring. Tea was already in progress on the porch, and if a hush in theconversation and the scraping of chairs is any sign of a sensation, thishappened when our heroine appeared in the doorway. And Mrs. Holt, in theact of lifting the hot-water kettle; put it down again. Whether or notthere was approval in the lady's delft-blue eye, Honora could not havesaid. The Vicomte, with the graceful facility of his race, haddifferentiated himself from the group and stood before her. As soon asthe words of introduction were pronounced, he made a bow that was atribute in itself, exaggerated in its respect. 

"It is a pleasure, Mademoiselle, " he murmured, but his eyes were moreeloquent. 

A description of him in his own language leaped into Honora's mind, somuch did he appear to have walked out of one of the many yellow-backednovels she had read. He was not tall, but beautifully made, and his coatwas quite absurdly cut in at the waist; his mustache was en-croc, and itspoints resembled those of the Spanish bayonets in the conservatory: hemight have been three and thirty, and he was what the novels described as'un peu fane' which means that he had seen the world: his eyes wereextraordinarily bright, black, and impenetrable. 

A greater contrast to the Vicomte than Mr. Howard Spence would have beendifficult to find. He was Honora's first glimpse of Finance, of thepowers that travelled in private cars and despatched ships across theocean. And in our modern mythology, he might have stood for the god ofProsperity. Prosperity is pink, and so was Mr. Spence, in two places, --his smooth-shaven cheeks and his shirt. His flesh had a certainfirmness, but he was not stout; he was merely well fed, as Prosperityshould be. His features were comparatively regular, his mustache a lightbrown, his eyes hazel. The fact that he came from that mysteriousmetropolis, the heart of which is Wall Street, not only excused butlegitimized the pink shirt and the neatly knotted green tie, thepepper-and-salt check suit that was loose and at the same timewell-fitting, and the jewelled ring on his plump little finger. On thewhole, Mr. Spence was not only prepossessing, but he contrived to giveHonora, as she shook his hand, the impression of being brought a stepnearer to the national source of power. Unlike the Vicomte, he did notappear to have been instantly and mortally wounded upon her arrival onthe scene, but his greeting was flattering, and he remained by her sideinstead of returning to that of Mrs. Robert. 

"When did you come up?" he asked. 

"Only yesterday, " answered Honora. 

"New York, " said Mr. Spence, producing a gold cigarette case on which hismonogram was largely and somewhat elaborately engraved, "New York isplayed out this time of year--isn't it? I dropped in at Sherry's lastnight for dinner, and there weren't thirty people there. "

Honora had heard of Sherry's as a restaurant where one dined fabulously, and she tried to imagine the cosmopolitan and blissful existence whichpermitted "dropping in at" such a place. Moreover, Mr. Spence was plainlyunder the impression that she too "came up" from New York, and it wasimpossible not to be a little pleased. 

"It must be a relief to get into the country, " she ventured. 

Mr. Spence glanced around him expressively, and then looked at her with aslight smile. The action and the smile--to which she could not refrainfrom responding--seemed to establish a tacit understanding between them. It was natural that he should look upon Silverdale as a slow place, andthere was something delicious in his taking, for granted that she sharedthis opinion. She wondered a little wickedly what he would say when heknew the truth about her, and this was the birth of a resolution that hisinterest should not flag. 

"Oh, I can stand the country when it is properly inhabited, " he said, andtheir eyes met in laughter. 

"How many inhabitants do you require?" she asked. 

"Well, " he said brazenly, "the right kind of inhabitant is worth athousand of the wrong kind. It is a good rule in business, when you comeacross a gilt-edged security, to make a specialty of it. "

Honora found the compliment somewhat singular. But she was prepared toforgive New York a few sins in the matter of commercial slang: New York, which evidently dressed as it liked, and talked as it liked. But notknowing any more of a gilt-edged security than that it was something toMr. Spence's taste, a retort was out of the question. Then, as though shewere doomed that day to complicity, her eyes chanced to encounter anappealing glance from the Vicomte, who was searching with the courage ofdespair for an English word, which his hostess awaited in stoicalsilence. He was trying to give his impressions of Silverdale, incomparison to country places abroad, while Mrs. Robert regarded himenigmatically, and Susan sympathetically. Honora had an almostirresistible desire to laugh. 

"Ah, Madame, " he cried, still looking at Honora, "will you have thekindness to permit me to walk about ever so little?"

"Certainly, Vicomte, and I will go with you. Get my parasol, Susan. Perhaps you would like to come, too, Howard, " she added to Mr. Spence;"it has been so long since you were here, and we have made many changes. "

"And you, Mademoiselle, " said the Vicomte to Honora, you will come--yes?You are interested in landscape?"

"I love the country, " said Honora. 

"It is a pleasure to have a guest who is so appreciative, " said Mrs. Holt. "Miss Leffingwell was up at seven this morning, and in the gardenwith my husband. "

"At seven!" exclaimed the Vicomte; "you American young ladies arewonderful. For example--" and he was about to approach her to enlarge onthis congenial theme when Susan arrived with the parasol, which Mrs. Holtput in his hands. 

"We'll begin, I think, with the view from the summer house, " she said. "And I will show you how our famous American landscape architect, Mr. Olmstead, has treated the slope. "

There was something humorous, and a little pathetic in the contrastedfigures of the Vicomte and their hostess crossing the lawn in front ofthem. Mr. Spence paused a moment to light his cigarette, and he seemed toderive infinite pleasure from this juxtaposition. 

"Got left, --didn't he?" he said. 

To this observation there was, obviously, no answer. 

"I'm not very strong on foreigners, " he declared. "An American is goodenough for me. And there's something about that fellow which would makeme a little slow in trusting him with a woman I cared for. "

"If you are beginning to worry over Mrs. Holt, " said Honora, "we'd betterwalk a little faster. "

Mr. Spence's delight at this sally was so unrestrained as to cause thecouple ahead to turn. The Vicomte's expression was reproachful. 

"Where's Susan?" asked Mrs. Holt. 

"I think she must have gone in the house, " Honora answered. 

"You two seem to be having a very good time. "

"Oh, we're hitting it off fairly well, " said Mr. Spence, no doubt for thebenefit of the Vicomte. And he added in a confidential tone, "Aren't we?"

"Not on the subject of the Vicomte, " she replied promptly. "I like him. Ilike French people. "

"What!" he exclaimed, halting in his steps, "you don't take that manseriously?"

"I haven't known him long enough to take him seriously, " said Honora. 

"There's a blindness about women, " he declared, "that's incomprehensible. They'll invest in almost any old thing if the certificates arebeautifully engraved. If you were a man, you wouldn't trust thatFrenchman to give you change for five dollars. "

"French people, " proclaimed Honora, "have a light touch of which weAmericans are incapable. We do not know how to relax. "

"A light touch!" cried Mr. Spence, delightedly, "that about describes theVicomte. "

"I'm sure you do him an injustice, " said Honora. 

"We'll see, " said Mr. Spence. "Mrs. Holt is always picking up queerpeople like that. She's noted for it. " He turned to her. How did youhappen to come here?"

"I came with Susan, " she replied, amusedly, "from boarding-school atSutcliffe. "

"From boarding-school!"

She rather enjoyed his surprise. 

"You don't mean to say you are Susan's age?"

"How old did you think I was?" she asked. 

"Older than Susan, " he said surveying her. 

"No, I'm a mere child, I'm nineteen. "

"But I thought--" he began, and paused and lighted another cigarette. 

Her eyes lighted mischievously. 

"You thought that I had been out several years, and that I'd seen a gooddeal of the world, and that I lived in New York, and that it was strangeyou didn't know me. But New York is such an enormous place I suppose onecan't know everybody there. "

"And--where do you come from, if I may ask?" he said. 

"St. Louis. I was brought to this country before I was two years old, from France. Mrs. Holt brought me. And I have never been out of St. Louissince, except to go to Sutcliffe. There you have my history. Mrs. Holtwould probably have told it to you, if I hadn't. "

"And Mrs. Holt brought you to this country?"

Honora explained, not without a certain enjoyment. 

"And how do you happen to be here?" she demanded. "Are you a member of--of the menagerie?"

He had the habit of throwing back his head when he laughed. This, ofcourse, was a thing to laugh over, and now he deemed it audacity. Fiveminutes before he might have given it another name there is no use insaying that the recital of Honora's biography had not made a differencewith Mr. Howard Pence, and that he was not a little mortified at hismistake. What he had supposed her to be must remain a matter ofconjecture. He was, however, by no means aware how thoroughly thisunknown and inexperienced young woman had read his thoughts in herregard. And if the truth be told, he was on the whole relieved that shewas nobody. He was just an ordinary man, provided with no sixth sense orpremonitory small voice to warn him that masculine creatures are often inreal danger at the moment when they feel most secure. 

It is certain that his manner changed, and during the rest of the walkshe listened demurely when he talked about Wall Street, with casualreferences to the powers that be. It was evident that Mr. Howard Spencewas one who had his fingers on the pulse of affairs. Ambition leaped inhim. 

They reached the house in advance of Mrs. Holt and the Vicomte, andHonora went to her room. 

At dinner, save for a little matter of a casual remark when Mr. Holt hadassumed the curved attitude in which he asked grace, Mr. Spence had averitable triumph. Self-confidence was a quality which Honora admired. Hewas undaunted by Mrs. Holt, and advised Mrs. Robert, if she had anypin-money, to buy New York Central; and he predicted an era of prosperitywhich would be unexampled in the annals of the country. Among otherpowers, he quoted the father of Honora's schoolmate, Mr. James Wing, asauthority for this prophecy. He sat next to Susan, who maintained herusual maidenly silence, but Honora, from time to time, and as though byaccident, caught his eye. Even Mr. Holt, when not munching his driedbread, was tempted to make some inquiries about the market. 

"So far as I am concerned, " Mrs. Holt announced suddenly, "nothing canconvince me that it is not gambling. "

"My dear Elvira!" protested Mr. Holt. 

"I can't help it, " said that lady, stoutly; "I'm old-fashioned, Isuppose. But it seems to me like legalized gambling. "

Mr. Spence took this somewhat severe arraignment of his career inadmirable good nature. And if these be such a thing as an implied wink, Honora received one as he proceeded to explain what he was pleased tocall the bona-fide nature of the transactions of Dallam and Spence. 

A discussion ensued in which, to her surprise, even the ordinarilytaciturn Joshua took a part, and maintained that the buying and sellingof blooded stock was equally gambling. To this his father laughinglyagreed. The Vicomte, who sat on Mrs. Holt's right, and who apparently wasdetermined not to suffer a total eclipse without a struggle, gallantlyand unexpectedly came to his hostess' rescue, though she treated him as adoubtful ally. This was because he declared with engaging frankness thatin France the young men of his monde had a jeunesse: he, who spoke tothem, had gambled; everybody gambled in France, where it was regarded asan innocent amusement. He had friends on the Bourse, and he could see nodifference in principle between betting on the red at Monte Carlo and therise and fall of the shares of la Compagnie des Metaux, for example. After completing his argument, he glanced triumphantly about the table, until his restless black eyes encountered Honora's, seemingly seeking averdict. She smiled impartially. 

The subject of finance lasted through the dinner, and the Vicomteproclaimed himself amazed with the evidences of wealth which confrontedhim on every side in this marvellous country. And once, when he was at aloss for a word, Honora astonished and enchanted him by supplying it. 

"Ah, Mademoiselle, " he exclaimed, "I was sure when I first beheld youthat you spoke my language! And with such an accent!"

"I have studied it all my life, Vicomte, " she said, modestly, "and I hadthe honour to be born in your country. I have always wished to see itagain. "

Monsieur de Toqueville ventured the fervent hope that her wish might soonbe gratified, but not before he returned to France. He expressed himselfin French, and in a few moments she found herself deep in a discussionwith him in that tongue. While she talked, her veins seemed filled withfire; and she was dimly and automatically aware of the disturbance abouther, as though she were creating a magnetic storm that interfered withall other communication. Mr. Holt's nightly bezique, which he played withSusan, did not seem to be going as well as usual, and elsewhereconversation was a palpable pretence. Mr. Spence, who was attempting toentertain the two daughters-in-law, was clearly distrait--if his glancesmeant anything. Robert and Joshua had not appeared, and Mrs. Holt, at thefar end of the room under the lamp, regarded Honora from time to timeover the edge of the evening newspaper. 

In his capacity as a student of American manners, an unsuspected ifscattered knowledge on Honora's part of that portion of French literatureincluded between Theophile Gautier and Gyp at once dumfounded anddelighted the Vicomte de Toqueville. And he was curious to know whether, amongst American young ladies, Miss Leffingwell was the exception or therule. Those eyes of his, which had paid to his hostess a tender respect, snapped when they spoke to our heroine, and presently he boldly abandonedliterature to declare that the fates alone had sent her to Silverdale atthe time of his visit. 

It was at this interesting juncture that Mrs. Holt rattled her newspapera little louder than usual, arose majestically, and addressed Mrs. Joshua. 

"Annie, perhaps you will play for us, " she said, as she crossed the room, and added to Honora: "I had no idea you spoke French so well, my dear. What have you and Monsieur de Toqueville been talking about?"

It was the Vicomte who, springing to his feet, replied nimbly:"Mademoiselle has been teaching me much of the customs of your country. "

"And what, " inquired Mrs. Holt, "have you been teaching Mademoiselle?"

The Vicomte laughed and shrugged his shoulders expressively. 

"Ah, Madame, I wish I were qualified to be her teacher. The education ofAmerican young ladies is truly extraordinary. "

"I was about to tell Monsieur de Toqueville, " put in Honora, wickedly, "that he must see your Institution as soon as possible, and the work yourgirls are doing. "

"Madame, " said the Vicomte, after a scarcely perceptible pause, "I awaitmy opportunity and your kindness. "

"I will take you to-morrow, " said Mrs. Holt. 

At this instant a sound closely resembling a sneeze caused them to turn. Mr. Spence, with his handkerchief to his mouth, had his back turned tothem, and was studiously regarding the bookcases. 

After Honora had gone upstairs for the night she opened her door inresponse to a knock, to find Mrs. Holt on the threshold. 

"My dear, " said that lady, "I feel that I must say a word to you. Isuppose you realize that you are attractive to men. "

"Oh, Mrs. Holt. "

"You're no fool, my dear, and it goes without saying that you-do realizeit--in the most innocent way, of course. But you have had no experiencein life. Mind you, I don't say that the Vicomte de Toqueville isn't verymuch of a gentleman, but the French ideas about the relations of youngmen and young women are quite different and, I regret to say, lessinnocent than ours. I have no reason to believe that the Vicomte has cometo this country to--to mend his fortunes. I know nothing about hisproperty. But my sense of responsibility towards you has led me to tellhim that you have no dot, for you somehow manage to give the impressionof a young woman of fortune. Not purposely, my dear--I did not meanthat. " Mrs. Holt tapped gently Honora's flaming cheek. "I merely felt itmy duty to drop you a word of warning against Monsieur de Toqueville--because he is a Frenchman. "

"But, Mrs. Holt, I had no idea of--of falling in love with him, "protested Honora, as soon as she could get her breath. He seemed so kind--and so interested in everything. 

"I dare say, " said Mrs. Holt, dryly. "And I have always been led tobelieve that that is the most dangerous sort. I am sure, Honora, afterwhat I have said, you will give him no encouragement. "

"Oh, Mrs. Holt, " cried Honora again, "I shouldn't think of such a thing!"

"I am sure of it, Honora, now that you are forewarned. And yoursuggestion to take him to the Institution was not a bad one. I meant todo so anyway, and I think it will be good for him. Good night, my dear. "

After the good lady bad gone, Honora stood for some moments motionless. Then she turned out the light. 

CHAPTER IX

IN WHICH THE VICOMTE CONTINUES HIS STUDIES

Mr. Robert Holt, Honora learned at breakfast, had two bobbies. She hadnever heard of what is called Forestry, and had always believed the woodof her country to be inexhaustible. It had never occurred to her to thinkof a wild forest as an example of nature's extravagance, and soflattering was her attention while Robert explained the primaryprinciples of caring for trees that he actually offered to show her oneof the tracts on the estate which he was treating. He could not, --heregretted to say, take her that morning. 

His other hobby was golf. He was president of the Sutton Golf Club, andhad arranged to play a match with Mr. Spence. This gentleman, itappeared, was likewise an enthusiast, and had brought to Silverdale aleather bag filled with sticks. 

"Won't you come, too, Miss Leffingwell?" he said, as he took a second cupof coffee. 

Somewhat to the astonishment of the Holt family, Robert seconded theinvitation. 

"I'll bet, Robert, " said Mr. Spence, gallantly, "that Miss Leffingwellcan put it over both of us. "

"Indeed, I can't play at all, " exclaimed Honora in confusion. "And Ishouldn't think of spoiling your match. And besides, I am going to drivewith Susan. "

"We can go another day, Honora, " said Susan. 

But Honora would not hear of it. 

"Come over with me this afternoon, then, " suggested Mr. Spence, "and I'llgive you a lesson. "

She thanked him gratefully. 

"But it won't be much fun for you, I'm afraid, " she added, as they leftthe dining room. 

"Don't worry about me, " he answered cheerfully. He was dressed in achecked golf costume, and wore a pink shirt of a new pattern. And hestood in front of her in the hall, glowing from his night's sleep, evidently in a high state of amusement. 

"What's the matter?" she demanded. 

"You did for the Vicomte all right, " he said. "I'd give a good deal tosee him going through the Institution. "

"It wouldn't have hurt you, either, " she retorted, and started up thestairs. Once she glanced back and saw him looking after her. 

At the far end of the second story hall she perceived the Vicomte, whohad not appeared at breakfast, coming out of his room. She paused withher hand on the walnut post and laughed a little, so ludicrous was hisexpression as he approached her. 

"Ah, Mademoiselle, que vous etes mechante!" he exclaimed. "But I forgiveyou, if you will not go off with that stock-broker. It must be that I seethe Home sometime, and if I go now it is over. I forgive you. It is inthe Bible that we must forgive our neighbour--how many times?"

"Seventy times seven, " said Honora. 

"But I make a condition, " said the Vicomte, "that my neighbour shall be awoman, and young and beautiful. Then I care not how many times. Mademoiselle, if you would but have your portrait painted as you are, with your hand on the post, by Sargent or Carolus Duran, there would besome noise in the Salon. "

"Is that you, Vicomte?" came a voice from the foot of the stairs--Mrs. Holt's voice. 

"I come this instant, Madame, " he replied, looking over the banisters, and added: "malheureux que je suis! Perhaps, when I return, you will showme a little of the garden. "

The duty of exhibiting to guests the sights of Silverdale and theneighbourhood had so often devolved upon Susan, who was methodical, thatshe had made out a route, or itinerary, for this purpose. There were somenotes to leave and a sick woman and a child to see, which caused her tovary it a little that morning; and Honora, who sat in the sunlight andheld the horse, wondered how it would feel to play the lady bountiful. "Iam so glad to have you all to myself for a little while, Honora, " Susansaid to her. "You are so popular that I begin to fear that I shall haveto be unselfish, and share you. "

"Oh, Susan, " she said, "every one has been so kind. And I can't tell youhow much I am enjoying this experience, which I feel I owe to you. "

"I am so happy, dear, that it is giving you pleasure, " said Susan. 

"And don't think, " exclaimed Honora, "that you won't see lots of me, foryou will. "

Her heart warmed to Susan, yet she could not but feel a secret pity forher, as one unable to make the most of her opportunities in the wonderfulneighbourhood in which she lived. As they drove through the roads and inand out of the well-kept places, everybody they met had a bow and a smilefor her friend--a greeting such as people give to those for whom theyhave only good-will. Young men and girls waved their racquets at her fromthe tennis-courts; and Honora envied them and wished that she, too, werea part of the gay life she saw, and were playing instead of being drivendecorously about. She admired the trim, new houses in which they lived, set upon the slopes of the hills. Pleasure houses, they seemed to her, built expressly for joys which had been denied her. 

"Do you see much of--of these people, Susan?" she asked. 

"Not so much as I'd like, " replied Susan, seriously. "I never seem to gettime. We nearly always have guests at Silverdale, and then there are somany things one has to attend to. Perhaps you have noticed, " she added, smiling a little, "that we are very serious and old-fashioned. "

"Oh, no indeed, " protested Honora. "It is such a wonderful experience forme to be here!"

"Well, " said Susan, "we're having some young people to dinner to-night, and others next week--that's why I'm leaving these notes. And then weshall be a little livelier. "

"Really, Susan, you mustn't think that I'm not having a good time. It isexciting to be in the same house with a real French Vicomte, and I likeMr. Spence tremendously. "

Her friend was silent. 

"Don't you?" demanded Honora. 

To her surprise, the usually tolerant Susan did not wholly approve of Mr. Spence. 

"He is a guest, and I ought not to criticise him, " she answered. "Butsince you ask me, Honora, I have to be honest. It seems to me that hisambitions are a little sordid--that he is too intent upon growing rich. "

"But I thought all New Yorkers were that way, " exclaimed Honora, andadded hastily, "except a few, like your family, Susan. "

Susan laughed. 

"You should marry a diplomat, my dear, " she said. "After all, perhaps Iam a little harsh. But there is a spirit of selfishness and--and ofvulgarity in modern, fashionable New York which appears to be catching, like a disease. The worship of financial success seems to be in everyone's blood. "

"It is power, " said Honora. 

Susan glanced at her, but Honora did not remark the expression on herfriend's face, so intent was she on the reflections which Susan's wordshad aroused. They had reached the far end of the Silverdale domain, andwere driving along the shore of the lake that lay like a sapphire setamongst the green hills. It was here that the new house of the RobertHolts was building. Presently they came to Joshua's dairy farm, andJoshua himself was standing in the doorway of one of his immaculate barnHonora put her hand on Susan's arm. 

"Can't we see the cows?" she asked. 

Susan looked surprised. 

"I didn't know you were interested in cows, Honora. "

"I am interested in everything, " said Honora: "and I think your brotheris so attractive. "

It was at this moment that Joshua, with his hands in his pockets, demanded what his sister was doing there. 

"Miss Leffingwell wants to look at the cattle, Josh, " called Susan. 

"Won't you show them to me, Mr. Holt, " begged Honora. "I'd like so muchto see some really good cattle, and to know a little more about them. "

Joshua appeared incredulous. But, being of the male sex, he did not hidethe fact that he was pleased, "it seems strange to have somebody reallywant to see them, " he said. "I tried to get Spence to come back this way, but the idea didn't seem to appeal to him. Here are some of the records. "

"Records?" repeated Honora, looking at a mass of typewritten figures onthe wall. "Do you mean to say you keep such an exact account of all themilk you get?"

Joshua laughed, and explained. She walked by his side over the concretepaving to the first of the varnished stalls. 

"That, " he said, and a certain pride had come into his voice, "is LadyGuinevere, and those ribbons are the prizes she has taken on both sidesof the water. "

"Isn't she a dear!" exclaimed Honora; "why, she's actually beautiful. Ididn't know cows could be so beautiful. "

"She isn't bad, " admitted Joshua. "Of course the good points in a cowaren't necessarily features of beauty for instance, these bones here, " headded, pointing to the hips. 

"But they seem to add, somehow, to the thoroughbred appearance, " Honoradeclared. 

"That's absolutely true, " replied Joshua, --whereupon he began to talk. And Honora, still asking questions, followed him from stall to stall. "There are some more in the pasture, " he said, when they had reached theend of the second building. 

"Oh, couldn't I see them?" she asked. 

"Surely, " replied Joshua, with more of alacrity than one would havebelieved him capable. "I'll tell Susan to drive on, and you and I willwalk home across the fields, if you like. "

"I should love to, " said Honora. 

It was not without astonishment that the rest of the Holt family beheldthem returning together as the gongs were sounding for luncheon. Mrs. Holt, upon perceiving them, began at once to shake her head and laugh. 

"My dear, it can't be that you have captivated Joshua!" she exclaimed, ina tone that implied the carrying of a stronghold hitherto thoughtimpregnable. 

Honora blushed, whether from victory or embarrassment, or both, it isimpossible to say. 

"I'm afraid it's just the other way, Mrs. Holt, " she replied; "Mr. Holthas captivated me. "

"We'll call it mutual, Miss Leffingwell, " declared Joshua, which was forhim the height of gallantry. 

"I only hope he hasn't bored you, " said the good-natured Mrs. Joshua. 

"Oh, dear, no, " exclaimed Honora. "I don't see bow any one could be boredlooking at such magnificent animals as that Hardicanute. "

It was at this moment that her eyes were drawn, by a seemingly resistlessattraction, to Mrs. Robert's face. Her comment upon this latest conquest, though unexpressed, was disquieting. And in spite of herself, Honorablushed again. 

At luncheon, in the midst of a general conversation, Mr. Spence made aremark sotto voce which should, in the ordinary course of events, haveremained a secret. 

"Susan, " he said, "your friend Miss Leffingwell is a fascinator. She'sgot Robert's scalp, too, and he thought it a pretty good joke because Ioffered to teach her to play golf this afternoon. "

It appeared that Susan's eyes could flash indignantly. Perhaps sheresented Mr. Spence's calling her by her first name. 

"Honora Leffingwell is the most natural and unspoiled person I know, " shesaid. 

There is, undoubtedly, a keen pleasure and an ample reward in teaching apupil as apt and as eager to learn as Honora. And Mr. Spence, if heattempted at all to account for the swiftness with which the hours ofthat long afternoon slipped away, may have attributed their flight to thediscovery in himself of hitherto latent talent for instruction. At thelittle Casino, he had bought, from the professional in charge of thecourse, a lady's driver; and she practised with exemplary patience theart of carrying one's hands through and of using the wrists in thestroke. 

"Not quite, Miss Leffingwell, " he would say, "but so. "

Honora would try again. 

"That's unusually good for a beginner, but you are inclined to chop itoff a little still. Let it swing all the way round. "

"Oh, dear, how you must hate me!"

"Hate you?" said Mr. Spence, searching in vain for words with which toobliterate such a false impression. "Anything but that!"

"Isn't it a wonderful, spot?" she exclaimed, gazing off down the swale, emerald green in the afternoon light between its forest walls. In thedistance, Silver Brook was gleaming amidst the meadows. They sat down onone of the benches and watched the groups of players pass. Mr. Spenceproduced his cigarette case, and presented it to her playfully. 

"A little quiet whiff, " he suggested. "There's not much chance over atthe convent, " and she gathered that it was thus he was pleased todesignate Silverdale. 

In one instant she was doubtful whether or not to be angry, and in thenext grew ashamed of the provincialism which had caused her to suspect aninsult. She took a cigarette, and he produced a gold match case, lighteda match, and held it up for her. Honora blew it out. 

"You didn't think seriously that I smoked?" she asked, glancing at him. 

"Why not?" he asked; "any number of girls do. "

She tore away some of the rice paper and lifted the tobacco to her nose, and made a little grimace. 

"Do you like to see women smoke?" she asked. 

Mr. Spence admitted that there was something cosey about the custom, whenit was well done. 

"And I imagine, " he added, "that you'd do it well. "

"I'm sure I should make a frightful mess of it, " she protested modestly. 

"You do everything well, " he said. 

"Even golf?" she inquired mischievously. 

"Even golf, for a beginner and--and a woman; you've got the swing in anastonishingly short time. In fact, you've been something of an eye-openerto me, " he declared. "If I had been betting, I should have placed theodds about twenty to one against your coming from the West. "

This Eastern complacency, although it did not lower Mr. Spence in herestimation, aroused Honora's pride. 

"That shows how little New Yorkers know of the West, " she replied, laughing. "Didn't you suppose there were any gentlewomen there?"

"Gentlewomen, " repeated Mr. Spence, as though puzzled by the word, "gentlewomen, yes. But you might have been born anywhere. "

Even her sense of loyalty to her native place was not strong enough tooverride this compliment. 

"I like a girl with some dash and go to her, " he proclaimed, and therecould be no doubt about the one to whom he was attributing thesequalities. "Savoir faire, as the French call it, and all that. I don'tknow much about that language, but the way you talk it makes Mrs. Holt'sFrench and Susan's sound silly. I watched you last night when you werestringing the Vicomte. "

"Oh, did you?" said Honora, demurely. 

"You may have thought I was talking to Mrs. Robert, " he said. 

"I wasn't thinking anything about you, " replied Honora, indignantly. "Andbesides, I wasn't I stringing' the Vicomte. In the West we don't useanything like so much slang as you seem to use in New York. "

"Oh, come now!" he exclaimed, laughingly, and apparently not the leastout of countenance, "you made him think he was the only pebble on thebeach. I have no idea what you were talking about. "

"Literature, " she said. "Perhaps that was the reason why you couldn'tunderstand it. "

"He may be interested in literature, " replied Mr. Spence, "but itwouldn't be a bad guess to say that he was more interested in stocks andbonds. "

"He doesn't talk about them, at any rate, " said Honora. 

"I'd respect him more if he did, " he announced. "I know thosefellows-they make love to every woman they meet. I saw him eying you atlunch. "

Honora laughed. 

"I imagine the Vicomte could make love charmingly, " she said. 

Mr. Spence suddenly became very solemn. 

"Merely as a fellow-countryman, Miss Leffingwell--" he began, when shesprang to her feet, her eyes dancing, and finished the sentence. 

"You would advise me to be on my guard against him, because, although Ilook twenty-five and experienced, I am only nineteen and inexperienced. Thank you. "

He paused to light another cigarette before he followed her across theturf. But she had the incomprehensible feminine satisfaction of knowing, as they walked homeward, that the usual serenity of his disposition wasslightly ruffled. 

A sudden caprice impelled her, in the privacy of her bedroom thatevening, to draw his portrait for Peter Erwin. The complacency of NewYork men was most amusing, she wrote, and the amount of slang they usedwould have been deemed vulgar in St. Louis. Nevertheless, she likedpeople to be sure of themselves, and there was something "insolent" aboutNew York which appealed to her. Peter, when he read that letter, seemedto see Mr. Howard Spence in the flesh; or arrayed, rather, in the kind ofcloth alluringly draped in the show-windows of fashionable tailors. ForHonora, all unconsciously, wrote literature. Literature was inventedbefore phonographs, and will endure after them. Peter could hear Mr. Spence talk, for a part of that gentleman's conversation--acharacteristic part--was faithfully transcribed. And Peter detected astrain of admiration running even through the ridicule. 

Peter showed that letter to Aunt Mary, whom it troubled, and to UncleTom, who laughed over it. There was also a lifelike portrait of theVicomte, followed by the comment that he was charming, but very French;but the meaning of this last, but quite obvious, attribute remainedobscure. He was possessed of one of the oldest titles and one of theoldest chateaux in France. (Although she did not say so, Honora had thison no less authority than that of the Vicomte himself. ) Mrs. Holt--withher Victorian brooch and ear-rings and her watchful delft-blue eyes thatsomehow haunted one even when she was out of sight, with her ample bosomand the really kind heart it contained--was likewise depicted; and Mr. Holt, with his dried bread, and his garden which Honora wished Uncle Tomcould see, and his prayers that lacked imagination. Joshua and his cows, Robert and his forest, Susan and her charities, the Institution, jollyMrs. Joshua and enigmatical Mrs. Robert--all were there: and even apicture of the dinner-party that evening, when Honora sat next to a youngMr. Patterson with glasses and a studious manner, who knew George Hanburyat Harvard. The other guests were a florid Miss Chamberlin, whose personloudly proclaimed possessions, and a thin Miss Longman, who rented one ofthe Silverdale cottages and sketched. 

Honora was seeing life. She sent her love to Peter, and begged him towrite to her. 

The next morning a mysterious change seemed to have passed over themembers of the family during the night. It was Sunday. Honora, when sheleft her room, heard a swishing on the stairs--Mrs. Joshua, stifflyarrayed for the day. Even Mrs. Robert swished, but Mrs. Holt, in abronze-coloured silk, swished most of all as she entered the libraryafter a brief errand to the housekeeper's room. Mr. Holt was alreadyarranging his book-marks in the Bible, while Joshua and Robert, in blackcutaways that seemed to have the benumbing and paralyzing effect ofstrait-jackets, wandered aimlessly about the room, as though its wallswere the limit of their movements. The children had a subdued andtouch-me-not air that reminded Honora of her own youth. 

It was not until prayers were over and the solemn gathering seated at thebreakfast table that Mr. Spence burst upon it like an aurora. His flannelsuit was of the lightest of grays; he wore white tennis shoes and a redtie, and it was plain, as he cheerfully bade them good morning, that hewas wholly unaware of the enormity of his costume. There was a choking, breathless moment before Mrs. Holt broke the silence. 

"Surely, Howard, " she said, "you're not going to church in thoseclothes. "

"I hadn't thought of going to church, " replied Mr. Spence, helpinghimself to cherries. 

"What do you intend to do?" asked his hostess. 

"Read the stock reports for the week as soon as the newspapers arrive. "

"There is no such thing as a Sunday newspaper in my house, " said Mrs. Holt. 

"No Sunday newspapers!" he exclaimed. And his eyes, as they encounteredHonora's, --who sought to avoid them, --expressed a genuine dismay. 

"I am afraid, " said Mrs. Holt, "that I was right when I spoke of thepernicious effect of Wall Street upon young men. Your mother did notapprove of Sunday newspapers. "

During the rest of the meal, although he made a valiant attempt to holdhis own, Mr. Spence was, so to speak, outlawed. Robert and Joshua musthave had a secret sympathy for him. One of them mentioned the Vicomte. 

"The Vicomte is a foreigner, " declared Mrs. Holt. "I am in no senseresponsible for him. "

The Vicomte was at that moment propped up in bed, complaining to hisvalet about the weakness of the coffee. He made the remark (which heafterwards repeated to Honora) that weak coffee and the Protestantreligion seemed inseparable; but he did not attempt to discover thewhereabouts, in Sutton, of the Church of his fathers. He was not in thebest of humours that morning, and his toilet had advanced no furtherwhen, an hour or so later, he perceived from behind his lace curtains Mr. Howard Spence, dressed with comparative soberness, handing Honora intothe omnibus. The incident did not serve to improve the cynical mood inwhich the Vicomte found himself. 

Indeed, the Vicomte, who had a theory concerning Mr. Spence'schurch-going, was not far from wrong. As may have been suspected, it wasto Honora that credit was due. It was Honora whom Mr. Spence sought afterbreakfast, and to whom he declared that her presence alone prevented himfrom leaving that afternoon. It was Honora who told him that he ought tobe ashamed of himself. And it was to Honora, after church was over andthey were walking homeward together along the dusty road, that Mr. Spenceremarked by way of a delicate compliment that "the morning had not been atotal loss, after all!"

The little Presbyterian church stood on a hillside just outside of thevillage and was, as far as possible, the possession of the Holt family. The morning sunshine illuminated the angels in the Holt memorial window, and the inmates of the Holt Institution occupied all the back pews. Mrs. Joshua played the organ, and Susan, with several young women and a youngman with a long coat and plastered hair, sang in the choir. The sermon ofthe elderly minister had to do with beliefs rather than deeds, and wasthe subject of discussion at luncheon. 

"It is very like a sermon I found in my room, " said Honora. 

"I left that book in your room, my dear, in the hope that you would notoverlook it, " said Mrs. Holt, approvingly. "Joshua, I wish you would readthat sermon aloud to us. "

"Oh, do, Mr. Holt!" begged Honora. 

The Vicomte, who had been acting very strangely during the meal, showedunmistakable signs of a futile anger. He had asked Honora to walk withhim. 

"Of course, " added Mrs. Holt, "no one need listen who doesn't wish to. Since you were good enough to reconsider your decision and attend divineservice, Howard, I suppose I should be satisfied. "

The reading took place in the library. Through the open window Honoraperceived the form of Joshua asleep in the hammock, his Sunday coat alltwisted under him. It worried her to picture his attire when he shouldwake up. Once Mrs. Robert looked in, smiled, said nothing, and went outagain. At length, in a wicker chair under a distant tree on the lawn, Honora beheld the dejected outline of the Vicomte. He was trying to read, but every once in a while would lay down his book and gaze protractedlyat the house, stroking his mustache. The low song of the bees around theshrubbery vied with Mr. Holt's slow reading. On the whole, the situationdelighted Honora, who bit her lip to refrain from smiling at M. DeToqueville. When at last she emerged from the library, he roseprecipitately and came towards her across the lawn, lifting his handstowards the pitiless puritan skies. 

"Enfin!" he exclaimed tragically. "Ah, Mademoiselle, never in my lifehave I passed such a day!"

"Are you ill, Vicomte?" she asked. 

"Ill! Were it not for you, I would be gone. You alone sustain me--it isfor the pleasure of seeing you that I suffer. What kind of a menage isthis, then, where I am walked around Institutions, where I am forced tolisten to the exposition of doctrines, where the coffee is weak, whereSunday, which the bon Dieu set aside for a jour de fete resembles to aday in purgatory?"

"But, Vicomte, " Honora laughed, "you must remember that you are inAmerica, and that you have come here to study our manners and customs. "

"Ah, no, " he cried, "ah, no, it cannot all be like this! I will notbelieve it. Mr. Holt, who sought to entertain me before luncheon, offeredto show me his collection of Chinese carvings! I, who might be atTrouville or Cabourg! If it were not for you, Mademoiselle, I should notstay here--not one little minute, " he said, with a slow intensity. "Behold what I suffer for your sake!"

"For my sake?" echoed Honora. 

"For what else?" demanded the Vicomte, gazing upon her with the eyes ofmartyrdom. "It is not for my health, alas! Between the coffee and thisdimanche I have the vertigo. "

Honora laughed again at the memory of the dizzy Sunday afternoons of herchildhood, when she had been taken to see Mr. Isham's curios. 

"You are cruel, " said the Vicomte; "you laugh at my tortures. "

"On the contrary, I think I understand them, " she replied. "I have oftenfelt the same way. "

"My instinct was true, then, " he cried triumphantly; "the first time myeyes fell on you, I said to myself, 'ah! there is one who understands. 'And I am seldom mistaken. "

"Your experience with the opposite sex, " ventured Honora, "must have madeyou infallible. "

He shrugged and smiled, as one whose modesty forbade the mention ofconquests. 

"You do not belong here either, Mademoiselle, " he said. "You are not likethese people. You have temperament, and a future--believe me. Why do youwaste your time?"

"What do you mean, Vicomte?"

"Ah, it is not necessary to explain what I mean. It is that you do notchoose to understand--you are far too clever. Why is it, then, that youbore yourself by regarding Institutions and listening to sermons in yourjeunesse? It is all very well for Mademoiselle Susan, but you are notcreated for a religieuse. And again, it pleases you to spend hours withthe stockbroker, who is as lacking in esprit as the bull of Joshua. He isno companion for you. "

"I am afraid, " she said reprovingly, "that you do not understand Mr. Spence. "

"Par exemple!" cried the Vicomte; "have I not seen hundreds' like him? Donot they come to Paris and live in the great hotels and demand cocktailsand read the stock reports and send cablegrams all the day long? and goto the Folies Bergeres, and yawn? Nom de nom, of what does hisconversation consist? Of the price of railroads;--is it not so? I, whospeak to you, have talked to him. Does he know how to make love?"

"That accomplishment is not thought of very highly in America, " Honorareplied. 

"It is because you are a new country, " he declared. 

"And you are mad over money. Money has taken the place of love. "

"Is money so despised in France?" she asked. "I have heard--that youmarried for it!"

"Touch!" cried the Vicomte, laughing. "You see, I am frank with you. Wemarry for money, yes, but we do not make a god of it. It is our servant. You make it, and we enjoy it. Yes, and you, Mademoiselle--you, too, weremade to enjoy. You do not belong here, " he said, with a disdainful sweepof the arm. "Ah, I have solved you. You have in you the germ of theRiviera. You were born there. "

Honora wondered if what he said were true. Was she different? She washaving a great deal of pleasure at Silverdale; even the sermon reading, which would have bored her at home, had interested and amused her. Butwas it not from the novelty of these episodes, rather than from theirspecial characters, that she received the stimulus? She glanced curiouslytowards the Vicomte, and met his eye. 

They had been walking the while, and had crossed the lawn and entered oneof the many paths which it had been Robert's pastime to cut through thewoods. And at length they came out at a rustic summer-house set over thewooded valley. Honora, with one foot on the ground, sat on the railinggazing over the tree-tops; the Vicomte was on the bench beside her. Hiseyes sparkled and snapped, and suddenly she tingled with a sense that thesituation was not without an element of danger. 

"I had a feeling about you, last night at dinner, " he said; "you remindedme of a line of Marcel Prevost, 'Cette femme ne sera pas aimee que parmides drames. '"

"Nonsense, " said Honora; "last night at dinner you were too much occupiedwith Miss Chamberlin to think of me. "

"Ah, Mademoiselle, you have read me strangely if you think that. I talkedto her with my lips, yes--but it was of you I was thinking. I wasthinking that you were born to play a part in many dramas, that you havethe fatal beauty which is rare in all ages. " The Vicomte bent towardsher, and his voice became caressing. "You cannot realize how beautifulyou are, " he sighed. 

Suddenly he seized her hand, and before she could withdraw it she had thesatisfaction of knowing the sensation of having it kissed. It was astrange sensation indeed. And the fact that she did not tingle with angeralone made her all the more angry. Trembling, her face burning, sheleaped down from the railing and fled into the path. And there, seeingthat he did not follow, she turned and faced him. He stood staring at herwith eyes that had not ceased to sparkle. 

"How cowardly of you!" she cried. 

"Ah, Mademoiselle, " he answered fervently, "I would risk your anger athousand times to see you like that once more. I cannot help myfeelings--they were dead indeed if they did not respond to such aninspiration. Let them plead for my pardon. "

Honora felt herself melting a little. After all, there might have beensome excuse for it, and he made love divinely. When he had caught up withher, his contriteness was such that she was willing to believe he had notmeant to insult her. And then, he was a Frenchman. As a proof of hisversatility, if not of his good faith, he talked of neutral matters onthe way back to the house, with the charming ease and lightness that wasthe gift of his race and class. On the borders of the wood theyencountered the Robert Holts, walking with their children. 

"Madame, " said the Vicomte to Gwendolen, "your Silverdale is enchanting. We have been to that little summer-house which commands the valley. "

"And are you still learning things about our country, Vicomte?" sheasked, with a glance at Honora. 

CHAPTER X

IN WHICH HONORA WIDENS HER HORIZON

If it were not a digression, it might be interesting to speculate uponthe reason why, in view of their expressed opinions of Silverdale, boththe Vicomte and Mr. Spence remained during the week that followed. Robert, who went off in the middle of it with his family to the seashore, described it to Honora as a normal week. During its progress there cameand went a missionary from China, a pianist, an English lady who hadheard of the Institution, a Southern spinster with literary gifts, ayouthful architect who had not built anything, and a young lawyerinterested in settlement work. 

The missionary presented our heroine with a book he had written about theYang-tse-kiang; the Southern lady suspected her of literary gifts; thearchitect walked with her through the woods to the rustic shelter wherethe Vicomte had kissed her hand, and told her that he now comprehendedthe feelings of Christopher Wren when he conceived St. Paul's Cathedral, of Michael Angelo when he painted the Sistine Chapel. Even the seriousyoung lawyer succumbed, though not without a struggle. When he had firstseen Miss Leffingwell, he confessed, he had thought her frivolous. He haddone her an injustice, and wished to acknowledge it before he left. And, since she was interested in settlement work, he hoped, if she were goingthrough New York, that she would let him know. It would be a realpleasure to show her what he was doing. 

Best of all, Honora, by her unselfishness, endeared herself to herhostess. 

"I can't tell you what a real help you are to me, my dear, " said thatlady. "You have a remarkable gift with people for so young a girl, and Ido you the credit of thinking that it all springs from a kind heart. "

In the meantime, unknown to Mrs. Holt, who might in all conscience havehad a knowledge of what may be called social chemistry, a drama wasslowly unfolding itself. By no fault of Honora's, of course. There mayhave been some truth in the quotation of the Vicomte as applied to her--that she was destined to be loved only amidst the play of drama. Ifexperience is worth anything, Monsieur de Toqueville should have been anexpert in matters of the sex. Could it be possible, Honora asked herselfmore than once, that his feelings were deeper than her feminine instinctand, the knowledge she had gleaned from novels led her to suspect?

It is painful to relate that the irregularity and deceit of the life theVicomte was leading amused her, for existence at Silverdale was plainlynot of a kind to make a gentleman of the Vicomte's temperament and habitsecstatically happy. And Honora was filled with a strange andunaccountable delight when she overheard him assuring Mrs. Wellfleet, theEnglish lady of eleemosynary tendencies, that he was engaged in a studyat first hand of Americans. 

The time has come to acknowledge frankly that it was Honora he wasstudying--Honora as the type of young American womanhood. What he did notsuspect was that young American womanhood was studying him. Thanks to anational System, she had had an apprenticeship; the heart-blood ofAlgernon Cartwright and many others had not been shed in vain. And thefact that she was playing with real fire, that this was a duel with thebuttons off, lent a piquancy and zest to the pastime which it hadhitherto lacked. 

The Vicomte's feelings were by no means hidden processes to Honora, andit was as though she could lift the lid of the furnace at any time andbehold the growth of the flame which she had lighted. Nay, nature hadendowed her with such a gift that she could read the daily temperature asby a register hung on the outside, without getting scorched. Nor hadthere been any design on her part in thus tormenting his soul. He had notmeant to remain more than four days at Silverdale, that she knew; he hadnot meant to come to America and fall in love with a pennilessbeauty--that she knew also. The climax would be interesting, if perchanceuncomfortable. 

It is wonderful what we can find the time to do, if we only try. Monsieurde Toqueville lent Honora novels, which she read in bed; but being in thefull bloom of health and of a strong constitution, this practice did notprevent her from rising at seven to take a walk through the garden withMr. Holt--a custom which he had come insensibly to depend upon. And inthe brief conversations which she vouchsafed the Vicomte, they discussedhis novels. In vain he pleaded, in caressing undertones, that she shouldride with him. Honora had never been on a horse, but she did not tell himso. If she would but drive, or walk-only a little way--he would promisefaithfully not to forget himself. Honora intimated that the period of hisprobation had not yet expired. If he waylaid her on the stairs, he gotbut little satisfaction. 

"You converse by the hour with the missionaries, and take long promenadeswith the architects and charity workers, but to me you will givenothing, " he complained. 

"The persons of whom you speak are not dangerous, " answered Honora, giving him a look. 

The look, and being called dangerous, sent up the temperature severaldegrees. Frenchmen are not the only branch of the male sex who arecomplimented by being called dangerous. The Vicomte was desolated, so hesaid. 

"I stay here only for you, and the coffee is slowly deranging me, " hedeclared in French, for most of their conversations were in thatlanguage. If there were duplicity in this, Honora did not recognize it. "I stay here only for you, and how you are cruel! I live for you--how, the good God only knows. I exist--to see you for ten minutes a day. "

"Oh, Vicomte, you exaggerate. If you were to count it up, I am sure youwould find that we talk an hour at least, altogether. And then, althoughI am very young and inexperienced, I can imagine how many conquests youhave made by the same arts. "

"I suffer, " he cried; "ah, no, you cannot look at me without perceivingit--you who are so heartless. And when I see you play at golf with thatMr. Spence--!"

"Surely, " said Honora, "you can't object to my acquiring a newaccomplishment when I have the opportunity, and Mr. Spence is so kind andgood-natured about it. "

"Do you think I have no eyes?" he exclaimed. "Have I not seen him look atyou like the great animal of Joshua when he wants his supper? He iswithout esprit, without soul. There is nothing inside of him butmoney-making machinery. "

"The most valuable of all machinery, " she replied, laughingly. 

"If I thought you believed that, Mademoiselle, if I thought you were likeso many of your countrywomen in this respect, I should leave to-morrow, "he declared. 

"Don't be too sure, Vicomte, " she cautioned him. 

If one possessed a sense of humour and a certain knowledge of mankind, the spectacle of a young and successful Wall Street broker at Silverdalethat week was apt to be diverting. Mr. Spence held his own. He advisedthe architect to make a specialty of country houses, and promised someday to order one: he disputed boldly with the other young man as to thepractical uses of settlement work, and even measured swords with themissionary. Needless to say, he was not popular with these gentlemen. Buthe was also good-natured and obliging, and he did not object to repeatingfor the English lady certain phrases which she called "picturesqueexpressions, " and which she wrote down with a gold pencil. 

It is evident, from the Vicomte's remarks, that he found time to continueHonora's lessons in golf--or rather that she found time, in the midst ofher manifold and self-imposed duties, to take them. And in this diversionshe was encouraged by Mrs. Holt herself. On Saturday morning, the heatbeing unusual, they ended their game by common consent at the fourth holeand descended a wood road to Silver Brook, to a spot which they hadvisited once before and had found attractive. Honora, after bathing herface in the pool, perched herself on a boulder. She was very fresh andradiant. 

This fact, if she had not known it, she might have gathered from Mr. Silence's expression. He had laid down his coat; his sleeves were rolledup and his arms were tanned, and he stood smoking a cigarette and gazingat her with approbation. She lowered her eyes. 

"Well, we've had a pretty good time, haven't we?" he remarked. 

Lightning sometimes fails in its effect, but the look she flashed back athim from under her blue lashes seldom misses. 

"I'm afraid I haven't been a very apt pupil, " she replied modestly. 

"You're on the highroad to a cup, " he assured her. "If I could take youon for another week" He paused, and an expression came into his eyeswhich was not new to Honora, nor peculiar to Mr. Silence. "I have to goback to town on Monday. "

If Honora felt any regret at this announcement, she did not express it. 

"I thought you couldn't stand Silverdale much longer, " she replied. 

"You know why I stayed, " he said, and paused again--rather awkwardly forMr. Spence. But Honora was silent. "I had a letter this morning from mypartner, Sidney Dallam, calling me back. "

"I suppose you are very busy, " said Honora, detaching a copper-greenscale of moss from the boulder. 

"The fact is, " he explained, "that we have received an order ofconsiderable importance, for which I am more or less responsible. Something of a compliment--since we are, after all, comparatively youngmen. "

"Sometimes, " said Honora, "sometimes I wish I were a man. Women are sohampered and circumscribed, and have to wait for things to happen tothem. A man can do what he wants. He can go into Wall Street and fightuntil he controls miles of railroads and thousands and thousands of men. That would be a career!"

"Yes, " he agreed, smilingly, "it's worth fighting for. "

Her eyes were burning with a strange light as she looked down the vistaof the wood road by which they had come. He flung his cigarette into thewater and took a step nearer her. 

"How long have I known you?" he asked. 

She started. 

"Why, it's only a little more than a week, " she said. 

"Does it seem longer than that to you?"

"Yes, " admitted Honora, colouring; "I suppose it's because we've beenstaying in the same house. "

"It seems to me, " said Mr. Spence, "that I have known you always. "

Honora sat very still. It passed through her brain, without comment, thatthere was a certain haunting familiarity about this remark; some othervoice, in some other place, had spoken it, and in very much the sametone. 

"You're the kind of girl I admire, " he declared. "I've been watchingyou--more than you have any idea of. You're adaptable. Put you down anyplace, and you take hold. For instance, it's a marvellous thing to me howyou've handled all the curiosities up there this week. "

"Oh, I like people, " said Honora, "they interest me. " And she laughed alittle, nervously. She was aware that Mr. Spence was making love, in hisown manner: the New fork manner, undoubtedly; though what he said waschanged by the new vibrations in his voice. He was making love, too, witha characteristic lack of apology and with assurance. She stole a glanceat him, and beheld the image of a dominating man of affairs. He did not, it is true, evoke in her that extreme sensation which has been called athrill. She had read somewhere that women were always expecting thrills, and never got them. Nevertheless, she had not realized how close a bondof sympathy had grown between them until this sudden announcement of hisgoing back to New York. In a little while she too would be leaving forSt. Louis. The probability that she would never see him again seemedgraver than she would have believed. 

"Will you miss me a little?" he asked. 

"Oh, yes, " she said breathlessly, "and I shall be curious to know howyour--your enterprise succeeds. "

"Honora, " he said, "it is only a week since I first met you, but I knowmy own mind. You are the woman I want, and I think I may say withoutboasting that I can give you what you desire in life--after a while. Ilove you. You are young, and just now I felt that perhaps I should havewaited a year before speaking, but I was afraid of missing altogetherwhat I know to be the great happiness of my life. Will you marry me?"

She sat silent upon the rock. She heard him speak, it is true; but, tryas she would, the full significance of his words would not come to her. She had, indeed, no idea that he would propose, no notion that his heartwas involved to such an extent. He was very near her, but he had notattempted to touch her. His voice, towards the end of his speech, hadtrembled with passion--a true note had been struck. And she had struckit, by no seeming effort! He wished to marry her!

He aroused her again. 

"I have frightened you, " he said. 

She opened her eyes. What he beheld in them was not fright--it wasnothing he had ever seen before. For the first time in his life, perhaps, he was awed. And, seeing him helpless, she put out her hands to him witha gesture that seemed to enhance her gift a thousand-fold. He had notrealized what he was getting. 

"I am not frightened, " she said. "Yes, I will marry you. "

He was not sure whether--so brief was the moment!--he had held and kissedher cheek. His arms were empty now, and he caught a glimpse of her poisedon the road above him amidst the quivering, sunlit leaves, looking backat him over her shoulder. 

He followed her, but she kept nimbly ahead of him until they came outinto the open golf course. He tried to think, but failed. Never in hisorderly life had anything so precipitate happened to him. He caught upwith her, devoured her with his eyes, and beheld in marriage a delirium. 

"Honora, " he said thickly, "I can't grasp it. "

She gave him a quick look, and a smile quivered at the corners of hermouth. 

"What are you thinking of?" he asked. 

"I am thinking of Mrs. Holt's expression when we tell her, " said Honora. "But we shan't tell her yet, shall we, Howard? We'll have it for our ownsecret a little while. "

The golf course being deserted, he pressed her arm. 

"We'll tell her whenever you like, dear, " he replied. 

In spite of the fact that they drove Joshua's trotter to lunch--much toorapidly in the heat of the day, they were late. 

"I shall never be able to go in there and not give it away, " he whisperedto her on the stairs. 

"You look like the Cheshire cat in the tree, " whispered Honora, laughing, "only more purple, and not so ghostlike. "

"I know I'm smiling, " replied Howard, "I feel like it, but I can't helpit. It won't come off. I want to blurt out the news to every one in thedining-room--to that little Frenchman, in particular. "

Honora laughed again. Her imagination easily summoned up the tableauwhich such a proceeding would bring forth. The incredulity, the chagrin, the indignation, even, in some quarters. He conceived the household, withthe exception of the Vicomte, precipitating themselves into his arms. 

Honora, who was cool enough herself (no doubt owing to the superiortraining which women receive in matters of deportment), observed that hisentrance was not a triumph of dissimulation. His colour was high, and hisexpression, indeed, a little idiotic; and he declared afterwards that hefelt like a sandwich-man, with the news printed in red letters before andbehind. Honora knew that the intense improbability of the truth wouldsave them, and it did. Mrs. Holt remarked, slyly, that the game of golfmust have hidden attractions, and regretted that she was too old to learnit. 

"We went very slowly on account of the heat, " Howard declared. 

"I should say that you had gone very rapidly, from your face, " retortedMrs. Holt. In relaxing moods she indulged in banter. 

Honora stepped into the breach. She would not trust her newly acquiredfiance to extricate himself. 

"We were both very much worried, Mrs. Holt, " she explained, "because wewere late for lunch once before. "

"I suppose I'll have to forgive you, my dear, especially with thatcolour. I am modern enough to approve of exercise for young girls, and Iam sure your Aunt Mary will think Silverdale has done you good when Isend you back to her. "

"Oh, I'm sure she will, " said Honora. 

In the meantime Mr. Spence was concentrating all of his attention upon ajellied egg. Honora glanced at the Vicomte. He sat very stiff, and hismanner of twisting his mustache reminded her of an animal sharpening itsclaws. It was at this moment that the butler handed her a telegram, which, with Mrs. Holt's permission, she opened and read twice before themeaning of it came to her. 

"I hope it is no bad news, Honora, " said Mrs. Holt. 

"It's from Peter Erwin, " she replied, still a little dazed. "He's in NewYork. And he's corning up on the five o'clock train to spend an hour withme. "

"Oh, " said Susan; "I remember his picture on your bureau at Sutcliffe. Hehad such a good face. And you told me about him. "

"He is like my brother, " Honora explained, aware that Howard was lookingat her. "Only he is much older than I. He used to wheel me up and downwhen I was a baby. He was, an errand boy in the bank then, and Uncle Tomtook an interest in him, and now he is a lawyer. A very good one, Ibelieve. "

"I have a great respect for any man who makes his own way in life, " saidMrs. Holt. "And since he is such an old friend, my dear, you must ask himto spend the night. "

"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Bolt, " Honora answered. 

It was, however, with mingled feelings that she thought of Peter'sarrival at this time. Life, indeed, was full of strange coincidences!

There was a little door that led out of the house by the billiard room, Honora remembered, and contrived, after luncheon, to slip away and reachit. She felt that she must be alone, and if she went to her room she waslikely to be disturbed by Susan or Mrs. Joshua--or indeed Mrs. Holtherself. Honora meant to tell Susan the first of all. She crossed thegreat lawn quickly, keeping as much as possible the trees and masses ofshrubbery between herself and the house, and reached the forest. With areally large fund of energy at her disposal, Honora had never been one tobelieve in the useless expenditure of it; nor did she feel the intensedesire which a girl of another temperament might have had, under the sameconditions, to keep in motion. So she sat down on a bench within theborders of the wood. 

It was not that she wished to reflect, in the ordinary meaning of theword, that she had sought seclusion, but rather to give her imaginationfree play. The enormity of the change that was to come into her life didnot appall her in the least; but she had, in connection with it, a senseof unreality which, though not unpleasant, she sought unconsciously todissipate. Howard Spence, she reflected with a smile, was surely solidand substantial enough, and she thought of him the more tenderly for thepossession of these attributes. A castle founded on such a rock was not acastle in Spain!

It did not occur to Honora that her thoughts might be more of the castlethan of the rock: of the heaven he was to hold on his shoulders than ofthe Hercules she had chosen to hold it. 

She would write to her Aunt Mary and her Uncle Tom that very afternoon--one letter to both. Tears came into her eyes when she thought of them, and of their lonely life' without her. But they would come on to New Yorkto visit her often, and they would be proud of her. Of one thing she wassure--she must go home to them at once--on Tuesday. She would tell Mrs. Holt to-morrow, and Susan to-night. And, while pondering over theprobable expression of that lady's amazement, it suddenly occurred to herthat she must write the letter immediately, because Peter Erwin wascoming. 

What would he say? Should she tell him? She was surprised to find thatthe idea of doing so was painful to her. But she was aroused from thesereflections by a step on the path, and raised her head to perceive theVicomte. His face wore an expression of triumph. 

"At last, " he cried, "at last!" And he sat down on the bench beside her. Her first impulse was to rise, yet for some inexplicable reason sheremained. 

"I always suspected in you the qualities of a Monsieur Lecoq, " sheremarked. "You have an instinct for the chase. "

"Mon dieu?" he said. "I have risked a stroke of the sun to find you. Whyshould you so continually run away from me?"

"To test your ingenuity, Vicomte. "

"And that other one--the stock-broker--you do not avoid him. Diable, I amnot blind, Mademoiselle. It is plain to me at luncheon that you have madeboil the sluggish blood of that one. As for me--"

"Your boiling-point is lower, " she said, smiling. 

"Listen, Mademoiselle, " he pursued, bending towards her. "It is not for myhealth that I stay here, as I have told you. It is for the sight of you, for the sound of the music of that low voice. It is in the hope that youwill be a little kinder, that you will understand me a little better. Andto-day, when I learn that still another is on his way to see you, I couldsit still no longer. I do not fear that Spence, --no. But this other--whatis he like?"

"He is the best type of American, " replied Honora. "I am sure you will beinterested in him, and like him. "

The Vicomte shrugged his shoulders. 

"It is not in America that you will find your destiny, Mademoiselle. Youare made to grace a salon, a court, which you will not find in thiscountry. Such a woman as you is thrown away here. You possessqualities--you will pardon me--in which your countrywomen are lacking, --esprit, imagination, elan, the power to bind people to you. I have readyou as you have not read yourself. I have seen how you have servedyourself by this famille Holt, and how at the same time you have kepttheir friendship. "

"Vicomte!" she exclaimed. 

"Ah, do not get angry, " he begged; "such gifts are rare--they aresublime. They lead, " he added, raising his arms, "to the heights. "

Honora was silent. She was, indeed, not unmoved by his voice, into whichthere was creeping a vibrant note of passion. She was a littlefrightened, but likewise puzzled and interested. This was all sodifferent from what she had expected of him. What did he mean? Was sheindeed like that?

She was aware that he was speaking again, that he was telling her of achateau in France which his ancestors had owned since the days of LouisXII; a grey pile that stood upon a thickly wooded height, --a chateau witha banquet hall, where kings had dined, with a chapel where kings hadprayed, with a flowering terrace high above a gleaming river. It wasthere that his childhood had been passed. And as he spoke, she listenedwith mingled feelings, picturing the pageantry of life in such a place. 

"I tell you this, Mademoiselle, " he said, "that you may know I am notwhat you call an adventurer. Many of these, alas! come to your country. And I ask you to regard with some leniency customs which must be strangeto Americans. When we marry in France, it is with a dot, and especiallyis it necessary amongst the families of our nobility. "

Honora rose, the blood mounting to her temples. 

"Mademoiselle, " he cried, "do not misunderstand me. I would die ratherthan hurt your feelings. Listen, I pray. It was to tell you frankly thatI came to this country for that purpose, --in order that I might live asmy ancestors have lived, with a hotel in Paris: But the chateau, grace adieu, is not mortgaged, nor am I wholly impoverished. I have soixantequinze mille livres de rente, which is fifteen thousand dollars a year inyour money, and which goes much farther in France. At the proper time, Iwill present these matters to your guardians. I have lived, but I have aheart, and I love you madly. Rather would I dwell with you in Provence, where I will cultivate the soil of my forefathers, than a palace on theChamps Elysees with another. We can come to Paris for two months, atleast. For you I can throw my prospects out of the window with a lightheart. Honore--how sweet is your name in my language--I love you todespair. "

He seized her hand and pressed it to his lips, but she drew it gentlyaway. It seemed to her that he had made the very air quiver with feeling, and she let herself wonder, for a moment, what life with him would be. Incredible as it seemed, he had proposed to her, a penniless girl! Herown voice was not quite steady as she answered him, and her eyes werefilled with compassion. 

"Vicomte, " she said, "I did not know that you cared for me--that way. Ithought--I thought you were amusing yourself. "

"Amusing myself!" he exclaimed bitterly. "And you--were you amusingyourself?"

"I--I tried to avoid you, " she replied, in a low voice. 

"I am engaged. "

"Engaged!" He sprang to his feet. "Engaged! Ah, no, I will not believeit. You were engaged when you came here?"

She was no little alarmed by the violence which he threw into his words. At the same time, she was indignant. And yet a mischievous sprite withinher led her on to tell him the truth. 

"No, I am going to marry Mr. Howard Spence, although I do not wish itannounced. "

For a moment he stood motionless, speechless, staring at her, and then heseemed to sway a little and to choke. 

"No, no, " he cried, "it cannot be! My ears have deceived me. I am notsane. You are going to marry him--? Ah, you have sold yourself. "

"Monsieur de Toqueville, " she said, "you forget yourself. Mr. Spence isan honourable man, and I love him. "

The Vicomte appeared to choke again. And then, suddenly, he becamehimself, although his voice was by no means natural. His elaborate andironic bow she remembered for many years. 

"Pardon, Mademoiselle, " he said, "and adieu. You will be good enough toconvey my congratulations to Mr. Spence. "

With a kind of military "about face" he turned and left her abruptly, andshe watched him as he hurried across the lawn until he had disappearedbehind the trees near the house. When she sat down on the bench again, she found that she was trembling a little. Was the unexpected to occur toher from now on? Was it true, as the Vicomte had said, that she wasdestined to be loved amidst the play of drama?

She felt sorry for him because he had loved her enough to fling to thewinds his chances of wealth for her sake--a sufficient measure of thefeelings of one of his nationality and caste. And she permitted, for aninstant, her mind to linger on the supposition that Howard Spence hadnever come into her life; might she not, when the Vicomte had made hisunexpected and generous avowal, have accepted him? She thought of theromances of her childish days, written at fever heat, in which ladieswith titles moved around and gave commands and rebuked lovers who slippedin through wicket gates. And to think that she might have been aVicomtesse and have lived in a castle!

A poor Vicomtesse, it is true. 

CHAPTER XI

WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN

Honora sat still upon the bench. After an indefinite period she sawthrough the trees a vehicle on the driveway, and in it a singlepassenger. And suddenly it occurred to her that the passenger must bePeter, for Mrs. Holt had announced her intention of sending for him. Shearose and approached the house, not without a sense of agitation. 

She halted a moment at a little distance from the porch, where he wastalking with Howard Spence and Joshua, and the fact that he was anunchanged Peter came to her with a shock of surprise. So much, in lessthan a year, had happened to Honora! And the sight of him, and the soundof his voice, brought back with a rush memories of a forgotten past. Howlong it seemed since she had lived in St. Louis!

Yes, he was the same Peter, but her absence from him had served tosharpen her sense of certain characteristics. He was lounging in hischair with his long legs crossed, with one hand in his pocket, and talkingto these men as though he had known them always. There was a qualityabout him which had never struck her before, and which eluded exactdefinition. It had never occurred to her, until now, when she saw him outof the element with which she had always associated him, that Peter Erwinhad a personality. That personality was a mixture of simplicity andself-respect and--common sense. And as Honora listened to his cheerfulvoice, she perceived that he had the gift of expressing himself clearlyand forcibly and withal modestly; nor did it escape her that the othertwo men were listening with a certain deference. In her sensitive stateshe tried to evade the contrast thus suddenly presented to her betweenPeter and the man she had promised, that very morning, to marry. 

Howard Spence was seated on the table, smoking a cigarette. Never, itseemed, had he more distinctly typified to her Prosperity. An attributewhich she had admired in him, of strife without the appearance of strife, lost something of its value. To look at Peter was to wonder whether therecould be such a thing as a well-groomed combatant; and until to-day shehad never thought of Peter as a combatant. The sight of his lean facesummoned, all undesired, the vague vision of an ideal, and perhaps it wasthis that caused her voice to falter a little as she came forward andcalled his name. He rose precipitately. 

"What a surprise, Peter!" she said, as she took his hand. "How do youhappen to be in the East?"

"An errand boy, " he replied. "Somebody had to come, so they chose me. Incidentally, " he added, smiling down at her, "it is a part of myeducation. "

"We thought you were lost, " said Howard Spence, significantly. 

"Oh, no, " she answered lightly, evading his look. "I was on the bench atthe edge of the wood. " She turned again to Peter. "How good of you tocome up and see me!"

"I couldn't have resisted that, " he declared, "if it were only for anhour. "

"I've been trying to persuade him to stay a while with us, " Joshua put inwith unusual graciousness. "My mother will be disappointed not to seeyou. "

"There is nothing I should like better, Mr. Holt, " said Peter, simply, gazing off across the lawn. "Unfortunately I have to leave for the Westto-night. "

"Before you go, " said Honora, "you must see this wonderful place. Come, we'll begin with the garden. "

She had a desire now to take him away by himself, something she hadwished, an hour ago, to avoid. 

"Wouldn't you like a runabout?" suggested Joshua, hospitably. 

Honora thanked him. 

"I'm sure Mr. Erwin would rather walk, " she replied. 

"Come, Peter, you must tell me all the news of home. "

Spence accepted his dismissal with a fairly good grace, and gave noevidence of jealousy. He put his hand on Peter's shoulder. 

"If you're ever in New York, Erwin, " said he, "look me up Dallam andSpence. We're members of the Exchange, so you won't have any trouble infinding us. I'd like to talk to you sometime about the West. "

Peter thanked him. 

For a little while, as they went down the driveway side by side, he wasmeditatively silent. She wondered what he thought of Howard Spence, untilsuddenly she remembered that her secret was still her own, that Peter hadas yet no particular reason to single out Mr. Spence for especialconsideration. She could not, however, resist saying, "New Yorkers arelike that. "

"Like what?" he asked. 

She coloured. 

"Like--Mr. Spence. A little--self-assertive, sure of themselves. " Shestrove to keep out of her voice any suspicion of the agitation which wasthe result of the events of an extraordinary day, not yet ended. She knewthat it would have been wiser not to have mentioned Howard; but Peter'ssilence, somehow, had impelled her to speak. "He has made quite anunusual success for so young a man. "

Peter looked at her and shook his head. 

"New York--success! What is to become of poor old St. Louis?" heinquired. 

"Oh, I'm going back next week, " Honora cried. "I wish I were going withyou. "

"And leave all this, " he said incredulously, "for trolley rides andForest Park and--and me?"

He stopped in the garden path and looked upon the picture she madestanding in the sunlight against the blazing borders, her wide hatcasting a shadow on her face. And the smile which she had known so wellsince childhood, indulgent, quizzical, with a touch of sadness, was inhis eyes. She was conscious of a slight resentment. Was there, in fact, no change in her as the result of the events of those momentous tenmonths since she had seen him? And rather than a tolerance in which therewas neither antagonism nor envy, she would have preferred from Peter anopen disapproval of luxury, of the standards which he implied were hers. She felt that she had stepped into another world, but he refused to bedazzled by it. He insisted upon treating her as the same Honora. 

"How did you leave Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary?" she asked. 

They were counting the days, he said, until she should return, but theydid not wish to curtail her visit. They did not expect her next week, heknew. 

Honora coloured again. 

"I feel--that I ought to go to them, " she said. 

He glanced at her as though her determination to leave Silverdale so soonsurprised him. 

"They will be very happy to see you, Honora, " he said. "They have beenvery lonesome. "

She softened. Some unaccountable impulse prompted her to ask: "And you?Have you missed me--a little?"

He did not answer, and she saw that he was profoundly affected. She laida hand upon his arm. 

"Oh, Peter, I didn't mean that, " she cried. "I know you have. And I havemissed you--terribly. It seems so strange seeing you here, " she went onhurriedly. "There are so many' things I want to show you. Tell me how ithappened hat you came on to New York. "

"Somebody in the firm had to come, " he said. 

"In the firm!" she repeated. She did not grasp the full meaning of thischange in his status, but she remembered that Uncle Tom had predicted itone day, and that it was an honour. "I never knew any one so secretiveabout their own affairs! Why didn't you write me you had been admitted tothe firm? So you are a partner of Judge Brice. "

"Brice, Graves, and Erwin, " said Peter; "it sounds very grand, doesn'tit? I can't get used to it myself. "

"And what made you call yourself an errand boy?" she exclaimedreproachfully. "When I go back to the house I intend to tell Joshua Holtand--and Mr. Spence that you are a great lawyer. "

Peter laughed. 

"You'd better wait a few years before you say that, " said he. 

He took an interest in everything he saw, in Mr. Holt's flowers, inJoshua's cow barn, which they traversed, and declared, if he were everrich enough, he would live in the country. They walked around the pond, --fringed now with yellow water-lilies on their floating green pads, --through the woods, and when the shadows were lengthening came out atthe little summer-house over the valley of Silver Brook--the scene ofthat first memorable encounter with the Vicomte. At the sight of it theepisode, and much else of recent happening, rushed back into Honora'smind, and she realized with suddenness that she had, in hiscompanionship, unconsciously been led far afield and in pleasant places. Comparisons seemed inevitable. 

She watched him with an unwonted tugging at her heart as he stood for along time by the edge of the railing, gazing over the tree-tops of thevalley towards the distant hazy hills. Nor did she understand what it wasin him that now, on this day of days when she had definitely cast the dieof life, when she had chosen her path, aroused this strange emotion. Whyhad she never felt it before? She had thought his face homely--now itseemed to shine with a transfiguring light. She recalled, with a pang, that she had criticised his clothes: to-day they seemed the expression ofthe man himself. Incredible is the range of human emotion! She felt alonging to throw herself into his arms, and to weep there. 

He turned at length from the view. 

"How wonderful!" he said. 

"I didn't know--you cared for nature so much, Peter. "

He looked at her strangely and put out his hand and drew her, unresisting, to the bench beside him. 

"Are you in trouble, Honora?" he asked. 

"Oh, no, " she cried, "oh, no, I am--very happy. "

"You may have thought it odd that I should have come here without knowingMrs. Holt, " he said gravely, "particularly when you were going home sosoon. I do not know myself why I came. I am a matter-of-fact person, butI acted on an impulse. "

"An impulse!" she faltered, avoiding the troubled, searching look in hiseyes. 

"Yes, " he said, "an impulse. I can call it by no other name. I shouldhave taken a train that leaves New York at noon; but I had a feeling thismorning, which seemed almost like a presentiment, that I might be of someuse to you. "

"This morning?" She felt herself trembling, and she scarcely recognizedPeter with such words on his lips. "I am happy--indeed I am. Only--I amoverwrought--seeing you again--and you made me think of home. "

"It was no doubt very foolish of me, " he declared. "And if my coming hasupset you--"

"Oh, no, " she cried. "Please don't think so. It has given me a senseof--of security. That you were ready to help me if--if I needed you. "

"You should always have known that, " he replied. He rose and stood gazingoff down the valley once more, and she watched him with her heartbeating, with a sense of an impending crisis which she seemed powerlessto stave off. And presently he turned to her, "Honora, I have loved youfor many years, " he said. "You were too young for me to speak of it. Idid not intend to speak of it when I came here to-day. For many years Ihave hoped that some day you might be my wife. My one fear has been thatI might lose you. Perhaps--perhaps it has been a dream. But I am willingto wait, should you wish to see more of the world. You are young yet, andI am offering myself for all time. There is no other woman for me, andnever can be. "

He paused and smiled down at her. But she did not speak. She could not. 

"I know, " he went on, "that you are ambitious. And with your gifts I donot blame you. I cannot offer you great wealth, but I say with confidencethat I can offer you something better, something surer. I can take careof you and protect you, and I will devote my life to your happiness. Willyou marry me?"

Her eyes were sparkling with tears, --tears, he remembered afterwards, that were like blue diamonds. 

"Oh, Peter, " she cried, "I wish I could! I have always--wished that Icould. I can't. "

"You can't?"

She shook her head. 

"I--I have told no one yet--not even Aunt Mary. I am going to marry Mr. Spence. "

For a long time he was silent, and she did not dare to look at thesuffering in his face. 

"Honora, " he said at last, "my most earnest wish in life will be for yourhappiness. And whatever may, come to you I hope that you will rememberthat I am your friend, to be counted on. And that I shall not change. Will you remember that?"

"Yes, " she whispered. She looked at him now, and through the veil of hertears she seemed to see his soul shining in his eyes. The tones of adistant church bell were borne to them on the valley breeze. 

Peter glanced at his watch. 

"I am afraid, " he said, "that I haven't time to go back to the house--mytrain goes at seven. Can I get down to the village through the valley?"

Honora pointed out the road, faintly perceptible through the treesbeneath them. 

"And you will apologize for my departure to Mrs. Holt?"

She nodded. He took her hand, pressed it, and was gone. And presently, ina little clearing far below, he turned and waved his hat at her bravely. 

CHAPTER XII

WHICH CONTAINS A SURPRISE FOR MRS. HOLT

How long she sat gazing with unseeing eyes down the valley Honora did notknow. Distant mutterings of thunder aroused her; the evening sky haddarkened, and angry-looking clouds of purple were gathering over thehills. She rose and hurried homeward. She had thought to enter by thebilliard-room door, and so gain her own chamber without encountering thehousehold; but she had reckoned without her hostess. Beyond the billiardroom, in the little entry filled with potted plants, she came face toface with that lady, who was inciting a footman to further efforts in hisattempt to close a recalcitrant skylight. Honora proved of more interest, and Mrs. Holt abandoned the skylight. 

"Why, my dear, " she said, "where have you been all afternoon?"

"I--I have been walking with Mr. Erwin, Mrs. Holt. I have been showinghim Silverdale. "

"And where is he? It seems to me I invited him to stay all night, andJoshua tells me he extended the invitation. "

"We were in the little summer-house, and suddenly he discovered that itwas late and he had to catch the seven o'clock train, " faltered Honora, somewhat disconnectedly. "Otherwise he would have come to you himself andtold you--how much he regretted not staying. He has to go to St. Louisto-night. "

"Well, " said Mrs. Holt, "this is an afternoon of surprises. The Vicomtehas gone off, too, without even waiting to say good-by. "

"The Vicomte!" exclaimed Honora. 

"Didn't you see him, either, before he left?" inquired Mrs. Holt; "Ithought perhaps you might be able to give me some further explanation ofit. "

"I?" exclaimed Honora. She felt ready to sink through the floor, and Mrs. Holt's delft-blue eyes haunted her afterwards like a nightmare. 

"Didn't you see him, my dear? Didn't he tell you anything?"

"He--he didn't say he was going away. "

"Did he seem disturbed about anything?" Mrs. Holt insisted. 

"Now I think of it, he did seem a little disturbed. "

"To save my life, " said Mrs. Holt, "I can't understand it. He left a notefor me saying that he had received a telegram, and that he had to go atonce. I was at a meeting of my charity board. It seems a very strangeproceeding for such an agreeable and polite man as the Vicomte, althoughhe had his drawbacks, as all Continentals have. And at times I thought hewas grave and moody, --didn't you?"

"Oh, yes, he was moody, " Honora agreed eagerly. 

"You noticed it, too, " said Mrs. Holt. "But he was a charming man, and sointerested in America and in the work we are doing. But I can'tunderstand about the telegram. I had Carroll inquire of every servant inthe house, and there is no knowledge of a telegram having come up fromthe village this afternoon. "

"Perhaps the Vicomte might have met the messenger in the grounds, "hazarded Honora. 

At this point their attention was distracted by a noise that bore astriking resemblance to a suppressed laugh. The footman on thestep-ladder began to rattle the skylight vigorously. 

"What on earth is the matter with you, Woods?" said Mrs. Holt. 

"It must have been some dust off the skylight, Madam, that got into mythroat, " he stammered, the colour of a geranium. 

"Nonsense, " said Mrs. Holt, "there is no dust on the skylight. "

"It may be I swallowed the wrong way, looking up like, as I was, Madam, "he ventured, rubbing the frame and looking at his finger to prove hisformer theory. 

"You are very stupid not to be able to close it, " she declared; "in a fewminutes the place will be flooded. Tell Carroll to come and do it. "

Honora suffered herself to be led limply through the library and up thestairs into Mrs. Holt's own boudoir, where a maid was closing the windowsagainst the first great drops of the storm, which the wind was peltingagainst them. She drew the shades deftly, lighted the gas, and retired. Honora sank down in one of the upholstered light blue satin chairs andgazed at the shining brass of the coal grate set in the marble mantel, above which hung an engraving of Sir Joshua Reynolds' cherubs. She had aninstinct that the climax of the drama was at hand. 

Mrs. Holt sat down in the chair opposite. 

"My dear, " she began, "I told you the other day what an unexpected andwelcome comfort and help you have been to me. You evidently inherit"(Mrs. Holt coughed slightly) "the art of entertaining and pleasing, and Ineed not warn you, my dear, against the dangers of such a gift. Your aunthas evidently brought you up with strictness and religious care. You havebeen very fortunate. "

"Indeed I have, Mrs. Holt, " echoed Honora, in bewilderment. 

"And Susan, " continued Mrs. Holt, "useful and willing as she is, does notpossess your gift of taking people off my hands and entertaining them. "

Honora could think of no reply to this. Her eyes--to which no one couldbe indifferent--were riveted on the face of her hostess, and how was thegood lady to guess that her brain was reeling?

I was about to say, my dear, that I expect to have a great deal of--well, of rather difficult company this summer. Next week, for instance, someprominent women in the Working Girls' Relief Society are coming, and onJuly the twenty-third I give a garden party for the delegates to theCharity Conference in New York. The Japanese Minister has promised to payme a visit, and Sir Rupert Grant, who built those remarkable tuberculosishomes in England, you know, is arriving in August with his family. Thenthere are some foreign artists. "

"Oh, Mrs. Holt, " exclaimed Honora; "how many interesting people you see!"

"Exactly, my dear. And I thought that, in addition to the fact that Ihave grown very fond of you, you would be very useful to me here, andthat a summer with me might not be without its advantages. As your auntwill have you until you are married, which, I may say, without denyingyour attractions, is likely to be for some time, I intend to write to herto-night--with your consent--and ask her to allow you to remain with meall summer. "

Honora sat transfixed, staring painfully at the big pendant ear-rings. 

"It is so kind of you, Mrs. Holt--" she faltered. 

"I can realize, my dear, that you would wish to get back to your aunt. The feeling does you infinite credit. But, on the other hand, besides theadvantages which would accrue to you, it might, to put the matterdelicately, be of a little benefit to your relations, who will have tothink of your future. "

"Indeed, it is good of you, but I must go back, Mrs. Holt. "

"Of course, " said Mrs. Holt, with a touch of dignity--for ere now peoplehad left Silverdale before she wished them to--"of course, if you do notcare to stay, that is quite another thing. "

"Oh, Mrs. Holt, don't say that!" cried Honora, her face burning; "Icannot thank you enough for the pleasure you have given me. If--if thingswere different, I would stay with you gladly, although I should miss myfamily. But now, --now I feel that I must be with them. I--I am engaged tobe married. "

Honora still remembers the blank expression which appeared on thecountenance of her hostess when she spoke these words. Mrs. Holt's cheekstwitched, her ear-rings quivered, and her bosom heaved-once. 

"Engaged to be married!" she gasped. 

"Yes, " replied our heroine, humbly, "I was going to tell you--to-morrow. "

"I suppose, " said Mrs. Holt, after a silence, "it is to the young man whowas here this afternoon, and whom I did not see. It accounts for hisprecipitate departure. But I must say, Honora, since frankness is one ofmy faults, that I feel it my duty to write to your aunt and disclaim allresponsibility. "

"It is not to Mr. Erwin, " said Honora, meekly; "it is--it is to Mr. Spence. "

Mrs. Holt seemed to find difficulty in speaking, Her former symptoms, which Honora had come to recognize as indicative of agitation, returnedwith alarming intensity. And when at length her voice made itself heard, it was scarcely recognizable. 

"You are engaged--to--Howard Spence?"

"Oh, Mrs. Holt, " exclaimed Honora, "it was as great a surprise to me--believe me--as it is to you. "

But even the knowledge that they shared a common amazement did notappear, at once, to assuage Mrs. Holt's emotions. 

"Do you love him?" she demanded abruptly. 

Whereupon Honora burst into tears. 

"Oh, Mrs. Holt, " she sobbed, "how can you ask?"

From this time on the course of events was not precisely logical. Mrs. Holt, setting in abeyance any ideas she may have had about the affair, took Honora in her arms, and against that ample bosom was sobbed out thepent-up excitement and emotion of an extraordinary day. 

"There, there, my dear, " said Mrs. Holt, stroking the dark hair, "Ishould not have asked you that-forgive me. " And the worthy lady, quivering with sympathy now, remembered the time of her own engagement toJoshua. And the fact that the circumstances of that event differedsomewhat from those of the present--in regularity, at least, increasedrather than detracted from Mrs. Holt's sudden access of tenderness. Theperplexing questions as to the probable result of such a marriage wereswept away by a flood of feeling. "There, there, my dear, I did not meanto be harsh. What you told me was such a shock--such a surprise, andmarriage is such a grave and sacred thing. "

"I know it, " sobbed Honora. 

"And you are very young. "

"Yes, Mrs. Holt. "

"And it happened in my house. "

"No, " said Honora, "it happened--near the golf course. "

Mrs. Holt smiled, and wiped her eyes. 

"I mean, my dear, that I shall always feel responsible for bringing youtogether---for your future happiness. That is a great deal. I could havewished that you both had taken longer to reflect, but I hope with all myheart that you will be happy. "

Honora lifted up a tear-stained face. 

"He said it was because I was going away that--that he spoke, " she said. "Oh, Mrs. Holt, I knew that you would be kind about it. "

"Of course I am kind about it, my dear, " said Mrs. Holt. "As I told you, I have grown to have an affection for you. I feel a little as though youbelonged to me. And after this--this event, I expect to see a great dealof you. Howard Spence's mother was a very dear friend of mine. I was oneof the first who knew her when she came to New York, from Troy, a widow, to educate her son. She was a very fine and a very courageous woman. "Mrs. Holt paused a moment. "She hoped that Howard would be a lawyer. "

"A lawyer!" Honora repeated. 

"I lost sight of him for several years, " continued Mrs. Holt, "but beforeI invited him here I made some inquiries about him from friends of minein the financial world. I find that he is successful for so young a man, and well thought of. I have no doubt he will make a good husband, mydear, although I could wish he were not on the Stock Exchange. And I hopeyou will make him happy. "

Whereupon the good lady kissed Honora, and dismissed her to dress fordinner. 

"I shall write to your aunt at once, " she said. 

 . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . 

Requited love, unsettled condition that it is supposed to bring, did notinterfere with Howard Spence's appetite at dinner. His spirits, as usual, were of the best, and from time to time Honora was aware of his glance. Then she lowered her eyes. She sat as in a dream; and, try as she might, her thoughts would not range themselves. She seemed to see him but dimly, to hear what he said faintly; and it conveyed nothing to her mind. 

This man was to be her husband! Over and over she repeated it to herself. His name was Howard Spence, and he was on the highroad to riches andsuccess, and she was to live in New York. Ten days before he had notexisted for her. She could not bring herself to believe that he existednow. Did she love him? How could she love him, when she did not realizehim? One thing she knew, that she had loved him that morning. 

The fetters of her past life were broken, and this she would not realize. She had opened the door of the cage for what? These were the fragments ofthoughts that drifted through her mind like tattered clouds across anempty sky after a storm. Peter Erwin appeared to her more than once, andhe was strangely real. But he belonged to the past. Course succeededcourse, and she talked subconsciously to Mr. Holt and Joshua--such is theresult of feminine training. 

After dinner she stood on the porch. The rain had ceased, a cool dampbreeze shook the drops from the leaves, and the stars were shining. Presently, at the sound of a step behind her, she started. He wasstanding at her shoulder. 

"Honora!" he said. 

She did not move. 

"Honora, I haven't seen you--alone--since morning. It seems like athousand years. Honora?"

"Yes. "

"Did you mean it?

"Did I mean what?"

"When you said you'd marry me. " His voice trembled a little. "I've beenthinking of nothing but you all day. You're not--sorry? You haven'tchanged your mind?"

She shook her head. 

"At dinner when you wouldn't look at me, and this afternoon--"

"No, I'm not sorry, " she said, cutting him short. "I'm not sorry. "

He put his arm about her with an air that was almost apologetic. And, seeing that she did not resist, he drew her to him and kissed her. Suddenly, unaccountably to her, she clung to him. 

"You love me!" he exclaimed. 

"Yes, " she whispered, "but I am tired. I--I am going upstairs, Howard. Iam tired. "

He kissed her again. 

"I can't believe it!" he said. "I'll make you a queen. And we'll bemarried in the autumn, Honora. " He nodded boyishly towards the openwindows of the library. "Shall I tell them?" he asked. "I feel likeshouting it. I can't hold on much longer. I wonder what the old lady willsay!"

Honora disengaged herself from his arms and fled to the screen door. Asshe opened it, she turned and smiled back at him. 

"Mrs. Holt knows already, " she said. 

And catching her skirt, she flew quickly up the stairs.