Cashel Byron's Profession

By

George Bernard Shaw

PROLOGUE

I

Moncrief House, Panley Common. Scholastic establishment for the sonsof gentlemen, etc. 

Panley Common, viewed from the back windows of Moncrief House, is atract of grass, furze and rushes, stretching away to the westernhorizon. 

One wet spring afternoon the sky was full of broken clouds, and thecommon was swept by their shadows, between which patches of greenand yellow gorse were bright in the broken sunlight. The hills tothe northward were obscured by a heavy shower, traces of which weredrying off the slates of the school, a square white building, formerly a gentleman's country-house. In front of it was a well-keptlawn with a few clipped holly-trees. At the rear, a quarter of anacre of land was enclosed for the use of the boys. Strollers on thecommon could hear, at certain hours, a hubbub of voices and racingfootsteps from within the boundary wall. Sometimes, when thestrollers were boys themselves, they climbed to the coping, and sawon the other side a piece of common trampled bare and brown, with afew square yards of concrete, so worn into hollows as to be unfitfor its original use as a ball-alley. Also a long shed, a pump, adoor defaced by innumerable incised inscriptions, the back of thehouse in much worse repair than the front, and about fifty boys intailless jackets and broad, turned-down collars. When the fifty boysperceived a stranger on the wall they rushed to the spot with a wildhalloo, overwhelmed him with insult and defiance, and dislodged himby a volley of clods, stones, lumps of bread, and such otherprojectiles as were at hand. 

On this rainy spring afternoon a brougham stood at the door ofMoncrief House. The coachman, enveloped in a white india-rubbercoat, was bestirring himself a little after the recent shower. Within-doors, in the drawing-room, Dr. Moncrief was conversing witha stately lady aged about thirty-five, elegantly dressed, ofattractive manner, and only falling short of absolute beauty in hercomplexion, which was deficient in freshness. 

"No progress whatever, I am sorry to say, " the doctor was remarking. 

"That is very disappointing, " said the lady, contracting her brows. 

"It is natural that you should feel disappointed, " replied thedoctor. "I would myself earnestly advise you to try the effect ofplacing him at some other--" The doctor stopped. The lady's face hadlit up with a wonderful smile, and she had raised her hand with abewitching gesture of protest. 

"Oh, no, Dr. Moncrief, " she said. "I am not disappointed with YOU;but I am all the more angry with Cashel, because I know that if hemakes no progress with you it must be his own fault. As to takinghim away, that is out of the question. I should not have a moment'speace if he were out of your care. I will speak to him veryseriously about his conduct before I leave to-day. You will give himanother trial, will you not?"

"Certainly. With the greatest pleasure, " exclaimed the doctor, confusing himself by an inept attempt at gallantry. "He shall stayas long as you please. But"--here the doctor became graveagain--"you cannot too strongly urge upon him the importance of hardwork at the present time, which may be said to be the turning-pointof his career as a student. He is now nearly seventeen; and he hasso little inclination for study that I doubt whether he could passthe examination necessary to entering one of the universities. Youprobably wish him to take a degree before he chooses a profession. "

"Yes, of course, " said the lady, vaguely, evidently assenting to thedoctor's remark rather than expressing a conviction of her own. "What profession would you advise for him? You know so much betterthan I. "

"Hum!" said Dr. Moncrief, puzzled. "That would doubtless depend tosome extent on his own taste--"

"Not at all, " said the lady, interrupting him with vivacity. "Whatdoes he know about the world, poor boy? His own taste is sure to besomething ridiculous. Very likely he would want to go on the stage, like me. "

"Oh! Then you would not encourage any tendency of that sort?"

"Most decidedly not. I hope he has no such idea. "

"Not that I am aware of. He shows so little ambition to excel in anyparticular branch that I should say his choice of a profession maybe best determined by his parents. I am, of course, ignorant whetherhis relatives possess influence likely to be of use to him. That isoften the chief point to be considered, particularly in cases likeyour son's, where no special aptitude manifests itself. "

"I am the only relative he ever had, poor fellow, " said the lady, with a pensive smile. Then, seeing an expression of astonishment onthe doctor's face, she added, quickly, "They are all dead. "

"Dear me!"

"However, " she continued, "I have no doubt I can make plenty ofinterest for him. But it is difficult to get anything nowadayswithout passing competitive examinations. He really must work. If heis lazy he ought to be punished. "

The doctor looked perplexed. "The fact is, " he said, "your son canhardly be dealt with as a child any longer. He is still quite a boyin his habits and ideas; but physically he is rapidly springing upinto a young man. That reminds me of another point on which I willask you to speak earnestly to him. I must tell you that he hasattained some distinction among his school-fellows here as anathlete. Within due bounds I do not discourage bodily exercises:they are a recognized part of our system. But I am sorry to say thatCashel has not escaped that tendency to violence which sometimesresults from the possession of unusual strength and dexterity. Heactually fought with one of the village youths in the main street ofPanley some months ago. The matter did not come to my earsimmediately; and, when it did, I allowed it to pass unnoticed, as hehad interfered, it seems, to protect one of the smaller boys. Unfortunately he was guilty of a much more serious fault a littlelater. He and a companion of his had obtained leave from me to walkto Panley Abbey together. I afterwards found that their real objectwas to witness a prize-fight that took place--illegally, ofcourse--on the common. Apart from the deception practised, I thinkthe taste they betrayed a dangerous one; and I felt bound to punishthem by a severe imposition, and restriction to the grounds for sixweeks. I do not hold, however, that everything has been done inthese cases when a boy has been punished. I set a high value on amother's influence for softening the natural roughness of boys. "

"I don't think he minds what I say to him in the least, " said thelady, with a sympathetic air, as if she pitied the doctor in amatter that chiefly concerned him. "I will speak to him about it, ofcourse. Fighting is an unbearable habit. His father's people werealways fighting; and they never did any good in the world. "

"If you will be so kind. There are just the three points: thenecessity for greater--much greater--application to his studies; aword to him on the subject of rough habits; and to sound him as tohis choice of a career. I agree with you in not attaching muchimportance to his ideas on that subject as yet. Still, even a boyishfancy may be turned to account in rousing the energies of a lad. "

"Quite so, " assented the lady. "I will certainly give him alecture. "

The doctor looked at her mistrustfully, thinking perhaps that sheherself would be the better for a lecture on her duties as a mother. But he did not dare to tell her so; indeed, having a prejudice tothe effect that actresses were deficient in natural feeling, hedoubted the use of daring. He also feared that the subject of herson was beginning to bore her; and, though a doctor of divinity, hewas as reluctant as other men to be found wanting in address by apretty woman. So he rang the bell, and bade the servant send MasterCashel Byron. Presently a door was heard to open below, and a buzzof distant voices became audible. The doctor fidgeted and tried tothink of something to say, but his invention failed him: he sat insilence while the inarticulate buzz rose into a shouting of"By-ron!" "Cash!" the latter cry imitated from the summons usuallyaddressed to cashiers in haberdashers' shops. Finally there was apiercing yell of "Mam-ma-a-a-a-ah!" apparently in explanation of thedemand for Byron's attendance in the drawing-room. The doctorreddened. Mrs. Byron smiled. Then the door below closed, shuttingout the tumult, and footsteps were heard on the stairs. 

"Come in, " cried the doctor, encouragingly. 

Master Cashel Byron entered blushing; made his way awkwardly to hismother, and kissed the critical expression which was on her upturnedface as she examined his appearance. Being only seventeen, he hadnot yet acquired a taste for kissing. He inexpertly gave Mrs. Byronquite a shock by the collision of their teeth. Conscious of thefailure, he drew himself upright, and tried to hide his hands, whichwere exceedingly dirty, in the scanty folds of his jacket. He was awell-grown youth, with neck and shoulders already strongly formed, and short auburn hair curling in little rings close to his scalp. Hehad blue eyes, and an expression of boyish good-humor, which, however, did not convey any assurance of good temper. 

"How do you do, Cashel?" said Mrs. Byron, in a queenly manner, aftera prolonged look at him. 

"Very well, thanks, " said he, grinning and avoiding her eye. 

"Sit down, Byron, " said the doctor. Byron suddenly forgot how to sitdown, and looked irresolutely from one chair to another. The doctormade a brief excuse, and left the room; much to the relief of hispupil. 

"You have grown greatly, Cashel. And I am afraid you are veryawkward. " Cashel colored and looked gloomy. 

"I do not know what to do with you, " continued Mrs. Byron. "Dr. Moncrief tells me that you are very idle and rough. "

"I am not, " said Cashel, sulkily. "It is bec--"

"There is no use in contradicting me in that fashion, " said Mrs. Byron, interrupting him sharply. "I am sure that whatever Dr. Moncrief says is perfectly true. "

"He is always talking like that, " said Cashel, plaintively. "I can'tlearn Latin and Greek; and I don't see what good they are. I work ashard as any of the rest--except the regular stews, perhaps. As to mybeing rough, that is all because I was out one day with GullyMolesworth, and we saw a crowd on the common, and when we went tosee what was up it was two men fighting. It wasn't our fault thatthey came there to fight. "

"Yes; I have no doubt that you have fifty good excuses, Cashel. ButI will not allow any fighting; and you really must work harder. Doyou ever think of how hard _I_ have to work to pay Dr. Moncrief onehundred and twenty pounds a year for you?"

"I work as hard as I can. Old Moncrief seems to think that a fellowought to do nothing else from morning till night but write Latinverses. Tatham, that the doctor thinks such a genius, does all hisconstering from cribs. If I had a crib I could conster as well--verylikely better. "

"You are very idle, Cashel; I am sure of that. It is too provokingto throw away so much money every year for nothing. Besides, youmust soon be thinking of a profession. "

"I shall go into the army, " said Cashel. "It is the only professionfor a gentleman. "

Mrs. Byron looked at him for a moment as if amazed at hispresumption. But she checked herself and only said, "I am afraid youwill have to choose some less expensive profession than that. Besides, you would have to pass an examination to enable you toenter the army; and how can you do that unless you study?"

"Oh, I shall do that all right enough when the time comes. "

"Dear, dear! You are beginning to speak so coarsely, Cashel. Afterall the pains I took with you at home!"

"I speak the same as other people, " he replied, sullenly. "I don'tsee the use of being so jolly particular over every syllable. I usedto have to stand no end of chaff about my way of speaking. Thefellows here know all about you, of course. "

"All about me?" repeated Mrs. Byron, looking at him curiously. 

"All about your being on the stage, I mean, " said Cashel. "Youcomplain of my fighting; but I should have a precious bad time of itif I didn't lick the chaff out of some of them. "

Mrs. Byron smiled doubtfully to herself, and remained silent andthoughtful for a moment. Then she rose and said, glancing at theweather, "I must go now, Cashel, before another shower begins. Anddo, pray, try to learn something, and to polish your manners alittle. You will have to go to Cambridge soon, you know. "

"Cambridge!" exclaimed Cashel, excited. "When, mamma? When?"

"Oh, I don't know. Not yet. As soon as Dr. Moncrief says you are fitto go. "

"That will be long enough, " said Cashel, much dejected by thisreply. "He will not turn one hundred and twenty pounds a year out ofdoors in a hurry. He kept big Inglis here until he was past twenty. Look here, mamma; might I go at the end of this half? I feel sure Ishould do better at Cambridge than here. "

"Nonsense, " said Mrs. Byron, decidedly. "I do not expect to have totake you away from Dr. Moncrief for the next eighteen months atleast, and not then unless you work properly. Now don't grumble, Cashel; you annoy me exceedingly when you do. I am sorry I mentionedCambridge to you. "

"I would rather go to some other school, then, " said Cashel, ruefully. "Old Moncrief is so awfully down on me. "

"You only want to leave because you are expected to work here; andthat is the very reason I wish you to stay. "

Cashel made no reply; but his face darkened ominously. 

"I have a word to say to the doctor before I go, " she added, reseating herself. "You may return to your play now. Good-bye, Cashel. " And she again raised her face to be kissed. 

"Good-bye, " said Cashel, huskily, as he turned toward the door, pretending that he had not noticed her action. 

"Cashel!" she said, with emphatic surprise. "Are you sulky?"

"No, " he retorted, angrily. "I haven't said anything. I suppose mymanners are not good enough, I'm very sorry; but I can't help it. "

"Very well, " said Mrs. Byron, firmly. "You can go, Cashel. I am notpleased with you. "

Cashel walked out of the room and slammed the door. At the foot ofthe staircase he was stopped by a boy about a year younger thanhimself, who accosted him eagerly. 

"How much did she give you?" he whispered. 

"Not a halfpenny, " replied Cashel, grinding his teeth. 

"Oh, I say!" exclaimed the other, much disappointed. "That wasbeastly mean. "

"She's as mean as she can be, " said Cashel. "It's all old Monkey'sfault. He has been cramming her with lies about me. But she's justas bad as he is. I tell you, Gully, I hate my mother. "

"Oh, come!" said Gully, shocked. "That's a little too strong, oldchap. But she certainly ought to have stood something. "

"I don't know what you intend to do, Gully; but I mean to bolt. Ifshe thinks I am going to stick here for the next two years she isjolly much mistaken. "

"It would be an awful lark to bolt, " said Gully, with a chuckle. "But, " he added, seriously, "if you really mean it, by George, I'llgo too! Wilson has just given me a thousand lines; and I'll behanged if I do them. "

"Gully, " said Cashel, his eyes sparkling, "I should like to see oneof those chaps we saw on the common pitch into the doctor--get himon the ropes, you know. "

Gully's mouth watered. "Yes, " he said, breathlessly; "particularlythe fellow they called the Fibber. Just one round would be enoughfor the old beggar. Let's come out into the playground; I shallcatch it if I am found here. "

II

That night there was just sufficient light struggling through theclouds to make Panley Common visible as a black expanse, against thelightest tone of which a piece of ebony would have appeared pale. Not a human being was stirring within a mile of Moncrief House, thechimneys of which, ghostly white on the side next the moon, threwlong shadows on the silver-gray slates. The stillness had just beenbroken by the stroke of a quarter past twelve from a distant churchtower, when, from the obscurity of one of these chimney shadows, ahead emerged. It belonged to a boy, whose body presently wriggledthrough an open skylight. When his shoulders were through he turnedhimself face upward, seized the miniature gable in which theskylight was set, drew himself completely out, and made his waystealthily down to the parapet. He was immediately followed byanother boy. 

The door of Moncrief House was at the left-hand corner of the front, and was surmounted by a tall porch, the top of which was flat andcould be used as a balcony. A wall, of the same height as the porch, connected the house front with the boundary wall, and formed part ofthe enclosure of a fruit garden which lay at the side of the housebetween the lawn and the playground. When the two boys had creptalong the parapet to a point directly above the porch they stopped, and each lowered a pair of boots to the balcony by means offishing-lines. When the boots were safely landed, their owners letthe lines drop and reentered the house by another skylight. A minuteelapsed. Then they reappeared on the top of the porch, having comeout through the window to which it served as a balcony. Here theyput on their boots, and stepped on to the wall of the fruit garden. As they crawled along it, the hindmost boy whispered. 

"I say, Cashy. "

"Shut up, will you, " replied the other under his breath. "What'swrong?"

"I should like to have one more go at old mother Moncrief'spear-tree; that's all. "

"There are no pears on it this season, you fool. "

"I know. This is the last time we shall go this road, Cashy. Usen'tit to be a lark? Eh?"

"If you don't shut up, it won't be the last time; for you'll becaught. Now for it. "

Cashel had reached the outer wall, and he finished his sentence bydropping from it to the common. Gully held his breath for somemoments after the noise made by his companion's striking the ground. Then he demanded in a whisper whether all was right. 

"Yes, " returned Cashel, impatiently. "Drop as soft as you can. "

Gully obeyed; and was so careful lest his descent should shake theearth and awake the doctor, that his feet shrank from theconcussion. He alighted in a sitting posture, and remained there, looking up at Cashel with a stunned expression. 

"Crikey!" he ejaculated, presently. "That was a buster. "

"Get up, I tell you, " said Cashel. "I never saw such a jolly ass asyou are. Here, up with you! Have you got your wind back?"

"I should think so. Bet you twopence I'll be first at the crossroads. I say, let's pull the bell at the front gate and give anawful yell before we start. They'll never catch us. "

"Yes, " said Cashel, ironically; "I fancy I see myself doing it, oryou either. Now then. One, two, three, and away. "

They ran off together, and reached the cross roads about eightminutes later; Gully completely out of breath, and Cashel nearly so. Here, according to their plan, Gully was to take the north road andrun to Scotland, where he felt sure that his uncle's gamekeeperwould hide him. Cashel was to go to sea; where, he argued, he could, if his affairs became desperate, turn pirate, and achieve eminencein that profession by adding a chivalrous humanity to the rudervirtues for which it is already famous. 

Cashel waited until Gully had recovered from his race. Then he said. 

"Now, old fellow, we've got to separate. "

Gully, thus confronted with the lonely realities of his scheme, didnot like the prospect. After a moment's reflection he exclaimed:

"Damme, old chap, but I'll come with you. Scotland may go and behanged. "

But Cashel, being the stronger of the two, was as anxious to get ridof Gully as Gully was to cling to him. "No, " he said; "I'm going torough it; and you wouldn't be able for that. You're not strongenough for a sea life. Why, man, those sailor fellows are as hard asnails; and even they can hardly stand it. "

"Well, then, do you come with me, " urged Gully. "My uncle'sgamekeeper won't mind. He's a jolly good sort; and we shall have noend of shooting. "

"That's all very well for you, Gully; but I don't know your uncle;and I'm not going to put myself under a compliment to hisgamekeeper. Besides, we should run too much risk of being caught ifwe went through the country together. Of course I should be only tooglad if we could stick to one another, but it wouldn't do; I feelcertain we should be nabbed. Good-bye. "

"But wait a minute, " pleaded Gully. "Suppose they do try to catchus; we shall have a better chance against them if there are two ofus. "

"Stuff!" said Cashel. "That's all boyish nonsense. There will be atleast six policemen sent after us; and even if I did my very best, Icould barely lick two if they came on together. And you would hardlybe able for one. Yon just keep moving, and don't go near any railwaystation, and you will get to Scotland all safe enough. Look here, wehave wasted five minutes already. I have got my wind now, and I mustbe off. Good-bye. "

Gully disdained to press his company on Cashel any further. "Good-bye, " he said, mournfully shaking his hand. "Success, oldchap. "

"Success, " echoed Cashel, grasping Gully's hand with a pang ofremorse for leaving him. "I'll write to you as soon as I haveanything to tell you. It may be some months, you know, before I getregularly settled. "

He gave Gully a final squeeze, released him, and darted off alongthe road leading to Panley Village. Gully looked after him for amoment, and then ran away Scotlandwards. 

Panley Village consisted of a High Street, with an old-fashioned innat one end, a modern railway station and bridge at the other, and apump and pound midway between. Cashel stood for a while in theshadow under the bridge before venturing along the broad, moonlitstreet. Seeing no one, he stepped out at a brisk walking pace; forhe had by this time reflected that it was not possible to run allthe way to the Spanish main. There was, however, another personstirring in the village besides Cashel. This was Mr. Wilson, Dr. Moncrief's professor of mathematics, who was returning from a visitto the theatre. Mr. Wilson had an impression that theatres werewicked places, to be visited by respectable men only on rareoccasions and by stealth. The only plays he went openly to witnesswere those of Shakespeare; and his favorite was "As You Like It";Rosalind in tights having an attraction for him which he missed inLady Macbeth in petticoats. On this evening he had seen Rosalindimpersonated by a famous actress, who had come to a neighboring townon a starring tour. After the performance he had returned to Panley, supped there with a friend, and was now making his way back toMoncrief House, of which he had been intrusted with the key. He wasin a frame of mind favorable for the capture of a runaway boy. Anhabitual delight in being too clever for his pupils, fostered byfrequently overreaching them in mathematics, was just now stimulatedby the effect of a liberal supper and the roguish consciousness ofhaving been to the play. He saw and recognized Cashel as heapproached the village pound. Understanding the situation at once, he hid behind the pump, waited until the unsuspecting truant waspassing within arm's-length, and then stepped out and seized him bythe collar of his jacket. 

"Well, sir, " he said. "What are you doing here at this hour? Eh?"

Cashel, scared and white, looked up at him, and could not answer aword. 

"Come along with me, " said Wilson, sternly. 

Cashel suffered himself to be led for some twenty yards. Then hestopped and burst into tears. 

"There is no use in my going back, " he said, sobbing. "I have neverdone any good there. I can't go back. "

"Indeed, " said Wilson, with magisterial sarcasm. "We shall try tomake you do better in future. " And he forced the fugitive to resumehis march. 

Cashel, bitterly humiliated by his own tears, and exasperated by acertain cold triumph which his captor evinced on witnessing them, did not go many steps farther without protest. 

"You needn't hold me, " he said, angrily; "I can walk without beingheld. " The master tightened his grasp and pushed his captiveforward. "I won't run away, sir, " said Cashel, more humbly, sheddingfresh tears. "Please let me go, " he added, in a suffocated voice, trying to turn his face toward his captor. But Wilson twisted himback again, and urged him still onward. Cashel cried outpassionately, "Let me go, " and struggled to break loose. 

"Come, come, Byron, " said the master, controlling him with a broad, strong hand; "none of your nonsense, sir. "

Then Cashel suddenly slipped out of his jacket, turned on Wilson, and struck up at him savagely with his right fist. The masterreceived the blow just beside the point of his chin; and his eyesseemed to Cashel roll up and fall back into his head with the shock. He drooped forward for a moment, and fell in a heap face downward. Cashel recoiled, wringing his hand to relieve the tingling of hisknuckles, and terrified by the thought that he had committed murder. But Wilson presently moved and dispelled that misgiving. Some ofCashel's fury returned as he shook his fist at his prostrateadversary, and, exclaiming, "YOU won't brag much of having seen mecry, " wrenched the jacket from him with unnecessary violence, anddarted away at full speed. 

Mr. Wilson, though he was soon conscious and able to rise, did notfeel disposed to stir for a long time. He began to moan with a dazedfaith that some one would eventually come to him with sympathy andassistance. Five minutes elapsed, and brought nothing but increasedcold and pain. It occurred to him that if the police found him theywould suppose him to be drunk; also that it was his duty to go tothem and give them the alarm. He rose, and, after a struggle withdizziness and nausea, concluded that his most pressing duty was toget to bed, and leave Dr. Moncrief to recapture his ruffianly pupilas best he could. 

Accordingly, at half-past one o'clock, the doctor was roused by aknocking at his chamber-door, outside which he presently found hisprofessor of mathematics, bruised, muddy, and apparently inebriated. Five minutes elapsed before Wilson could get his principal's mind onthe right track. Then the boys were awakened and the roll called. Byron and Molesworth were reported absent. No one had seen them go;no one had the least suspicion of how they got out of the house. Onelittle boy mentioned the skylight; but observing a threateningexpression on the faces of a few of the bigger boys, who were fondof fruit, he did not press his suggestion, and submitted to besnubbed by the doctor for having made it. It was nearly threeo'clock before the alarm reached the village, where the authoritiestacitly declined to trouble themselves about it until morning. Thedoctor, convinced that the lad had gone to his mother, did notbelieve that any search was necessary, and contented himself withwriting a note to Mrs. Byron describing the attack on Mr. Wilson, and expressing regret that no proposal having for its object thereadmission of Master Byron to the academy could be entertained. 

The pursuit was now directed entirely after Molesworth, an it wanplain, from Mr. Wilson's narrative, that he had separated fromCashel outside Panley. Information was soon forthcoming. Peasants inall parts of the country had seen, they said, "a lad that might behim. " The search lasted until five o'clock next afternoon, when itwas rendered superfluous by the appearance of Gully in person, footsore and repentant. After parting from Cashel and walking twomiles, he had lost heart and turned back. Half way to the crossroads he had reproached himself with cowardice, and resumed hisflight. This time he placed eight miles betwixt himself and MoncriefHouse. Then he left the road to make a short cut through aplantation, and went astray. After wandering until morning, thinkingdejectedly of the story of the babes in the wood, he saw a womanworking in a field, and asked her the shortest way to Scotland. Shehad never heard of Scotland; and when he asked the way to Panley shelost patience and threatened to set her dog at him. This discouragedhim so much that he was afraid to speak to the other strangers whomhe met. Having the sun as a compass, he oscillated between Scotlandand Panley according to the fluctuation of his courage. At last heyielded to hunger, fatigue, and loneliness, devoted his remainingenergy to the task of getting back to school; struck the common atlast, and hastened to surrender himself to the doctor, who menacedhim with immediate expulsion. Gully was greatly concerned at havingto leave the place he had just run away from, and earnestly beggedthe doctor to give him another chance. His prayer was granted. Aftera prolonged lecture, the doctor, in consideration of the facts thatGully had been seduced by the example of a desperate associate, thathe had proved the sincerity of his repentance by coming back of hisown accord, and had not been accessory to the concussion of thebrain from which Mr. Wilson supposed himself to be suffering, accepted his promise of amendment and gave him a free pardon. Itshould be added that Gully kept his promise, and, being now theoldest pupil, graced his position by becoming a moderately studious, and, on one occasion, even a sensible lad. 

Meanwhile Mrs. Byron, not suspecting the importance of the doctor'snote, and happening to be in a hurry when it arrived, laid it byunopened, intending to read it at her leisure. She would haveforgotten it altogether but for a second note which came two dayslater, requesting some acknowledgment of the previous communication. On learning the truth she immediately drove to Moncrief House, andthere abused the doctor as he had never been abused in his lifebefore; after which she begged his pardon, and implored him toassist her to recover her darling boy. When he suggested that sheshould offer a reward for information and capture she indignantlyrefused to spend a farthing on the little ingrate; wept and accusedherself of having driven him away by her unkindness; stormed andaccused the doctor of having treated him harshly; and, finally, saidthat she would give one hundred pounds to have him back, but thatshe would never speak to him again. The doctor promised to undertakethe search, and would have promised anything to get rid of hisvisitor. A reward of fifty pounds wag offered. But whether the fearof falling into the clutches of the law for murderous assaultstimulated Cashel to extraordinary precaution, or whether he hadcontrived to leave the country in the four days which elapsedbetween his flight and the offer of the reward, the doctor's effortswere unsuccessful; and he had to confess their failure to Mrs. Byron. She agreeably surprised him by writing a pleasant letter tothe effect that it was very provoking, and that she could neverthank him sufficiently for all the trouble he had taken. And so thematter dropped. 

Long after that generation of scholars had passed away from MoncriefHouse, the name of Cashel Byron was remembered there as that of ahero who, after many fabulous exploits, had licked a master andbolted to the Spanish Main. 

III

There was at this time in the city of Melbourne, in Australia, awooden building, above the door of which was a board inscribed"GYMNASIUM AND SCHOOL OF ARMS. " In the long, narrow entry hung aframed manuscript which set forth that Ned Skene, ex-champion ofEngland and the colonies, was to be heard of within daily bygentlemen desirous of becoming proficient in the art ofself-defence. Also the terms on which Mrs. Skene, assisted by acompetent staff of professors, would give lessons in dancing, deportment, and calisthenics. 

One evening a man sat smoking on a common wooden chair outside thedoor of this establishment. On the ground beside him were some tintacks and a hammer, with which he had just nailed to the doorpost acard on which was written in a woman's handwriting: "WANTED A MALEATTENDANT WHO CAN KEEP ACCOUNTS. INQUIRE WITHIN. " The smoker was apowerful man, with a thick neck that swelled out beneath his broad, flat ear-lobes. He had small eyes, and large teeth, over which hislips were slightly parted in a good-humored but cunning smile. Hishair was black and close-cut; his skin indurated; and the bridge ofhis nose smashed level with his face. The tip, however, wasuninjured. It was squab and glossy, and, by giving the whole featurean air of being on the point of expanding to its original shape, produced a snubbed expression which relieved the otherwiseformidable aspect of the man, and recommended him as probably amodest and affable fellow when sober and unprovoked. He seemed aboutfifty years of age, and was clad in a straw hat and a suit of whitelinen. 

He had just finished his pipe when a youth stopped to read the cardon the doorpost. This youth was attired in a coarse sailor's jerseyand a pair of gray tweed trousers, which he had considerablyoutgrown. 

"Looking for a job?" inquired the ex-champion of England and thecolonies. 

The youth blushed and replied, "Yes. I should like to get somethingto do. "

Mr. Skene stared at him with stern curiosity. His piofessionalpursuits had familiarized him with the manners and speech of Englishgentlemen, and he immediately recognized the shabby sailor lad asone of that class. 

"Perhaps you're a scholar, " said the prize-fighter, after a moment'sreflection. 

"I have been at school; but I didn't learn much there, " replied theyouth. "I think I could bookkeep by double entry, " he added, glancing at the card. 

"Double entry! What's that?"

"It's the way merchants' books are kept. It is called so becauseeverything is entered twice over. "

"Ah!" said Skene, unfavorably impressed by the system; "once isenough for me. What's your weight?"

"I don't know, " said the lad, with a grin. 

"Not know your own weight!" exclaimed Skene. "That ain't the way toget on in life. "

"I haven't been weighed since I was in England, " said the other, beginning to get the better of his shyness. "I was eight stone fourthen; so you see I am only a light-weight. "

"And what do you know about light-weights? Perhaps, being so welleducated, you know how to fight. Eh?"

"I don't think I could fight you, " said the youth, with anothergrin. 

Skene chuckled; and the stranger, with boyish communicativeness, gave him an account of a real fight (meaning, apparently, onebetween professional pugilists) which he had seen in England. Hewent on to describe how he had himself knocked down a master withone blow when running away from school. Skene received thissceptically, and cross-examined the narrator as to the manner andeffect of the blow, with the result of convincing himself that thestory was true. At the end of a quarter of an hour the lad hadcommended himself so favorably by his conversation that the championtook him into the gymnasium, weighed him, measured him, and finallyhanded him a pair of boxing gloves and invited him to show what hewas made of. The youth, though impressed by the prize-fighter'sattitude with a hopeless sense of the impossibility of reaching him, rushed boldly at him several times, knocking his face on eachoccasion against Skene's left fist, which seemed to be ubiquitous, and to have the property of imparting the consistency of iron topadded leather. At last the novice directed a frantic assault at thechampion's nose, rising on his toes in his excitement as he did so. Skene struck up the blow with his right arm, and the impetuous youthspun and stumbled away until he fell supine in a corner, rapping hishead smartly on the floor at the same time. He rose with unabatedcheerfulness and offered to continue the combat; but Skene declinedany further exercise just then, and, much pleased with his novice'sgame, promised to give him a scientific education and make a man ofhim. 

The champion now sent for his wife, whom he revered as apreeminently sensible and well-mannered woman. The newcomer couldsee in her only a ridiculous dancing-mistress; but he treated herwith great deference, and thereby improved the favorable opinionwhich Skene had already formed of him. He related to her how, afterrunning away from school, he had made his way to Liverpool, gone tothe docks, and contrived to hide himself on board a ship bound forAustralia. Also how he had suffered severely from hunger and thirstbefore he discovered himself; and how, notwithstanding his unpopularposition as stowaway, he had been fairly treated as soon as he hadshown that he was willing to work. And in proof that he was stillwilling, and had profited by his maritime experience, he offered tosweep the floor of the gymnasium then and there. This proposalconvinced the Skenes, who had listened to his story like childrenlistening to a fairy tale, that he was not too much of a gentlemanto do rough work, and it was presently arranged that he shouldthenceforth board and lodge with them, have five shillings a weekfor pocket-money, and be man-of-all-work, servant, gymnasium-attendant, clerk, and apprentice to the ex-champion of England andthe colonies. 

He soon found his bargain no easy one. The gymnasium was open fromnine in the morning until eleven at night, and the athleticgentlemen who came there not only ordered him about withoutceremony, but varied the monotony of being set at naught by theinvincible Skene by practising what he taught them on the person ofhis apprentice, whom they pounded with great relish, and threwbackwards, forwards, and over their shoulders as though he had beenbut a senseless effigy, provided for that purpose. Meanwhile thechampion looked on and laughed, being too lazy to redeem his promiseof teaching the novice to defend himself. The latter, however, watched the lessons which he saw daily given to others, and, beforethe end of a month, he so completely turned the tables on theamateur pugilists of Melbourne that Skene one day took occasion toremark that he was growing uncommon clever, but that gentlemen likedto be played easy with, and that he should be careful not to knockthem about too much. Besides these bodily exertions, he had to keepaccount of gloves and foils sold and bought, and of the fees dueboth to Mr. And Mrs. Skene. This was the most irksome part of hisduty; for he wrote a large, schoolboy hand, and was not quick atfigures. When he at last began to assist his master in givinglessons the accounts had fallen into arrear, and Mrs. Skene had toresume her former care of them; a circumstance which gratified herhusband, who regarded it as a fresh triumph of her superiorintelligence. Then a Chinaman was engaged to do the more menial workof the establishment. "Skene's novice, " as he was now generallycalled, was elevated to the rank of assistant professor to thechampion, and became a person of some consequence in the gymnasium. 

He had been there more than nine months, and had developed from anactive youth into an athletic young man of eighteen, when animportant conversation took place between him and his principal. Itwas evening, and the only persons in the gymnasium were Ned Skene, who sat smoking at his ease with his coat off, and the novice, whohad just come down-stairs from his bedroom, where he had beenpreparing for a visit to the theatre. 

"Well, my gentleman, " said Skene, mockingly; "you're a fancy man, you are. Gloves too! They're too small for you. Don't you gethittin' nobody with them on, or you'll mebbe sprain your wrist. "

"Not much fear of that, " said the novice, looking at his watch, and, finding that he had some minutes to spare, sitting down oppositeSkene. 

"No, " assented the champion. "When you rise to be a regularprofessional you won't care to spar with nobody without you're wellpaid for it. "

"I may say I am in the profession already. You don't call me anamateur, do you?"

"Oh, no, " said Skene, soothingly; "not so bad as that. But mind you, my boy, I don't call no man a fighting-man what ain't been in thering. You're a sparrer, and a clever, pretty sparrer; but sparringain't the real thing. Some day, please God, we'll make up a littlematch for you, and show what you can do without the gloves. "

"I would just as soon have the gloves off as on, " said the novice, alittle sulkily. 

"That's because you have a heart as big as a lion, " said Skene, patting him on the shoulder. But the novice, who was accustomed tohear his master pay the same compliment to his patrons whenever theywere seized with fits of boasting (which usually happened when theygot beaten), looked obdurate and said nothing. 

"Sam Ducket, of Milltown, was here to-day while you was out givingCaptain Noble his lesson, " continued Skene, watching hisapprentice's face cunningly. "Now Sam is a real fighting-man, if youlike. "

"I don't think much of him. He's a liar, for one thing. "

"That's a failing of the profession. I don't mind telling YOU so, "said Skene, mournfully. Now the novice had found out this forhimself, already. He never, for instance, believed the accountswhich his master gave of the accidents and conspiracies which hadled to his being defeated three times in the ring. However, as Skenehad won fifteen battles, his next remark was undeniable. "Men fightnone the worse for being liars. Sam Ducket bet Ebony Muley in twentyminutes. "

"Yes, " said the novice, scornfully; "and what is Ebony Muley? Awretched old nigger nearly sixty years old, who is drunk seven daysin the week, and would sell a fight for a glass of brandy! Ducketought to have knocked him out of time in seventy seconds. Ducket hasno science. "

"Not a bit, " said Ned. "But he has lots of game. "

"Pshaw! Come, now, Ned; you know as well as I do that that is one ofthe stalest commonplaces going. If a fellow knows how to box, theyalways say he has science but no pluck. If he doesn't know his righthand from his left, they say that he isn't clever but that he isfull of game. "

Skene looked with secret wonder at his pupil, whose powers ofobservation and expression sometimes seemed to him almost to rivalthose of Mrs. Skene. "Sam was saying something like that to-day, " heremarked. "He says you're only a sparrer, and that you'd fall downwith fright if you was put into a twenty-four-foot ring. "

The novice flushed. "I wish I had been here when Sum Ducket saidthat. "

"Why, what could you ha' done to him?" said Skene, his small eyestwinkling. 

"I'd have punched his head; that's what I could and would have doneto him. "

"Why, man, he'd eat you. "

"He might. And he might eat you too, Ned, if he had salt enough withyou. He talks big because he knows I have no money; and he pretendshe won't strip for less than fifty pounds a side. "

"No money!" cried Skene. "I know them as'll make up fifty poundbefore twelve to-morrow for any man as I will answer for. There'd bea start for a young man! Why, my fust fight was for five shillingsin Tott'nam Fields; and proud I was when I won it. I don't want toset you on to fight a crack like Sam Ducket anyway against yourinclinations; but don't go for to say that money isn't to be had. Let Ned Skene pint to a young man and say, 'That's the young man asNed backs, ' and others will come for'ard--ay, crowds of 'em. "

The novice hesitated. "Do you think I ought to, Ned?" he said. 

"That ain't for me to say, " said Skene, doggedly. "I know what Iwould ha' said at your age. But perhaps you're right to be cautious. I tell you the truth, I wouldn't care to see you whipped by the likeof Sam Ducket. "

"Will you train me if I challenge him?"

"Will I train you!" echoed Skene, rising with enthusiasm. "Ay will Itrain you, and put my money on you, too; and you shall knockfireworks out of him, my boy, as sure as my name's Ned Skene. "

"Then, " cried the novice, reddening with excitement, "I'll fighthim. And if I lick him you will have to hand over your belt aschampion of the colonies to me. "

"So I will, " said Skene, affectionately. "Don't out late; and don'tfor your life touch a drop of liquor. You must go into trainingto-morrow. "

This was Cashel Byron's first professional engagement. 

CHAPTER I

Wiltstoken Castle was a square building with circular bastions atthe corners, each bastion terminating skyward in a Turkish minaret. The southwest face was the front, and was pierced by a Moorish archfitted with glass doors, which could be secured on occasion by gatesof fantastically hammered iron. The arch was enshrined by aPalladian portico, which rose to the roof, and was surmounted by anopen pediment, in the cleft of which stood a black-marble figure ofan Egyptian, erect, and gazing steadfastly at the midday sun. On theground beneath was an Italian terrace with two great stone elephantsat the ends of the balustrade. The windows on the upper story were, like the entrance, Moorish; but the principal ones below were squarebays, mullioned. The castle was considered grand by the illiterate;but architects and readers of books on architecture condemned it asa nondescript mixture of styles in the worst possible taste. Itstood on an eminence surrounded by hilly woodland, thirty acres ofwhich were enclosed as Wiltstoken Park. Half a mile south was thelittle town of Wiltstoken, accessible by rail from London in abouttwo hours. 

Most of the inhabitants of Wiltstoken were Conservatives. They stoodin awe of the castle; and some of them would at any time have cuthalf a dozen of their oldest friends to obtain an invitation todinner, or oven a bow in public, from Miss Lydia Carew, its orphanmistress. This Miss Carew was a remarkable person. She had inheritedthe castle and park from her aunt, who had considered her niece'slarge fortune in railways and mines incomplete without land. So manyother legacies had Lydia received from kinsfolk who hated poorrelations, that she was now, in her twenty-fifth year, theindependent possessor of an annual income equal to the year'searnings of five hundred workmen, and under no external compulsionto do anything in return for it. In addition to the advantage ofbeing a single woman in unusually easy circumstances, she enjoyed areputation for vast learning and exquisite culture. It was said inWiltstoken that she knew forty-eight living languages and all deadones; could play on every known musical instrument; was anaccomplished painter, and had written poetry. All this might as wellhave been true as far as the Wiltstokeners were concerned, since sheknew more than they. She had spent her life travelling with herfather, a man of active mind and bad digestion, with a taste forsociology, science in general, and the fine arts. On these subjectshe had written books, by which he had earned a considerablereputation as a critic and philosopher. They were the outcome ofmuch reading, observation of men and cities, sight-seeing, andtheatre-going, of which his daughter had done her share, and indeed, as she grew more competent and he weaker and older, more than hershare. He had had to combine health-hunting with pleasure-seeking;and, being very irritable and fastidious, had schooled her inself-control and endurance by harder lessons than those which hadmade her acquainted with the works of Greek and German philosopherslong before she understood the English into which she translatedthem. 

When Lydia was in her twenty-first year her father's health failedseriously. He became more dependent on her; and she anticipated thathe would also become more exacting in his demands on her time. Thecontrary occurred. One day, at Naples, she had arranged to go ridingwith an English party that was staying there. Shortly before theappointed hour he asked her to make a translation of a long extractfrom Lessing. Lydia, in whom self-questionings as to the justice ofher father's yoke had been for some time stirring, pausedthoughtfully for perhaps two seconds before she consented. Carewsaid nothing, but he presently intercepted a servant who was bearingan apology to the English party, read the note, and went back to hisdaughter, who was already busy at Lessing. 

"Lydia, " he said, with a certain hesitation, which she would haveascribed to shyness had that been at all credible of her father whenaddressing her, "I wish you never to postpone your business toliterary trifling. "

She looked at him with the vague fear that accompanies a new anddoubtful experience; and he, dissatisfied with his way of puttingthe case, added, "It is of greater importance that you should enjoyyourself for an hour than that my book should be advanced. Fargreater!"

Lydia, after some consideration, put down her pen and said, "I shallnot enjoy riding if there is anything else left undone. "

"I shall not enjoy your writing if your excursion is given up forit, " he said. "I prefer your going. "

Lydia obeyed silently. An odd thought struck her that she might endthe matter gracefully by kissing him. But as they were unaccustomedto make demonstrations of this kind, nothing came of the impulse. She spent the day on horseback, reconsidered her late rebelliousthoughts, and made the translation in the evening. 

Thenceforth Lydia had a growing sense of the power she hadunwittingly been acquiring during her long subordination. Timidly atfirst, and more boldly as she became used to dispense with theparental leading-strings, she began to follow her own bent inselecting subjects for study, and even to defend certain recentdevelopments of art against her father's conservatism. He approvedof this independent mental activity on her part, and repeatedlywarned her not to pin her faith more on him than on any othercritic. She once told him that one of her incentives to disagreewith him was the pleasure it gave her to find out ultimately that hewas right. He replied gravely:

"That pleases me, Lydia, because I believe you. But such things arebetter left unsaid. They seem to belong to the art of pleasing, which you will perhaps soon be tempted to practise, because it seemsto ail young people easy, well paid, amiable, and a mark of goodbreeding. In truth it is vulgar, cowardly, egotistical, andinsincere: a virtue in a shopman; a vice in a free woman. It isbetter to leave genuine praise unspoken than to expose yourself tothe suspicion of flattery. "

Shortly after this, at his desire, she spent a season in London, andwent into English polite society, which she found to be in the maina temple for the worship of wealth and a market for the sale ofvirgins. Having become familiar with both the cult and the tradeelsewhere, she found nothing to interest her except the Englishmanner of conducting them; and the novelty of this soon wore off. She was also incommoded by her involuntary power of inspiringaffection in her own sex. Impulsive girls she could keep in awe; butold women, notably two aunts who had never paid her any attentionduring her childhood, now persecuted her with slavish fondness, andtempted her by mingled entreaties and bribes to desert her fatherand live with them for the remainder of their lives. Her reservefanned their longing to have her for a pet; and, to escape them, shereturned to the Continent with her father, and ceased to hold anycorrespondence with London. Her aunts declared themselves deeplyhurt, and Lydia was held to have treated them very injudiciously;but when they died, and their wills became public, it was found thatthey had vied with one another in enriching her. 

When she was twenty-five years old the first startling event of herlife took place. This was the death of her father at Avignon. Noendearments passed between them even on that occasion. She wassitting opposite to him at the fireside one evening, reading aloud, when he suddenly said, "My heart has stopped, Lydia. Good-bye!" andimmediately died. She had some difficulty in quelling the tumultthat arose when the bell was answered. The whole household feltbound to be overwhelmed, and took it rather ill that she seemedneither grateful to them nor disposed to imitate their behavior. 

Carew's relatives agreed that he had made a most unbecoming will. Itwas a brief document, dated five years before his death, and was tothe effect that he bequeathed to his dear daughter Lydia all hepossessed. He had, however, left her certain private instructions. One of these, which excited great indignation in his family, wasthat his body should be conveyed to Milan, and there cremated. Having disposed of her father's remains as he had directed, she cameto set her affairs in order in England, where she inspired muchhopeless passion in the toilers in Lincoln's Inn Fields and ChanceryLane, and agreeably surprised her solicitors by evincing a capacityfor business, and a patience with the law's delay, that seemedincompatible with her age and sex. When all was arranged, and shewas once more able to enjoy perfect tranquillity, she returned toAvignon, and there discharged her last duty to her father. This wasto open a letter she had found in his desk, inscribed by his hand:"For Lydia. To be read by her at leisure when I and my affairs shallbe finally disposed of. " The letter ran thus:

"MY DEAR LYDIA, --I belong to the great company of disappointed men. But for you, I should now write myself down a failure like the rest. It is only a few years since it first struck me that although I hadfailed in many ambitions with which (having failed) I need nottrouble you now, I had achieved some success as a father. I had nosooner made this discovery than it began to stick in my thoughtsthat you could draw no other conclusion from the course of our lifetogether than that I have, with entire selfishness, used youthroughout as my mere amanuensis and clerk, and that you are underno more obligation to me for your attainments than a slave is to hismaster for the strength which enforced labor has given to hismuscles. Lest I should leave you suffering from so mischievous andoppressive an influence as a sense of injustice, I now justifymyself to you. 

"I have never asked you whether you remember your mother. Had you atany time broached the subject, I should have spoken quite freely toyou on it; but as some wise instinct led you to avoid it, I wascontent to let it rest until circumstances such as the presentshould render further reserve unnecessary. If any regret at havingknown so little of the woman who gave you birth troubles you, shakeit off without remorse. She was the most disagreeable person I everknew. I speak dispassionately. All my bitter personal feelingagainst her is as dead while I write as it will be when you read. Ihave even come to cherish tenderly certain of her characteristicswhich you have inherited, so that I confidently say that I never, since the perishing of the infatuation in which I married, felt morekindly toward her than I do now. I made the best, and she the worst, of our union for six years; and then we parted. I permitted her togive what account of the separation she pleased, and allowed herabout five times as much money as she had any right to expect. Bythese means I induced her to leave me in undisturbed possession ofyou, whom I had already, as a measure of precaution, carried off toBelgium. The reason why we never visited England during her lifetimewas that she could, and probably would, have made my previousconduct and my hostility to popular religion an excuse for wrestingyou from me. I need say no more of her, and am sorry it wasnecessary to mention her at all. 

"I will now tell you what induced me to secure you for myself. Itwas not natural affection; I did not love you then, and I knew thatyou would be a serious encumbrance to me. But, having brought youinto the world, and then broken through my engagements with yourmother, I felt bound to see that you should not suffer for mymistake. Gladly would I have persuaded myself that she was (as thegossips said) the fittest person to have charge of you; but I knewbetter, and made up my mind to discharge my responsibility as wellas I could. In course of time you became useful to me; and, as youknow, I made use of you without scruple, but never without regard toyour own advantage. I always kept a secretary to do whatever Iconsidered mere copyist's work. Much as you did for me, I think Imay say with truth that I never imposed a task of absolutely noeducational value on you. I fear you found the hours you spent overmy money affairs very irksome; but I need not apologize for thatnow: you must already know by experience how necessary a knowledgeof business is to the possessor of a large fortune. 

"I did not think, when I undertook your education, that I was layingthe foundation of any comfort for myself. For a long time you wereonly a good girl, and what ignorant people called a prodigy oflearning. In your circumstances a commonplace child might have beenboth. I subsequently came to contemplate your existence with apleasure which I never derived from the contemplation of my own. Ihave not succeeded, and shall not succeed in expressing theaffection I feel for you, or the triumph with which I find that whatI undertook as a distasteful and thankless duty has rescued my lifeand labor from waste. My literary travail, seriously as it hasoccupied us both, I now value only for the share it has had ineducating you; and you will be guilty of no disloyalty to me whenyou come to see that though I sifted as much sand as most men, Ifound no gold. I ask you to remember, then, that I did my duty toyou long before it became pleasurable or even hopeful. And, when youare older and have learned from your mother's friends how I failedin my duty to her, you will perhaps give me some credit for havingconciliated the world for your sake by abandoning habits andacquaintances which, whatever others may have thought of them, didmuch while they lasted to make life endurable to me. 

"Although your future will not concern me, I often find myselfthinking of it. I fear you will soon find that the world has not yetprovided a place and a sphere of action for wise and well-instructedwomen. In my younger days, when the companionship of my fellows wasa necessity to me, I voluntarily set aside my culture, relaxed myprinciples, and acquired common tastes, in order to fit myself forthe society of the only men within my reach; for, if I had to liveamong bears, I had rather be a bear than a man. Let me warn youagainst this. Never attempt to accommodate yourself to the world byself-degradation. Be patient; and you will enjoy frivolity all themore because you are not frivolous: much as the world will respectyour knowledge all the more because of its own ignorance. 

"Some day, I expect and hope, you will marry. You will then have anopportunity of making an irremediable mistake, against thepossibility of which no advice of mine or subtlety of yours canguard you. I think you will not easily find a man able to satisfy inyou that desire to be relieved of the responsibility of thinking outand ordering our course of life that makes us each long for a guidewhom we can thoroughly trust. If you fail, remember that yourfather, after suffering a bitter and complete disappointment in hiswife, yet came to regard his marriage as the happiest event in hiscareer. Let me remind you also, since you are so rich, that it wouldhe a great folly for you to be jealous of your own income, and tolimit your choice of a husband to those already too rich to marryfor money. No vulgar adventurer will be able to recommend himself toyou; and better men will be at least as much frightened as attractedby your wealth. The only class against which I need warn you is thatto which I myself am supposed to belong. Never think that a man mustprove a suitable and satisfying friend for you merely because he hasread much criticism; that he must feel the influences of art as youdo because he knows and adopts the classification of names andschools with which you are familiar; or that because he agrees withyour favorite authors he must necessarily interpret their words tohimself as you understand them. Beware of men who have read morethan they have worked, or who love to read better than to work. Beware of painters, poets, musicians, and artists of all sorts, except very great artists: beware even of them as husbands andfathers. Self-satisfied workmen who have learned their businesswell, whether they be chancellors of the exchequer or farmers, Irecommend to you as, on the whole, the most tolerable class of men Ihave met. 

"I shall make no further attempt to advise you. As fast as mycounsels rise to my mind follow reflections that convince me oftheir futility. 

"You may perhaps wonder why I never said to you what I have writtendown here. I have tried to do so and failed. If I understand myselfaright, I have written these lines mainly to relieve a craving toexpress my affection for you. The awkwardness which anover-civilized man experiences in admitting that he is somethingmore than an educated stone prevented me from confusing you bydemonstrations of a kind I had never accustomed you to. Besides, Iwish this assurance of my love--my last word--to reach you when nofurther commonplaces to blur the impressiveness of its simple truthare possible. 

"I know I have said too much; and I feel that I have not saidenough. But the writing of this letter has been a difficult task. Practised as I am with my pen, I have never, even in my earliestefforts, composed with such labor and sense of inadequacy----"

Here the manuscript broke off. The letter had never been finished. 

CHAPTER II

In the month of May, seven years after the flight of the two boysfrom Moncrief House, a lady sat in an island of shadow which wasmade by a cedar-tree in the midst of a glittering green lawn. Shedid well to avoid the sun, for her complexion was as delicatelytinted as mother-of-pearl. She was a small, graceful woman, withsensitive lips and nostrils, green eyes, with quiet, unarched brows, and ruddy gold hair, now shaded by a large, untrimmed straw hat. Herdress of Indian muslin, with half-sleeves terminating at the elbowsin wide ruffles, hardly covered her shoulders, where it wassupplemented by a scarf through which a glimpse of her throat wasvisible in a nest of soft Tourkaris lace. She was reading a littleivory-bound volume--a miniature edition of the second part ofGoethe's "Faust. "

As the afternoon wore on and the light mellowed, the lady droppedher book and began to think and dream, unconscious of a prosaicblack object crossing the lawn towards her. This was a younggentleman in a frock coat. He was dark, and had a long, grave face, with a reserved expression, but not ill-looking. 

"Going so soon, Lucian?" said the lady, looking up as he came intothe shadow. 

Lucian looked at her wistfully. His name, as she uttered it, alwaysstirred him vaguely. He was fond of finding out the reasons ofthings, and had long ago decided that this inward stir was due toher fine pronunciation. His other intimates called him Looshn. 

"Yes, " he said. "I have arranged everything, and have come to givean account of my stewardship, and to say good-bye. "

He placed a garden-chair near her and sat down. She laid her handsone on the other in her lap, and composed herself to listen. 

"First, " he said, "as to the Warren Lodge. It is let for a monthonly; so you can allow Mrs. Goff to have it rent free in July if youstill wish to. I hope you will not act so unwisely. "

She smiled, and said, "Who are the present tenants? I hear that theyobject to the dairymaids and men crossing the elm vista. "

"We must not complain of that. It was expressly stipulated when theytook the lodge that the vista should be kept private for them. I hadno idea at that time that you were coming to the castle, or I shouldof course have declined such a condition. "

"But we do keep it private for them; strangers are not admitted. Ourpeople pass and repass once a day on their way to and from thedairy; that is all. "

"It seems churlish, Lydia; but this, it appears, is a specialcase--a young gentleman, who has come to recruit his health. Heneeds daily exercise in the open air; but he cannot bearobservation, and he has only a single attendant with him. Underthese circumstances I agreed that they should have the sole use ofthe elm vista. In fact, they are paying more rent than would bereasonable without this privilege. "

"I hope the young gentleman is not mad. "

"I satisfied myself before I let the lodge to him that he would be aproper tenant, " said Lucian, with reproachful gravity. "He wasstrongly recommended to me by Lord Worthington, whom I believe to bea man of honor, notwithstanding his inveterate love of sport. As ithappens, I expressed to him the suspicion you have just suggested. Worthington vouched for the tenant's sanity, and offered to take thelodge in his own name and be personally responsible for the goodbehavior of this young invalid, who has, I fancy, upset his nervesby hard reading. Probably some college friend of Worthington's. "

"Perhaps so. But I should rather expect a college friend of LordWorthington's to be a hard rider or drinker than a hard reader. "

"You may be quite at ease, Lydia. I took Lord Worthington at hisword so far as to make the letting to him. I have never seen thereal tenant. But, though I do not even recollect his name, I willventure to answer for him at second-hand. "

"I am quite satisfied, Lucian; and I am greatly obliged to you. Iwill give orders that no one shall go to the dairy by way of thewarren. It is natural that he should wish to be out of the world. "

"The next point, " resumed Lucian, "is more important, as it concernsyou personally. Miss Goff is willing to accept your offer. And amost unsuitable companion she will be for you!"

"Why, Lucian?"

"On all accounts. She is younger than you, and therefore cannotchaperone yon. She has received only an ordinary education, and herexperience of society is derived from local subscription balls. And, as she is not unattractive, and is considered a beauty inWiltstoken, she is self-willed, and will probably take yourpatronage in bad part. "

"Is she more self-willed than I?"

"You are not self-willed, Lydia; except that you are deaf toadvice. "

"You mean that I seldom follow it. And so you think I had betteremploy a professional companion--a decayed gentlewoman--than savethis young girl from going out as a governess and beginning to decayat twenty-three?"

"The business of getting a suitable companion, and the pleasure orduty of relieving poor people, are two different things, Lydia. "

"True, Lucian. When will Miss Goff call?"

"This evening. Mind; nothing is settled as yet. If you think betterof it on seeing her you have only to treat her as an ordinaryvisitor and the subject will drop. For my own part, I prefer hersister; but she will not leave Mrs. Goff, who has not yet recoveredfrom the shock of her husband's death. "

Lydia looked reflectively at the little volume in her hand, andseemed to think out the question of Miss Goff. Presently, with anair of having made up her mind, she said, "Can you guess which ofGoethe's characters you remind me of when you try to be worldly-wisefor my sake?"

"When I try--What an extraordinary irrelevance! I have not readGoethe lately. Mephistopheles, I suppose. But I did not mean to becynical. "

"No; not Mephistopheles, but Wagner--with a difference. Wagnertaking Mephistopheles instead of Faust for his model. " Seeing by hisface that he did not relish the comparison, she added, "I am payingyou a compliment. Wagner represents a very clever man. "

"The saving clause is unnecessary, " he said, somewhat sarcastically. "I know your opinion of me quite well, Lydia. "

She looked quickly at him. Detecting the concern in her glance, heshook his head sadly, saying, "I must go now, Lydia. I leave you incharge of the housekeeper until Miss Goff arrives. "

She gave him her hand, and a dull glow came into his gray jaws as hetook it. Then he buttoned his coat and walked gravely away. As hewent, she watched the sun mirrored in his glossy hat, and drowned inhis respectable coat. She sighed, and took up Goethe again. 

But after a little while she began to be tired of sitting still, andshe rose and wandered through the park for nearly an hour, trying tofind the places in which she had played in her childhood during avisit to her late aunt. She recognized a great toppling Druid'saltar that had formerly reminded her of Mount Sinai threatening tofall on the head of Christian in "The Pilgrim's Progress. " Fartheron she saw and avoided a swamp in which she had once earned ascolding from her nurse by filling her stockings with mud. Then shefound herself in a long avenue of green turf, running east and west, and apparently endless. This seemed the most delightful of all herpossessions, and she had begun to plan a pavilion to build near it, when she suddenly recollected that this must be the elm vista ofwhich the privacy was so stringently insisted upon, by her invalidtenant at the Warren Lodge. She fled into the wood at once, and, when she was safe there, laughed at the oddity of being a trespasserin her own domain. She made a wide detour in order to avoidintruding a second time; consequently, after walking for a quarterof an hour, she lost herself. The trees seemed never ending; shebegan to think she must possess a forest as well as a park. At lastshe saw an opening. Hastening toward it, she came again into thesunlight, and stopped, dazzled by an apparition which she at firsttook to be a beautiful statue, but presently recognized, with astrange glow of delight, as a living man. 

To so mistake a gentleman exercising himself in the open air on anineteenth-century afternoon would, under ordinary circumstances, imply incredible ignorance either of men or statues. But thecircumstances in Miss Carew's case were not ordinary; for the manwas clad in a jersey and knee-breeches of white material, and hisbare arms shone like those of a gladiator. His broad pectoralmuscles, in their white covering, were like slabs of marble. Evenhis hair, short, crisp, and curly, seemed like burnished bronze inthe evening light. It came into Lydia's mind that she had disturbedan antique god in his sylvan haunt. The fancy was only momentary;for she perceived that there was a third person present; a manimpossible to associate with classic divinity. He looked like a wellto do groom, and was contemplating his companion much as a groommight contemplate an exceptionally fine horse. He was the first tosee Lydia; and his expression as he did so plainly showed that heregarded her as a most unwelcome intruder. The statue-man, followinghis sinister look, saw her too, but with different feelings; for hislips parted, his color rose, and he stared at her with undisguisedadmiration and wonder. Lydia's first impulse was to turn and fly;her next, to apologize for her presence. Finally she went awayquietly through the trees. 

The moment she was out of their sight she increased her pace almostto a run. The day was too warm for rapid movement, and she soonstopped and listened. There were the usual woodland sounds; leavesrustling, grasshoppers chirping, and birds singing; but not a humanvoice or footstep. She began to think that the god-like figure wasonly the Hermes of Praxiteles, suggested to her by Goethe'sclassical Sabbat, and changed by a day-dream into the semblance of aliving reality. The groom must have been one of those incongruitiescharacteristic of dreams--probably a reminiscence of Lucian'sstatement that the tenant of the Warren Lodge had a single maleattendant. It was impossible that this glorious vision of manlystrength and beauty could be substantially a student broken down byexcessive study. That irrational glow of delight, too, was one ofthe absurdities of dreamland; otherwise she should have been ashamedof it. 

Lydia made her way back to the castle in some alarm as to the stateof her nerves, but dwelling on her vision with a pleasure that shewould not have ventured to indulge had it concerned a creature offlesh and blood. Once or twice it recurred to her so vividly thatshe asked herself whether it could have been real. But a littlereasoning convinced her that it must have been an hallucination. 

"If you please, madam, " said one of her staff of domestics, a nativeof Wiltstoken, who stood in deep awe of the lady of the castle, "Miss Goff is waiting for you in the drawing-room. "

The drawing-room of the castle was a circular apartment, with adome-shaped ceiling broken into gilt ornaments resembling thickbamboos, which projected vertically downward like stalagmites. Theheavy chandeliers were loaded with flattened brass balls, magnifiedfac-similes of which crowned the uprights of the low, broad, massively-framed chairs, which were covered in leather stamped withJapanese dragon designs in copper-colored metal. Near the fireplacewas a great bronze bell of Chinese shape, mounted like a mortar on ablack wooden carriage for use as a coal-scuttle. The wall wasdecorated with large gold crescents on a ground of light blue. 

In this barbaric rotunda Miss Carew found awaiting her a young ladyof twenty-three, with a well-developed, resilient figure, and aclear complexion, porcelain surfaced, and with a fine red in thecheeks. The lofty pose of her head expressed an habitual sense ofher own consequence given her by the admiration of the youth of theneighborhood, which was also, perhaps, the cause of the neatness ofher inexpensive black dress, and of her irreproachable gloves, boots, and hat. She had been waiting to introduce herself to thelady of the castle for ten minutes in a state of nervousness thatculminated as Lydia entered. 

"How do you do, Miss Goff, Have I kept you waiting? I was out. "

"Not at all, " said Miss Goff, with a confused impression that redhair was aristocratic, and dark brown (the color of her own) vulgar. She had risen to shake hands, and now, after hesitating a moment toconsider what etiquette required her to do next, resumed her seat. Miss Carew sat down too, and gazed thoughtfully at her visitor, whoheld herself rigidly erect, and, striving to mask her nervousness, unintentionally looked disdainful. 

"Miss Goff, " said Lydia, after a silence that made her speechimpressive, "will you come to me on a long visit? In this lonelyplace I am greatly in want of a friend and companion of my own ageand position. I think you must be equally so. "

Alice Goff was very young, and very determined to accept no creditthat she did not deserve. With the unconscious vanity and conscioushonesty of youth, she proceeded to set Miss Carew right as to hersocial position, not considering that the lady of the castleprobably understood it better than she did herself, and indeedthinking it quite natural that she should be mistaken. 

"You are very kind, " she replied, stiffly; "but our positions arequite different, Miss Carew. The fact is that I cannot afford tolive an idle life. We are very poor, and my mother is partlydependent on my exertions. "

"I think you will be able to exert yourself to good purpose if youcome to me, " said Lydia, unimpressed. "It is true that I shall giveyou very expensive habits; but I will of course enable you tosupport them. "

"I do not wish to contract expensive habits, " said Alice, reproachfully. "I shall have to content myself with frugal onesthroughout my life. "

"Not necessarily. Tell me, frankly: how had you proposed to exertyourself? As a teacher, was it not?"

Alice flushed, but assented. 

"You are not at all fitted for it; and you will end by marrying. Asa teacher you could not marry well. As an idle lady, with expensivehabits, you will marry very well indeed. It is quite an art to knowhow to be rich--an indispensable art, if you mean to marry a richman. "

"I have no intention of marrying, " said Alice, loftily. She thoughtit time to check this cool aristocrat. "If I come at all I shallcome without any ulterior object. "

"That is just what I had hoped. Come without condition, or secondthought of any kind. "

"But--" began Alice, and stopped, bewildered by the pace at whichthe negotiation was proceeding. She murmured a few words, and waitedfor Lydia to proceed. But Lydia had said her say, and evidentlyexpected a reply, though she seemed assured of having her own way, whatever Alice's views might be. 

"I do not quite understand, Miss Carew. What duties?--what would youexpect of me?"

"A great deal, " said Lydia, gravely. "Much more than I should from amere professional companion. "

"But I am a professional companion, " protested Alice. 

"Whose?"

Alice flushed again, angrily this time. "I did not mean to say--"

"You do not mean to say that you will have nothing to do with me, "said Lydia, stopping her quietly. "Why are you so scrupulous, MissGoff? You will be close to your home, and can return to it at anymoment if you become dissatisfied with your position here. "

Fearful that she had disgraced herself by ill manners; loath to betaken possession of as if her wishes were of no consequence when arich lady's whim was to be gratified; suspicious--since she hadoften heard gossiping tales of the dishonesty of people in highpositions--lest she should be cheated out of the salary she had comeresolved to demand; and withal unable to defend herself against MissCarew, Alice caught at the first excuse that occurred to her. 

"I should like a little time to consider, " she said. 

"Time to accustom yourself to me, is it not? You can have as long asyou plea-"

"Oh, I can let you know tomorrow, " interrupted Alice, officiously. 

"Thank you. I will send a note to Mrs. Goff to say that she neednot expect you back until tomorrow. "

"But I did not mean--I am not prepared to stay, " remonstrated Alice, feeling that she was being entangled in a snare. 

"We shall take a walk after dinner, then, and call at your house, where you can make your preparations. But I think I can supply youwith all you will require. "

Alice dared make no further objection. "I am afraid, " she stammered, "you will think me horribly rude; but I am so useless, and you areso sure to be disappointed, that--that--"

"You are not rude, Miss Goff; but I find you very shy. You want torun away and hide from new faces and new surroundings. " Alice, whowas self-possessed and even overbearing in Wiltstoken society, feltthat she was misunderstood, but did not know how to vindicateherself. Lydia resumed, "I have formed my habits in the course of mytravels, and so live without ceremony. We dine early--at six. "

Alice had dined at two, but did not feel bound to confess it. 

"Let me show you your room, " said Lydia, rising. "This is a curiousdrawingroom, " she added, glancing around. "I only use itoccasionally to receive visitors. " She looked about her again withsome interest, as if the apartment belonged to some one else, andled the way to a room on the first floor, furnished as a lady'sbed-chamber. "If you dislike this, " she said, "or cannot arrange itto suit you, there are others, of which you can have your choice. Come to my boudoir when you are ready. "

"Where is that?" said Alice, anxiously. 

"It is--You had better ring for some one to show you. I will sendyou my maid. "

Alice, even more afraid of the maid than of the mistress, declinedhastily. "I am accustomed to attend to myself, Miss Carew, " withproud humility. 

"You will find it more convenient to call me Lydia, " said MissCarew. "Otherwise you will be supposed to refer to my grandaunt, avery old lady. " She then left the room. 

Alice was fond of thinking that she had a womanly taste and touch inmaking a room pretty. She was accustomed to survey with pride hermother's drawing-room, which she had garnished with cheapcretonnes, Japanese paper fans, and knick-knacks in ornamentalpottery. She felt now that if she slept once in the bed before her, she could never be content in her mother's house again. All that shehad read and believed of the beauty of cheap and simple ornament, and the vulgarity of costliness, recurred to her as a hypocriticalparaphrase of the "sour grapes" of the fox in the fable. Shepictured to herself with a shudder the effect of a sixpenny Chineseumbrella in that fireplace, a cretonne valance to that bed, orchintz curtains to those windows. There was in the room a series ofmirrors consisting of a great glass in which she could see herselfat full length, another framed in the carved oaken dressing-table, and smaller ones of various shapes fixed to jointed arms that turnedevery way. To use them for the first time was like having eyes inthe back of the head. She had never seen herself from all points ofview before. As she gazed, she strove not to be ashamed of herdress; but even her face and figure, which usually afforded herunqualified delight, seemed robust and middle-class in Miss Carew'smirrors. 

"After all, " she said, seating herself on a chair that was even moreluxurious to rest in than to look at; "putting the lace out of thequestion--and my old lace that belongs to mamma is quite asvaluable--her whole dress cannot have cost much more than mine. Atany rate, it is not worth much more, whatever she may have chosen topay for it. "

But Alice was clever enough to envy Miss Carew her manners more thanher dress. She would not admit to herself that she was notthoroughly a lady; but she felt that Lydia, in the eye of astranger, would answer that description better than she. Still, asfar as she had observed, Miss Carew was exceedingly cool in herproceedings, and did not take any pains to please those with whomshe conversed. Alice had often made compacts of friendship withyoung ladies, and had invited them to call her by her Christianname; but on such occasions she had always called themn "dear" or"darling, " and, while the friendship lasted (which was often longerthan a month, for Alice was a steadfast girl), had never met themwithout exchanging an embrace and a hearty kiss. 

"And nothing, " she said, springing from the chair as she thought ofthis, and speaking very resolutely, "shall tempt me to believe thatthere is anything vulgar in sincere affection. I shall be on myguard against this woman. "

Having settled that matter for the present, she resumed herexamination of the apartment, and was more and more attracted by itas she proceeded. For, thanks to her eminence as a local beauty, shehad not that fear of beautiful and rich things which renders abjectpeople incapable of associating costliness with comfort. Had thecounterpane of the bed been her own, she would have unhesitatinglyconverted it into a ball-dress. There were toilet appliances ofwhich she had never felt the need, and could only guess the use. Shelooked with despair into the two large closets, thinking how poor ashow her three dresses, her ulster, and her few old jackets wouldmake there. There was also a dressing-room with a marble bath thatmade cleanliness a luxury instead of one of the sternest of thevirtues, as it seemed at home. Yet she remarked that though everyobject was more or less ornamental, nothing had been placed in therooms for the sake of ornament alone. Miss Carew, judged by herdomestic arrangements, was a utilitarian before everything. Therewas a very handsome chimney piece; but as there was nothing on themantel board, Alice made a faint effort to believe that it wasinferior in point of taste to that in her own bedroom, which wascovered with blue cloth, surrounded by fringe and brass headednails, and laden with photographs in plush frames. 

The striking of the hour reminded her that she had forgotten toprepare for dinner. Khe hastily took off her hat, washed her hands, spent another minute among the mirrors, and was summoning courage toring the bell, when a doubt occurred to her. Ought she to put on hergloves before going down or not? This kept her in perplexity formany seconds. At last she resolved to put her gloves in her pocket, and be guided as to their further disposal by the example of herhostess. Then, not daring to hesitate any longer, she rang the bell, and was presently joined by a French lady of polished manners--MissCarew's maid who conducted her to the boudoir, a hexagonal apartmentthat, Alice thought, a sultana might have envied. Lydia was there, reading. Alice noted with relief that she had not changed her dress, and that she was ungloved. 

Miss Goff did not enjoy the dinner. There was a butler who seemed tohave nothing to do but stand at a buffet and watch her. There wasalso a swift, noiseless footman who presented himself at her elbowat intervals and compelled her to choose on the instant betweenunfamiliar things to eat and drink. She envied these men theirknowledge of society, and shrank from their criticism. Once, aftertaking a piece of asparagus in her hand, she was deeply mortified atseeing her hostess consume the vegetable with the aid of a knife andfork; but the footman's back was turned to her just then, and thebutler, oppressed by the heat of the weather, was in a state ofabstraction bordering on slumber. On the whole, by dint of imitatingMiss Oarew, who did not plague her with any hostess-like vigilance, she came off without discredit to her breeding. 

Lydia, on her part, acknowledged no obligation to entertain herguest by chatting, and enjoyed her thoughts and her dinner insilence. Alice began to be fascinated by her, and to wonder what shewas thinking about. She fancied that the footman was not quite freefrom the same influence. Even the butler might have been meditatinghimself to sleep on the subject. Alice felt tempted to offer her apenny for her thoughts. But she dared not be so familiar as yet. And, had the offer been made and accepted, butler, footman, andguest would have been plunged into equal confusion by theexplanation, which would have run thus:

"I saw a vision of the Hermes of Praxiteles in a sylvan hauntto-day; and I am thinking of that. "

CHAPTER III. 

Next day Alice accepted Miss Carew's invitation. Lydia, who seemedto regard all conclusions as foregone when she had once signifiedher approval of them, took the acceptance as a matter of course. Alice thereupon thought fit to remind her that there were otherpersons to be considered. So she said, "I should not have hesitatedyesterday but for my mother. It seems so heartless to leave her. "

"You have a sister at home, have you not?"

"Yes. But she is not very strong, and my mother requires a greatdeal of attention. " Alice paused, and added in a lower voice, "Shehas never recovered from the shock of my father's death. "

"Your father is then not long dead?" said Lydia in her usual tone. 

"Only two years, " said Alice, coldly. "I hardly know how to tell mymother that I am going to desert her. "

"Go and tell her today, Alice. You need not be afraid of hurtingher. Grief of two years' standing is only a bad habit. "

Alice started, outraged. Her mother's grief was sacred to her; andyet it was by her experience of her mother that she recognized thetruth of Lydia's remark, and felt that it was unanswerable. Shefrowned; but the frown was lost: Miss Carew was not looking at her. Then she rose and went to the door, where she stopped to say, "You do not know our family circumstances. I will go now and try toprevail on my mother to let me stay with you. "

"Please come back in good time for dinner, " said Lydia, unmoved. "Iwill introduce you to my cousin Lucian Webber. I have just receiveda telegram from him. He is coming down with Lord Worthington. I donot know whether Lord Worthington will come to dinner or not. He hasan invalid friend at the Warren, and Lucian does not make it clearwhether he is coming to visit him or me. However, it is of noconsequence; Lord Worthington is only a young sportsman. Lucian is aclever man, and will be an eminent one some day. He is secretary toa Cabinet Minister, and is very busy; but we shall probably see himoften while the Whitsuntide holidays last. Excuse my keeping youwaiting at the door to hear that long history. Adieu!" She waved herhand; Alice suddenly felt that it was possible to be very fond ofMiss Carew. 

She spent an unhappy afternoon with her mother. Mrs. Goff had hadthe good-fortune to marry a man of whom she was afraid, and who madehimself very disagreeable whenever his house or his children wereneglected in the least particular. Making a virtue of necessity, shehad come to be regarded in Wiltstoken as a model wife and mother. Atlast, when a drag ran over Mr. Goff and killed him, she was leftalmost penniless, with two daughters on her hands. In this extremityshe took refuge in grief, and did nothing. Her daughters settledtheir father's affairs as best they could, moved her into a cheaphouse, and procured a strange tenant for that in which they hadlived during many years. Janet, the elder sister, a student bydisposition, employed herself as a teacher of the scientificfashions in modern female education, rumors of which had alreadyreached Wiltstoken. Alice was unable to teach mathematics and moralscience; but she formed a dancing-class, and gave lessons in singingand in a language which she believed to be current in France, butwhich was not intelligible to natives of that country travellingthrough Wiltstoken. Both sisters were devoted to one another and totheir mother. Alice, who had enjoyed the special affection of herself-indulgent father, preserved some regard for his memory, thoughshe could not help wishing that his affection had been strong enoughto induce him to save a provision for her. She was ashamed, too, ofthe very recollection of his habit of getting drunk at races, regattas, and other national festivals, by an accident at one ofwhich he had met his death. 

Alice went home from the castle expecting to find the householddivided between joy at her good-fortune and grief at losing her; forher views of human nature and parental feeling were as yet puresuperstitions. But Mrs. Goff at once became envious of the luxuryher daughter was about to enjoy, and overwhelmed her withaccusations of want of feeling, eagerness to desert her mother, andvain love of pleasure. Alice, who loved Mrs. Goff so well that shehad often told her as many as five different lies in the course ofone afternoon to spare her some unpleasant truth, and would havescouted as infamous any suggestion that her parent was more selfishthan saintly, soon burst into tears, declaring that she would notreturn to the castle, and that nothing would have induced her tostay there the night before had she thought that her doing so couldgive pain at home. This alarmed Mrs. Goff, who knew by experiencethat it was easier to drive Alice upon rash resolves than to shakeher in them afterwards. Fear of incurring blame in Wiltstoken forwantonly opposing her daughter's obvious interests, and of losingher share of Miss Carew's money and countenance, got the better ofher jealousy. She lectured Alice severely for her headstrong temper, and commanded her, on her duty not only to her mother, but also andchiefly to her God, to accept Miss Carew's offer with thankfulness, and to insist upon a definite salary as soon as she had, by goodbehavior, made her society indispensable at the castle. Alice, dutiful as she was, reduced Mrs. Goff to entreaties, and even tosymptoms of an outburst of violent grief for the late Mr. Goff, before she consented to obey her. She would wait, she said, untilJanet, who was absent teaching, came in, and promised to forgive herfor staying away the previous night (Mrs. Goff had falselyrepresented that Janet had been deeply hurt, and had lain awakeweeping during the small hours of the morning). The mother, seeingnothing for it but either to get rid of Alice before Janet's returnor to be detected in a spiteful untruth, had to pretend that Janetwas spending the evening with some friends, and to urge theunkindness of leaving Miss Carew lonely. At last Alice washed awaythe traces of her tears and returned to the castle, feeling verymiserable, and trying to comfort herself with the reflection thather sister had been spared the scene which had just passed. 

Lucian Webber had not arrived when she reached the castle. MissCarew glanced at her melancholy face as she entered, but asked noquestions. Presently, however, she put down her book, considered fora moment, and said, "It is nearly three years since I have had a new dress. " Alicelooked up with interest. "Now that I have you to help me to choose, I think I will be extravagant enough to renew my entire wardrobe. Iwish you would take this opportunity to get some things foryourself. You will find that my dress-maker, Madame Smith, is to bedepended on for work, though she is expensive and dishonest. When weare tired of Wiltstoken we will go to Paris, and be millineredthere; but in the meantime we can resort to Madame Smith. "

"I cannot afford expensive dresses, " said Alice. 

"I should not ask you to get them if you could not afford them. Iwarned you that I should give you expensive habits. "

Alice hesitated. She had a healthy inclination to take whatever shecould get on all occasions; and she had suffered too much frompoverty not to be more thankful for her good-fortune than humiliatedby Miss Carew's bounty. But the thought of being driven, richlyattired, in one of the castle carriages, and meeting Janet trudgingabout her daily tasks in cheap black serge and mended gloves, madeAlice feel that she deserved all her mother's reproaches. However, it was obvious that a refusal would be of no material benefit toJanet, so she said, "Really I could not think of imposing on your kindness in thiswholesale fashion. You are too good to me. "

"I will write to Madame Smith this evening, " said Lydia. 

Alice was about to renew her protest more faintly, when a servantentered and announced Mr. Webber. She stiffened herself to receivethe visitor. Lydia's manner did not alter in the least. Lucian, whose demeanor resembled Miss Goff's rather than his cousin's, wentthrough the ceremony of introduction with solemnity, and wasreceived with a dash of scorn; for Alice, though secretlyawe-stricken, bore herself tyrannically towards men from habit. 

In reply to Alice, Mr. Webber thought the day cooler than yesterday. In reply to Lydia, he admitted that the resolution of which theleader of the opposition had given notice was tantamount to a voteof censure on the government. He was confident that ministers wouldhave a majority. He had no news of any importance. He had made thejourney down with Lord Worthington, who had come to Wiltstoken tosee the invalid at the Warren. He had promised to return with him inthe seven-thirty train. 

When they went down to dinner, Alice, profiting by her experience ofthe day before, faced the servants with composure, and committed nosolecisms. Unable to take part in the conversation, as she knewlittle of literature and nothing of politics, which were the stapleof Lucian's discourse, she sat silent, and reconsidered an oldopinion of hers that it was ridiculous and ill-bred in a lady todiscuss anything that was in the newspapers. She was impressed byLucian's cautious and somewhat dogmatic style of conversation, andconcluded that he knew everything. Lydia seemed interested in hisinformation, but quite indifferent to his opinions. 

Towards half-past seven Lydia proposed that they should walk to therailway station, adding, as a reason for going, that she wished tomake some bets with Lord Worthington. Lucian looked grave at this, and Alice, to show that she shared his notions of propriety, lookedshocked. Neither demonstration had the slightest effect on Lydia. Ontheir way to the station he remarked, "Worthington is afraid of you, Lydia--needlessly, as it seems. "

"Why?"

"Because you are so learned, and he so ignorant. He has no culturesave that of the turf. But perhaps you have more sympathy with histastes than he supposes. "

"I like him because I have not read the books from which he hasborrowed his opinions. Indeed, from their freshness, I should not besurprised to learn that he had them at first hand from living men, or even from his own observation of life. "

"I may explain to you, Miss Goff, " said Lucian, "that LordWorthiugton is a young gentleman--"

"Whose calendar is the racing calendar, " interposed Lydia, "and whointerests himself in favorites and outsiders much as Lucian does inprime-ministers and independent radicals. Would you like to go toAscot, Alice?"

Alice answered, as she felt Lucian wished her to answer, that shehad never been to a race, and that she had no desire to go to one. 

"You will change your mind in time for next year's meeting. A raceinterests every one, which is more than can be said for the opera orthe Academy. "

"I have been at the Academy, " said Alice, who had made a trip toLondon once. 

"Indeed!" said Lydia. "Were you in the National Gallery?"

"The National Gallery! I think not. I forget. "

"I know many persons who never miss an Academy, and who do not knowwhere the National Gallery is. Did you enjoy the pictures, Alice?"

"Oh, very much indeed. "

"You will find Ascot far more amusing. "

"Let me warn you, " said Lucian to Alice, "that my cousin's petcaprice is to affect a distaste for art, to which she ispassionately devoted; and for literature, in which she is profoundlyread. "

"Cousin Lucian, " said Lydia, "should you ever be cut off from yourpolitics, and disappointed in your ambition, you will have anopportunity of living upon art and literature. Then I shall respectyour opinion of their satisfactoriness as a staff of life. As yetyou have only tried them as a sauce. "

"Discontented, as usual, " said Lucian. 

"Your one idea respecting me, as usual, " replied Lydia, patiently, as they entered the station. 

The train, consisting of three carriages and a van, was waiting atthe platform. The engine was humming subduedly, and the driver andfireman were leaning out; the latter, a young man, eagerly watchingtwo gentlemen who were standing before the first-class carriage, andthe driver sharing his curiosity in an elderly, preoccupied manner. One of the persons thus observed was a slight, fair-haired man ofabout twenty-five, in the afternoon costume of a metropolitan dandy. Lydia knew the other the moment she came upon the platform as theHermes of the day before, modernized by a straw hat, acanary-colored scarf, and a suit of a minute black-and-whitechess-board pattern, with a crimson silk handkerchief overflowingthe breast pocket of the coat. His hands were unencumbered by stickor umbrella; he carried himself smartly, balancing himself soaccurately that he seemed to have no weight; and his expression wasself-satisfied and good-humored. But--! Lydia felt that there was a"but" somewhere--that he must be something more than a handsome, powerful, and light-hearted young man. 

"There is Lord Worthington, " she said, indicating the slightgentleman. "Surely that cannot be his invalid friend with him?"

"That is the man that lives at the Warren, " said Alice. "I know hisappearance. "

"Which is certainly not suggestive of a valetudinarian, " remarkedLucian, looking hard at the stranger. 

They had now come close to the two, and could hear Lord Worthington, as he prepared to enter the carriage, saying, "Take care ofyourself, like a good fellow, won't you? Remember! if it lasts asecond over the fifteen minutes, I shall drop five hundred pounds. "

Hermes placed his arm round the shoulders of the young lord and gavehim a playful roll. Then he said with good accent and pronunciation, but with a certain rough quality of voice, and louder than Englishgentlemen usually speak, "Your money is as safe as the mint, myboy. "

Evidently, Alice thought, the stranger was an intimate friend ofLord Worthington. She resolved to be particular in her behaviorbefore him, if introduced. 

"Lord Worthington, " said Lydia. 

At the sound of her voice he climbed hastily down from the step ofthe carriage, and said in some confusion, "How d' do, Miss Carew. Lovely country and lovely weather--must agree awfully well with you. Plenty of leisure for study, I hope. "

"Thank you; I never study now. Will you make a book for me atAscot?"

He laughed and shook his head. "I am ashamed of my low tastes, " hesaid; "but I haven't the heap to distinguish myself in your--Eh?"

Miss Carew was saying in a low voice, "If your friend is my tenant, introduce him to me. "

Lord Worthington hesitated, looked at Lucian, seemed perplexed andamused at the name time, and at last said, "You really wish it?"

"Of course, " said Lydia. "Is there any reason--"

"Oh, not the least in the world since you wish it, " he repliedquickly, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he turned to hiscompanion who was standing at the carriage door admiring Lydia, andbeing himself admired by the stoker. "Mr. Cashel Byron: Miss Carew. "

Mr. Cashel Byron raised his straw hat and reddened a little; but, onthe whole, bore himself like an eminent man who was not proud. As, however, he seemed to have nothing to say for himself, LordWorthington hastened to avert silence by resuming the subject ofAscot. Lydia listened to him, and looked at her new acquaintance. Now that the constraint of society had banished his formerexpression of easy good-humor, there was something formidable in himthat gave her an unaccountable thrill of pleasure. The sameimpression of latent danger had occurred, less agreeably, to Lucian, who was affected much as he might have been by the proximity of alarge dog of doubtful temper. Lydia thought that Mr. Byron did not, at first sight, like her cousin; for he was looking at himobliquely, as though steadily measuring him. 

The group was broken up by the guard admonishing the gentlemen totake their seats. Farewells were exchanged; and Lord Worthingtoncried, "Take care of yourself, " to Cashel Byron, who repliedsomewhat impatiently, and with an apprehensive glance at Miss Carew, "All right! all right! Never you fear, sir. " Then the train wentoff, and he was left on the platform with the two ladies. 

"We are returning to the park, Mr. Cashel Byron, " said Lydia. 

"So am I, " said he. "Perhaps--" Here he broke down, and looked atAlice to avoid Lydia's eye. Then they went out together. 

When they had walked some distance in silence, Alice looking rigidlybefore her, recollecting with suspicion that he had just addressedLord Worthington as "sir, " while Lydia was admiring his light stepand perfect balance, which made him seem like a man of cork; hesaid, "I saw you in the park yesterday, and I thought you were a ghost. But my trai--my man, I mean--saw you too. I knew by that that youwere genuine. "

"Strange!" said Lydia. "I had the same fancy about you. "

"What! You had!" he exclaimed, looking at her. While thus unmindfulof his steps, he stumbled, and recovered himself with a stifledoath. Then he became very red, and remarked that it was a warmevening. 

Miss Goff, whom he had addressed, assented. "I hope, " she added, "that you are better. "

He looked puzzled. Concluding, after consideration, that she hadreferred to his stumble, he said, "Thank you: I didn't hurt myself. "

"Lord Worthington has been telling us about you, " said Lydia. Herecoiled, evidently deeply mortified. She hastened to add, "Hementioned that you had come down here to recruit your health; thatis all. "

Cashel's features relaxed into a curious smile. But presently hebecame suspicious, and said, anxiously, "He didn't tell you anythingelse about me, did he?"

Alice stared at him superciliously. Lydia replied, "No. Nothingelse. "

"I thought you might have heard my name somewhere, " he persisted. 

"Perhaps I have; but I cannot recall in what connection. Why? Do youknow any friend of mine?"

"Oh, no. Only Lord Worthington. "

"I conclude then that you are celebrated, and that I have themisfortune not to know it, Mr. Cashel Byron. Is it so?"

"Not a bit of it, " he replied, hastily. "There's no reason why youshould ever have heard of me. I am much obliged to you for your kindinquiries, " he continued, turning to Alice. "I'm quite well now, thank you. The country has set me right again. "

Alice, who was beginning to have her doubts of Mr. Byron, in spiteof his familiarity with Lord Worthington, smiled falsely and drewherself up a little. He turned away from her, hurt by her manner, and so ill able to conceal his feelings that Miss Carew, who waswatching him, set him down privately as the most inept dissimulatorshe had ever met. He looked at Lydia wistfully, as if trying to readher thoughts, which now seemed to be with the setting sun, or insome equally beautiful and mysterious region. But he could see thatthere was no reflection of Miss Goff's scorn in her face. 

"And so you really took me for a ghost, " he said. 

"Yes. I thought at first that you were a statue. "

"A statue!"

"You do not seem flattered by that. "

"It is not flattering to be taken for a lump of stone, " he replied, ruefully. 

Lydia looked at him thoughtfully. Here was a man whom she hadmistaken for the finest image of manly strength and beauty in theworld; and he was so devoid of artistic culture that he held astatue to be a distasteful lump of stone. 

"I believe I was trespassing then, " she said; "but I did sounintentionally. I had gone astray; for I am comparatively astranger here, and cannot find my way about the park yet. "

"It didn't matter a bit, " said Cashel, impetuously. "Come as oftenas you want. Mellish fancies that if any one gets a glimpse of me hewon't get any odds. You see he would like people to think--" Cashelchecked himself, and added, in some confusion, "Mellish is mad;that's about where it is. "

Alice glanced significantly at Lydia. She had already suggested thatmadness was the real reason of the seclusion of the tenants at theWarren. Cashel saw the glance, and intercepted it by turning to herand saying, with an attempt at conversational ease, "How do you young ladies amuse yourselves in the country? Do youplay billiards ever?"

"No, " said Alice, indignantly. The question, she thought, impliedthat she was capable of spending her evenings on the first floor ofa public-house. To her surprise, Lydia remarked, "I play--a little. I do not care sufficiently for the game to makemyself proficient. You were equipped for lawn-tennis, I think, whenI saw you yesterday. Miss Goff is a celebrated lawn-tennis player. She vanquished the Australian champion last year. "

It seemed that Byron, after all, was something of a courtier; for hedisplayed great astonishment at this feat. "The Australianchampion!" he repeated. "And who may HE--Oh! you mean thelawn-tennis champion. To be sure. Well, Miss Goff, I congratulateyou. It is not every amateur that can brag of having shown aprofessional to a back seat. "

Alice, outraged by the imputation of bragging, and certain thatslang was vulgar, whatever billiards might be, bore herself stillmore loftily, and resolved to snub him explicitly if he addressedher again. But he did not; for they presently came to a narrow irongate in the wall of the park, at which Lydia stopped. 

"Let me open it for you, " said Cashel. She gave him the key, and heseized one of the bars of the gate with his left hand, and stoopedas though he wanted to look into the keyhole. Yet he opened itsmartly enough. 

Alice was about to pass in with a cool bow when she saw Miss Carewoffer Cashel her hand. Whatever Lydia did was done so well that itseemed the right thing to do. He took it timidly and gave it alittle shake, not daring to meet her eyes. Alice put out her handstiffly. Cashel immediately stepped forward with his right foot andenveloped her fingers with the hardest clump of knuckles she hadever felt. Glancing down at this remarkable fist, she saw that itwas discolored almost to blackness. Then she went in through thegate, followed by Lydia, who turned to close it behind her. As shepushed, Cashel, standing outside, grasped a bar and pulled. She atonce relinquished to him the labor of shutting the gate, and smiledher thanks as she turned away; but in that moment he plucked upcourage to look at her. The sensation of being so looked at wasquite novel to her and very curious. She was even a little out ofcountenance, but not so much so as Cashel, who nevertheless couldnot take his eyes away. 

"Do you think, " said Alice, as they crossed the orchard, "that thatman is a gentleman?"

"How can I possibly tell? We hardly know him. "

"But what do you think? There is always a certain something about agentleman that one recognizes by instinct. "

"Is there? I have never observed it. "

"Have you not?" said Alice, surprised, and beginning uneasily tofear that her superior perception of gentility was in some way theeffect of her social inferiority to Miss Carew. "I thought one couldalways tell. "

"Perhaps so, " said Lydia. "For my own part I have found the samevarieties of address in every class. Some people enjoy a nativedistinction and grace of manner--"

"That is what I mean, " said Alice. 

"--but they are seldom ladies and gentlemen; often actors, gypsies, and Celtic or foreign peasants. Undoubtedly one can make a fairguess, but not in the case of this Mr. Cashel Byron. Are you curiousabout him?"

"I!" exclaimed Alice, superbly. "Not in the least. "

"I am. He interests me. I seldom see anything novel in humanity; andhe is a very singular man. "

"I meant, " said Alice, crestfallen, "that I take no special interestin him. "

Lydia, not being curious as to the exact degree of Alice's interest, merely nodded, and continued, "He may, as you suppose, be a man ofhumble origin who has seen something of society; or he may be agentleman unaccustomed to society. Probably the latter. I feel noconviction either way. "

"But he speaks very roughly; and his slang is disgusting. His handsare hard and quite black. Did you not notice them?"

"I noticed it all; and I think that if he were a man of lowcondition he would be careful not to use slang. Self-made personsare usually precise in their language; they rarely violate thewritten laws of society. Besides, his pronunciation of some words isso distinct that an idea crossed me once that he might be an actor. But then it is not uniformly distinct. I am sure that he has someobject or occupation in life: he has not the air of an idler. Yet Ihave thought of all the ordinary professions, and he does not fitone of them. This is perhaps what makes him interesting. He isunaccountable. "

"He must have some position. He was very familiar with LordWorthington. "

"Lord Worthington is a sportsman, and is familiar with all sorts ofpeople. "

"Yes; but surely he would not let a jockey, or anybody of thatclass, put his arm round his neck, as we saw Mr. Byron do. "

"That is true, " said Lydia, thoughtfully. "Still, " she added, clearing her brow and laughing, "I am loath to believe that he is aninvalid student. "

"I will tell you what he is, " said Alice suddenly. "He is companionand keeper to the man with whom he lives. Do you recollect hissaying 'Mellish is mad'?"

"That is possible, " said Lydia. "At all events we have got a topic;and that is an important home comfort in the country. "

Just then they reached the castle. Lydia lingered for a moment onthe terrace. The Gothic chimneys of the Warren Lodge stood upagainst the long, crimson cloud into which the sun was sinking. Shesmiled as if some quaint idea had occurred to her; raised her eyesfor a moment to the black-marble Egyptian gazing with unwaveringeyes into the sky; and followed Alice in-doors. 

Later on, when it was quite dark, Cashel sat in a spacious kitchenat the lodge, thinking. His companion, who had laid his coat aside, was at the fire, smoking, and watching a saucepan that simmeredthere. He broke the silence by remarking, after a glance at theclock, "Time to go to roost. "

"Time to go to the devil, " said Cashel. "I am going out. "

"Yes, and get a chill. Not if I know it you don't. "

"Well, go to bed yourself, and then you won't know it. I want totake a walk round the place. "

"If you put your foot outside that door to-night Lord Worthingtonwill lose his five hundred pounds. You can't lick any one in fifteenminutes if you train on night air. Get licked yourself more likely. "

"Will you bet two to one that I don't stay out all night and knockthe Flying Dutchman out of time in the first round afterwards? Eh?"

"Come, " said Mellish, coaxingly; "have some common-sense. I'madvising you for your good. "

"Suppose I don't want to be advised for my good. Eh? Hand me overthat lemon. You needn't start a speech; I'm not going to eat it. "

"Blest if he ain't rubbing his 'ands with it!" exclaimed Mellish, after watching him for some moments. "Why, you bloomin' fool, lemonwon't 'arden your 'ands. Ain't I took enough trouble with them?"

"I want to whiten them, " said Cashel, impatiently throwing the lemonunder the grate; "but it's no use; I can't go about with my fistslike a nigger's. I'll go up to London to-morrow and buy a pair ofgloves. "

"What! Real gloves? Wearin' gloves?"

"You thundering old lunatic, " said Cashel, rising and putting on hishat; "is it likely that I want a pair of mufflers? Perhaps YOU thinkyou could teach me something with them. Ha! ha! By-the-bye--nowmind this, Mellish--don't let it out down here that I'm a fightingman. Do you hear?"

"Me let it out!" cried Mellish, indignantly. "Is it likely? Now, Iasts you, Cashel Byron, is it likely?"

"Likely or not, don't do it, " said Cashel. "You might get talkingwith some of the chaps about the castle stables. They are generouswith their liquor when they can get sporting news for it. "

Mellish looked at him reproachfully, and Cashel turned towards thedoor. This movement changed the trainer's sense of injury intoanxiety. He renewed his remonstrances as to the folly of venturinginto the night air, and cited many examples of pugilists who hadsuffered defeat in consequence of neglecting the counsel of theirtrainers. Cashel expressed his disbelief in these anecdotes in briefand personal terms; and at last Mellish had to content himself withproposing to limit the duration of the walk to half an hour. 

"Perhaps I will come back in half an hour, " said Cashel, "andperhaps I won't. "

"Well, look here, " said Mellish; "we won't quarrel about a minute ortwo; but I feel the want of a walk myself, and I'll come with you. "

"I'm d--d if you shall, " said Cashel. "Here, let me out; and shutup. I'm not going further than the park. I have no intention ofmaking a night of it in the village, which is what you are afraidof. I know you, you old dodger. If you don't get out of my way I'llseat you on the fire. "

"But duty, Cashel, duty, " pleaded Mellish, persuasively. "Every manoughter do his duty. Consider your duty to your backers. "

"Are you going to get out of my way, or must I put you out of it?"said Cashel, reddening ominously. 

Mellish went back to his chair, bowed his head on his hands, andwept. "I'd sooner be a dog nor a trainer, " he exclaimed. "Oh! thecusseduess of bein' shut up for weeks with a fightin' man! For thefust two days they're as sweet as treacle; and then their contrairyness comes out. Their tempers is puffict 'ell. "

Cashel, additionally enraged by a sting of remorse, went out andslammed the door. He made straight towards the castle, and watchedits windows for nearly half an hour, keeping in constant motion soas to avert a chill. At last an exquisitely toned bell struck thehour from one of the minarets. To Cashel, accustomed to the coarsejangling of ordinary English bells, the sound seemed to belong tofairyland. He went slowly back to the Warren Lodge, and found histrainer standing at the open door, smoking, and anxiously awaitinghis return. Cashel rebuffed certain conciliatory advances with ahaughty reserve more dignified, but much less acceptable to Mr. Mellish, than his former profane familiarity, and wentcontemplatively to bed. 

CHAPTER IV

One morning Miss Carew sat on the bank of a great pool in the park, throwing pebbles two by two into the water, and intently watchingthe intersection of the circles they made on its calm surface. Alicewas seated on a camp-stool a little way off, sketching the castle, which appeared on an eminence to the southeast. The woodland roseround them like the sides of an amphitheatre; but the trees did notextend to the water's edge, where there was an ample margin ofbright greensward and a narrow belt of gravel, from which Lydia waspicking her pebbles. 

Presently, hearing a footstep, she looked back, and saw Cashel Byronstanding behind Alice, apparently much interested in her drawing. Hewas dressed as she had last seen him, except that he wore primrosegloves and an Egyptian red scarf. Alice turned, and surveyed himwith haughty surprise; but he made nothing of her looks; and she, after glancing at Lydia to reassure herself that she was not alone, bade him good-morning, and resumed her work. 

"Queer place, " he remarked, after a pause, alluding to the castle. "Chinese looking, isn't it?"

"It is considered a very fine building, " said Alice. 

"Oh, hang what it is considered!" said Cashel. "What IS it? That isthe point to look to. "

"It is a matter of taste, " said Alice, very coldly. 

"Mr. Cashel Byron. "

Cashel started and hastened to the bank. "How d'ye do, Miss Carew, "he said. "I didn't see you until you called me. " She looked at him;and he, convicted of a foolish falsehood, quailed. "There is asplendid view of the castle from here, " he continued, to change thesubject. "Miss Goff and I have just been talking about it. "

"Yes. Do you admire it?"

"Very much indeed. It is a beautiful place. Every one mustacknowledge that. "

"It is considered kind to praise my house to me, and to ridicule itto other people. You do not say, 'Hang what it is considered, ' now. "

Cashel, with an unaccustomed sense of getting the worst of anencounter, almost lost heart to reply. Then he brightened, and said, "I can tell you how that is. As far as being a place to sketch, orfor another person to look at, it is Chinese enough. But somehowyour living in it makes a difference. That is what I meant; upon mysoul it is. "

Lydia smiled; but he, looking down at her, did not see the smilebecause of her coronet of red hair, which seemed to flame in thesunlight. The obstruction was unsatisfactory to him; he wanted tosee her face. He hesitated, and then sat down on the ground besideher cautiously, as if getting into a very hot bath. 

"I hope you won't mind my sitting here, " he said, timidly. "It seemsrude to talk down at you from a height. "

She shook her head and threw two more stones into the pool. He couldthink of nothing further to say, and as she did not speak, butgravely watched the circles in the water, he began to stare at themtoo; and they sat in silence for some minutes, steadfastly regardingthe waves, she as if there were matter for infinite thought in them, and he as though the spectacle wholly confounded him. At last shesaid, "Have you ever realized what a vibration is?"

"No, " said Cashel, after a blank look at her. 

"I am glad to hear you make that admission. Science has reducedeverything nowadays to vibration. Light, sound, sensation--all themysteries of nature are either vibrations or interference ofvibrations. There, " she said, throwing another pair of pebbles in, and pointing to the two sets of widening rings as they overlappedone another; "the twinkling of a star, and the pulsation in a chordof music, are THAT. But I cannot picture the thing in my own mind. Iwonder whether the hundreds of writers of text-books on physics, whotalk so glibly of vibrations, realize them any better than I do. "

"Not a bit of it. Not one of them. Not half so well, " said Cashel, cheerfully, replying to as much of her speech as he understood. 

"Perhaps the subject does not interest you, " she said, turning tohim. 

"On the contrary; I like it of all things, " said he, boldly. 

"I can hardly say so much for my own interest in it. I am told thatyou are a student, Mr. Cashel Byron. What are your favoritestudies?--or rather, since that is generally a hard question toanswer, what are your pursuits?"

Alice listened. 

Cashel looked doggedly at Lydia, and his color slowly deepened. "Iam a professor, " he said. 

"A professor of what? I know I should ask of where; but that wouldonly elicit the name of a college, which would convey no realinformation to me. "

"I am a professor of science, " said Cashel, in a low voice, lookingdown at his left fist, which he was balancing in the air before him, and stealthily hitting his bent knee as if it were another person'sface. 

"Physical or moral science?" persisted Lydia. 

"Physical science, " said Cashel. "But there's more moral science init than people think. "

"Yes, " said Lydia, seriously. "Though I have no real knowledge ofphysics, I can appreciate the truth of that. Perhaps all the sciencethat is not at bottom physical science is only pretentiousnescience. I have read much of physics, and have often been temptedto learn something of them--to make the experiments with my ownhands--to furnish a laboratory--to wield the scalpel even. For, tomaster science thoroughly, I believe one must take one's gloves off. Is that your opinion?"

Cashel looked hard at her. "You never spoke a truer word, " he said. "But you can become a very respectable amateur by working with thegloves. "

"I never should. The many who believe they are the wiser for readingaccounts of experiments deceive themselves. It is as impossible tolearn science from theory as to gain wisdom from proverbs. Ah, it isso easy to follow a line of argument, and so difficult to grasp thefacts that underlie it! Our popular lecturers on physics present uswith chains of deductions so highly polished that it is a luxury tolet them slip from end to end through our fingers. But they leavenothing behind but a vague memory of the sensation they afforded. Excuse me for talking figuratively. I perceive that you affect theopposite--a reaction on your part, I suppose, against tall talk andfine writing. Pray, should I ever carry out my intention of settingto work in earnest at science, will you give me some lessons?"

"Well, " said Cashel, with a covert grin, "I would rather you came tome than to another professor; but I don't think it would suit you. Ishould like to try my hand on your friend there. She's stronger andstraighter than nine out of ten men. "

"You set a high value on physical qualifications then. So do I. "

"Only from a practical point of view, mind you, " said Cashel, earnestly. "It isn't right to be always looking at men and women asyou would at horses. If you want to back them in a race or in afight, that's one thing; but if you want a friend or a sweetheart, that's another. "

"Quite so, " said Lydia, smiling. "You do not wish to commit yourselfto any warmer feeling towards Miss Goff than a critical appreciationof her form and condition. "

"Just that, " said Cashel, satisfied. "YOU understand me, Miss Carew. There are some people that you might talk to all day, and they'd beno wiser at the end of it than they were at the beginning. You'renot one of that sort. "

"I wonder do we ever succeed really in communicating our thoughts toone another. A thought must take a new shape to fit itself into astrange mind. You, Mr. Professor, must have acquired specialexperience of the incommunicability of ideas in the course of yourlectures and lessons. "

Cashel looked uneasily at the water, and said in a lower voice, "Ofcourse you may call me just whatever you like; but--if it's all thesame to you--I wish you wouldn't call me professor. "

"I have lived so much in countries where professors expect to beaddressed by their titles on all occasions, that I may claim to beexcused for having offended on that point. Thank you for telling me. But I am to blame for discussing science with you. Lord Worthingtontold us that you had come down here expressly to escape from it--torecruit yourself after an excess of work. "

"It doesn't matter, " said Cashel. 

"I have not done harm enough to be greatly concerned; but I will notoffend again. To change the subject, let us look at Miss Goff'ssketch. "

Miss Carew had hardly uttered this suggestion, when Cashel, in abusiness-like manner, and without the slightest air of gallantry, expertly lifted her and placed her on her feet. This unexpectedattention gave her a shock, followed by a thrill that was notdisagreeable. She turned to him with a faint mantling on her cheeks. He was looking with contracted brows at the sky, as though occupiedwith some calculation. 

"Thank you, " she said; "but pray do not do that again. It is alittle humiliating to be lifted like a child. You are very strong. "

"There is not much strength needed to lift such a feather-weight asyou. Seven stone two, I should judge you to be, about. But there's agreat art in doing these things properly. I have often had to carryoff a man of fourteen stone, resting him all the time as if he wasin bed. "

"Ah, " said Lydia; "I see you have had some hospital practice. I haveoften admired the skill with which trained nurses handle theirpatients. "

Cashel made no reply, but, with a sinister grin, followed her towhere Alice sat. 

"It is very foolish of me, I know, " said Alice, presently; "but Inever can draw when any one is looking at me. "

"You fancy that everybody is thinking about how you're doing it, "said Cashel, encouragingly. "That's always the way with amateurs. But the truth is that not a soul except yourself is a bit concernedabout it. EX-cuse me, " he added, taking up the drawing, andproceeding to examine it leisurely. 

"Please give me my sketch, Mr. Byron, " she said, her cheeks red withanger. Puzzled, he turned to Lydia for an explanation, while Aliceseized the sketch and packed it in her portfolio. 

"It is getting rather warm, " said Lydia. "Shall we return to thecastle?"

"I think we had better, " said Alice, trembling with resentment asshe walked away quickly, leaving Lydia alone with Cashel, whopresently exclaimed, "What in thunder have I done?"

"You have made an inconsiderate remark with unmistakable sincerity. "

"I only tried to cheer her up. She must have mistaken what I said. "

"I think not. Do you believe that young ladies like to be told thatthere is no occasion for them to be ridiculously self-conscious?"

"I say that! I'll take my oath I never said anything of the sort. "

"You worded it differently. But you assured her that she need notobject to have her drawing overlooked, as it is of no importance toany one. "

"Well, if she takes offence at that she must be a born fool. Somepeople can't bear to be told anything. But they soon get all thatthin-skinned nonsense knocked out of them. "

"Have you any sisters, Mr. Cashel Byron?"

"No. Why?"

"Or a mother?"

"I have a mother; but I haven't seen her for years; and I don't muchcare if I never see her. It was through her that I came to be what Iam. "

"Are you then dissatisfied with your profession?"

"No--I don't mean that. I am always saying stupid things. "

"Yes. That comes of your ignorance of a sex accustomed to have itssilliness respected. You will find it hard to keep on good termswith my friend without some further study of womanly ways. "

"As to her, I won't give in that I'm wrong unless I AM wrong. Thetruth's the truth. "

"Not even to please Miss Goff?"

"Not even to please you. You'd only think the worse of meafterwards. "

"Quite true, and quite right, " said Lydia, cordially. "Good-bye, Mr. Cashel Byron. I must rejoin Miss Goff. "

"I suppose you will take her part if she keeps a down on me for whatI said to her. "

"What is 'a down'? A grudge?"

"Yes. Something of that sort. "

"Colonial, is it not?" pursued Lydia, with the air of a philologist. 

"Yes; I believe I picked it up in the colonies. " Then he added, sullenly, "I suppose I shouldn't use slang in speaking to you. I begyour pardon. "

"I do not object to it. On the contrary, it interests me. Forexample, I have just learned from it that you have been inAustralia. "

"So I have. But are you out with me because I annoyed Miss Goff?"

"By no means. Nevertheless, I sympathize with her annoyance at themanner, if not the matter, of your rebuke. "

"I can't, for the life of me, see what there was in what I said toraise such a fuss about. I wish you would give me a nudge wheneveryou see me making a fool of myself. I will shut up at once and askno questions. "

"So that it will be understood that my nudge means 'Shut up, Mr. Cashel Byron; you are making a fool of yourself'?"

"Just so. YOU understand me. I told you that before, didn't I?"

"I am afraid, " said Lydia, her face bright with laughter, "that Icannot take charge of your manners until we are a little betteracquainted. "

He seemed disappointed. Then his face clouded; and he began, "If youregard it as a liberty--"

"Of course I regard it as a liberty, " she said, neatly interruptinghim. "Is not my own conduct a sufficient charge upon my attention?Why should I voluntarily assume that of a strong man and learnedprofessor as well?"

"By Jingo!" exclaimed Cashel, with sudden excitement, "I don't carewhat you say to me. You have a way of giving things a turn thatmakes it a pleasure to be shut up by you; and if I were a gentleman, as I ought to be, instead of a poor devil of a professional pug, Iwould--" He recollected himself, and turned quite pale. There was apause. 

"Let me remind you, " said Lydia, composedly, though she too hadchanged color at the beginning of his outburst, "that we are bothwanted elsewhere at present; I by Miss Goff, and you by yourservant, who has been hovering about us and looking at you anxiouslyfor some minutes. "

Cashel turned fiercely, and saw Mellish standing a little way off, sulkily watching him. Lydia took the opportunity, and left theplace. As she retreated she could hear that they were at high wordstogether; but she could not distinguish what they were saying. Fortunately so; for their language was villainous. 

She found Alice in the library, seated bolt upright in a chair thatwould have tempted a good-humored person to recline. Lydia sat downin silence. Alice, presently looking at her, discovered that she wasin a fit of noiseless laughter. The effect, in contrast to herhabitual self-possession, was so strange that Alice almost forgot tobe offended. 

"I am glad to see that it is not hard to amuse you, " she said. 

Lydia waited to recover herself thoroughly, and then replied, "Ihave not laughed so three times in my life. Now, Alice, put asideyour resentment of our neighbor's impudence for the moment, and tellme what you think of him. "

"I have not thought about him at all, I assure you, " said Alice, disdainfully. 

"Then think about him for a moment to oblige me, and let me know theresult. "

"Really, you have had much more opportunity of judging than I. _I_have hardly spoken to him. "

Lydia rose patiently and went to the bookcase. "You have a cousin atone of the universities, have you not?" she said, seeking along theshelf for a volume. 

"Yes, " replied Alice, speaking very sweetly to atone for her want ofamiability on the previous subject. 

"Then perhaps you know something of university slang?"

"I never allow him to talk slang to me, " said Alice, quickly. 

"You may dictate modes of expression to a single man, perhaps, butnot to a whole university, " said Lydia, with a quiet scorn thatbrought unexpected tears to Alice's eyes. "Do you know what a pugis?"

"A pug!" said Alice, vacantly. "No; I have heard of a bulldog--aproctor's bulldog, but never a pug. "

"I must try my slang dictionary, " said Lydia, taking down a book andopening it. "Here it is. 'Pug--a fighting man's idea of thecontracted word to be produced from pugilist. ' What an extraordinarydefinition! A fighting man's idea of a contraction! Why should a manhave a special idea of a contraction when he is fighting; or whyshould he think of such a thing at all under such circumstances?Perhaps 'fighting man' is slang too. No; it is not given here. Either I mistook the word, or it has some signification unknown tothe compiler of my dictionary. "

"It seems quite plain to me, " said Alice. "Pug means pugilist. "

"But pugilism is boxing; it is not a profession. I suppose all menare more or less pugilists. I want a sense of the word in which itdenotes a calling or occupation of some kind. I fancy it means ademonstrator of anatomy. However, it does not matter. "

"Where did you meet with it?"

"Mr. Byron used it just now. "

"Do you really like that man?" said Alice, returning to the subjectmore humbly than she had quitted it. 

"So far, I do not dislike him. He puzzles me. If the roughness ofhis manner is an affectation I have never seen one so successfulbefore. "

"Perhaps he does not know any better. His coarseness did not strikeme as being affected at all. "

"I should agree with you but for one or two remarks that fell fromhim. They showed an insight into the real nature of scientificknowledge, and an instinctive sense of the truths underlying words, which I have never met with except in men of considerable cultureand experience. I suspect that his manner is deliberately assumed inprotest against the selfish vanity which is the common source ofsocial polish. It is partly natural, no doubt. He seems tooimpatient to choose his words heedfully. Do you ever go to thetheatre?"

"No, " said Alice, taken aback by this apparent irrelevance. "Myfather disapproved of it. But I was there once. I saw the 'Lady ofLyons. '"

"There is a famous actress, Adelaide Gisborne--"

"It was she whom I saw as the Lady of Lyons. She did itbeautifully. "

"Did Mr. Byron remind you of her?"

Alice stared incredulously at Lydia. "I do not think there can betwo people in the world less like one another, " she said. 

"Nor do I, " said Lydia, meditatively. "But I think theirdissimilarity owes its emphasis to some lurking likeness. Otherwisehow could he have reminded me of her?" Lydia, as she spoke, sat downwith a troubled expression, as if trying to unravel her thoughts. "And yet, " she added, presently, "my theatrical associations are socomplex that--" A long silence ensued, during which Alice, consciousof some unusual stir in her patroness, watched her furtively andwondered what would happen next. 

"Alice. "

"Yes. "

"My mind is exercising itself in spite of me on small andimpertinent matters--a sure symptom of failing mental health. Mypresence here is only one of several attempts that I have made tolive idly since my father's death. They have all failed. Work hasbecome necessary to me. I will go to London tomorrow. "

Alice looked up in dismay; for this seemed equivalent to adismissal. But her face expressed nothing but polite indifference. 

"We shall have time to run through all the follies of the seasonbefore June, when I hope to return here and set to work at a book Ihave planned. I must collect the material for it in London. If Ileave town before the season is over, and you are unwilling to comeaway with me, I can easily find some one who will take care of youas long as you please to stay. I wish it were June already!"

Alice preferred Lydia's womanly impatience to her fatalistic calm. It relieved her sense of inferiority, which familiarity hadincreased rather than diminished. Yet she was beginning to persuadeherself, with some success, that the propriety of Lydia's mannerswas at least questionable. That morning Miss Carew had not scrupledto ask a man what his profession was; and this, at least, Alicecongratulated herself on being too well-bred to do. She had quitelost her awe of the servants, and had begun to address them with anunconscious haughtiness and a conscious politeness that were makingthe word "upstart" common in the servants' hall. Bashville, thefootman, had risked his popularity there by opining that Miss Goffwas a fine young woman. 

Bashville was in his twenty-fourth year, and stood five feet ten inhis stockings. At the sign of the Green Man in the village he wasknown as a fluent orator and keen political debater. In the stableshe was deferred to as an authority on sporting affairs, and anexpert wrestler in the Cornish fashion. The women servants regardedhim with undissembled admiration. They vied with one another ininventing expressions of delight when he recited before them, which, as he had a good memory and was fond of poetry, he often did. Theywere proud to go out walking with him. But his attentions never gaverise to jealousy; for it was an open secret in the servants' hallthat he loved his mistress. He had never said anything to thateffect, and no one dared allude to it in his presence, much lessrally him on his weakness; but his passion was well known for allthat, and it seemed by no means so hopeless to the younger membersof the domestic staff as it did to the cook, the butler, andBashville himself. Miss Carew, who knew the value of good servants, appreciated her footman's smartness, and paid him accordingly; butshe had no suspicion that she was waited on by a versatile youngstudent of poetry and public affairs, distinguished for hisgallantry, his personal prowess, his eloquence, and his influence onlocal politics. 

It was Bashville who now entered the library with a salver, which heproffered to Alice, saying, "The gentleman is waiting in the rounddrawing-room, miss. "

Alice took the gentleman's card, and read, "Mr. Wallace Parker. "

"Oh!" she said, with vexation, glancing at Bashville as if to divinehis impression of the visitor. "My cousin--the one we were speakingof just now--has come to see me. "

"How fortunate!" said Lydia. "He will tell me the meaning of pug. Ask him to lunch with us. "

"You would not care for him, " said Alice. "He is not much used tosociety. I suppose I had better go and see him. "

Miss Carew did not reply, being plainly at a loss to understand howthere could be any doubt about the matter. Alice went to the rounddrawing-room, where she found Mr. Parker examining a trophy ofIndian armor, and presenting a back view of a short gentleman in aspruce blue frock-coat. A new hat and pair of gloves were alsovisible as he stood looking upward with his hands behind him. Whenhe turned to greet Alice lie displayed a face expressive of resoluteself-esteem, with eyes whose watery brightness, together with thebareness of his temples, from which the hair was worn away, suggested late hours and either very studious or very dissipatedhabits. He advanced confidently, pressed Alice's hand warmly forseveral seconds, and placed a chair for her, without noticing themarked coldness with which she received his attentions. 

"I was surprised, Alice, " he said, when he had seated himselfopposite to her, "to learn from Aunt Emily that you had come to livehere without consulting me. I--"

"Consult you!" she said, contemptuously, interrupting him. "I neverheard of such a thing! Why should I consult you as to my movements?"

"Well, I should not have used the word consult, particularly tosuch an independent little lady as sweet Alice Goff. Still, I thinkyou might--merely as a matter of form, you know--have informed me ofthe step you were taking. The relations that exist between us giveme a right to your confidence. "

"What relations, pray?"

"What relations!" he repeated, with reproachful emphasis. 

"Yes. What relations?"

He rose, and addressed her with tender solemnity. "Alice, " he began;"I have proposed to you at least six times--"

"And have I accepted you once?"

"Hear me to the end, Alice. I know that you have never explicitlyaccepted me; but it has always been understood that my needycircumstances were the only obstacle to our happiness. We--don'tinterrupt me, Alice; you little know what's coming. That obstacle nolonger exists. I have been made second master at Sunbury College, with three hundred and fifty pounds a year, a house, coals, and gas. In the course of time I shall undoubtedly succeed to the headmastership--a splendid position, worth eight hundred pounds a year. You are now free from the troubles that have pressed so hard uponyou since your father's death; and you can quit atonce--now--instantly, your dependent position here. "

"Thank you: I am very comfortable here. I am staying on a visit withMiss Carew. "

Silence ensued; and he sat down slowly. Then she added, "I amexceedingly glad that you have got something good at last. It mustbe a great relief to your poor mother. "

"I fancied, Alice--though it may have been only fancy--I fanciedthat YOUR mother was colder than usual in her manner this morning. Ihope that the luxuries of this palatial mansion are powerless tocorrupt your heart. I cannot lead you to a castle and place crowdsof liveried servants at your beck and call; but I can make youmistress of an honorable English home, independent of the bounty ofstrangers. You can never be more than a lady, Alice. "

"It is very good of you to lecture me, I am sure. "

"You might be serious with me, " he said, rising in ill-humor, andwalking a little way down the room. 

"I think the offer of a man's hand ought to be received withrespect. "

"Oh! I did not quite understand. I thought we agreed that you arenot to make me that offer every time we meet. "

"It was equally understood that the subject was only deferred untilI should be in a position to resume it without binding you to a longengagement. That time has come now; and I expect a favorable answerat last. I am entitled to one, considering how patiently I havewaited for it. "

"For my part, Wallace, I must say I do not think it wise for you tothink of marrying with only three hundred and fifty pounds a year. "

"With a house: remember that; and coals and gas! You are becomingvery prudent, now that you live with Miss Whatshername here. I fearyou no longer love me, Alice. "

"I never said I loved you at any time. "

"Pshaw! You never said so, perhaps; but you always gave me tounderstand that--"

"I did nothing of the sort, Wallace; and I won't have you say so. "

"In short, " he retorted, bitterly, "you think you will pick up someswell here who will be a better bargain than I am. "

"Wallace! How dare you?"

"You hurt my feelings, Alice, and I speak out. I know how to behavemyself quite as well as those who have the entree here; but when myentire happiness is at stake I do not stand on punctilio. Therefore, I insist on a straightforward answer to my fair, honorableproposal. "

"Wallace, " said Alice, with dignity; "I will not be forced intogiving an answer against my will. I regard you as a cousin. "

"I do not wish to be regarded as a cousin. Have I ever regarded youas a cousin?"

"And do you suppose, Wallace, that I should permit you to call me bymy Christian name, and be as familiar as we have always beentogether, if you were not my cousin? If so, you must have a verystrange opinion of me. "

"I did not think that luxury could so corrupt--"

"You said that before, " said Alice, pettishly. "Do not keeprepeating the same thing over and over; you know it is one of yourbad habits. Will you stay to lunch? Miss Carew told me to ask you. "

"Indeed! Miss Carew is very kind. Please inform her that I am deeplyhonored, and that I feel quite disturbed at being unable to accepther patronage. "

Alice poised her head disdainfully. "No doubt it amuses you to makeyourself ridiculous, " she said; "but I must say I do not see anyoccasion for it. "

"I am sorry that my behavior is not sufficiently good for you. Younever found any cause to complain of it when our surroundings wereless aristocratic. I am quite ashamed of taking so much of yourvaluable time. GOOD-morning. "

"Good-morning. But I do not see why you are in such a rage. "

"I am not in a rage. I am only grieved to find that you arecorrupted by luxury. I thought your principles were higher. Good-morning, Miss Goff. I shall not have the pleasure of seeing youagain in this very choice mansion. "

"Are you really going, Wallace?" said Alice, rising. 

"Yes. Why should I stay?"

She rang the bell, greatly disconcerting him; for he had expectedher to detain him and make advances for a reconciliation. Beforethey could exchange more words, Bashville entered. 

"Good-bye, " said Alice, politely. 

"Good-bye, " he replied, through his teeth. He walked loftily out, passing Bashville with marked scorn. 

He had left the house, and was descending the terrace steps, when hewas overtaken by the footman, who said, civilly, "Beg your pardon, sir. You've forgotten this, I think. " And hehanded him a walking-stick. 

Parker's first idea was that his stick had attracted the man'sattention by the poor figure it made in the castle hall, and thatBashville was requesting him, with covert superciliousness, toremove his property. On second thoughts, his self-esteem rejectedthis suspicion as too humiliating; but he resolved to show Bashvillethat he had a gentleman to deal with. So he took the stick, andinstead of thanking Bashville, handed him five shillings. 

Bashville smiled and shook his head. "Oh, no, sir, " he said, "thankyou all the same! Those are not my views. "

"The more fool you, " said Parker, pocketing the coins, and turningaway. 

Bashville's countenance changed. "Come, come, sir, " he said, following Parker to the foot of the stops, "fair words deserve fairwords. I am no more a fool than you are. A gentleman should know hisplace as well as a servant. "

"Oh, go to the devil, " muttered Parker, turning very red andhurrying away. 

"If you weren't my mistress's guest, " said Bashville, lookingmenacingly after him, "I'd send you to bed for a week for sending meto the devil. "

CHAPTER V

Miss Carew remorselessly carried out her intention of going toLondon, where she took a house in Regent's Park, to thedisappointment of Alice, who had hoped to live in Mayfair, or atleast in South Kensington. But Lydia set great store by the highnortherly ground and open air of the park; and Alice found almostperfect happiness in driving through London in a fine carriage andfine clothes. She liked that better than concerts of classicalmusic, which she did not particularly relish, or even than theopera, to which they went often. The theatres pleased her more, though the amusements there were tamer than she had expected. Society was delightful to her because it was real London society. She acquired a mania for dancing; went out every night, and seemedto herself far more distinguished and attractive than she had everbeen in Wiltstoken, where she had nevertheless held a sufficientlyfavorable opinion of her own manners and person. 

Lydia did not share all these dissipations. She easily procuredinvitations and chaperones for Alice, who wondered why sointelligent a woman would take the trouble to sit out a stupidconcert, and then go home, just as the real pleasure of the eveningwas beginning. 

One Saturday morning, at breakfast, Lydia said, "Your late hours begin to interfere with the freshness of yourcomplexion, Alice. I am getting a little fatigued, myself, withliterary work. I will go to the Crystal Palace to-day, and wanderabout the gardens for a while; there is to be a concert in theafternoon for the benefit of Madame Szczymplica, whose playing youdo not admire. Will you come with me?"

"Of course, " said Alice, resolutely dutiful. 

"Of choice; not of course, " said Lydia. "Are you engaged forto-morrow evening?"

"Sunday? Oh, no. Besides, I consider all my engagements subject toyour convenience. "

There was a pause, long enough for this assurance to fall perfectlyflat. Alice bit her lip. Then Lydia said, "Do you know Mrs. Hoskyn?"

"Mrs. Hoskyn who gives Sunday evenings? Shall we go there?" saidAlice, eagerly. "People often ask me whether I have been at one ofthem. But I don't know her--though I have seen her. Is she nice?"

"She is a young woman who has read a great deal of art criticism, and been deeply impressed by it. She has made her house famous bybringing there all the clever people she meets, and making them socomfortable that they take care to come again. But she has not, fortunately for her, allowed her craze for art to get the better ofher common-sense. She married a prosperous man of business, whoprobably never read anything but a newspaper since he left school;and there is probably not a happier pair in England. "

"I presume she had sense enough to know that she could not afford tochoose, " said Alice, complacently. "She is very ugly. "

"Do you think so? She has many admirers, and was, I am told, engagedto Mr. Herbert, the artist, before she met Mr. Hoskyn. We shall meetMr. Herbert there to-morrow, and a number of celebrated personsbesides--his wife, Madame Szczymplica the pianiste, Owen Jack thecomposer, Hawkshaw the poet, Conolly the inventor, and others. Theoccasion will be a special one, as Herr Abendgasse, a remarkableGerman socialist and art critic, is to deliver a lecture on 'TheTrue in Art. ' Be careful, in speaking of him in society, to refer tohim as a sociologist, and not as a socialist. Are you particularlyanxious to hear him lecture?"

"No doubt it will be very interesting, " said Alice. "I should notlike to miss the opportunity of going to Mrs. Hoskyn's. People sooften ask me whether I have been there, and whether I know this, that, and the other celebrated person, that I feel quite embarrassedby my rustic ignorance. "

"Because, " pursued Lydia, "I had intended not to go until after thelecture. Herr Abendgasse is enthusiastic and eloquent, but notoriginal; and as I have imbibed all his ideas direct from theirinventors, I do not feel called upon to listen to his exposition ofthem. So that, unless you are specially interested--"

"Not at all. If he is a socialist I should much rather not listen tohim, particularly on Sunday evening. "

So it was arranged that they should go to Mrs. Hoskyn's after thelecture. Meanwhile they went to Sydenham, where Alice went throughthe Crystal Palace with provincial curiosity, and Lydia answered herquestions encyclopedically. In the afternoon there was a concert, atwhich a band played several long pieces of music, which Lydia seemedto enjoy, though she found fault with the performers. Alice, able todetect neither the faults in the execution nor the beauty of themusic, did as she saw the others do--pretended to be pleased andapplauded decorously. Madame Szczymplica, whom she expected to meetat Mrs. Hoskyn's, appeared, and played a fantasia for pianoforte andorchestra by the famous Jack, another of Mrs. Hoskyn's circle. Therewas in the programme an analysis of this composition from whichAlice learned that by attentively listening to the adagio she couldhear the angels singing therein. She listened as attentively as shecould, but heard no angels, and was astonished when, at theconclusion of the fantasia, the audience applauded MadameSzczymplica as if she had made them hear the music of the spheres. Even Lydia seemed moved, and said, "Strange, that she is only a woman like the rest of us, with justthe same narrow bounds to her existence, and just the same prosaiccares--that she will go by train to Victoria, and from thence homein a common vehicle instead of embarking in a great shell and beingdrawn by swans to some enchanted island. Her playing reminds me ofmyself as I was when I believed in fairyland, and indeed knew littleabout any other land. "

"They say, " said Alice, "that her husband is very jealous, and thatshe leads him a terrible life. "

"THEY SAY anything that brings gifted people to the level of theirown experience. Doubtless they are right. I have not met Mr. Herbert, but I have seen his pictures, which suggest that he readseverything and sees nothing; for they all represent scenes describedin some poem. If one could only find an educated man who had neverread a book, what a delightful companion he would be!"

When the concert was over they did not return directly to town, asLydia wished to walk awhile in the gardens. In consequence, whenthey left Sydenham, they got into a Waterloo train, and so had tochange at Clapham Junction. It was a fine summer evening, and Alice, though she thought that it became ladies to hide themselves from thepublic in waiting-rooms at railway stations, did not attempt todissuade Lydia from walking to and fro at an unfrequented end of theplatform, which terminated in a bank covered with flowers. 

"To my mind, " said Lydia, "Clapham Junction is one of the prettiestplaces about London. "

"Indeed!" said Alice, a little maliciously. "I thought that allartistic people looked on junctions and railway lines as blots onthe landscape. "

"Some of them do, " said Lydia; "but they are not the artists of ourgeneration; and those who take up their cry are no better thanparrots. If every holiday recollection of my youth, every escapefrom town to country, be associated with the railway, I must feeltowards it otherwise than did my father, upon whose middle age itcame as a monstrous iron innovation. The locomotive is one of thewonders of modern childhood. Children crowd upon a bridge to see thetrain pass beneath. Little boys strut along the streets puffing andwhistling in imitation of the engine. All that romance, silly as itlooks, becomes sacred in afterlife. Besides, when it is notunderground in a foul London tunnel, a train is a beautiful thing. Its pure, white fleece of steam harmonizes with every variety oflandscape. And its sound! Have you ever stood on a sea-coast skirtedby a railway, and listened as the train came into hearing in the fardistance? At first it can hardly be distinguished from the noise ofthe sea; then you recognize it by its vibration; one momentsmothered in a deep cutting, and the next sent echoing from somehillside. Sometimes it runs smoothly for many minutes, and thenbreaks suddenly into a rhythmic clatter, always changing in distanceand intensity. When it comes near, you should get into a tunnel, andstand there while it passes. I did that once, and it was like thelast page of an overture by Beethoven--thunderingly impetuous. Icannot conceive how any person can hope to disparage a train bycomparing it with a stage-coach; and I know something ofstage-coaches--or, at least, of diligences. Their effect on the menemployed about them ought to decide the superiority of steam withoutfurther argument. I have never observed an engine-driver who did notseem an exceptionally intelligent mechanic, while the very writersand artists who have preserved the memory of the coaching days forus do not appear to have taken coachmen seriously, or to haveregarded them as responsible and civilized men. Abuse of the railwayfrom a pastoral point of view is obsolete. There are millions ofgrown persons in England to whom the far sound of the train is aspleasantly suggestive as the piping of a blackbird. Again--is notthat Lord Worthington getting out of the train? Yes, that one, atthe third platform from this. He--"She stopped. 

Alice looked, but could see neither Lord Worthington nor the causeof a subtle but perceptible change in Lydia, who said, quickly, "He is probably coming to our train. Come to the waiting-room. " Shewalked swiftly along the platform as she spoke. Alice hurried afterher; and they had but just got into the room, the door of which wasclose to the staircase which gave access to the platform, when acoarse din of men's voices showed that a noisy party were ascendingthe steps. Presently a man emerged reeling, and at once began toexecute a drunken dance, and to sing as well as his condition andmusical faculty allowed. Lydia stood near the window of the room andwatched in silence. Alice, following her example, recognized thedrunken dancer as Mellish. He was followed by three men gaylyattired and highly elated, but comparatively sober. After them cameCashel Byron, showily dressed in a velveteen coat, andtightly-fitting fawn-colored pantaloons that displayed the musclesof his legs. He also seemed quite sober; but he was dishevelled, andhis left eye blinked frequently, the adjacent brow and cheek beingmuch yellower than his natural complexion, which appeared toadvantage on the right side of his face. Walking steadily toMellish, who was now asking each of the bystanders in turn to comeand drink at his expense, he seized him by the collar and sternlybade him cease making a fool of himself. Mellish tried to embracehim. 

"My own boy, " he exclaimed, affectionately. "He's my littlenonpareil. Cashel Byron again' the world at catch weight. BobMellish's money--"

"You sot, " said Cashel, rolling him about until he was giddy as wellas drunk, and then forcing him to sit down on a bench; "one wouldthink you never saw a mill or won a bet in your life before. "

"Steady, Byron, " said one of the others. "Here's his lordship. " LordWorthington was coming up the stairs, apparently the most excited ofthe party. 

"Fine man!" he cried, patting Cashel on the shoulder. "Splendid man!You have won a monkey for me to-day; and you shall have your shareof it, old boy. "

"I trained him, " said Mellish, staggering forward again. "I trainedhim. You know me, my lord. You know Bob Mellish. A word with yourlordship in c-confidence. You ask who knows how to make the beef goand the muscle come. You ask--I ask your lordship's pard'n. What'llyour lordship take?"

"Take care, for Heaven's sake!" exclaimed Lord Worthington, clutching at him as he reeled backward towards the line. "Don't yousee the train?"

"_I_ know, " said Mellish, gravely. "I am all right; no man more so. I am Bob Mellish. You ask--"

"Here. Come out of this, " said one of the party, a powerful man witha scarred face and crushed nose, grasping Mellish and thrusting himinto the train. "Y'll 'ave to clap a beefsteak on that ogle ofyours, where you napped the Dutchman's auctioneer, Byron. It's gotmore yellow paint on it than y'll like to show in church to-morrow. "

At this they all gave a roar of laughter, and entered a third-classcarriage. Lydia and Alice had but just time to take their places inthe train before it started. 

"Eeally, I must say, " said Alice, "that if those were Mr. CashelByron's and Lord Worthington's associates, their tastes are verypeculiar. "

"Yes, " said Lydia, almost grimly. "I am a fair linguist; but I didnot understand a single sentence of their conversation, though Iheard it all distinctly. "

"They were not gentlemen, " said Alice. "You say that no one can tellby a person's appearance whether he is a gentleman or not; butsurely you cannot think that those men are Lord Worthington'sequals. "

"I do not, " said Lydia. "They are ruffians; and Cashel Byron is themost unmistakable ruffian of them all. "

Alice, awestruck, did not venture to speak again until they left thetrain at Victoria. There was a crowd outside the carriage in whichCashel had travelled. They hastened past; but Lydia asked a guardwhether anything was the matter. He replied that a drunken man, alighting from the train, had fallen down upon the rails, and that, had the carriage been in motion, he would have been killed. Lydiathanked her informant, and, as she turned from him, found Bashvillestanding before her, touching his hat. She had given him noinstructions to attend. However, she accepted his presence as amatter of course, and inquired whether the carriage was there. 

"No, madam, " replied Bashville. "The coachman had no orders. "

"Quite right. A hansom, if you please. " When he was gone she said toAlice, "Did you tell Bashville to meet us?"

"Oh, DEAR, no, " said Alice. "I should not think of doing such athing. "

"Strange! However, he knows his duties better than I do; so I haveno doubt that he has acted properly. He has been waiting all theafternoon, I suppose, poor fellow. "

"He has nothing else to do, " said Alice, carelessly. "Here he is. Hehas picked out a capital horse for us, too. "

Meanwhile, Mellish had been dragged from beneath the train andseated on the knee of one of his companions. He was in a stupor, andhad a large lump on his brow. His eye was almost closed. The manwith the crushed nose now showed himself an expert surgeon. WhileCashel supported the patient on the knee of another man, and therest of the party kept off the crowd by mingled persuasion andviolence, he produced a lancet and summarily reduced the swelling bylancing it. He then dressed the puncture neatly with appliances forthat purpose which he carried about him, and shouted in Mellish'sear to rouse him. But the trainer only groaned, and let his headdrop inert on his breast. More shouting was resorted to, but invain. Cashel impatiently expressed an opinion that Mellish wasshamming, and declared that he would not stand there to be fooledwith all the evening. 

"If he was my pal 'stead o' yours, " said the man with the brokennose, "I'd wake him up fast enough. "

"I'll save you the trouble, " said Cashel, coolly stooping andseizing between his teeth the cartilage of the trainer's ear. 

"That's the way to do it, " said the other, approvingly, as Mellishscreamed and started to his feet. "Now, then. Up with you. "

He took Mellish's right arm, Cashel took the left, and they broughthim away between them without paying the least heed to his tears, his protestations that he was hurt, his plea that he was an old man, or his bitter demand as to where Cashel would have been at thatmoment without his care. 

Lord Worthington had taken advantage of this accident to slip awayfrom his travelling companions and drive alone to his lodgings inJermyn Street. He was still greatly excited; and when his valet, anold retainer with whom he was on familiar terms, brought him aletter that had arrived during his absence, he asked him four timeswhether any one had called, and four times interrupted him by scrapsof information about the splendid day he had had and the luck he wasin. 

"I bet five hundred even that it would be over in a quarter of anhour; and then I bet Byron two hundred and fifty to one that itwouldn't. That's the way to doit; eh, Bedford? Catch Cashel lettingtwo hundred and fifty slip through his fingers! By George, though, he's an artful card. At the end of fourteen minutes I thought myfive hundred was corpsed. The Dutchman was full of fight; and Cashelsuddenly turned weak and tried to back out of the rally. You shouldhave seen the gleam in the Dutchman's eye when he rushed in afterhim. He made cock-sure of finishing him straight off. "

"Indeed, my lord. Dear me!"

"I should think so: I was taken in by it myself. It was only done todraw the poor devil. By George, Bedford, you should have seen theway Cashel put in his right. But you couldn't have seen it; it wastoo quick. The Dutchman was asleep on the grass before he knew he'dbeen hit. Byron had collected fifteen pounds for him before he cameto. His jaw must feel devilish queer after it. By Jove, Bedford, Cashel is a perfect wonder. I'd back him for every cent I possessagainst any man alive. He makes you feel proud of being anEnglishman. "

Bedford looked on with submissive wonder as his master, transfiguredwith enthusiasm, went hastily to and fro through the room, occasionally clinching his fist and smiting an imaginary Dutchman. The valet at last ventured to remind him that he had forgotten theletter. 

"Oh, hang the letter!" said Lord Worthington. "It's Mrs. Hoskyn'swriting--an invitation, or some such rot. Here; let's see it. "

"Campden Hill Road, Saturday. 

"My dear Lord Worthington, --I have not forgotten my promise toobtain for you a near view of the famous Mrs. Herbert--'MadameSimplicita, ' as you call her. She will be with us to-morrow evening;and we shall be very happy to see you then, if you care to come. Atnine o'clock, Herr Abendgasse, a celebrated German art critic and agreat friend of mine, will read us a paper on 'The True in Art'; butI will not pay you the compliment of pretending to believe that thatinterests you, so you may come at ten or half-past, by which hourall the serious business of the evening will be over. "

"Well, there is nothing like cheek, " said Lord Worthington, breakingoff in his perusal. "These women think that because I enjoy life ina rational way I don't know the back of a picture from the front, orthe inside of a book from the cover. I shall go at nine sharp. "

"If any of your acquaintances take an interest in art, I will gladlymake them welcome. Could you not bring me a celebrity or two? I amvery anxious to have as good an audience as possible for HerrAbendgasse. However, as it is, he shall have no reason to complain, as I flatter myself that I have already secured a very distinguishedassembly. Still, if you can add a second illustrious name to mylist, by all means do so. "

"Very good, Mrs. Hoskyn, " said Lord Worthington, looking cunninglyat the bewildered Bedford. "You shall have a celebrity--a realone--none of your mouldy old Germans--if I can only get him to come. If any of her people don't like him they can tell him so. Eh, Bedford?"

CHAPTER VI

Next evening, Lydia and Alice reached Mrs. Hoskyn's house in CampdenHill Road a few minutes before ten o'clock. They found LordWorthington in the front garden, smoking and chatting with Mr. Hoskyn. He threw away his cigar and returned to the house with thetwo ladies, who observed that he was somewhat flushed with wine. They went into a parlor to take off their wraps, leaving him at thefoot of the stairs. Presently they heard some one come down andaddress him excitedly thus, "Worthington. Worthington. He has begun making a speech before thewhole room. He got up the moment old Abendgasse sat down. Why thedeuce did you give him that glass of champagne?"

"Sh-sh-sh! You don't say so! Come with me; and let us try to get himaway quietly. "

"Did you hear that?" said Alice. "Something must have happened. "

"I hope so, " said Lydia. "Ordinarily, the fault in these receptionsis that nothing happens. Do not announce us, if you please, " sheadded to the servant, as they ascended the stairs. "Since we havecome late, let us spare the feelings of Herr Abendgasse by going inas quietly as possible. "

They had no difficulty in entering unnoticed, for Mrs. Hoskynconsidered obscurity beautiful; and her rooms were but dimly lightedby two curious lanterns of pink glass, within which were vaporousflames. In the middle of the larger apartment was a small tablecovered with garnet-colored plush, with a reading-desk upon it, andtwo candles in silver candlesticks, the light of which, beingbrighter than the lanterns, cast strong double shadows from a groupof standing figures about the table. The surrounding space wascrowded with chairs, occupied chiefly by ladies. Behind them, alongthe wall, stood a row of men, among whom was Lucian Webber. All werestaring at Cashel Byron, who was making a speech to some bearded andspectacled gentlemen at the table. Lydia, who had never before seenhim either in evening dress or quite at his ease, was astonished athis bearing. His eyes were sparkling, his confidence overbore thecompany, and his rough voice created the silence it broke. He was inhigh good-humor, and marked his periods by the swing of his extendedleft arm, while he held his right hand close to his body andoccasionally pointed his remarks by slyly wagging his forefinger. 

"--executive power, " he was saying as Lydia entered. "That's a verygood expression, gentlemen, and one that I can tell you a lot about. We have been told that if we want to civilize our neighbors we mustdo it mainly by the example of our own lives, by each becoming aliving illustration of the highest culture we know. But what I askis, how is anybody to know that you're an illustration of culture. You can't go about like a sandwich man with a label on your back totell all the fine notions you have in your head; and you may be sureno person will consider your mere appearance preferable to his own. You want an executive power; that's what you want. Suppose youwalked along the street and saw a man beating a woman, and setting abad example to the roughs. Well, you would be bound to set a goodexample to them; and, if you're men, you'd like to save the woman;but you couldn't do it by merely living; for that would be settingthe bad example of passing on and leaving the poor creature to bebeaten. What is it that you need to know then, in order to act up toyour fine ideas? Why, you want to know how to hit him, when to hithim, and where to hit him; and then you want the nerve to go in anddo it. That's executive power; and that's what's wanted worse thansitting down and thinking how good you are, which is what thisgentleman's teaching comes to after all. Don't you see? You wantexecutive power to set an example. If you leave all that to theroughs, it's their example that will spread, and not yours. And lookat the politics of it. We've heard a good deal about the Frenchto-night. Well, they've got executive power. They know how to make abarricade, and how to fight behind it when they've made it. What'sthe result? Why, the French, if they only knew what they wanted, could have it to-morrow for the asking--more's the pity that theydon't know. In this country we can do nothing; and if the lords andthe landlords, or any other collection of nobs, were to drive usinto the sea, what could we do but go? There's a gentleman laughingat me for saying that; but I ask him what would he do if the policeor the soldiers came this evening and told him to turn out of hiscomfortable house into the Thames? Tell 'em he wouldn't vote fortheir employers at the next election, perhaps? Or, if that didn'tstop them, tell 'em that he'd ask his friends to do the same? That'sa pretty executive power! No, gentlemen. Don't let yourself bedeceived by people that have staked their money against you. Thefirst thing to learn is how to fight. There's no use in buying booksand pictures unless you know how to keep them and your own head aswell. If that gentleman that laughed know how to fight, and hisneighbors all knew how to fight too, he wouldn't need to fearpolice, nor soldiers, nor Russians, nor Prussians, nor any of themillions of men that may be let loose on him any day of the week, safe though he thinks himself. But, says you, let's have a divisionof labor. Let's not fight for ourselves, but pay other men to fightfor us. That shows how some people, when they get hold of an idea, will work it to that foolish length that it's wearisome to listen tothem. Fighting is the power of self-preservation; another man can'tdo it for you. You might as well divide the labor of eating yourdinner, and pay one fellow to take the beef, another the beer, and athird the potatoes. But let us put it for the sake of argument thatyou do pay others to fight for you. Suppose some one else pays themhigher, and they fight a cross, or turn openly against you! You'dhave only yourself to blame for giving the executive power to money. And so long as the executive power is money the poor will be keptout of their corner and fouled against the ropes; whereas, by what Iunderstand, the German professor wants them to have their rights. Therefore I say that a man's first duty is to learn to fight. If hecan't do that he can't set an example; he can't stand up for his ownrights or his neighbors'; he can't keep himself in bodily health;and if he sees the weak ill-used by the strong, the most he can dois to sneak away and tell the nearest policeman, who most likelywon't turn up until the worst of the mischief is done. Coming tothis lady's drawing-room, and making an illustration of himself, won't make him feel like a man after that. Let me be understood, though, gentlemen: I don't intend that you should take everything Isay too exactly--too literally, as it were. If you see a man beatinga woman, I think you should interfere on principle. But don't expectto be thanked by her for it; and keep your eye on her; don't let herget behind you. As for him, just give him a good one and go away. Never stay to get yourself into a street fight; for it's low, andgenerally turns out badly for all parties. However, that's only abit of practical advice. It doesn't alter the great principle thatyou should get an executive power. When you get that, you'll havecourage in you; and, what's more, your courage will be of some useto you. For though you may have courage by nature, still, if youhaven't executive power as well, your courage will only lead you tostand up to be beaten by men that have both courage and executivepower; and what good does that do you? People say that you're a gamefellow; but they won't find the stakes for you unless you can winthem. You'd far better put your game in your pocket, and throw upthe sponge while you can see to do it. 

"Now, on this subject of game, I've something to say that will easethe professor's mind on a point that he seemed anxious about. I amno musician; but I'll just show you how a man that understands oneart understands every art. I made out from the gentleman's remarksthat there is a man in the musical line named Wagner, who is whatyou might call a game sort of composer; and that the musical fancy, though they can't deny that his tunes are first-rate, and that, soto speak, he wins his fights, yet they try to make out that he winsthem in an outlandish way, and that he has no real science. Now Itell the gentleman not to mind such talk. As I have just shown you, his game wouldn't be any use to him without science. He might havebeaten a few second-raters with a rush while he was young; but hewouldn't have lasted out as he has done unless he was clever aswell. You will find that those that run him down are either jealous, or they are old stagers that are not used to his style, and thinkthat anything new must be bad. Just wait a bit, and, take my wordfor it, they'll turn right round and swear that his style isn't newat all, and that he stole it from some one they saw when they wereten years old. History shows us that that is the way of such fellowsin all ages, as the gentleman said; and he gave you Beethoven as anexample. But an example like that don't go home to you, becausethere isn't one man in a million that ever heard of Beethoven. Takea man that everybody has heard of--Jack Randall! The very samethings were said of HIM. After that, you needn't go to musicians foran example. The truth is, that there are people in the world withthat degree of envy and malice in them that they can't bear to allowa good man his merits; and when they have to admit that he can doone thing, they try to make out that there's something else he can'tdo. Come: I'll put it to you short and business-like. This Germangentleman, who knows all about music, tells you that many pretendthat this Wagner has game but no science. Well, I, though I knownothing about music, will bet you twenty-five pounds that there'sothers that allow him to be full of science, but say that he has nogame, and that all he does comes from his head, and not from hisheart. I will. I'll bet twenty-five pounds on it, and let thegentleman of the house be stakeholder, and the German gentlemanreferee. Eh? Well, I'm glad to see that there are no takers. 

"Now we'll go to another little point that the gentleman forgot. Herecommended you to LEARN--to make yourselves better and wiser fromday to day. But he didn't tell you why it is that you won't learn, in spite of his advice. I suppose that, being a foreigner, he wasafraid of hurting your feelings by talking too freely to you. Butyou're not so thin-skinned as to take offence at a littleplain-speaking, I'll be bound; so I tell you straight out that thereason you won't learn is not that you don't want to be clever, orthat you are lazier than many that have learned a great deal, butjust because you'd like people to think that you know everythingalready--because you're ashamed to be seen going to school; and youcalculate that if you only hold your tongue and look wise you'll getthrough life without your ignorance being found out. But where's thegood of lies and pretence? What does it matter if you get laughed atby a cheeky brat or two for your awkward beginnings? What's the useof always thinking of how you're looking, when your sense might tellyou that other people are thinking about their own looks and notabout yours? A big boy doesn't look well on a lower form, certainly, but when he works his way up he'll be glad he began. I speak to youmore particularly because you're Londoners; and Londoners beat allcreation for thinking about themselves. However, I don't go with thegentleman in everything he said. All this struggling and striving tomake the world better is a great mistake; not because it isn't agood thing to improve the world if you know how to do it, butbecause striving and struggling is the worst way you could set aboutdoing anything. It gives a man a bad style, and weakens him. Itshows that he don't believe in himself much. When I heard theprofessor striving and struggling so earnestly to set you to workreforming this, that, and the other, I said to myself, 'He's gothimself to persuade as well as his audience. That isn't the languageof conviction. ' Whose--"

"Really, sir, " said Lucian Webber, who had made his way to thetable, "I think, as you have now addressed us at considerablelength, and as there are other persons present whose opinionsprobably excite as much curiosity as yours--" He was interrupted bya, "Hear, hear, " followed by "No, no, " and "Go on, " uttered in moresubdued tones than are customary at public meetings, but with moreanimation than is usually displayed in drawing-rooms. Cashel, whohad been for a moment somewhat put out, turned to Lucian and said, in a tone intended to repress, but at the same time humor hisimpatience, "Don't you be in a hurry, sir. You shall have your turnpresently. Perhaps I may tell you something you don't know, before Istop. " Then he turned again to the company, and resumed. 

"We were talking about effort when this young gentleman took it uponhimself to break the ring. Now, nothing can be what you might callartistically done if it's done with an effort. If a thing can't bedone light and easy, steady and certain, let it not be done at all. Sounds strange, doesn't it? But I'll tell you a stranger thing. Themore effort you make, the less effect you produce. A WOULD-BE artistis no artist at all. I see that in my own profession (never mindwhat that profession is just at present, as the ladies might thinkthe worse of me for it). But in all professions, any work that showssigns of labor, straining, yearning--as the German gentlemansaid--or effort of any kind, is work beyond the man's strength thatdoes it, and therefore not well done. Perhaps it's beyond hisnatural strength; but it is more likely that he was badly taught. Many teachers set their pupils on to strain, and stretch, so thatthey get used up, body and mind, in a few months. Depend upon it, the same thing is true in other arts. I once taught a fiddler thatused to get a hundred guineas for playing two or three tunes; and hetold me that it was just the same thing with the fiddle--that whenyou laid a tight hold on your fiddle-stick, or even set your teethhard together, you could do nothing but rasp like the fellows thatplay in bands for a few shillings a night. "

"How much more of this nonsense must we endure?" said Lucian, audibly, as Cashel stopped for breath. Cashel turned and looked athim. 

"By Jove!" whispered Lord Worthington to his companion, "that fellowhad better be careful. I wish he would hold his tongue. "

"You think it's nonsense, do you?" said Cashel, after a pause. Thenhe raised one of the candles, and illuminated a picture that hung onthe wall, "Look at that picture, " he said. "You see that fellow inarmor--St. George and the dragon, or whatever he may be. He's jumpeddown from his horse to fight the other fellow--that one with hishead in a big helmet, whose horse has tumbled. The lady in thegallery is half crazy with anxiety for St. George; and well she maybe. THERE'S a posture for a man to fight in! His weight isn'tresting on his legs; one touch of a child's finger would upset him. Look at his neck craned out in front of him, and his face as flat asa full moon towards his man, as if he was inviting him to shut upboth his eyes with one blow. You can all see that he's as weak andnervous as a cat, and that he doesn't know how to fight. And whydoes he give you that idea? Just because he's all strain andstretch; because he isn't at his ease; because he carries the weightof his body as foolishly as one of the ladies here would carry a hodof bricks; because he isn't safe, steady, and light on his pins, ashe would be if he could forget himself for a minute, and leave hisbody to find its proper balance of its own accord. If the painter ofthat picture had known his business he would never have sent his manup to the scratch in such a figure and condition as that. But youcan see with one eye that he didn't understand--I won't say theprinciples of fighting, but the universal principles that I've toldyou of, that ease and strength, effort and weakness, go together. Now, " added Cashel, again addressing Lucian; "do you still thinkthat notion of mine nonsense?" And he smacked his lips withsatisfaction; for his criticism of the picture had produced a markedsensation, and he did not know that this was due to the fact thatthe painter, Mr. Adrian Herbert, was present. 

Lucian tried to ignore the question; but he found it impossible toignore the questioner. "Since you have set the example of expressingopinions without regard to considerations of common courtesy, " hesaid, shortly, "I may say that your theory, if it can be called one, is manifestly absurd. "

Cashel, apparently unruffled, but with more deliberation of mannerthan before, looked about him as if in search of a freshillustration. His glance finally rested on the lecturer's seat, acapacious crimson damask arm-chair that stood unoccupied at somedistance behind Lucian. 

"I see you're no judge of a picture, " said he, good-humoredly, putting down the candle, and stepping in front of Lucian. Whoregarded him haughtily, and did not budge. "But just look at it inthis way. Suppose you wanted to hit me the most punishing blow youpossibly could. What would you do? Why, according to your ownnotion, you'd make a great effort. 'The more effort the more force, 'you'd say to yourself. 'I'll smash him even if I burst myself indoing it. ' And what would happen then? You'd only cut me and make meangry, besides exhausting all your strength at one gasp. Whereas, ifyou took it easy--like this--" Here he made a light step forward andplaced his open palm gently against the breast of Lncian, whoinstantly reeled back as if the piston-rod of a steam-engine hadtouched him, and dropped into the chair. 

"There!" exclaimed Cashel, standing aside and pointing to him. "It'slike pocketing a billiard-ball!"

A chatter of surprise, amusement, and remonstrance spread throughthe rooms; and the company crowded towards the table. Lucian rose, white with rage, and for a moment entirely lost his self-control. Fortunately, the effect was to paralyze him; he neither moved norspoke, and only betrayed his condition by his pallor and the hatredin his expression. Presently he felt a touch on his arm and heardhis name pronounced by Lydia. Her voice calmed him. He tried to lookat her, but his vision was disturbed; he saw double; the lightsseemed to dunce before his eyes; and Lord Worthington's voice, saying to Cashel, "Rather too practical, old fellow, " seemed to comefrom a remote corner of the room, and yet to be whispered into hisear. He was moving irresolutely in search of Lydia when his sensesand his resentment were restored by a clap on the shoulder. 

"You wouldn't have believed that now, would you?" said Cashel. "Don't look startled; you've no bones broken. You had your littlejoke with me in your own way; and I had mine in MY own way. That'sonly--"

He stopped; his brave bearing vanished; he became limp andshamefaced. Lucian, without a word, withdrew with Lydia to theadjoining apartment, and left him staring after her with wistfuleyes and slackened jaw. 

In the meantime Mrs. Hoskyn, an earnest-looking young woman, withstriking dark features and gold spectacles, was looking for LordWorthington, who betrayed a consciousness of guilt by attempting toavoid her. But she cut off his retreat, and confronted him with asteadfast gaze that compelled him to stand and answer for himself. 

"Who is that gentleman whom you introduced to me? I do not recollecthis name. "

"I am really awfully sorry, Mrs. Hoskyn. It was too bad of Byron. But Webber was excessively nasty. "

Mrs. Hoskyn, additionally annoyed by apologies which she had notinvited, and which put her in the ignominious position of acomplainant, replied coldly, "Mr. Byron! Thank you; I hadforgotten, " and was turning away when Lydia came up to introduceAlice, and to explain why she had entered unannounced. LordWorthington then returned to the subject of Cashel, hoping toimprove his credit by claiming Lydia's acquaintance with him. 

"Did you hear our friend Byron's speech, Miss Carew? Verycharacteristic, I thought. "

"Very, " said Lydia. "I hope Mrs. Hoskyn's guests are all familiarwith his style. Otherwise they must find him a little startling. "

"Yes, " said Mrs. Hoskyn, beginning to wonder whether Cashel could besome well-known eccentric genius. "He is very odd. I hope Mr. Webberis not offended. "

"He is the less pleased as he was in the wrong, " said Lydia. "Intolerant refusal to listen to an opponent is a species ofviolence that has no business in such a representativenineteenth-century drawing-room as yours, Mrs. Hoskyn. There was afitness in rebuking it by skilled physical violence. Consider theprodigious tact of it, too! One gentleman knocks another half-wayacross a crowded room, and yet no one is scandalized. "

"You see, Mrs. Hoskyn, the general verdict is 'Served him right, '"said Lord Worthington. 

"With a rider to the effect that both gentlemen displayed completeindifference to the comfort of their hostess, " said Lydia. "However, men so rarely sacrifice their manners to their minds that it wouldbe a pity to blame them. You do not encourage conventionality, Mrs. Hoskyn?"

"I encourage good manners, though certainly not conventionalmanners. "

"And you think there is a difference?"

"I FEEL that there is a difference, " said Mrs. Hoskyn, with dignity. 

"So do I, " said Lydia; "but one can hardly call others to accountfor one's own subjective ideas. "

Lydia went away to another part of the room without waiting for areply. Meanwhile, Cashel stood friendless in the middle of the room, stared at by most of his neighbors, and spoken to by none. Womenlooked at him coldly lest it should be suspected that they wereadmiring him; and men regarded him stiffly according to the nationalcustom. Since his recognition of Lydia, his self-confidence hadgiven place to a misgiving that he had been making a fool ofhimself. He began to feel lonely and abashed; and but for hisprofessional habit of maintaining a cheerful countenance underadverse circumstances, he would have hid himself in the darkestcorner of the room. He was getting sullen, and seeking consolationin thoughts of how terribly he could handle all thesedistantly-mannered, black-coated gentlemen if he chose, when LordWorthington came up to him. 

"I had no idea you were such an orator, Byron, " he said. "You can gointo the Church when you cut the other trade. Eh?"

"I wasn't brought up to the other trade, " said Cashel; "and I knowhow to talk to ladies and gentlemen as well as to what you'd supposeto be my own sort. Don't you be anxious about me, my lord. I knowhow to make myself at home. "

"Of course, of course, " said Lord Worthington, soothingly. "Everyone can see by your manners that you are a gentleman; they recognizethat even in the ring. Otherwise--I know you will excuse my sayingso--I daren't have brought you here. "

Cashel shook his head, but was pleased. He thought he hatedflattery; had Lord Worthington told him that he was the best boxerin England--which he probably was--he would have despised him. Buthe wished to believe the false compliment to his manners, and wastherefore perfectly convinced of its sincerity. Lord Worthingtonperceived this, and retired, pleased with his own tact, in search ofMrs. Hoskyn, to claim her promise of an introduction to MadameSzczymplica, which Mrs. Hoskyn had, by way of punishing him forCashel's misdemeanor, privately determined not to redeem. 

Cashel began to think he had better go. Lydia was surrounded by menwho were speaking to her in German. He felt his own inability totalk learnedly even in English; and he had, besides, a convictionthat she was angry with him for upsetting her cousin, who wasgravely conversing with Miss Goff. Suddenly a horrible noise causeda general start and pause. Mr. Jack, the eminent composer, hadopened the piano-forte, and was illustrating some points in amusical composition under discussion by making discordant soundswith his voice, accompanied by a few chords. Cashel laughed aloud inderision as he made his way towards the door through the crowd, which was now pressing round the pianoforte at which MadameSzczymplica had just come to the assistance of Jack. Near the door, and in a corner remote from the instrument, he came upon Lydia and amiddle-aged gentleman, evidently neither a professor nor an artist. 

"Ab'n'gas is a very clever man, " the gentleman was saying. "I amsorry I didn't hear the lecture. But I leave all that to Mary. Shereceives the people who enjoy high art up-stairs; and I take thesensible men down to the garden or the smoking-room, according tothe weather. "

"What do the sensible women do?" said Lydia. 

"They come late, " said Mr. Hoskyn, and then laughed at his reparteeuntil he became aware of the vicinity of Cashel, whose health heimmediately inquired after, shaking his hand warmly and receiving anumbing grip in return. As soon as he saw that Lydia and Cashel wereacquainted, he slipped away and left them to entertain one another. 

"I wonder how he knows me, " said Cashel, heartened by her graciousreception of a nervous bow. "I never saw him before in my life. "

"He does not know you, " said Lydia, with some sternness. "He is yourhost, and therefore concludes that he ought to know you. "

"Oh! That was it, was it?" He paused, at a loss for conversation. She did not help him. At last he added, "I haven't seen you thislong time, Miss Carew. "

"It is not very long since I saw you, Mr. Cashel Byron. I saw youyesterday at some distance from London. "

"Oh, Lord!" exclaimed Cashel, "don't say that. You're joking, ain'tyou?"

"No. Joking, in that sense, does not amuse me. "

Cashel looked at her in consternation. "You don't mean to say thatyou went to see a--a--Where--when did you see me? You might tellme. "

"Certainly. It was at Clapham Junction, at a quarter-past six. "

"Was any one with me?"

"Your friend, Mr. Mellish, Lord Worthington, and some otherpersons. "

"Yes. Lord Worthington was there. But where were you?"

"In a waiting-room, close to you. "

"I never saw you, " said Cashel, growing red as he recalled thescene. "We must have looked very queer. I had had an accident to myeye, and Mellish was not sober. Did you think I was in bad company?"

"That was not my business, Mr. Cashel Byron. "

"No, " said Cashel, with sudden bitterness. "What did YOU care whatcompany I kept? You're mad with me because I made your cousin looklike a fool, I suppose. That's what's the matter. "

Lydia looked around to see that no one was within earshot, and, speaking in a low tone to remind him that they were not alone, said, "There is nothing the matter, except that you are a grown-up boyrather than a man. I am not mad with you because of your attack uponmy cousin; but he is very much annoyed, and so is Mrs. Hoskyn, whoseguest you were bound to respect. "

"I knew you'd be down on me. I wouldn't have said a word if I'dknown that you were here, " said Cashel, dejectedly. "Lie down and bewalked over; that's what you think I'm fit for. Another man wouldhave twisted his head off. "

"Is it possible that you do not know that gentlemen never twist oneanother's heads off in society, no matter how great may be theprovocation?"

"I know nothing, " said Cashel with plaintive sullenness. "EverythingI do is wrong. There. Will that satisfy you?"

Lydia looked up at him in doubt. Then, with steady patience, sheadded: "Will you answer me a question on your honor?"

He hesitated, fearing that she was going to ask what he was. 

"The question is this, " she said, observing the hesitation. "Are youa simpleton, or a man of science pretending to be a simpleton forthe sake of mocking me and my friends?"

"I am not mocking you; honor bright! All that about science was onlya joke--at least, it's not what you call science. I'm a realsimpleton in drawing-room affairs; though I'm clever enough in myown line. "

"Then try to believe that I take no pleasure in making you confessyourself in the wrong, and that you cannot have a lower opinion ofme than the contrary belief implies. "

"That's just where you're mistaken, " said Cashel, obstinately. "Ihaven't got a low opinion of you at all. There's such a thing asbeing too clever. "

"You may not know that it is a low opinion. Nevertheless, it is so. "

"Well, have it your own way. I'm wrong again; and you're right. "

"So far from being gratified by that, I had rather that we were bothin the right and agreed. Can you understand that?"

"I can't say I do. But I give in to it. What more need you carefor?"

"I had rather you understood. Let me try to explain. You think thatI like to be cleverer than other people. You are mistaken. I shouldlike them all to know whatever I know. "

Cashel laughed cunningly, and shook his head. "Don't you make anymistake about that, " he said. "You don't want anybody to be quite asclever as yourself; it isn't in human nature that you should. You'dlike people to be just clever enough to show you off--to be worthbeating. But you wouldn't like them to be able to beat you. Justclever enough to know how much cleverer you are; that's about themark. Eh?"

Lydia made no further effort to enlighten him. She looked at himthoughtfully, and said, slowly, "I begin to hold the clew to youridiosyncrasy. You have attached yourself to the modern doctrine of astruggle for existence, and look on life as a perpetual combat. "

"A fight? Just so. What is life but a fight? The curs forfeit or getbeaten; the rogues sell the fight and lose the confidence of theirbackers; the game ones and the clever ones win the stakes, and haveto hand over the lion's share of them to the loafers; and luck playsthe devil with them all in turn. That's not the way they describelife in books; but that's what it is. "

"Oddly put, but perhaps true. Still, is there any need of astruggle? Is not the world large enough for us all to livepeacefully in?"

"YOU may think so, because you were born with a silver spoon in yourmouth. But if you hadn't to fight for that silver spoon, some oneelse had; and no doubt he thought it hard that it should be takenaway from him and given to you. I was a snob myself once, andthought the world was made for me to enjoy myself and order aboutthe poor fellows whose bread I was eating. But I was left one daywhere I couldn't grab any more of their bread, and had to make somefor myself--ay, and some extra for loafers that had the power tomake me pay for what they didn't own. That took the conceit out ofme fast enough. But what do you know about such things?"

"More than you think, perhaps. These are dangerous ideas to takewith you into English society. "

"Hmf!" growled Cashel. "They'd be more dangerous if I could giveevery man that is robbed of half what he earns twelve lessons--inscience. "

"So you can. Publish your lessons. 'Twelve lectures on politicaleconomy, by Cashel Byron. ' I will help you to publish them, if youwish. "

"Bless your innocence!" said Cashel: "the sort of political economyI teach can't be learned from a book. "

"You have become an enigma again. But yours is not the creed of asimpleton. You are playing with me--revealing your wisdom frombeneath a veil of infantile guilelessness. I have no more to say. "

"May I be shot if I understand you! I never pretended to beguileless. Come: is it because I raised a laugh against your cousinthat you're so spiteful?"

Lydia looked earnestly and doubtfully at him; and he instinctivelyput his head back, as if it were in danger. "You do not understand, then?" she said. "I will test the genuineness of your stupidity byan appeal to your obedience. "

"Stupidity! Go on. "

"But will you obey me, if I lay a command upon you?"

"I will go through fire and water for you. "

Lydia blushed faintly, and paused to wonder at the novel sensationbefore she resumed. "You had better not apologize to my cousin:partly because you would only make matters worse; chiefly because hedoes not deserve it. But you must make this speech to Mrs. Hoskynwhen you are going: 'I am very sorry I forgot myself'--"

"Sounds like Shakespeare, doesn't it?" observed Cashel. 

"Ah! the test has found you out; you are only acting after all. Butthat does not alter my opinion that you should apologize. "

"All right. I don't know what you mean by testing and acting; and Ionly hope you know yourself. But no matter; I'll apologize; a manlike me can afford to. I'll apologize to your cousin, too, if youlike. "

"I do not like. But what has that to do with it? I suggest thesethings, as you must be aware, for your own sake and not for mine. "

"As for my own, I don't care twopence: I do it all for you. I don'teven ask whether there is anything between you and him. "

"Would you like to know?" said Lydia, deliberately, after a pause ofastonishment. 

"Do you mean to say you'll tell me?" he exclaimed. "If you do, I'llsay you're as good as gold. "

"Certainly I will tell you. There is an old friendship andcousinship between us; but we are not engaged, nor at all likely tobe. I tell you so because, if I avoided the question, you would drawthe opposite and false conclusion. "

"I am glad of it, " said Cashel, unexpectedly becoming very gloomy. "He isn't man enough for you. But he's your equal, damn him!"

"He is my cousin, and, I believe, my sincere friend. Thereforeplease do not damn him. "

"I know I shouldn't have said that. But I am only damning my ownluck. "

"Which will not improve it in the least. "

"I know that. You needn't have said it. I wouldn't have said a thinglike that to you, stupid as I am. "

"Evidently you suppose me to have meant more than I really did. However, that does not matter. You are still an enigma to me. Had wenot better try to hear a little of Madame Szczymplica'sperformance?"

"I'm a pretty plain enigma, I should think, " said Cashel, mournfully. "I would rather have you than any other woman in theworld; but you're too rich and grand for me. If I can't have thesatisfaction of marrying you, I may as well have the satisfaction ofsaying I'd like to. "

"Hardly a fair way of approaching the subject, " said Lydia, composedly, but with a play of color again in her cheeks. "Allow meto forbid it unconditionally. I must be plain with you, Mr. CashelByron. I do not know what you are or who you are; and I believe youhave tried to mystify me on both points--"

"And you never shall find out either the one or the other, if I canhelp it, " put in Cashel; "so that we're in a preciously bad way ofcoming to a good understanding. "

"True, " assented Lydia. "I do not make secrets; I do not keep them;and I do not respect them. Your humor clashes with my principle. "

"You call it a humor!" said Cashel, angrily. "Perhaps you think I ama duke in disguise. If so, you may think better of it. If you had asecret, the discovery of which would cause you to be kicked out ofdecent society, you would keep it pretty tight. And that through nofault of your own, mind you; but through downright cowardice andprejudice in other people. "

"There are at least some fears and prejudices common in society thatI do not share, " said Lydia, after a moment's reflection. "Should Iever find out your secret, do not too hastily conclude that you haveforfeited my consideration. "

"You are just the last person on earth by whom I want to be foundout. But you'll find out fast enough. Pshaw!" cried Cashel, with alaugh, "I'm as well known as Trafalgar Square. But I can't bringmyself to tell you; and I hate secrets as much as you do; so let'sdrop it and talk about something else. "

"We have talked long enough. The music is over, and the people willreturn to this room presently, perhaps to ask me who and what is thestranger who made them such a remarkable speech. "

"Just a word. Promise me that you won't ask any of THEM that. "

"Promise you! No. I cannot promise that. "

"Oh, Lord!" said Cashel, with a groan. 

"I have told you that I do not respect secrets. For the present Iwill not ask; but I may change my mind. Meanwhile we must not holdlong conversations. I even hope that we shall not meet. There isonly one thing that I am too rich and grand for. That onething--mystification. Adieu. "

Before he could reply she was away from him in the midst of a numberof gentlemen, and in conversation with one of them. Cashel seemedoverwhelmed. But in an instant he recovered himself, and steppedjauntily before Mrs. Hoskyn, who had just come into hisneighborhood. 

"I'm going, ma'am, " he said. "Thank you for a pleasant evening--I'mvery sorry I forgot myself. Good-night. "

Mrs. Hoskyn, naturally frank, felt some vague response withinherself to this address. But, though not usually at a loss for wordsin social emergencies, she only looked at him, blushed slightly, andoffered her hand. He took it as if it were a tiny baby's hand and heafraid of hurting it, gave it a little pinch, and turned to go. Mr. Adrian Herbert, the painter, was directly in his way, with his backtowards him. 

"If YOU please, sir, " said Cashel, taking him gently by the ribs, and moving him aside. The artist turned indignantly, but Cashel waspassing the doorway. On the stairs he met Lucian and Alice, andstopped a moment to take leave of them. 

"Good-night, Miss Goff, " he said. "It's a pleasure to see thecountry roses in your cheeks. " He lowered his voice as he added, toLucian, "Don't you worry yourself over that little trick I showedyou. If any of your friends chafe you about it, tell them that itwas Cashel Byron did it, and ask them whether they think they couldhave helped themselves any better than you could. Don't ever let aperson come within distance of yon while you're standing in thatsilly way on both your heels. Why, if a man isn't properly plantedon his pins, a broom-handle falling against him will upset him. That's the way of it. Good-night. "

Lucian returned the salutation, mastered by a certain latentdangerousness in Cashel, suggestive that he might resent a snub bythrowing the offender over the balustrade. As for Alice, she hadentertained a superstitious dread of him ever since Lydia hadpronounced him a ruffian. Both felt relieved when the house door, closing, shut them out of his reach. 

CHAPTER VII

Society was much occupied during Alice's first season in London withthe upshot of an historical event of a common kind. England, a fewyears before, had stolen a kingdom from a considerable people inAfrica, and seized the person of its king. The conquest proveduseless, troublesome, and expensive; and after repeated attempts tosettle the country on impracticable plans suggested to the ColonialOffice by a popular historian who had made a trip to Africa, and bygenerals who were tired of the primitive remedy of killing thenatives, it appeared that the best course was to release the captiveking and get rid of the unprofitable booty by restoring it to him. In order, however, that the impression made on him by England'sshort-sighted disregard of her neighbor's landmark abroad might becounteracted by a glimpse of the vastness of her armaments andwealth at home, it was thought advisable to take him first toLondon, and show him the wonders of the town. But when the kingarrived, his freedom from English prepossessions made it difficultto amuse, or even to impress him. A stranger to the idea that aprivate man could own a portion of the earth and make others pay himfor permission to live on it, he was unable to understand why such aprodigiously wealthy nation should be composed partly of poor anduncomfortable persons toiling incessantly to create riches, andpartly of a class that confiscated and dissipated the wealth thusproduced without seeming to be at all happier than the unfortunatelaborers at whose expense they existed. He was seized with strangefears, first for his health, for it seemed to him that the air ofLondon, filthy with smoke, engendered puniness and dishonesty inthose who breathed it; and eventually for his life, when he learnedthat kings in Europe were sometimes shot at by passers-by, therebeing hardly a monarch there who had not been so imperilled morethan once; that the Queen of England, though accounted the safest ofall, was accustomed to this variety of pistol practice; and that theautocrat of an empire huge beyond all other European countries, whose father had been torn asunder in the streets of his capital, lived surrounded by soldiers who shot down all strangers thatapproached him even at his own summons, and was an object ofcompassion to the humblest of his servants. Under thesecircumstances, the African king was with difficulty induced to stirout of doors; and he only visited Woolwich Arsenal--the destructiveresources of which were expected to influence his future behavior ina manner favorable to English supremacy--under compulsion. At lastthe Colonial Office, which had charge of him, was at its wit's endto devise entertainments to keep him in good-humor until theappointed time for his departure. 

On the Tuesday following Mrs. Hoskyn's reception, Lucian Webbercalled at his cousin's house in Regent's Park, and said, in thecourse of a conversation with the two ladies there, "The Colonial Office has had an idea. The king, it appears, issomething of an athlete, and is curious to witness what Londonerscan do in that way. So a grand assault-at-arms is to be held forhim. "

"What is an assault-at-arms?" said Lydia. "I have never been at one;and the name suggests nothing but an affray with bayonets. "

"It is an exhibition of swordsmanship, military drill, gymnastics, and so forth. "

"I will go to that, " said Lydia. "Will you come, Alice?"

"Is it usual for ladies to go to such exhibitions?" said Alice, cautiously. 

"On this occasion ladies will go for the sake of seeing the king, "said Lucian. "The Olympian gymnastic society, which has undertakenthe direction of the part of the assault that is to show off theprowess of our civilians, expects what they call a flower-showaudience. "

"Will you come, Lucian?"

"If I can be spared, yes. If not, I will ask Worthington to go withyou. He understands such matters better than I. "

"Then let us have him, by all means, " said Lydia. 

"I cannot see why you are so fond of Lord Worthington, " said Alice. "His manners are good; but there is nothing in him. Besides, he isso young. I cannot endure his conversation. He has begun to talkabout Goodwood already. "

"He will grow out of his excessive addiction to sport, " said Lucian. 

"Indeed, " said Lydia. "And what will he grow into?"

"Possibly into a more reasonable man, " said Lucian, gravely. 

"I hope so, " said Lydia; "but I prefer a man who is interested insport to a gentleman who is interested in nothing. "

"Much might indubitably be said from that point of view. But it isnot necessary that Lord Worthington should waste his energy onhorse-racing. I presume you do not think political life, for whichhis position peculiarly fits him, unworthy his attention. "

"Party tactics are both exciting and amusing, no doubt. But are theybetter than horse-racing? Jockeys and horse-breakers at least knowtheir business; our legislators do not. Is it pleasant to sit on abench--even though it be the treasury bench--and listen to eitherabsolute nonsense or childish disputes about conclusions that wereforegone in the minds of all sensible men a hundred years ago?"

"You do not understand the duties of a government, Lydia. You neverapproach the subject without confirming my opinion that women areconstitutionally incapable of comprehending it. "

"It is natural for you to think so, Lucian. The House of Commons isto you the goal of existence. To me it is only an assemblage ofill-informed gentlemen who have botched every business they haveever undertaken, from the first committee of supply down to the lastland act; and who arrogantly assert that I am not good enough to sitwith them. "

"Lydia, " said Lucian, annoyed; "you know that I respect women intheir own sphere--"

"Then give them another sphere, and perhaps they will earn yourrespect in that also. I am sorry to say that men, in THEIR sphere, have not won my respect. Enough of that for the present. I have tomake some domestic arrangements, which are of more immediateimportance than the conversion of a good politician into a badphilosopher. Excuse me for five minutes. "

She left the room. Lucian sat down and gave his attention to Alice, who had still enough of her old nervousness to make her straightenher shoulders and look stately. But he did not object to this; alittle stiffness of manner gratified his taste. 

"I hope, " he said, "that my cousin has not succeeded in inducing youto adopt her peculiar views. "

"No, " said Alice. "Of course her case is quite exceptional--she isso wonderfully accomplished. In general, I do not think women shouldhave views. There are certain convictions which every lady holds:for instance, we know that Roman Catholicism is wrong. But that canhardly be called a view; indeed it would be wicked to call it so, asit is one of the highest truths. What I mean is that women shouldnot be political agitators. "

"I understand, and quite agree with you. Lydia is, as you say, anexceptional case. She has lived much abroad; and her father was avery singular man. Even the clearest heads, when removed from thedirect influence of English life and thought, contract extraordinaryprejudices. Her father at one time actually attempted to leave alarge farm to the government in trust for the people; butfortunately he found that it was impossible; no such demise wasknown to the English law or practicable by it. He subsequentlyadmitted the folly of this by securing Lydia's rights as hissuccessor as stringently as he could. It is almost a pity that suchstrength of mind and extent of knowledge should be fortified by thedangerous independence which great wealth confers. Advantages likethese bring with them certain duties to the class that has producedthem--duties to which Lydia is not merely indifferent, butabsolutely hostile. "

"I never meddle with her ideas on--on these subjects. I am tooignorant to understand them. But Miss Carew's generosity to me hasbeen unparalleled. And she does not seem to know that she isgenerous. I owe more to her than I ever can repay. At least, " Aliceadded, to herself, "I am not ungrateful. "

Miss Carew now reappeared, dressed in a long, gray coat and plainbeaver hat, and carrying a roll of writing materials. 

"I am going to the British Museum to read, " said she. 

"To walk!--alone!" said Lucian, looking at her costume. 

"Yes. Prevent me from walking, and you deprive me of my health. Prevent me from going alone where I please and when I please, andyou deprive me of my liberty--tear up Magna Charta, in effect. But Ido not insist upon being alone in this instance. If you can returnto your office by way of Regent's Park and Gower Street withoutlosing too much time, I shall be glad of your company. "

Lucian decorously suppressed his eagerness to comply by looking athis watch and pretending to consider his engagements. In conclusion, he said that he should be happy to accompany her. 

It was a fine summer afternoon, and there were many people in thepark. Lucian was soon incommoded by the attention his cousinattracted. In spite of the black beaver, her hair shone like fire inthe sun. Women stared at her with unsympathetic curiosity, andturned as they passed to examine her attire. Men resorted to varioussubterfuges to get a satisfactory look without rudely betrayingtheir intention. A few stupid youths gaped; and a few impudent onessmiled. Lucian would gladly have kicked them all, withoutdistinction. He at last suggested that they should leave the path, and make a short cut across the green-sward. As they emerged fromthe shade of the trees he had a vague impression that the finenessof the weather and the beauty of the park made the occasionromantic, and that the words by which he hoped to make the relationbetween him and his cousin dearer and closer would be well spokenthere. But he immediately began to talk, in spite of himself, aboutthe cost of maintaining the public parks, of the particulars ofwhich he happened to have some official knowledge. Lydia, readilyinterested by facts of any sort, thought the subject not a bad onefor a casual afternoon conversation, and pursued it until they leftthe turf and got into the Euston Road, where the bustle of trafficsilenced them for a while. When they escaped from the din into therespectable quietude of Gower Street, he suddenly said, "It is one of the evils of great wealth in the hands of a woman, that she can hardly feel sure--" His ideas fled suddenly. Hestopped; but he kept his countenance so well that he had the air ofhaving made a finished speech, and being perfectly satisfied withit. 

"Do you mean that she can never feel sure of the justice of hertitle to her riches? That used to trouble me; but it no longer doesso. "

"Nonsense!" said Lucian. "I alluded to the disinterestedness of yourfriends. "

"That does not trouble me either. Absolutely disinterested friends Ido not seek, as I should only find them among idiots orsomnambulists. As to those whose interests are base, they do notknow how to conceal their motives from me. For the rest, I am not sounreasonable as to object to a fair account being taken of my wealthin estimating the value of my friendship. "

"Do you not believe in the existence of persons who would like youjust as well if you were poor?"

"Such persons would, merely to bring me nearer to themselves, wishme to become poor; for which I should not thank them. I set greatstore by the esteem my riches command, Lucian. It is the onlyset-off I have against the envy they inspire. "

"Then you would refuse to believe in the disinterestedness of anyman who--who--"

"Who wanted to marry me? On the contrary: I should be the lastperson to believe that a man could prefer my money to myself. If hewore independent, and in a fair way to keep his place in the worldwithout my help, I should despise him if he hesitated to approach mefor fear of misconstruction. I do not think a man is ever thoroughlyhonest until he is superior to that fear. But if he had noprofession, no money, and no aim except to live at my expense, thenI should regard him as an adventurer, and treat him as one--unless Ifell in love with him. "

"Unless you fell in love with him!"

"That--assuming that such things really happen--would make adifference in my feeling, but none in my conduct. I would not marryan adventurer under any circumstances. I could cure myself of amisdirected passion, but not of a bad husband. "

Lucian said nothing; he walked on with long, irregular steps, lowering at the pavement as if it were a difficult problem, andoccasionally thrusting at it with his stick. At last he looked up, and said, "Would you mind prolonging your walk a little by going round BedfordSquare with me? I have something particular to say. "

She turned and complied without a word; and they had traversed oneside of the square before he spoke again, in these terms:

"On second thoughts, Lydia, this is neither the proper time norplace for an important communication. Excuse me for having taken youout of your way for nothing. "

"I do not like this, Lucian. Important communications--in thiscase--corrupt good manners. If your intended speech is a sensibleone, the present is as good a time, and Bedford Square as good aplace, as you are likely to find for it. If it is otherwise, confessthat you have decided to leave it unsaid. But do not postpone it. Reticence is always an error--even on the treasury bench. It isdoubly erroneous in dealing with me; for I have a constitutionalantipathy to it. "

"Yes, " he said, hurriedly; "but give me one moment--until thepoliceman has passed. "

The policeman went leisurely by, striking the flags with his heels, and slapping his palm with a white glove. 

"The fact is, Lydia, that--I feel great difficulty--"

"What is the matter?" said Lydia, after waiting in vain for furtherparticulars. "You have broken down twice in a speech. " There was apause. Then she looked at him quickly, and added, incredulously, "Are you going to get married? Is that the secret that ties yourpractised tongue?"

"Not unless you take part in the ceremony. "

"Very gallant; and in a vein of humor that is new in my experienceof you. But what have you to tell me, Lucian? Frankly, yourhesitation is becoming ridiculous. "

"You have certainly not made matters easier for me, Lydia. Perhapsyou have a womanly intuition of my purpose, and are intentionallydiscouraging me. "

"Not the least. I am not good at speculations of that sort. On myword, if you do not confess quickly, I will hurry away to themuseum. "

"I cannot find a suitable form of expression, " said Lucian, inpainful perplexity. "I am sure you will not attribute any sordidmotive to my--well, to my addresses, though the term seems absurd. Iam too well aware that there is little, from the usual point ofview, to tempt you to unite yourself to me. Still--"

A rapid change in Lydia's face showed him that he had said enough. "I had not thought of this, " she said, after a silence that seemedlong to him. "Our observations are so meaningless until we are giventhe thread to string them on! You must think better of this, Lucian. The relation that at present exists between us is the very best thatour different characters will admit of. Why do you desire to alterit?"

"Because I would make it closer and more permanent. I do not wish toalter it otherwise. "

"You would run some risk of simply destroying it by the method youpropose, " said Lydia, with composure. "We could not co-operate. There are differences of opinion between us amounting to differencesof principle. "

"Surely you are not serious. Your political opinions, or notions, are not represented by any party in England; and therefore they arepractically ineffective, and could not clash with mine. And suchdifferences are not personal matters. "

"Such a party might be formed a week after our marriage--will, Ithink, be formed a long time before our deaths. In that case I fearthat our difference of opinion would become a very personal matter. "

He began to walk more quickly as he replied, "It is too absurd toset up what you call your opinions as a serious barrier between us. You have no opinions, Lydia. The impracticable crotchets you arefond of airing are not recognized in England as sane politicalconvictions. "

Lydia did not retort. She waited a minute in pensive silence, andthen said, "Why do you not marry Alice Goff?"

"Oh, hang Alice Goff!"

"It is so easy to come at the man beneath the veneer by expertlychipping at his feelings, " said Lydia, laughing. "But I was serious, Lucian. Alice is energetic, ambitious, and stubbornly upright inquestions of principle. I believe she would assist you steadily atevery step of your career. Besides, she has physical robustness. Ourstudent-stock needs an infusion of that. "

"Many thanks for the suggestion; but I do not happen to want tomarry Miss Goff. "

"I invite you to consider it. Yon have not had time yet to form anynew plans. "

"New plans! Then you absolutely refuse me--without a moment'sconsideration?"

"Absolutely, Lucian. Does not your instinct warn you that it wouldbe a mistake for you to marry me?"

"No; I cannot say that it does. "

"Then trust to mine, which gives forth no uncertain note on thisquestion, as your favorite newspapers are fond of saying. "

"It is a question of feeling, " he said, in a constrained voice. 

"Is it?" she replied, with interest. "You have surprised mesomewhat, Lucian. I have never observed any of the extravagances ofa lover in your conduct. "

"And you have surprised me very unpleasantly, Lydia. I do not thinknow that I ever had much hope of success; but I thought, at least, that my disillusion would be gently accomplished. "

"What! Have I been harsh?"

"I do not complain. "

"I was unlucky, Lucian; not malicious. Besides, the artifices bywhich friends endeavor to spare one another's feelings are prettydisloyalties. I am frank with you. Would you have me otherwise?"

"Of course not. I have no right to be offended. "

"Not the least. Now add to that formal admission a sincere assurancethat you ARE not offended. "

"I assure you I am not, " said Lucian, with melancholy resignation. 

They had by this time reached Charlotte Street, and Lydia tacitlyconcluded the conference by turning towards the museum, andbeginning to talk upon indifferent subjects. At the corner ofRussell Street he got into a cab and drove away, dejectedlyacknowledging a smile and wave of the hand with which Lydia tried toconsole him. She then went to the national library, where she forgotLucian. The effect of the shock of his proposal was in store forher, but as yet she did not feel it; and she worked steadily untilthe library was closed and she had to leave. As she had been sittingfor some hours, and it was still light, she did not take a cab, anddid not even walk straight home. She had heard of a bookseller inSoho who had for sale a certain scarce volume which she wanted; andit occurred to her that the present was a good opportunity to go insearch of him. Now, there was hardly a capital in western Europethat she did not know better than London. She had an impression thatSoho was a region of quiet streets and squares, like Bloomsbury. Hermistake soon became apparent; but she felt no uneasiness in thenarrow thoroughfares, for she was free from the common prejudice ofher class that poor people are necessarily ferocious, though sheoften wondered why they were not so. She got as far as GreatPulteney Street in safety; but in leaving it she took a wrongturning and lost herself in a labyrinth of courts where a fewworkmen, a great many workmen's wives and mothers, and innumerableworkmen's children were passing the summer evening at gossip andplay. She explained her predicament to one of the women, who sent alittle boy wilh her to guide her. Business being over for the day, the street to which the boy led her was almost deserted. The onlyshop that seemed to be thriving was a public-house, outside which afew roughs were tossing for pence. 

Lydia's guide, having pointed out her way to her, prepared to returnto his playmates. She thanked him, and gave him the smallest coin inher purse, which happened to be a shilling. He, in a transport atpossessing what was to him a fortune, uttered a piercing yell, anddarted off to show the coin to a covey of small ragamuffins who hadjust raced into view round the corner at which the public-housestood. In his haste he dashed against one of the group outside, apowerfully built young man, who turned and cursed him. The boyretorted passionately, and then, overcome by pain, began to cry. When Lydia came up the child stood whimpering directly in her path;and she, pitying him, patted him on the head and reminded him of allthe money he had to spend. He seemed comforted, and scraped his eyeswith his knuckles in silence; but the man, who, having received asharp kick on the ankle, was stung by Lydia's injustice in accordingto the aggressor the sympathy due to himself, walked threateninglyup to her and demanded, with a startling oath, whether HE hadoffered to do anything to the boy. And, as he refrained fromapplying any epithet to her, he honestly believed that in deferenceto Lydia's sex and personal charms, he had expressed himself withstudied moderation. She, not appreciating his forbearance, recoiled, and stepped into the roadway in order to pass him. Indignant at thisattempt to ignore him, he again placed himself in her path, and wasrepeating his question with increased sternness, when a jerk in thepit of his stomach caused him a severe internal qualm, besidesdisturbing his equilibrium so rudely that he narrowly escaped a fallagainst the curb-stone. When he recovered himself he saw before hima showily dressed young man, who accosted him thus:

"Is that the way to talk to a lady, eh? Isn't the street wide enoughfor two? Where's your manners?"

"And who are you; and where are you shoving your elbow to?" said theman, with a surpassing imprecation. 

"Come, come, " said Cashel Byron, admonitorily. "You'd better keepyour mouth clean if you wish to keep your teeth inside it. Never youmind who I am. "

Lydia, foreseeing an altercation, and alarmed by the threateningaspect of the man, attempted to hurry away and send a policeman toCashel's assistance. But, on turning, she discovered that a crowdhad already gathered, and that she was in the novel position of aspectator in the inner ring at what promised to be a street fight. Her attention was recalled to the disputants by a violentdemonstration on the part of her late assailant. Cashel seemedalarmed; for he hastily retreated a step without regard to the toesof those behind him, and exclaimed, waving the other off with hisopen hand, "Now, you just let me alone. I don't want to have anything to say toyou. Go away from me, I tell you. "

"You don't want to have nothink to say to me! Oh! And for why?Because you ain't man enough; that's why. Wot do you mean by comingand shoving your elbow into a man's bread-basket for, and thenwanting to sneak off? Did you think I'd 'a' bin frightened of yourvelvet coat?"

"Very well, " said Cashel, pacifically; "we'll say that I'm not manenough for you. So that's settled. Are you satisfied?"

But the other, greatly emboldened, declared with many oaths that hewould have Cashel's heart out, and also that of Lydia, to whom healluded in coarse terms. The crowd cheered, and called upon him to"go it. " Cashel then said, sullenly, "Very well. But don't you try to make out afterwards that I forced aquarrel on you. And now, " he added, with a grim change of tone thatmade Lydia shudder, and shifted her fears to the account of hisantagonist, "I'll make you wish you'd bit your tongue out before yousaid what you did a moment ago. So, take care of yourself. "

"Oh, I'll take care of myself, " said the man, defiantly. "Put upyour hands. "

Cashel surveyed his antagonist's attitude with unmistakabledisparagement. "You will know when my hands are up by the feel ofthe pavement, " he said, at last. "Better keep your coat on. You'llfall softer. "

The rough expressed his repudiation of this counsel by beginning tostrip energetically. A thrill of delight passed through the crowd. Those who had bad places pressed forward, and those who formed theinner ring pressed back to make room for the combatants. Lydia, whooccupied a coveted position close to Cashel, hoped to be hustled outof the throng; for she was beginning to feel faint and ill. But ahandsome butcher, who had made his way to her side, gallantly sworethat she should not be deprived of her place in the front row, andbade her not be frightened, assuring her that he would protect her, and that the fight would be well worth seeing. As he spoke, the massof faces before Lydia seemed to give a sudden lurch. To save herselffrom falling, she slipped her arm through the butcher's; and he, much gratified, tucked her close to him, and held her upeffectually. His support was welcome, because it was needed. 

Meanwhile, Cashel stood motionless, watching with unrelentingcontempt the movements of his adversary, who rolled up hisdiscolored shirt-sleeves amid encouraging cries of "Go it, Teddy, ""Give it 'im, Ted, " and other more precise suggestions. But Teddy'sspirit was chilled; be advanced with a presentiment that he wascourting destruction. He dared not rush on his foe, whose eye seemedto discern his impotence. When at last he ventured to strike, theblow fell short, as Cashel evidently knew it would; for he did notstir. There was a laugh and a murmur of impatience in the crowd. 

"Are you waiting for the copper to come and separate you?" shoutedthe butcher. "Come out of your corner and get to work, can't you?"

This reminder that the police might balk him of his prey seemed tomove Cashel. He took a step forward. The excitement of the crowdrose to a climax; and a little man near Lydia cut a frenzied caperand screamed, "Go it, Cashel Byron. "

At these words Teddy was terror-stricken. He made no attempt todisguise his condition. "It ain't fair, " he exclaimed, retreating asfar as the crowd would permit him. "I give in. Cut it, master;you're too clever for me. " But his comrades, with a pitiless jeer, pushed him towards Cashel, who advanced remorselessly. Teddy droppedon both knees. "Wot can a man say more than that he's had enough?"he pleaded. "Be a Englishman, master; and don't hit a man when he'sdown. "

"Down!" said Cashel. "How long will you stay down if I choose tohave you up?" And, suiting the action to the word, he seized Teddywith his left hand, lifted him to his feet, threw him into ahelpless position across his knee, and poised his right fist like ahammer over his upturned face. "Now, " he said, "you're not down. What have you to say for yourself before I knock your face down yourthroat?"

"Don't do it, gov'nor, " gasped Teddy. "I didn't mean no harm. Howwas I to know that the young lady was a pal o' yourn?" Here hestruggled a little; and his face assumed a darker hue. "Let go, master, " he cried, almost inarticulately. "You're ch--choking me. "

"Pray let him go, " said Lydia, disengaging herself from the butcherand catching Cashel's arm. 

Cashel, with a start, relaxed his grasp; and Teddy rolled on theground. He went away thrusting his hands iuto his sleeves, andout-facing his disgrace by a callous grin. Cashel, without speaking, offered Lydia his arm; and she, seeing that her best course was toget away from that place with as few words as possible, accepted it, and then turned and thanked the butcher, who blushed and becamespeechless. The little man whose exclamation had interrupted thecombat, now waved his hat, and cried, "The British Lion forever! Three cheers for Cashel Byron. "

Cashel turned upon him curtly, and said, "Don't you make so freewith other people's names, or perhaps you may get into troubleyourself. "

The little man retreated hastily; hut the crowd responded with threecheers as Cashel, with Lydia on his arm, withdrew through a lane ofdisreputable-looking girls, roughs of Teddy's class, white-apronedshopmen who had left their counters to see the fight, and a few paleclerks, who looked with awe at the prize-fighter, and with wonder atthe refined appearance of his companion. The two were followed by adouble file of boys, who, with their eyes fixed earnestly on Cashel, walked on the footways while he conducted Lydia down the middle ofthe narrow street. Not one of them turned a somersault or uttered ashout. Intent on their hero, they pattered along, coming intocollision with every object that lay in their path. At last Cashelstopped. They instantly stopped too. He took some bronze coin fromhis pocket, rattled it in his hand, and addressed them. 

"Boys!" Dead silence. "Do you know what I have to do to keep up mystrength?" The hitherto steadfast eyes wandered uneasily. "I have toeat a little boy for supper every night, the last thing before tobed. Now, I haven't quite made up my mind which of you would be themost to my taste; but if one of you comes a step further, I'll eatHIM. So, away with you. " And he jerked the coin to a considerabledistance. There was a yell and a scramble; and Cashel and Lydiapursued their way unattended. 

Lydia had taken advantage of the dispersion of the boys to detachherself from Cashel's arm. She now said, speaking to him for thefirst time since she had interceded for Teddy, "I am sorry to have given you so much trouble, Mr. Cashel Byron. Thank you for interfering to protect me; but I was in no realdanger. I would gladly have borne with a few rough words for thesake of avoiding a disturbance. "

"There!" cried Cashel. "I knew it. You'd a deal rather I had mindedmy own business and not interfered. You're sorry for the poor fellowI treated so badly; ain't you now? That's a woman all over. "

"I have not said one of these things. "

"Well, I don't see what else you mean. It's no pleasure to me tofight chance men in the streets for nothing: I don't get my livingthat way. And now that I have done it for your sake, you as good astell me I ought to have kept myself quiet. "

"Perhaps I am wrong. I hardly understand what passed. You seemed todrop from the clouds. "

"Aha! You were glad when you found me at your elbow, in spite ofyour talk. Come now; weren't you glad to see me?"

"I was--very glad indeed. But by what magic did you so suddenlysubdue that man? And was it necessary to sully your hands bythrottling him?"

"It was a satisfaction to me; and it served him right. "

"Surely a very poor satisfaction! Did you notice that some one inthe crowd called out your name, and that it seemed to frighten theman terribly?"

"Indeed? Odd, wasn't it? But you were saying that you thought Idropped from the sky. Why, I had been following you for five minutesbefore! What do you think of that? If I may take the liberty ofasking, how did you come to be walking round Soho at such an hourwith a little ragged boy?"

Lydia explained. When she finished, it was nearly dark, and they hadreached Oxford Street, where, like Lucian in Regent's Park thatafternoon, she became conscious that her companion was an object ofcuriosity to many of the young men who were lounging in thatthoroughfare. 

"Alice will think that I am lost, " she said, making a signal to acabman. "Good-bye; and many thanks. I am always at home on Fridays, and shall be very happy to see you. "

She handed him a card. He took it, read it, looked at the back tosee if there was anything written there, and then said, dubiously, "I suppose there will be a lot of people. "

"Yes; you will meet plenty of people. "

"Hm! I wish you'd let me see you home now. I won't ask to go anyfurther than the gate. "

Lydia laughed. "You should be very welcome, " she said; "but I amquite safe, thank you. I need not trouble you. "

"But suppose the cabman bullies you for double fare, " persistedCashel. "I have business up in Finchley; and your place is right inany way there. Upon my soul I have, " he added, suspecting that shedoubted him. "I go every Tuesday evening to the St. John's WoodCestus Club. "

"I am hungry and in a hurry to got home, " said Lydia. "'I must begone and live, or stay and die. ' Come if you will; but in any caselet us go at once. "

She got into the cab, and Cashel followed, making some remark whichshe did not quite catch about its being too dark for any one torecognize him. They spoke little during the drive, which was soonover. Bashville was standing at the open door as they came to thehouse. When Cashel got out the footman looked at him with interestand some surprise, But when Lydia alighted he was so startled thathe stood open-mouthed, although he was trained to simulateinsensibility to everything except his own business, and to do thatas automatically as possible. Cashel bade Lydia good-bye, and shookhands with her. As she went into the house, she asked Bashvillewhether Miss Goff was within. To her surprise, he paid no attentionto her, but stared after the retreating cab. She repeated thequestion. 

"Madam, " he said, recovering himself with a start, "she has askedfor you four times. "

Lydia, relieved of a disagreeable suspicion that her usuallyfaultless footman must be drunk, thanked him and went up-stairs. 

CHAPTER VIII

One morning a handsome young man, elegantly dressed, presentedhimself at Downing Street, and asked to see Mr. Lucian Webber. Hedeclined to send in a card, and desired to be announced simply as"Bashville. " Lucian ordered him to be admitted at once, and, when heentered, nodded amiably to him and invited him to sit down. 

"I thank you, sir, " said Bashville, seating himself. It struckLucian then, from a certain strung-up resolution in his visitor'smanner, that he had come on some business of his own, and not, as hehad taken for granted, with a message from his mistress. 

"I have come, sir, on my own responsibility this morning. I hope yonwill excuse the liberty. "

"Certainly. If I can do anything for you, Bashville, don't be afraidto ask. But be as brief as you can. I am so busy that every second Igive you will probably be subtracted from my night's rest. Will tenminutes be enough?"

"More than enough, sir, thank you. I only wish to ask one question. I own that I am stepping out of my place to ask it; but I'll riskall that. Does Miss Carew know what the Mr. Cashel Byron is that shereceives every Friday with her other friends?"

"No doubt she does, " said Lucian, at once becoming cold in hismanner, and looking severely at Bashville. "What business is that ofyours?"

"Do YOU know what he is, sir?" said Bashville, returning Lucian'sgaze steadily. 

Lucian changed countenance, and replaced a pen that had slipped froma rack on his desk. "He is not an acquaintance of mine, " he said. "Ionly know him as a friend of Lord Worthington's. "

"Sir, " said Bashville, with sudden vehemence, "he is no more to LordWorthington than the racehorse his lordship bets on. _I_ might aswell set up to be a friend of his lordship because I, after a mannerof speaking, know him. Byron is in the ring, sir. A commonprize-fighter!"

Lucian, recalling what had passed at Mrs. Hoskyn's, and LordWorthington's sporting habits, believed the assertion at once. Buthe made a faint effort to resist conviction. "Are you sure of this, Bashville?" he said. "Do you know that your statement is a veryserious one?"

"There is no doubt at all about it, sir. Go to any sportingpublic-house in London and ask who is the best-known fighting man ofthe day, and they'll tell you, Cashel Byron. I know all about him, sir. Perhaps you have heard tell of Ned Skene, who was champion, belike, when you were at school. "

"I believe I have heard the name. "

"Just so, sir. Ned Skene picked up this Cashel Byron in the streetsof Melbourne, where he was a common sailor-boy, and trained him forthe ring. You may have seen his name in the papers, sir. Thesporting ones are full of him; and he was mentioned in the Times amonth ago. "

"I never read articles on such subjects. I have hardly time toglance through the ones that concern me. "

"That's the way it is with everybody, sir. Miss Carew never thinksof reading the sporting intelligence in the papers; and so he passeshimself off on her for her equal. He's well known for his wish to bethought a gentleman, sir, I assure you. "

"I have noticed his manner as being odd, certainly. "

"Odd, sir! Why, a child might see through him; for he has not thesense to keep his own secret. Last Friday he was in the library, andhe got looking at the new biographical dictionary that Miss Carewcontributed the article on Spinoza to. And what do you think hesaid, sir? 'This is a blessed book, ' he says. 'Here's ten pagesabout Napoleon Bonaparte, and not one about Jack Randall; as if onefighting man wasn't as good as another!' I knew by the way themistress took up that saying, and drew him out, so to speak, on thesubject, that she didn't know who she had in her house; and then Idetermined to tell you, sir. I hope you won't think that I come herebehind his back out of malice against him. All I want is fair play. If I passed myself off on Miss Carew as a gentleman, I shoulddeserve to be exposed as a cheat; and when he tries to takeadvantages that don't belong to him, I think I have a right toexpose him. "

"Quite right, quite right, " said Lucian, who cared nothing forBashville's motives. "I suppose this Byron is a dangerous man tohave any personal unpleasantness with. "

"He knows his business, sir. I am a better judge of wrestling thanhalf of these London professionals; but I never saw the man thatcould put a hug on him. Simple as he is, sir, he has a genius forfighting, and has beaten men of all sizes, weights, and colors. There's a new man from the black country, named Paradise, who sayshe'll beat him; but I won't believe it till I see it. "

"Well, " said Lucian, rising, "I am much indebted to you, Bashville, for your information; and I will take care to let Miss Carew knowhow you have--"

"Begging your pardon, sir, " said Bashville; "but, if you please, no. I did not come to recommend myself at the cost of another man; andperhaps Miss Carew might not think it any great recommendationneither. " Lucian looked quickly at him, and seemed about to speak, but checked himself. Bashville continued, "If he denies it, you maycall me as a witness, and I will tell him to his face that helies--and so I would if he were twice as dangerous; but, except inthat way, I would ask you, sir, as a favor, not to mention my nameto Miss Carew. "

"As you please, " said Lucian, taking out his purse. "Perhaps you areright. However, you shall not have your trouble for nothing. "

"I couldn't, really, sir, " said Bashville, retreating a step. "Youwill agree with me, I'm sure, that this is not a thing that a manshould take payment for. It is a personal matter between me andByron, sir. "

Lucian, displeased that a servant should have any personal feelingson any subject, much more one that concerned his mistress, put backhis purse without comment and said, "Will Miss Carew be at home thisafternoon between three and four?"

"I have not heard of any arrangement to the contrary, sir. I willtelegraph to you if she goes out--if you wish. "

"It does not matter. Thank you. Good-morning. "

"Good-morning, sir, " said Bashville, respectfully, as he withdrew. Outside the door his manner changed. He put on a pair of primrosegloves, took up a silver-mounted walking-stick that he had left inthe corridor, and walked from Downing Street into Whitehall. A partyof visitors from the country, who were standing there examining thebuildings, guessed that he was a junior lord of the Treasury. 

He waited in vain that afternoon for Lucian to appear at the housein Regent's Park. There were no callers, and he wore away the timeby endeavoring, with the aid of a library that Miss Carew had placedat the disposal of her domestics, to unravel the philosophy ofSpinoza. At the end of an hour, feeling satisfied that he hadmastered that author's views, he proceeded to vary the monotony ofthe long summer's day by polishing Lydia's plate. 

Meanwhile, Lucian was considering how he could best make Lydia notonly repudiate Cashel's acquaintance, but feel thoroughly ashamed ofherself for having encouraged him, and wholesomely mistrustful ofher own judgment for the future. His parliamentary experience hadtaught him to provide himself with a few well-arranged, relevantfacts before attempting to influence the opinions of others on anysubject. He knew no more of prize-fighting than that it was a brutaland illegal practice, akin to cock-fighting, and, like it, generallysupposed to be obsolete. Knowing how prone Lydia was to suspect anyreceived opinion of being a prejudice, he felt that he must informhimself more particularly. To Lord Worthington's astonishment, henot only asked him to dinner next evening, but listened withinterest while he descanted to his heart's content on his favoritetopic of the ring. 

As the days passed, Bashville became nervous, and sometimes wonderedwhether Lydia had met her cousin and heard from him of the interviewat Downing Street. He fancied that her manner towards him waschanged; and he was once or twice on the point of asking the mostsympathetic of the housemaids whether she had noticed it. OnWednesday his suspense ended. Lucian came, and had a longconversation with Lydia in the library. Bashville was too honorableto listen at the door; but he felt a strong temptation to do so, andalmost hoped that the sympathetic housemaid might prove lessscrupulous. But Miss Carew's influence extended farther than herbodily presence; and Lucian's revelation was made in completeprivacy. 

When he entered the library he looked so serious that she asked himwhether he had neuralgia, from which he occasionally suffered. Hereplied with some indignation that he had not, and that he had acommunication of importance to make to her. 

"What! Another!"

"Yes, another, " he said, with a sour smile; "but this time it doesnot concern myself. May I warn you as to the character of one ofyour guests without overstepping my privilege?"

"Certainly. But perhaps you mean Vernet. If so, I am perfectly awarethat he is an exiled Communard. "

"I do not mean Monsieur Vernet. You understand, I hope, that I donot approve of him, nor of your strange fancy for Nihilists, Fenians, and other doubtful persons; but I think that even you mightdraw the line at a prize-fighter. "

Lydia lost color, and said, almost inaudibly, "Cashel Byron!"

"Then you KNEW!" exclaimed Lucian, scandalized. 

Lydia waited a moment to recover, settled herself quietly in herchair, and replied, calmly, "I know what you tell me--nothing more. And now, will you explain to me exactly what a prize-fighter is?"

"He is simply what his name indicates. He is a man who fights forprizes. "

"So does the captain of a man-of-war. And yet society does not placethem in the same class--at least, I do not think so. "

"As if there could be any doubt that society does not! There is noanalogy whatever between the two cases. Let me endeavor to open youreyes a little, if that be possible, which I am sometimes tempted todoubt. A prize-fighter is usually a man of naturally ferociousdisposition, who has acquired some reputation among his associatesas a bully; and who, by constantly quarrelling, has acquired somepractice in fighting. On the strength of this reputation he cangenerally find some gambler willing to stake a sum of money that hewill vanquish a pugilist of established fame in single combat. Betsare made between the admirers of the two men; a prize is subscribedfor, each party contributing a share; the combatants are trained asracehorses, gamecocks, or their like are trained; they meet, andbeat each other as savagely as they can until one or the other istoo much injured to continue the combat. This takes place in themidst of a mob of such persons as enjoy spectacles of the kind; thatis to say, the vilest blackguards whom a large city can afford toleave at large, and many whom it cannot. As the prize-moneycontributed by each side often amounts to upwards of a thousandpounds, and as a successful pugilist commands far higher terms forgiving tuition in boxing than a tutor at one of the universitiesdoes for coaching, you will see that such a man, while his youth andluck last, may have plenty of money, and may even, by aping themanners of the gentlemen whom he teaches, deceive carelesspeople--especially those who admire eccentricity--as to hischaracter and position. "

"What is his true position? I mean before he becomes aprize-fighter. "

"Well, he may be a handicraftsman of some kind: a journeymanbutcher, skinner, tailor, or baker. Possibly a soldier, sailor, policeman, gentleman's servant, or what not? But he is generally acommon laborer. The waterside is prolific of such heroes. "

"Do they never come from a higher rank?"

"Never even from the better classes in their own. Broken-downgentlemen are not likely to succeed at work that needs the strengthand endurance of a bull and the cruelty of a butcher. "

"And the end of a prize-fighter. What is that like?"

"He soon has to give up his trade. For, if he be repeatedly beaten, no one will either bet on him or subscribe to provide him with astake. If he is invariably successful, those, if any, who dare fighthim find themselves in a like predicament. In either case hisoccupation is gone. If he has saved money he opens a sportingpublic-house, where he sells spirits of the worst description to hisold rivals and their associates, and eventually drinks himself todeath or bankruptcy. If, however, he has been improvident orunfortunate, he begs from his former patrons and gives lessons. Finally, when the patrons are tired of him and the pupils fail, herelapses into the laboring class with a ruined constitution, adisfigured face, a brutalized nature, and a tarnished reputation. "

Lydia remained silent so long after this that Lucian's expression ofmagisterial severity first deepened, then wavered, and finally gaveway to a sense of injury; for she seemed to have forgotten him. Hewas about to protest against this treatment, when she looked at himagain, and said, "Why did Lord Worthington introduce a man of this class to me?"

"Because you asked him to do so. Probably he thought that if youchose to make such a request without previous inquiry, you shouldnot blame him if you found yourself saddled with an undesirableacquaintance. Recollect that you asked for the introduction on theplatform at Wiltstoken, in the presence of the man himself. Such aruffian would be capable of making a disturbance for much lessoffence than an explanation and refusal would have given him. "

"Lucian, " said Lydia, in a tone of gentle admonition, "I asked to beintroduced to my tenant, for whose respectability you had vouched byletting the Warren Lodge to him. " Lucian reddened. "How does LordWorthington explain Mr. Byron's appearance at Mrs. Hoskyn's?"

"It was a stupid joke. Mrs. Hoskyn had worried Worthington to bringsome celebrity to her house; and, in revenge, he took his pugilisticprotege. "

"Hm!"

"I do not defend Worthington. But discretion is hardly to beexpected from him. "

"He has discretion enough to understand a case of this kindthoroughly. But let that pass. I have been thinking upon what youtell me about these singular people, whose existence I hardly knewof before. Now, Lucian, in the course of my reading I have come upondenunciations of every race and pursuit under the sun. Veryrespectable and well-informed men have held that Jews, Irishmen, Christians, atheists, lawyers, doctors, politicians, actors, artists, flesh-eaters, and spirit-drinkers are all of necessitydegraded beings. Such statements can be easily proved by taking ablack sheep from each flock, and holding him up as the type. It ismore reasonable to argue a man's character from the nature of hisprofession; and yet even that is very unsafe. War is a cruelbusiness; but soldiers are not necessarily bloodthirsty and inhumanmen. I am not quite satisfied that a prize-fighter is a violent anddangerous man because he follows a violent and dangerousprofession--I suppose they call it a profession. "

Lucian was about to speak; but she interrupted him by continuing, "And yet that is not what concerns me at present. Have you found outanything about Mr. Byron personally? Is he an ordinaryrepresentative of his class?"

"No; I should rather think--and hope--that he is a veryextraordinary representative of it. I have traced his history backto his boyhood, when he was a cabin-boy. Having apparently failedto recommend himself to his employers in that capacity, he becameerrand-boy to a sort of maitre d'armes at Melbourne. Here hediscovered where his genius lay; and he presently appeared in thering with an unfortunate young man named Ducket, whose jaw hefractured. This laid the foundation of his fame. He fought severalbattles with unvarying success; but at last he allowed his valor toget the better of his discretion so far as to kill an Englishman whocontended with him with desperate obstinacy for two hours. I aminformed that the particular blow by which he felled the poor wretchfor the last time is known in pugilistic circles as 'Cashel'skiller, ' and that he has attempted to repeat it in all hissubsequent encounters, without, however, achieving the same fatalresult. The failure has doubtless been a severe disappointment tohim. He fled from Australia and reappeared in America, where heresumed his victorious career, distinguishing himself specially bythrowing a gigantic opponent in some dreadful fashion that these menhave, and laming him for life. He then--"

"Thank you, Lucian, " said Lydia rather faintly. "That is quiteenough. Are you sure that it is all true?"

"My authority is Lord Worthington, and a number of newspaper reportswhich he showed me. Byron himself will probably be proud to give youthe fullest confirmation of the record. I should add, in justice tohim, that he is looked upon as a model--to pugilists--of temperanceand general good conduct. "

"Do you remember my remarking a few days ago, on another subject, how meaningless our observations are until we are given the rightthread to string them on?"

"Yes, " said "Webber, disconcerted by the allusion. 

"My acquaintance with this man is a case in point. He has obtrudedhis horrible profession upon me every time we have met. I haveactually seen him publicly cheered as a pugilist-hero; and yet, being off the track, and ignorant of the very existence of such acalling, I have looked on and seen nothing. "

Lydia then narrated her adventure in Soho, and listened with theperfect patience of indifference to his censure of her imprudence ingoing there alone. 

"And now, Lydia, " he added, "may I ask what you intend to do in thismatter?"

"What would you have me do?"

"Drop his acquaintance at once. Forbid him your house in the mostexplicit terms. "

"A pleasant task!" said Lydia, ironically. "But I will do it--not somuch, perhaps, because he is a prize-fighter, as because he is animpostor. Now go to the writing-table and draft me a proper letterto send him. "

Lucian's face elongated. "I think, " he said, "you can do that betterfor yourself. It is a delicate sort of thing. "

"Yes. It is not so easy as you implied a moment ago. Otherwise Ishould not require your assistance. As it is--" She pointed again tothe table. 

Lucian was not ready with an excuse. He sat down reluctantly, and, after some consideration, indited the following:

"Miss Carew presents her compliments to Mr. Cashel Byron, and begsto inform him that she will not be at home during the remainder ofthe season as heretofore. She therefore regrets that she cannot havethe pleasure of receiving him on Friday afternoon. "

"I think you will find that sufficient, " said Lucian. 

"Probably, " said Lydia, smiling as she read it. "But what shall I doif he takes offence; calls here, breaks the windows, and beatsBashville? Were I in his place, that is what such a letter wouldprovoke me to do. "

"He dare not give any trouble. But I will warn the police if youfeel anxious. "

"By no means. We must not show ourselves inferior to him in courage, which is, I suppose, his cardinal virtue. "

"If you write the note now, I will post it for you. "

"No, thank you. I will send it with my other letters. "

Lucian would rather have waited; but she would not write while hewas there. So he left, satisfied on the whole with the success ofhis mission. When he was gone, she took a pen, endorsed his draftneatly, placed it in a drawer, and wrote to Cashel thus:

"Dear Mr. Cashel Byron, --I have just discovered your secret. I amsorry; but you must not come again. Farewell. Yours faithfully, "Lydia Carew. "

Lydia kept this note by her until next morning, when she read itthrough carefully. She then sent Bashville to the post with it. 

CHAPTER IX

Cashel's pupils frequently requested him to hit them hard--not toplay with them--to accustom them to regular, right down, severehitting, and no nonsense. He only pretended to comply; for he knewthat a black eye or loosened tooth would be immoderately boasted ofif received in combat with a famous pugilist, and that thesufferer's friends would make private notes to avoid so rough aprofessor. But when Miss Carew's note reached him he made anexception to his practice in this respect. A young guardsman, whoselesson began shortly after the post arrived, remarked that Cashelwas unusually distraught. He therefore exhorted his instructor towake up and pitch into him in earnest. Immediately he received ablow in the epigastrium that stretched him almost insensible on thefloor. Rising with his complexion considerably whitened, herecollected an appointment which would prevent him from finishinghis lesson, and withdrew, declaring in a somewhat shaky voice thatthat was the sort of bout he really enjoyed. 

Cashel did not at first make any profitable use of the leisure thusearned. He walked to and fro, cursing, and occasionally stopping toread the letter. His restlessness only increased his agitation. Thearrival of a Frenchman whom he employed to give lessons in fencingmade the place unendurable to him. He changed his attire, went out, called a cab, and bade the driver, with an oath, drive to Lydia'shouse as fast as the horse could go. The man made all the haste hecould, and was presently told impatiently that there was no hurry. Accustomed to this sort of inconsistency, he was not surprised when, as they approached the house, he was told not to stop but to driveslowly past. Then, in obedience to further instructions, he turnedand repassed the door. As he did so a lady appeared for an instantat a window. Immediately his fare, with a groan of mingled rage andfear, sprang from the moving vehicle, rushed up the steps of themansion, and rang the bell violently. Bashville, faultlessly dressedand impassibly mannered, opened the door. In reply to Cashel'shalf-inarticulate inquiry, he said, "Miss Carew is not at home. "

"You lie, " said Cashel, his eyes suddenly dilating. "I saw her. "

Bashville reddened, but replied, coolly, "Miss Carew cannot see youto-day. "

"Go and ask her, " returned Cashel sternly, advancing. 

Bashville, with compressed lips, seized the door to shut him out;but Cashel forced it back against him, sent him reeling some pacesby its impact, went in, and shut the door behind him. He had to turnfrom Bashville for a moment to do this, and before he could face himagain he was clutched, tripped, and flung down upon the tessellatedpavement of the hall. 

When Cashel gave him the lie, and pushed the door against him, theexcitement he had been suppressing since his visit to Lucianexploded. He had thrown Cashel in Cornish fashion, and nowdesperately awaited the upshot. 

Cashel got up so rapidly that he seemed to rebound from the flags. Bashville, involuntarily cowering before his onslaught, just escapedhis right fist, and felt as though his heart had been drawn with itas it whizzed past his ear. He turned and fled franticallyup-stairs, mistaking for the clatter of pursuit the noise with whichCashel, overbalanced by his ineffectual blow, stumbled against thebanisters. 

Lydia was in her boudoir with Alice when Bashville darted in andlocked the door. Alice rose and screamed. Lydia, though startled, and that less by the unusual action than by the change in a familiarface which she had never seen influenced by emotion before, satstill and quietly asked what was the matter. Bashville checkedhimself for a moment. Then he spoke unintelligibly, and went to thewindow, which he opened. Lydia divined that he was about to call forhelp to the street. 

"Bashville, " she said, authoritatively: "be silent, and close thewindow. I will go down-stairs myself. "

Bashville then ran to prevent her from unlocking the door; but shepaid no attention to him. He did not dare to oppose her forcibly. Hewas beginning to recover from his panic, and to feel the firststings of shame for having yielded to it. 

"Madam, " he said: "Byron is below; and he insists on seeing you. He's dangerous; and he's too strong for me. I have done my best--onmy honor I have. Let me call the police. Stop, " he added, as sheopened the door. "If either of us goes, it must be me. "

"I will see him in the library, " said Lydia, composedly. "Tell himso; and let him wait there for me--if you can approach him withoutrunning any risk. "

"Oh, pray let him call the police, " urged Alice. "Don't attempt togo to that man. "

"Nonsense!" said Lydia, good-humoredly. "I am not in the leastafraid. We must not fail in courage when we have a prize-fighter todeal with. "

Bashville, white, and preventing with difficulty his knees fromknocking together, went down-stairs and found Cashel leaning uponthe balustrade, panting, and looking perplexedly about him as hewiped his dabbled brow. Bashville approached him with the firmnessof a martyr, halted on the third stair, and said, "Miss Carew will see you in the library. Come this way, please. "

Cashel's lips moved, but no sound came from them; he followedBashville in silence. When they entered the library Lydia wasalready there. Bashville withdrew without a word. Then Cashel satdown, and, to her consternation, bent his head on his hand andyielded to an hysterical convulsion. Before she could resolve how toact he looked up at her with his face distorted and discolored, andtried to speak. 

"Pray be calm, " said Lydia. "I am told that you wish to speak tome. "

"I don't wish to speak to you ever again, " said Cashel, hoarsely. "You told your servant to throw me down the steps. That's enough forme. "

Lydia caught from him the tendency to sob which he was strugglingwith; but she repressed it, and answered, firmly, "If my servant hasbeen guilty of the least incivility to you, Mr. Cashel Byron, he hasexceeded his orders. "

"It doesn't matter, " said Cashel. "He may thank his luck that he hashis head on. If I had planted on him that time--but HE doesn'tmatter. Hold on a bit--I can't talk--I shall get my second windpresently, and then--" Cashel stopped a moment to pant, and thenasked, "Why are you going to give me up?"

Lydia ranged her wits in battle array, and replied, "Do you remember our conversation at Mrs. Hoskyn's?"

"Yes. "

"You admitted then that if the nature of your occupation becameknown to me our acquaintance should cease. That has now come topass. "

"That was all very fine talk to excuse my not telling you. But Ifind, like many another man when put to the proof, that I didn'tmean it. Who told you I was a fighting man?"

"I had rather not tell you that. "

"Aha!" said Cashel, with a triumph that was half choked by theremnant of his hysteria. "Who is trying to make a secret now, Ishould like to know?"

"I do so in this instance because I am afraid to expose a friend toyour resentment. "

"And why? He's a man, of course; else you wouldn't be afraid. Youthink that I'd go straight off and murder him. Perhaps he told youthat it would come quite natural to a man like me--a ruffian likeme--to smash him up. That comes of being a coward. People run myprofession down; not because there is a bad one or two init--there's plenty of bad bishops, if you come to that--but becausethey're afraid of us. You may make yourself easy about your friend. I am accustomed to get well paid for the beatings I give; and yourown common-sense ought to tell you that any one who is used to beingpaid for a job is just the last person in the world to do it fornothing. "

"I find the contrary to be the case with first-rate artists, " saidLydia. 

"Thank you, " retorted Cashel, sarcastically. "I ought to make you abow for that. I'm glad you acknowledge that it IS an art. "

"But, " said Lydia seriously, "it seems to me that it is an artwholly anti-social and retrograde. And I fear that you have forcedthis interview on me to no purpose. "

"I don't know whether it's anti-social or not. But I think it hardthat I should be put out of decent society when fellows that do farworse than I are let in. Who did I see here last Friday, the mosthonored of your guests? Why, that Frenchman with the goldspectacles. What do you think I was told when I asked what HISlittle game was? Baking dogs in ovens to see how long a dog couldlive red hot! I'd like to catch him doing it to a dog of mine. Ay;and sticking a rat full of nails to see how much pain a rat couldstand. Why, it's just sickening. Do you think I'd have shaken handswith that chap? If he hadn't been a guest of yours I'd have givenhim a notion of how much pain a Frenchman can stand without anynails in him. And HE'S to be received and made much of, while I amkicked out! Look at your relation, the general. What is he but afighting man, I should like to know? Isn't it his pride and boastthat as long as he is paid so much a day he'll ask no questionswhether a war is fair or unfair, but just walk out and put thousandsof men in the best way to kill and be killed?--keeping well behindthem himself all the time, mind you. Last year he was up to his chinin the blood of a lot of poor blacks that were no more a match forhis armed men than a feather-weight would be for me. Bad as I am, Iwouldn't attack a feather-weight, or stand by and see another heavyman do it. Plenty of your friends go pigeon-shooting to Hurlingham. THERE'S a humane and manly way of spending a Saturday afternoon!Lord Worthington, that comes to see you when he likes, though he'stoo much of a man or too little of a shot to kill pigeons, thinksnothing of fox-hunting. Do you think foxes like to be hunted, orthat the people that hunt them have such fine feelings that they canafford to call prize-fighters names? Look at the men that get killedor lamed every year at steeple-chasing, fox-hunting, cricket, andfoot-ball! Dozens of them! Look at the thousands killed in battle!Did you ever hear of any one being killed in the ring? Why, fromfirst to last, during the whole century that prize-fighting has beengoing on, there's not been six fatal accidents at really respectablefights. It's safer than dancing; many a woman has danced her skirtinto the fire and been burned. I once fought a man who had spoiledhis constitution with bad living; and he exhausted himself so bygoing on and on long after he was beaten that he died of it, andnearly finished me, too. If you'd heard the fuss that even theoldest fighting men made over it you'd have thought that a baby haddied from falling out of its cradle. A good milling does a man moregood than harm. And if all these--dog-bakers, and soldiers, andpigeon-shooters, and fox-hunters, and the rest of them--are madewelcome here, why am I shut out like a brute beast?"

"Truly I do not know, " said Lydia, puzzled; "unless it be that yourcolleagues have failed to recommend themselves to society by theirextra-professional conduct as the others have. "

"I grant you that fighting men ar'n't gentlemen, as a rule. No morewere painters, or poets, once upon a time. But what I want to knowis this: Supposing a fighting man has as good manners as yourfriends, and is as well born, why shouldn't he mix with them and beconsidered their equal?"

"The distinction seems arbitrary, I confess. But perhaps the trueremedy would be to exclude the vivisectors and soldiers, instead ofadmitting the prize-fighters. Mr. Cashel Byron, " added Lydia, changing her manner, "I cannot discuss this with you. Society has aprejudice against you. I share it; and I cannot overcome it. Can youfind no nobler occupation than these fierce and horrible encountersby which you condescend to gain a living?"

"No, " said Cashel, flatly. "I can't. That's just where it is. "

Lydia looked grave, and said nothing. 

"You don't see it?" said Cashel. "Well, I'll just tell you all aboutmyself, and then leave you to judge. May I sit down while I talk?"He had risen in the course of his remarks on Lydia's scientific andmilitary acquaintances. 

She pointed to a chair near her. Something in the action broughtcolor to his cheeks. 

"I believe I was the most unfortunate devil of a boy that everwalked, " he began, when he was seated. "My mother was--and is--anactress, and a tiptop crack in her profession. One of the firstthings I remember is sitting on the floor in the corner of a roomwhere there was a big glass, and she flaring away before it, attitudinizing and spouting Shakespeare like mad. I was afraid ofher, because she was very particular about my manners andappearance, and would never let me go near a theatre. I know verylittle about either my people or hers; for she boxed my ears one dayfor asking who my father was, and I took good care not to ask heragain. She was quite young when I was a child; at first I thoughther a sort of angel--I should have been fond of her, I think, ifshe had let me. But she didn't, somehow; and I had to keep myaffection for the servants. I had plenty of variety in that way; forshe gave her whole establishment the sack about once every twomonths, except a maid who used to bully her, and gave me nearly allthe nursing I ever got. I believe it was my crying about somehousemaid or other who went away that first set her abusing me forhaving low tastes--a sort of thing that used to cut me to the heart, and which she kept up till the very day I left her for good. We werea precious pair: I sulky and obstinate, she changeable andhot-tempered. She used to begin breakfast sometimes by knocking meto the other side of the room with a slap, and finish it by callingme her darling boy and promising me all manner of toys and things. Isoon gave up trying to please her, or like her, and became asdisagreeable a young imp as you'd ask to see. My only thought was toget all I could out of her when she was in a good-humor, and to besullen and stubborn when she was in a tantrum. One day a boy in thestreet threw some mud at me, and I ran in crying and complained toher. She told me I was a little coward. I haven't forgiven her forthat yet--perhaps because it was one of the few true things she eversaid to me. I was in a state of perpetual aggravation; and I oftenwonder that I wasn't soured for life at that time. At last I got tobe such a little fiend that when she hit me I used to guard off herblows, and look so wicked that I think she got afraid of me. Thenshe put me to school, telling me that I had no heart, and tellingthe master that I was an ungovernable young brute. So I, like alittle fool, cried at leaving her; and she, like a big one, criedback again over me--just after telling the master what a bad one Iwas, mind you--and off she went, leaving her darling boy and blessedchild howling at his good luck in getting rid of her. 

"I was a nice boy to let loose in a school. I could speak as well asan actor, as far as pronunciation goes; but I could hardly readwords of one syllabile; and as to writing, I couldn't make pothooksand hangers respectably. To this day, I can no more spell than oldNed Skene can. What was a worse sort of ignorance was that I had noidea of fair play. I thought that all servants would be afraid ofme, and that all grown-up people would tyrannize over me. I wasafraid of everybody; afraid that my cowardice would be found out;and as angry and cruel in my ill-tempers as cowards always are. Nowyou'll hardly believe this; but what saved me from going to the badaltogether was my finding out that I was a good one to fight. Thebigger boys were given to fighting, and used to have mills everySaturday afternoon, with seconds, bottle-holders, and everythingcomplete, except the ropes and stakes. We little chaps used toimitate them among ourselves as best we could. At first, when theymade me fight, I shut my eyes and cried; but for all that I managedto catch the other fellow tight round the waist and throw him. Afterthat it became a regular joke to make me fight, for I always cried. But the end of it was that I learned to keep my eyes open and hitstraight. I had no trouble about fighting then. Somehow, I couldtell by instinct when the other fellow was going to hit me, and Ialways hit him first. It's the same with me now in the ring; I knowwhat a man is going to do before he rightly knows himself. The powerthat this gave me, civilized me. It made me cock of the school; andI had to act accordingly. I had enough good-nature left to keep mefrom being a bully; and, as cock, I couldn't be mean or childish. There would be nothing like fighting for licking boys into shape ifevery one could be cock; but every one can't; so I suppose it doesmore harm than good. 

"I should have enjoyed school well enough if I had worked at mybooks. But I wouldn't study; and the masters were all down on me asan idler--though I shouldn't have been like that if they had knownhow to teach--I have learned since what teaching is. As to theholidays, they were the worst part of the year to me. When I wasleft at school I was savage at not being let go home; and when Iwent home my mother did nothing but find fault with my school-boymanners. I was getting too big to be cuddled as her darling boy, youunderstand. In fact, her treatment of me was just the old game withthe affectionate part left out. It wasn't pleasant, after being cockof the school, to be made feel like a good-for-nothing little brattied to her apron-strings. When she saw that I was learning nothingshe sent me to another school at a place in the north called Panley. I stayed there until I was seventeen; and then she came one day, andwe had a row, as usual. She said she wouldn't let me leave schooluntil I was nineteen; and so I settled that question by running awaythe same night. I got to Liverpool, where I hid in a ship bound forAustralia. When I was starved out they treated me better than Iexpected; and I worked hard enough to earn my passage and myvictuals. But when I wad left ashore in Melbourne I was in a prettypickle. I knew nobody, and I had no money. Everything that a mancould live by was owned by some one or other. I walked through thetown looking for a place where they might want a boy to run errandsor to clean windows. But somehow I hadn't the cheek to go into theshops and ask. Two or three times, when I was on the point oftrying, I caught sight of some cad of a shopman, and made up my mindthat I wouldn't be ordered about by HIM, and that since I had thewhole town to choose from I might as well go on to the next place. At last, quite late in the afternoon, I saw an advertisement stuckup on a gymnasium, and, while I was reading it, I got talking to oldNed Skene, the owner, who was smoking at the door. He took a fancyto me, and offered to have me there as a sort of lad-of-all-work. Iwas only too glad to get the chance, and I closed with him at once. As time went on I became so clever with the gloves that Ned matchedme against a light-weight named Ducket, and bet a lot of money thatI would win. Well, I couldn't disappoint him after his being so kindto me--Mrs. Skene had made as much of me as if I was her own son. What could I do but take my bread as it came to me? I was fit fornothing else. Even if I had been able to write a good hand and keepaccounts I couldn't have brought myself to think that quill-drivingand counting other people's money was a fit employment for a man. It's not what a man would like to do that he must do in this world, it's what he CAN do; and the only mortal thing I could do properlywas to fight. There was plenty of money and plenty of honor andglory among my acquaintances to be got by fighting. So I challengedDucket, and knocked him all to pieces in about ten minutes. I halfkilled him because I didn't know my own strength and was afraid ofhim. I have been at the same work ever since. I was training for afight when I was down at Wiltstoken; and Mellish was my trainer. Itcame off the day you saw me at Clapham; that was how I came to havea black eye. Wiltstoken did for me. With all my nerve and science, I'm no better than a baby at heart; and ever since I found out thatmy mother wasn't an angel I have always had a notion that a realangel would turn up some day. You see, I never cared much for women. Bad as my mother was as far as being what you might call a parentwent, she had something in her looks and manners that gave me abetter idea of what a nice woman was like than I had of most things;and the girls I met in Australia and America seemed very smallpotatoes to me in comparison with her. Besides, of course they werenot ladies. I was fond of Mrs. Skene because she was good to me; andI made myself agreeable, for her sake, to the girls that came to seeher; but in reality I couldn't stand them. Mrs. Skene said that theywere all setting their caps at me--women are death on a crackfighter--but the more they tried it on the less I liked them. It wasno go; I could get on with the men well enough, no matter how commonthey were; but the snobbishness of my breed came out with regard tothe women. When I saw you that day at Wiltstoken walk out of thetrees and stand looking so quietly at me and Mellish, and then goback out of sight without a word, I'm blessed if I didn't think youwere the angel come at last. Then I met you at the railway stationand walked with you. You put the angel out of my head quick enough;for an angel, after all, is only a shadowy, childish notion--Ibelieve it's all gammon about there being any in heaven--but yougave me a better idea than mamma of what a woman should be, and youcame up to that idea and went beyond it. I have been in love withyou ever since; and if I can't have you, I don't care what becomesof me. I know I am a bad lot, and have always been one; but when Isaw you taking pleasure in the society of fellows just as bad asmyself, I didn't see why I should keep away when I was dying tocome. I am no worse than the dog-baker, any how. And hang it, MissLydia, I don't want to brag; but I never fought a cross or struck afoul blow in my life; and I have never been beaten, though I'm onlya middle-weight, and have stood up with the best fourteen-stone menin the Colonies, the States, or in England. "

Cashel ceased. As he sat eying her wistfully, Lydia, who had beenperfectly still, said musingly, "Strange! that I should be so much more prejudiced than I knew. Whatwill you think of me when I tell you that your profession does notseem half so shocking now that I know you to be the son of anartist, and not a journeyman butcher or a laborer, as my cousin toldme. "

"What!" exclaimed Cashel. "That lantern-jawed fellow told you I wasa butcher!"

"I did not mean to betray him; but, as I have already said, I am badat keeping secrets. Mr. Lucian Webber is my cousin and friend, andhas done me many services. May I rest assured that he has nothing tofear from you?"

"He has no right to tell lies about me. He is sweet on you, too: Itwigged that at Wiltstoken. I have a good mind to let him knowwhether I am a butcher or not. "

"He did not say so. What he told me of you, as far as it went, isexactly confirmed by what you have said yourself. But I happened toask him to what class men of your calling usually belonged; and hesaid that they were laborers, butchers, and so forth. Do you resentthat?"

"I see plainly enough that you won't let me resent it. I should liketo know what else he said of me. But he was right enough about thebutchers. There are all sorts of blackguards in the ring: there's nouse in denying it. Since it's been made illegal, decent men won't gointo it. But, all the same, it's not the fighting men, but thebetting men, that bring discredit on it. I wish your cousin had heldhis confounded tongue. "

"I wish you had forestalled him by telling me the truth, "

"I wish I had, now. But what's the use of wishing? I didn't dare runthe chance of losing you. See how soon you forbade me the house whenyou did find out. "

"It made little difference, " said Lydia, gravely. 

"You were always friendly to me, " said Cashel, plaintively. 

"More so than you were to me. You should not have deceived me. Andnow I think we had better part. I am glad to know your history; andI admit that when you embraced your profession you made perhaps thebest choice that society offered you. I do not blame you. "

"But you give me the sack. Is that it?"

"What do you propose, Mr. Cashel Byron? Is it to visit my house inthe intervals of battering and maiming butchers and laborers?"

"No, it's not, " retorted Cashel. "You're very aggravating. I won'tstay much longer in the ring now, because my luck is too good tolast. I shall have to retire soon, luck or no luck, because no onecan match me. Even now there's nobody except Bill Paradise thatpretends to be able for me; and I'll settle him in September if hereally means business. After that, I'll retire. I expect to be worthten thousand pounds then. Ten thousand pounds, I'm told, is the sameas five hundred a year. Well, I suppose, judging from the style youkeep here, that you're worth as much more, besides your place in thecountry; so, if you will marry me, we shall have a thousand a yearbetween us. I don't know much of money matters; but at any rate wecan live like fighting-cocks on that much. That's a straight andbusiness-like proposal, isn't it?"

"And if I refuse?" said Lydia, with some sternness. 

"Then you may have the ten thousand pounds to do what you likewith, " said Cashel, despairingly. "It won't matter what becomes ofme. I won't go to the devil for you or any woman if I can help it;and I--but where's the good of saying IF you refuse. I know I don'texpress myself properly; I'm a bad hand at sentimentality; but if Ihad as much gab as a poet, I couldn't be any fonder of you, or thinkmore highly of you. "

"But you are mistaken as to the amount of my income. "

"That doesn't matter a bit. If you have more, why, the more themerrier. If you have less, or if you have to give up all yourproperty when you're married, I will soon make another ten thousandto supply the loss. Only give me one good word, and, by George, I'llfight the seven champions of Christendom, one down and t'other comeon, for five thousand a side each. Hang the money!"

"I am richer than you suppose, " said Lydia, unmoved. "I cannot tellyou exactly how much I possess; but my income is about fortythousand pounds. "

"Forty thousand pounds!" ejaculated Cashel. 

"Holy Moses! I didn't think the queen had so much as that. "

He paused a moment, and became very red. Then, in a voice broken bymortification, he said, "I see I have been making a fool of myself, "and took his hat and turned to go. 

"It does not follow that you should go at once without a word, " saidLydia, betraying nervousness for the first time during theinterview. 

"Oh, that's all rot, " said Cashel. "I may be a fool while my eyesare shut, but I'm sensible enough when they're open. I have nobusiness here. I wish to the Lord I had stayed in Australia. "

"Perhaps it would have been better, " said Lydia, troubled. "Butsince we have met, it is useless to deplore it; and--Let me remindyou of one thing. You have pointed out to me that I have madefriends of men whose pursuits are no better than yours. I do notwholly admit that; but there is one respect in which they are on thesame footing as you. They are all, as far as worldly gear isconcerned, much poorer than I. Many of them, I fear, are much poorerthan you are. "

Cashel looked up quickly with returning hope; but it lasted only amoment. He shook his head dejectedly. 

"I am at least grateful to you, " she continued, "because you havesought me for my own sake, knowing nothing of my wealth. "

"I should think not, " groaned Cashel. "Your wealth may be a veryfine thing for the other fellows; and I'm glad you have it, for yourown sake. But it's a settler for me. It's knocked me out of time, soit has. I sha'n't come up again; and the sooner the sponge ischucked up in my corner, the better. So good-bye. "

"Good-bye, " said Lydia, almost as pale as he had now become, "sinceyou will have it so. "

"Since the devil will have it so, " said Cashel, ruefully. "It's nouse wishing to have it any other way. The luck is against me. Ihope, Miss Carew, that you'll excuse me for making such an ass ofmyself. It's all my blessed innocence; I never was taught anybetter. "

"I have no quarrel with you except on the old score of hiding thetruth from me; and that I forgive you--as far as the evil of itaffects me. As for your declaration of attachment to me personally, I have received many similar ones that have flattered me less. Butthere are certain scruples between us. You will not court a woman ahundred-fold richer than yourself; and I will not entertain aprize-fighter. My wealth frightens every man who is not a knave; andyour profession frightens every woman who is not a fury. "

"Then you--Just tell me this, " said Cashel, eagerly. "Suppose I werea rich swell, and were not a--"

"No, " said Lydia, peremptorily interrupting him. "I will supposenothing but what is. "

Cashel relapsed into melancholy. "If you only hadn't been kind tome!" he said. "I think the reason I love you so much is that you'rethe only person that is not afraid of me. Other people are civilbecause they daren't be otherwise to the cock of the ring. It's alonely thing to be a champion. You knew nothing about that; and youknew I was afraid of you; and yet you were as good as gold. "

"It is also a lonely thing to be a very rich woman. People areafraid of my wealth, and of what they call my learning. We two haveat least one experience in common. Now do me a great favor, bygoing. We have nothing further to say. "

"I'll go in two seconds. But I don't believe much in YOUR beinglonely. That's only fancy. "

"Perhaps so. Most feelings of this kind are only fancies. "

There was a pause. Then Cashel said, "I don't feel half so downhearted as I did a minute ago. Are yousure that you're not angry with me?"

"Quite sure. Pray let me say good-bye. "

"And may I never see you again? Never at all?--world without end, amen?"

"Never as the famous prize-fighter. But if a day should come whenMr. Cashel Byron will be something better worthy of his birth andnature, I will not forget an old friend. Are you satisfied now?"

Cashel's face began to glow, and the roots of his hair to tingle. "One thing more, " he said. "If you meet me by chance in the streetbefore that, will you give me a look? I don't ask for a regular bow, but just a look to keep me going?"

"I have no intention of cutting you, " said Lydia, gravely. "But donot place yourself purposely in my way. "

"Honor bright, I won't. I'll content myself with walking throughthat street in Soho occasionally. Now I'm off; I know you're in ahurry to be rid of me. So good-b--Stop a bit, though. Perhaps whenthat time you spoke of comes, you will be married. "

"It is possible; but I am not likely to marry. How many more thingshave you to say that you have no right to say?"

"Not one, " said Cashel, with a laugh that rang through the house. "Inever was happier in my life, though I'm crying inside all the time. I'll have a try for you yet. Good-bye. No, " he added, turning fromher proffered hand; "I daren't touch it; I should eat youafterwards. " And he ran out of the room. 

In the hall was Bashville, pale and determined, waiting there torush to the assistance of his mistress at her first summons. He hada poker concealed at hand. Having just heard a great laugh, andseeing Cashel come down-stairs in high spirits, he stood stock-still, and did not know what to think. 

"Well, old chap, " said Cashel, boisterously, slapping him on theshoulder, "so you're alive yet. Is there any one in thedining-room?"

"No, " said Bashville. 

"There's a thick carpet there to fall soft on, " said Cashel, pullingBashville into the room. "Come along. Now, show me that little trickof yours again. Come, don't be afraid. Down with me. Take care youdon't knock my head against the fire-irons. "

"But--"

"But be hanged. You were spry enough at it before. Come!"

Bashville, after a moment's hesitation, seized Cashel, whoimmediately became grave and attentive, and remained imperturbablyso while Nashville expertly threw him. He sat for a moment thinkingon the hearth-rug before he rose. "_I_ see, " he said, then, gettingup. "Now, do it again. "

"But it makes such a row, " remonstrated Bashville. 

"Only once more. There'll be no row this time. "

"Well, you ARE an original sort of cove, " said Bashville, complying. But instead of throwing his man, he found himself wedged into acollar formed by Cashel's arms, the least constriction of whichwould have strangled him. Cashel again roared with laughter as hereleased him. 

"That's the way, ain't it?" he said. "You can't catch an old foxtwice in the same trap. Do you know any more falls?"

"I do, " said Bashville; "but I really can't show them to you here. Ishall get into trouble on account of the noise. "

"You can come down to me whenever you have an evening out, " saidCashel, handing him a card, "to that address, and show me what youknow, and I'll see what I can do with you. There's the making of aman in you. "

"You're very kind, " said Bashville, pocketing the card with a grin. 

"And now let me give you a word of advice that will be of use to youas long as you live, " said Cashel, impressively. "You did a verysilly thing to-day. You threw a man down--a fighting-man--and thenstood looking at him like a fool, waiting for him to get up and killyou. If ever you do that again, fall on him as heavily as you canthe instant he's off his legs. Drop your shoulder well into him, and, if he pulls you over, make play with the back of your head. Ifhe's altogether too big for you, put your knee on his throat as ifby accident. But, on no account, stand and do nothing. It's flyingin the face of Providence. "

Cashel emphasized these counsels by taps of his forefinger on one ofBashville's buttons. In conclusion, he nodded, opened thehouse-door, and walked away in buoyant spirits. 

Lydia, standing year the library window, saw him pass, and observedhow his light, alert step and a certain gamesome assurance of mannermarked him off from a genteelly promenading middle-aged gentleman, atrudging workman, and a vigorously striding youth who were alsopassing by. The iron railings through which she saw him reminded herof the admirable and dangerous creatures which were passing andrepassing behind iron bars in the park yonder. But she exulted, inher quiet manner, in the thought that, dangerous as he was, she hadno fear of him. When his cabman had found him and driven him off shewent to her desk, opened a private drawer in it, took out herfalher's last letter, and sat for some time looking at it withoutunfolding it. 

"It would be a strange thing, father, " she said, as if he wereactually there to hear her, "if your paragon should turn aside fromher friends, the artists, philosophers, and statesmen, to giveherself to an illiterate prize-fighter. I felt a pang of absolutedespair when he replied to my forty thousand pounds a year with anunanswerable good-bye. "

She locked up her father, as it were, in the drawer again, and rangthe bell. Bashville appeared, somewhat perturbed. 

"If Mr. Byron calls again, admit him if I am at home. "

"Yes, madam. "

"Thank you. "

"Begging your pardon, madam, but may I ask has any complaint beenmade of me?"

"None. " Bashville was reluctantly withdrawing when she added, "Mr. Byron gave me to understand that you tried to prevent his entranceby force. You exposed yourself to needless risk by doing so; and youmay make a rule in future that when people are importunate, and willnot go away when asked, they had better come in until you getspecial instructions from me. I am not finding fault; on thecontrary, I approve of your determination to carry out your orders;but under exceptional circumstances you may use your owndiscretion. "

"He shoved the door into my face, and I acted on the impulse of themoment, madam. I hope you will forgive the liberty I took in lockingthe door of the boudoir. He is older and heavier than I am, madam;and he has the advantage of being a professional. Else I should havestood my ground. "

"I am quite satisfied, " said Lydia, a little coldly, as she left theroom. 

"How long you have been!" cried Alice, almost in hysterics, as Lydiaentered. "Is he gone? What were those dreadful noises? IS anythingthe matter?"

"Dancing and late hours are the matter, " said Lydia, coolly. "Theseason is proving too much for you, Alice. "

"It is not the season; it is the man, " said Alice, with a sob. 

"Indeed? I have been in conversation with the man for more than halfan hour; and Bashville has been in actual combat with him; yet weare not in hysterics. You have been sitting here at your ease, haveyon not?"

"I am not in hysterics, " said Alice, indignantly. 

"So much the better, " said Lydia, gravely, placing her hand on theforehead of Alice, who subsided with a sniff. 

CHAPTER X

Mrs. Byron, under her stage name of Adelaide Gisborne, was now, forthe second time in her career, much talked of in London, where shehad boon for many years almost forgotten. The metropolitan managersof her own generation had found that her success in new parts wasvery uncertain; that she was more capricious than the most pettedfavorites of the public; and that her invariable reply to a businessproposal was that she detested the stage, and was resolved never toset foot upon it again. So they had managed to do without her for solong that the younger London playgoers knew her by reputation onlyas an old-fashioned actress who wandered through the provincespalming herself off on the ignorant inhabitants as a great artist, and boring them with performances of the plays of Shakespeare. Itsuited Mrs. Byron well to travel with the nucleus of a dramaticcompany from town to town, staying a fortnight in each, andrepeating half a dozen characters in which she was very effective, and which she knew so well that she never thought about them exceptwhen, as indeed often happened, she had nothing else to think about. Most of the provincial populations received her annual visits withenthusiasm. Among them she found herself more excitingly applaudedbefore the curtain, her authority more despotic behind it, herexpenses smaller, and her gains greater than in London, for whichshe accordingly cared as little as London cared for her. As she grewolder she made more money and spent less. When she complained toCashel of the cost of his education, she was rich. Since he hadrelieved her of that cost she had visited America, Egypt, India, andthe colonies, and had grown constantly richer. From this great tourshe had returned to England on the day when Cashel added the laurelsof the Flying Dutchman to his trophies; and the next Sunday's paperhad its sporting column full of the prowess of Cashel Byron, and itstheatrical column full of the genius of Adelaide Gisborne. But shenever read sporting columns, nor he theatrical ones. 

The managers who had formerly avoided Mrs. Byron were by this timedead, bankrupt, or engaged in less hazardous pursuits. One of theirsuccessors had lately restored Shakespeare to popularity as signallyas Cashel had restored the prize ring. He was anxious to produce theplay of "King John, " being desirous of appearing as Faulconbridge, apart for which he was physically unfitted. Though he had nosuspicion of his unfitness, he was awake to the fact that thefavorite London actresses, though admirable in modern comedy, werenot mistresses of what he called, after Sir Walter Scott, the "bigbow wow" style required for the part of Lady Constance inShakespeare's history. He knew that he could find in the provincesmany veteran players who knew every gesture and inflection of voiceassociated by tradition with the part; but he was afraid that theywould remind Londoners of Richardson's show, and get Faulconbridgelaughed at. Then he thought of Adelaide Gisborne. For some hoursafter the idea came to him he was gnawed at by the fear that herperformance would throw his into the shade. But his confidence inhis own popularity helped his love of good acting to prevail; and hemade the newly returned actress a tempting offer, instigating somejournalist friends of his at the same time to lament over the decayof the grand school of acting, and to invent or republish anecdotesof Mrs. Siddons. 

This time Mrs. Byron said nothing about detesting the stage. She hadreally detested it once; but by the time she was rich enough to giveup the theatre she had worn that feeling out, and had formed a habitof acting which was as irksome to shake off as any other habit. Shealso found a certain satisfaction in making money with ease andcertainty, and she made so much that at last she began to triflewith plans of retirement, of playing in Paris, of taking a theatrein London, and other whims. The chief public glory of her youth hadbeen a sudden triumph in London on the occasion of her firstappearance on any stage; and she now felt a mind to repeat this andcrown her career where it had begun. So she accepted the manager'soffer, and even went the length of reading the play of "King John"in order to ascertain what it was all about. 

The work of advertisement followed her assent. Portraits of AdelaideGisborne were displayed throughout the town. Paragraphs in thepapers mentioned large sums as the cost of mounting the historicalmasterpiece of the national bard. All the available seats in thetheatre--except some six or seven hundred in the pit andgallery--were said to be already disposed of for the first month ofthe expected run of the performance. The prime minister promised tobe present on the opening night. Absolute archaeologic accuracy waspromised. Old paintings were compared to ascertain the dresses ofthe period. A scene into which the artist had incautiously painted apointed arch was condemned as an anachronism. Many noblemen gave theactor-manager access to their collections of armor and weapons inorder that his accoutrement should exactly counterfeit that of aNorman baron. Nothing remained doubtful except the quality of theacting. 

It happened that one of the most curious documents of the period inquestion was a scrap of vellum containing a fragment of a chronicleof Prince Arthur, with an illuminated portrait of his mother. It hadbeen purchased for a trifling sum by the late Mr. Carew, and was nowin the possession of Lydia, to whom the actor-manager applied forleave to inspect it. Leave being readily given, he visited the housein Regent's Park, which he declared to be an inexhaustiblestorehouse of treasure. He deeply regretted, he said, that he couldnot show the portrait to Miss Gisborne. Lydia replied that if MissGisborne would come and look at it, she should be very welcome. Twodays later, at noon, Mrs. Byron arrived and found Lydia alone; Alicehaving contrived to be out, as she felt that it was better not tomeet an actress--one could never tell what they might have been. 

The years that had elapsed since Mrs. Byron's visit to Dr. Moncriefhad left no perceptible trace on her; indeed she looked younger nowthan on that occasion, because she had been at the trouble ofputting on an artificial complexion. Her careless refinement ofmanner was so different from the studied dignity and anxiouscourtesy of the actor-manager, that Lydia could hardly think of themas belonging to the same profession. Her voice was not her stagevoice; it gave a subtle charm to her most commonplace remarks, andit was as different as possible from Cashel's rough tones. Yet Lydiawas convinced by the first note of it that she was Cashel's mother. Besides, their eyes were so like that they might have made anexchange without altering their appearance. 

Mrs. Byron, coming to the point without delay, at once asked to seethe drawing. Lydia brought her to the library, were severalportfolios were ready for inspection. The precious fragment ofvellum was uppermost. 

"Very interesting, indeed, " said Mrs. Byron, throwing it aside afterone glance at it, and turning over some later prints, while Lydia, amused, looked on in silence. "Ah, " she said, presently, "here issomething that will suit me exactly. I shall not trouble to gothrough the rest of your collection, thank you. They must do thatrobe for me in violet silk. What is your opinion of it, Miss Carew?I have noticed, from one or two trifles, that your taste isexquisite. "

"For what character do you intend the dress?"

"Constance, in 'King John. '"

"But silk was not made in western Europe until three hundred yearsafter Constance's death. And that drawing is a sketch of Marie deMedicis by Rubens. "

"Never mind, " said Mrs. Byron, smoothly. "What does a dress threehundred years out of date matter when the woman inside it is sevenhundred years out? What can be a greater anachronism than the deathof Prince Arthur three months hence on the stage of the PanopticonTheatre? I am an artist giving life to a character in romance, Isuppose; certainly not a grown-up child playing at being somebodyout of Mrs. Markham's history of England. I wear whatever becomesme. I cannot act when I feel dowdy. "

"But what will the manager say?"

"I doubt if he will say anything. He will hardly venture to press onme anything copied from that old parchment. As he will wear a suitof armor obviously made the other day in Birmingham, why--!" Mrs. Byron shrugged her shoulders, and did not take sufficient interestin the manager's opinion to finish her sentence. 

"After all, Shakespeare concerned himself very little about suchmatters, " said Lydia, conversationally. 

"No doubt. I seldom read him. "

"Is this part of Lady Constance a favorite one of yours?"

"Troublesome, my dear, " said Mrs. Byron, absently. "The men lookridiculous in it; and it does not draw. "

"No doubt, " said Lydia, watching her face. "But I spoke rather ofyour personal feeling towards the character. Do you, for instance, like portraying maternal tenderness on the stage?"

"Maternal tenderness, " said Mrs. Byron with sudden nobleness, "isfar too sacred a thing to be mimicked. Have you any children?"

"No, " said Lydia, demurely. "I am not married. "

"Of course not. You should get married. Maternity is a liberaleducation in itself. "

"Do you think that it suits every woman?"

"Undoubtedly. Without exception. Only think, dear Miss Carew, of theinfinite patieuce with which you must tend a child, of the necessityof seeing with its little eyes and with your own wise ones at thesame time, of bearing without reproach the stabs it innocentlyinflicts, of forgiving its hundred little selfishnesses, of livingin continual fear of wounding its exquisite sensitiveness, orrousing its bitter resentment of injustice and caprice. Think of howyou must watch yourself, check yourself, exercise and developeverything in you that can help to attract and retain the mostjealous love in the world! Believe me, it is a priceless trial to bea mother. It is a royal compensation for having been born a woman. "

"Nevertheless, " said Lydia, "I wish I had been born a man. Since youseem to have thought deeply into these problems, I will venture toask you a question. Do you not think that the acquirement of an artdemanding years of careful self-study and training--such as yours, for example--is also of great educational value? Almost a sufficientdiscipline to make one a good mother?"

"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Byron, decidedly. "People come into the worldready-made. I went on the stage when I was eighteen, and succeededat once. Had I known anything of the world, or been four yearsolder, I should have been weak, awkward, timid, and flat; it wouldhave taken me twelve years to crawl to the front. But I was young, passionate, beautiful, and indeed terrible; for I had run away fromhome two years before, and been cruelly deceived. I learned thebusiness of the stage as easily and thoughtlessly as a child learnsa prayer; the rest came to me by nature. I have seen others spendyears in struggling with bad voices, uncouth figures, anddiffidence; besides a dozen defects that existed only in theirimaginations. Their struggles may have educated them; but had theypossessed sufficient genius they would have had neither struggle noreducation. Perhaps that is why geniuses are such erratic people, andmediocrities so respectable. I grant you that I was very limitedwhen I first came out; I was absolutely incapable of comedy. But Inever took any trouble about it; and by and by, when I began tomature a little, and to see the absurdity of most of the things Ihad been making a fuss about, comedy came to me unsought, asromantic tragedy had come before. I suppose it would have come justthe same if I had been laboring to acquire it, except that I wouldhave attributed its arrival to my own exertions. Most of thelaborious people think they have made themselves what they are--muchas if a child should think it had made itself grow. "

"You are the first artist I ever met, " said Lydia, "who did notclaim art as the most laborious of all avocations. They all deny theexistence of genius, and attribute everything to work. "

"Of course one picks up a great deal from experience; and there isplenty of work on the stage. But it in my genius which enables me topick up things, and to work on the stage instead of in a kitchen orlaundry. "

"You must be very fond of your profession. "

"I do not mind it now; I have shrunk to fit it. I began because Icouldn't help myself; and I go on because, being an old woman, Ihave nothing else to do. Bless me, how I hated it after the firstmonth! I must retire soon, now. People are growing weary of me. "

"I doubt that. I am bound to assume that you are an old woman, sinceyou say so; but you must be aware, flattery apart, that you hardlyseem to have reached your prime yet. "

"I might be your mother, my dear. I might be a grand mother. PerhapsI am. " There was a plaintive tone in the last sentence; and Lydiaseized the opportunity. 

"You spoke of maternity then from experience, Miss Gisborne?"

"I have one son--a son who was sent to me in my eighteenth year. "

"I hope he inherits his mother's genius and personal grace. "

"I am sure I don't know, " said Mrs. Byron, pensively. "He was aperfect devil. I fear I shock you, Miss Carew; but really I dideverything for him that the most devoted mother could do; and yet heran away from me without making a sign of farewell. Little wretch!"

"Boys do cruel things sometimes in a spirit of adventure, " saidLydia, watching her visitor's face narrowly. 

"It was not that. It was his temper, which was ungovernable. He wassulky and vindictive. It is quite impossible to love a sulky child. I kept him constantly near me when he was a tiny creature; and whenhe got too big for that I spent oceans of money on his education. All in vain! He never showed any feeling towards me except a senseof injury that no kindness could remove. And he had nothing tocomplain of. Never was there a worse son. "

Lydia remained silent and grave. Mrs. Byron looked rather beside herthan at her. Suddenly she added, "My poor, darling Cashel" (Lydia suppressed a start), "what a shameto talk of you so! You see, I love him in spite of his wickedness. "Mrs. Byron took out her handkerchief, and Lydia for a moment wasalarmed by the prospect of tears. But Miss Gisborne only blew hernose with perfect composure, and rose to take her leave. Lydia, who, apart from her interest in Cashel's mother, was attracted and amusedby the woman herself, induced her to stay for luncheon, andpresently discovered from her conversation that she had read muchromance of the Werther sort in her youth, and had, since then, employed her leisure in reading every book that came in her waywithout regard to its quality. Her acquirements were so odd, and hercharacter so unreasonable, that Lydia, whose knowledge was unusuallywell organized, and who was eminently reasonable, concluded that shewas a woman of genius. For Lydia knew the vanity of her ownattainments, and believed herself to be merely a patient andwell-taught plodder. Mrs. Byron happening to be pleased with thehouse, the luncheon, and Lydia's intelligent listening, herunaccountable natural charm became so intensified by her good-humorthat Lydia became conscious of it, and began to wonder what itsforce might have been if some influence--that of a lover, forinstance--had ever made Mrs. Byron ecstatically happy. She surprisedherself at last in the act of speculating whether she could evermake Cashel love her as his father must, for a time at least, haveloved her visitor. 

When Lydia was alone, she considered whether she was justified inkeeping Mrs. Byron apart from her son. It seemed plain that atpresent Cashel was a disgrace to his mother, and had better remainhidden from her. But if he should for any reason abandon hisruffianly pursuits, as she had urged him to do, then she could bringabout a meeting between them; and the truant's mother might takebetter care of him in the future, besides making him pecuniarilyindependent of prize-fighting. This led Lydia to ask what newprofession Cashel could adopt, and what likelihood there was of hisgetting on with his mother any better than formerly. No satisfactoryanswer was forthcoming. So she went back to the likelihood of hisreforming himself for her sake. On this theme her imaginationcarried her so far from all reasonable probability, that she wasshaking her head at her own folly when Bashville appeared andannounced Lord Worthington, who came into the room with Alice. Lydiahad not seen him since her discovery of the true position of thetenant he had introduced to her, and he was consequently a littleafraid to meet her. To cover his embarrassment, he began to talkquickly on a number of commonplace topics. But when some time hadelapsed, he began to show signs of fresh uneasiness. He looked athis watch, and said, "I don't wish to hurry you, ladies; but this affair commences atthree. "

"What affair?" said Lydia, who had been privately wondering why hehad come. 

"The assault-at-arms. King What's-his-name's affair. Webber told mehe had arranged that you should come with me. "

"Oh, you have come to take us there. I had forgotten. Did I promiseto go?"

"Webber said so. He was to have taken you himself; but, failingthat, he promised to do a good thing for me and put me in his place. He said you particularly wanted to go, hang him!"

Lydia then rose promptly and sent for her carriage. "There is nohurry, " bhe said. "We can drive to St. James's Hall in twelveminutes. "

"Hut we have to go to Islington, to the Agricultural Hall. Therewill be cavalry charges, and all sorts of fun. "

"Bless me!" said Lydia. "Will there be any boxing?"

"Yes, " said Lord Worthington, reddening, but unabashed. "Lots of it. It will be by gentlemen, though, except perhaps one bout to show theold king our professional form. "

"Then excuse me while I go for my hat, " said Lydia, leaving theroom. Alice had gone some time before to make a complete change inher dress, as the occasion was one for display of that kind. 

"You look awfully fetching, Miss Goff, " Lord Worthington said, as hefollowed them to the carriage. Alice did not deign to reply, buttossed her head superbly, and secretly considered whether peoplewould, on comparison, think her overdressed or Lydia underdressed. Lord Worthington thought they both looked their best, and reflectedfor several seconds on the different styles of different women, andhow what would suit one would not do at all for another. It seemedto him that Miss Carew's presence made him philosophical. 

The Agricultural Hall struck Alice at first sight as an immense barnround which heaps of old packing-cases had been built intorace-course stands, scantily decorated with red cloth and a fewflags. She was conducted to a front seat in one of these balconies, which overhung the tan-strewn arena. Just below her were thepalisades, ornamented at intervals with evergreens in tubs, andpressed against from without by a crowd who had paid a shillingapiece for the privilege of admission. She remarked that it waslittle to the credit of the management that these people should beplaced so close beneath her that she could hear their conversation;but as Lydia did not seem to share her disgust, she turned herattention to the fashionable part of the audience. On the oppositeside of the arena the balconies seemed like beds of flowers inbloom, blacknesses formed here and there by the hats and coats ofgentlemen representing the interspaces of clay. In the midst of theflowers was a gaudy dais, on which a powerfully-built blackgentleman sat in a raised chair, his majestic impassivitycontrasting with the overt astonishment with which a row of savagelyugly attendant chiefs grinned and gaped on either side of him. 

"What a pity we are not nearer the king!" said Alice. "I can hardlysee the dear old fellow. "

"You will find these the best seats for seeing the assault. It willbe all right, " said Lord Worthington. 

Lydia's attention was caught by something guilty in his manner. Following a furtive glance of his, she saw in the arena, not farfrom her, an enclosure about twenty feet square, made with ropes andstakes. It was unoccupied, and there were a few chairs, a basin, anda sponge, near it. 

"What is that?" she asked. 

"That! Oh, that's the ring. "

"It is not a ring. It is square. "

"They call it the ring. They have succeeded in squaring the circle. "

Here there was a piercing bugle-call, and a troop of cavalry trottedinto the arena. Lydia found it pleasant enough to sit lazilyadmiring the horses and men, and comparing the members of theOlympian Club, who appeared when the soldiers retired, to the marblegods of Athens, and to the Bacchus or David of Michael Angelo. Theyfell short of the Greek statues in refinement, and of the Italian inimpressiveness as they vaulted over a wooden horse, and swung uponhorizontal bars, each cheapening the exploits of his forerunner byout-doing them. Lord Worthington, who soon grew tired of this, whispered that when all that rubbish was over, a fellow would cut asheep in two with a sword, after which there would be some boxing. 

"Do you mean to say, " said Lydia, indignantly, "that they are goingto turn a sheep loose and hunt it on horseback with swords?"

Lord Worthington laughed and said yes; but it presently appearedthat by a sheep was meant a lean carcass of mutton. A stalwartsergeant cut it in half as a climax to slicing lemons, bars of lead, and silk handkerchiefs; and the audience, accustomed to see muchmore disgusting sights in butchers' shops, liberally applauded him. 

Two gentlemen of the Olympian Club now entered the enclosure whichLord Worthington called the ring. After shaking hands with oneanother as well as their huge padded gloves permitted, they huggedthemselves with their right arms as if there were some danger oftheir stomachs falling out if not held tightly in, and danced roundone another, throwing out and retracting their left fists likepawing horses. They were both, as Lydia learned from theannouncement of their names and achievements by the master of theceremonies, amateur champions. She thought their pawing and dancingridiculous; and when they occasionally rushed together and scuffled, she could distinguish nothing of the leading off, stopping, ducking, countering, guarding, and getting away to which Lord Worthingtonenthusiastically invited her attention, and which elicited alternatejeers and applause from the shilling audience below. She laughedoutright when, at the expiration of three minutes, the two droppedsupine into chairs at opposite corners of the ring as if they hadsustained excessive fatigue. At the end of a minute, some onehoarsely cried "Time!" and they rose and repeated their previousperformance for three minutes more. Another minute of rest followed;and then the dancing and pawing proceeded for four minutes, afterwhich the champions again shook hands and left the arena. 

"And is that all?" said Lydia. 

"That's all, " said Lord Worthington. "It's the most innocent thingin the world, and the prettiest. "

"It does not strike me as being pretty, " said Lydia; "but it seemsas innocent as inanity can make it. " Her mind misgave her that shehad ignorantly and unjustly reproached Cashel Byron with ferocitymerely because he practised this harmless exercise. 

The show progressed through several phases of skilled violence. Besides single combats between men armed in various fashions, therewere tilts, tent-peggings, drilling and singlestick practice bysquads of British tars, who were loudly cheered, and more boxing andvaulting by members of the club. Lydia's attention soon began towander from the arena. Looking down at the crowd outside thepalisades, she saw a small man whom she vaguely remembered, thoughhis face was turned from her. In conversation with him was apowerful man dressed in a yellow tweed suit and green scarf. He hada coarse, strong voice, and his companion a shrill, mean one, sothat their remarks could be heard by an attentive listener above theconfused noise of the crowd. 

"Do you admire that man?" said Lord Worthington, following Lydia'sgaze. 

"No. Is he anybody in particular?"

"He was a great man once--in the days of the giants. He was championof England. He has a special interest for us as the preceptor of amutual friend of ours. "

"Please name him, " said Lydia, intending that the mutual friendshould be named. 

"Ned Skene, " said Lord Worthington, taking her to mean the manbelow. "He has done so well in the colonies that he has indulgedhimself and his family with a trip to England. His arrival madequite a sensation in this country: last week he had a crowdedbenefit, at which he sparred with our mutual friend and knocked himabout like a baby. Our mutual behaved very well on the occasion inletting himself be knocked about. You see he could have killed oldSkene if he had tried in earnest. "

"Is that Skene?" said Lydia, looking at him with an earnest interestthat astonished Lord Worthington. "Ah! Now I recognize the man withhim. He is one of my tenants at the Warren Lodge--I believe I amindebted to you for the introduction. "

"Mellish the trainer?" said Lord Worthington, looking a littlefoolish. "So it is. What a lovely bay that lancer has!--the secondfrom the far end. "

But Lydia would not look at the lancer's horse. "Paradise!" sheheard Skene exclaim just then with scornful incredulity. "Ain't itlikely?" It occurred to her that if he was alluding to his ownchance of arriving there, it was not likely. 

"Less likely things have happened, " said Mellish. "I won't say thatCashel Byron is getting stale; but I will say that his luck is toogood to last; and I know for a fact that he's gone quite melancholyof late. "

"Melancholy be blowed!" said Skene. "What should he go melancholyfor?"

"Oh, _I_ know, " said Mellish, reticently. 

"You know a lot, " retorted Skene with contempt. "I s'pose you meanthe young 'oman he's always talking to my missis about. "

"I mean a young woman that he ain't likely to get. One of thebiggest swells in England--a little un with a face like the insideof a oyster-shell, that he met down at Wiltstoken, where I trainedhim to fight the Flying Dutchman. He went right off his trainingafter he met her--wouldn't do anything I told him. I made socock-sure that he'd be licked that I hedged every penny I had laidon him except twenty pound that I got a flat to bet agin him down atthe fight after I had changed my mind. Curse that woman! I lost ahundred pound by her. "

"And served you right, too, you old stupid. You was wrong then; andyou're wrong now, with your blessed Paradise. "

"Paradise has never been licked yet. "

"No more has my boy. "

"Well, we'll see. "

"We'll see! I tell you I've seed for myself. I've seed BillyParadise spar; and it ain't fighting, it's ruffianing: that's whatit is. Ruffianing! Why, my old missis has more science. "

"Mebbe she has, " said Mellish. "But look at the men he's licked thatwere chock full of science. Shepstone, clever as he is, only won afight from him by claiming a foul, because Billy lost his temper andspiked him. That's the worst of Billy; he can't keep his feelingsin. But no fine-lady sparrer can stand afore that ugly rush of his. Do you think he'll care for Cashel's showy long shots? Not he: he'lljust take 'em on that mahogany nut of his, and give him back one o'them smashers that he settled poor Dick Weeks with. "

"I'll lay you any money he don't. If he does, I'll go back into thering myself, and bust his head off for it. " Here Skene, very angry, applied several epithets to Paradise, and became so excited thatMellish had to soothe him by partially retracting his forebodings, and asking how Cashel had been of late. 

"He's not been taking care of himself as he oughter, " said Skene, gloomily. "He's showing the London fashions to the missis andFanny--they're here in the three-and-sixpenny seats, among theswells. Theatres every night; and walks every day to see the queendrive through the park, or the like. My Fan likes to have him withher on account of his being such a gentleman: she don't hardly thinkher own father not good enough to walk down Piccadilly with. Wantsme to put on a black coat and make a parson of myself. The missisjust idolizes him. She thinks the boy far too good for the young'oman you was speaking of, and tells him that she's only letting onnot to care for him to raise her price, just as I used to pretend tobe getting beat, to set the flats betting agin me. The women alwaysmade a pet of him. In Melbourne it was not what _I_ liked fordinner: it was always what the boy 'ud like, and when it 'ud pleasehim to have it. I'm blest if I usen't to have to put him up to askfor a thing when I wanted it myself. And you tell me that that's thelad that's going to let Billy Paradise lick him, I s'pose. Walker!"

Lydia, with Mrs. Byron's charm fresh upon her, wondered what mannerof woman this Mrs. Skene could be who had supplanted her in theaffections of her son, and yet was no more than a prize-fighter'sold missis. Evidently she was not one to turn a young man from acareer in the ring. Again the theme of Cashel's occupation and thechances of his quitting it ran away with Lydia's attention. She satwith her eyes fixed on the arena, without seeing the soldiers, swordsmen, or athletes who were busy there; her mind wanderedfurther and further from the place; and the chattering of the peopleresolved itself into a distant hum and was forgotten. 

Suddenly she saw a dreadful-looking man coming towards her acrossthe arena. His face had the surface and color of blue granite; hisprotruding jaws and retreating forehead were like those of anorang-outang. She started from her reverie with a shiver, and, recovering her hearing as well as her vision of external things, became conscious of an attempt to applaud this apparition by a fewpersons below. The man grinned ferociously, placed one hand on astake of the ring, and vaulted over the ropes. Lydia now remarkedthat, excepting his hideous head and enormous hands and feet, he wasa well-made man, with loins and shoulders that shone in the light, and gave him an air of great strength and activity. 

"Ain't he a picture?" she heard Mellish exclaim, ecstatically. "There's condition for you!"

"Ah!" said Skene, disparagingly. "But ain't HE the gentleman! Justlook at him. It's like the Prince of Wales walking down Pall Mall. "

Lydia, hearing this, looked again, and saw Cashel Byron, exactly asshe had seen him for the first time in the elm vista at Wiltstoken, approaching the ring with the indifferent air of a man going throughsome tedious public ceremony. 

"A god coming down to compete with a gladiator, " whispered LordWorthington, eagerly. "Isn't it, Miss Carew? Apollo and the satyr!You must admit that our mutual friend is a splendid-looking fellow. If he could go into society like that, by Jove, the women--"

"Hush, " said Lydia, as if his words were intolerable. 

Cashel did not vault over the ropes. He stepped through themlanguidly, and, rejecting the proffered assistance of a couple ofofficious friends, drew on a boxing-glove fastidiously, like anexquisite preparing for a fashionable promenade. Having thus muffledhis left hand so as to make it useless for the same service to hisright, he dipped his fingers into the other glove, gripped itbetween his teeth, and dragged it on with the action of a tigertearing its prey. Lydia shuddered again. 

"Bob Mellish, " said Skene, "I'll lay you twenty to one he stops thatrush that you think so much of. Come: twenty to one!"

Mellish shook his head. Then the master of the ceremonies, pointingto the men in succession, shouted, "Paradise: a professor. CashelByron: a professor. Time!"

Cashel now looked at Paradise, of whose existence he had not beforeseemed to be aware. The two men advanced towards the centre of thering, shook hands at arm's-length, cast off each other's graspsuddenly, fell back a step, and began to move warily round oneanother from left to right like a pair of panthers. 

"I think they might learn manners from the gentlemen, and shakehands cordially, " said Alice, trying to appear unconcerned, butoppressed by a vague dread of Cashel. 

"That's the traditional manner, " said Lord Worthington. "It is donethat way to prevent one from holding the other; pulling him over, and hitting him with the disengaged hand before he could get loose. "

"What abominable treachery!" exclaimed Lydia. 

"It's never done, you know, " said Lord Worthington, apologetically. "Only it might be. "

Lydia turned away from him, and gave all her attention to theboxers. Of the two, Paradise shocked her least. He was evidentlynervous and conscious of a screwed-up condition as to his courage;but his sly grin implied a wild sort of good-humor, and seemed topromise the spectators that he would show them some fun presently. Cashel watched his movements with a relentless vigilance and asidelong glance in which, to Lydia's apprehension, there wassomething infernal. 

Suddenly the eyes of Paradise lit up: he lowered his head, made arush, balked himself purposely, and darted at Cashel. There was asound like the pop of a champagne-cork, after which Cashel was seenundisturbed in the middle of the ring, and Paradise, flung againstthe ropes and trying to grin at his discomfiture, showed his whiteteeth through a mask of blood. 

"Beautiful!" cried Skene with emotion. "Beautiful! There ain't butme and my boy in the world can give the upper cut like that! I wishI could see my old missis's face now! This is nuts to her. "

"Let us go away, " said Alice. 

"That was a very different blow to any that the gentlemen gave, "said Lydia, without heeding her, to Lord Worthington. "The man isbleeding horribly. "

"It's only his nose, " said Lord Worthington. "He's used to it. "

Meanwhile Cashel had followed Paradise to the ropes. 

"Now he has him, " chuckled Skene. "My boy's got him agin the ropes;and he means to keep him there. Let him rush now, if he can. Seewhat it is to have a good judgment. "

Mellish shook his head again despondently. The remaining minutes ofthe round were unhappy ones for Paradise. He struck viciously at hisopponent's ribs; but Cashel stepped back just out of his reach, andthen returned with extraordinary swiftness and dealt him blows fromwhich, with the ropes behind him, he had no room to retreat, andwhich he was too slow to stop or avoid. His attempts to reach hisenemy's face were greatly to the disadvantage of his own; forCashel's blows were never so tremendous as when he turned his headdeftly out of harm's way, and met his advancing foe with a counterhit. He showed no chivalry and no mercy, and revelled in thehardness of his hitting; his gloves either resounding on Paradise'sface or seeming to go almost through his body. There was littlesemblance to a contest: to Lydia there was nothing discernible but acruel assault by an irresistible athlete on a helpless victim. Thebetter sort among the spectators were disgusted by the sight; for, as Paradise bled profusely, and as his blood besmeared the glovesand the gloves besmeared the heads and bodies of both combatants, they were soon stained with it from their waists upward. Themanagers held a whispered consultation as to whether the sparringexhibition had not better be stopped; but they decided to let itproceed on seeing the African king, who had watched the wholeentertainment up to the present without displaying the leastinterest, now raise his hands and clap them with delight. 

"Billy don't look half pleased with hisself, " observed Mellish, asthe two boxers sat down. "He looks just like he did when he spikedShepstone. "

"What does spiking mean?" said Lydia. 

"Treading on a man's foot with spiked boots, " replied LordWorthington. "Don't be alarmed; they have no spikes in their shoesto-day. It is not my fault that they do such things, Miss Carew. Really, you make me feel quite criminal when you look at me in thatway. "

Time was now called; and the pugilists, who had, by dint ofsponging, been made somewhat cleaner, rose with mechanicalpromptitude at the sound, Cashel had hardly advanced two steps when, though his adversary seemed far out of his reach, he struck him onthe forehead with such force as to stagger him, and then jumped backlaughing. Paradise rushed forward; but Cashel eluded him, and fledround the ring, looking back derisively over his shoulder. Paradisenow dropped all pretence of good-humor. With an expression ofreckless ferocity, he dashed at Cashel; endured a startling blowwithout flinching, and engaged him at close quarters. For a momentthe falling of their blows reminded Lydia of the rush of raindropsagainst a pane in a sudden gust of wind. The next moment Cashel wasaway; and Paradise, whose blood was again flowing, was trying torepeat his manoeuvre, to be met this time by a blow that brought himupon one knee. He had scarcely risen when Cashel sprang at him;dealt him four blows with dazzling rapidity; drove him once moreagainst the ropes; but this time, instead of keeping him there, ranaway in the manner of a child at play. Paradise, with foam as wellas blood at his lips, uttered a howl, and tore off his gloves. Therewas a shout of protest from the audience; and Cashel, warned by it, tried to get off his gloves in turn. But Paradise was upon himbefore he could accomplish this, and the two men laid hold of oneanother amid a great clamor, Lord Worthington and others rising andexcitedly shouting, "Against the rules! No wrestling!" followed by aroar of indignation as Paradise was seen to seize Cashel's shoulderin his teeth as they struggled for the throw. Lydia, for the firsttime in her life, screamed. Then she saw Cashel, his face fully asfierce as Paradise's, get his arm about his neck; lift him as acoal-heaver lifts a sack, and fling him over his back, heels overhead, to the ground, where he instantly dropped on him with hisutmost weight and impetus. The two were at once separated by a crowdof managers, umpires, policemen, and others who had rushed towardsthe ring when Paradise had taken off his gloves. A distractingwrangle followed. Skene had climbed over the palisade, and washurling oaths, threats, and epithets at Paradise, who, unable tostand without assistance, was trying to lift his leaden eyelids andrealize what had happened to him. A dozen others were trying to bringhim to his senses, remonstrating with him on his conduct, or trying topacify Skene. Cashel, on the other side, raged at the managers, whowere reminding him that the rules of glove-fighting did not allowwrestling and throwing. 

"Rules be d---d, " Lydia heard him shouting. "He bit me; and I'llthrow him to--" Then everybody spoke at once; and she could onlyconjecture where he would throw him to. He seemed to have noself-control: Paradise, when he came to himself, behaved better. Lord Worthington descended into the ring and tried to calm thehubbub; but Cashel shook his hand fiercely from his arm; menaced amanager who attempted to call him sternly to order; franticallypounded his wounded shoulder with his clenched fist, and so outsworeand outwrangled them all, that even Skene began to urge that therehad been enough fuss made. Then Lord Worthington whispered a wordmore; and Cashel suddenly subsided, pale and ashamed, and sat downon a chair in his corner as if to hide himself. Five minutesafterwards, he stepped out from the crowd with Paradise, and shookhands with him amid much cheering. Cashel was the humbler of thetwo. He did not raise his eyes to the balcony once; and he seemed ina hurry to retire. But he was intercepted by an officer in uniform, accompanied by a black chief, who came to conduct him to the daisand present him to the African king; an honor which he was notpermitted to decline. 

The king informed him, through an interpreter, that he had beenunspeakably gratified by what he had just witnessed; expressed greatsurprise that Cashel, notwithstanding his prowess, was neither inthe army nor in Parliament; and finally offered to provide him withthree handsome wives if he would come out to Africa in his suite. Cashel was much embarrassed; but he came off with credit, thanks tothe interpreter, who was accustomed to invent appropriate speechesfor the king on public occasions, and was kind enough to inventequally appropriate ones for Cashel on this. 

Meanwhile, Lord Worthington had returned to his place. "It is allsettled now, " he said to Lydia. "Byron shut up when I told him hisaristocratic friends were looking at him; and Paradise has been sobullied that he is crying in a corner down-stairs. He hasapologized; but he still maintains that he can beat our mutualfriend without the gloves; and his backers apparently think so too, for it is understood that they are to fight in the autumn for athousand a side. "

"To fight! Then he has no intention of giving up his profession?"

"No!" said Lord Worthington, astonished. "Why on earth should hegive it up? Paradise's money is as good as in his pocket. You haveseen what he can do. "

"I have seen enough. Alice, I am ready to go as soon as you are. "

Early in the following week Miss Carew returned to Wiltstoken. MissGoff remained in London to finish the season in charge of a friendlylady who, having married off all her own daughters, was willing toset to work again to marry Alice sooner than remain idle. 

CHAPTER XI

Alice was more at her ease during the remnant of the London season. Though she had been proud of her connection with Lydia, she hadalways felt eclipsed in her presence; and now that Lydia was gone, the pride remained and the sense of inferiority was forgotten. Herfreedom emboldened and improved her. She even began to consider herown judgment a safer guide in the affairs of every day than theexample of her patroness. Had she not been right in declaring CashelByron an ignorant and common man when Lydia, in spite of herwarning, had actually invited him to visit them? And now all thenewspapers were confirming the opinion she had been trying toimpress on Lydia for months past. On the evening of theassault-at-arms, the newsmen had shouted through the streets, "Disgraceful scene between two pugilists at Islington in thepresence of the African king. " Next day the principal journalscommented on the recent attempt to revive the brutal pastime ofprize-fighting; accused the authorities of conniving at it, andcalled on them to put it down at once with a strong hand. "Unless, "said a clerical organ, "this plague-spot be rooted out from ourmidst, it will no longer be possible for our missionaries to pretendthat England is the fount of the Gospel of Peace. " Alice collectedthese papers, and forwarded them to Wiltstoken. 

On this subject one person at least shared her bias. Whenever shemet Lucian Webber, they talked about Cashel, invariably coming tothe conclusion that though the oddity of his behavior had gratifiedLydia's unfortunate taste for eccentricity, she had never regardedhim with serious interest, and would not now, under anycircumstances, renew her intercourse with him. Lucian found littlesolace in these conversations, and generally suffered from a vaguesense of meanness after them. Yet next time they met he would driftinto discussing Cashel over again; and he always rewarded Alice forthe admirable propriety of her views by dancing at least three timeswith her when dancing was the business of the evening. The dancingwas still less congenial than the conversation. Lucian, who had atall times too much of the solemnity of manner for which Frenchmenreproach Englishmen, danced stiffly and unskilfully. Alice, whosemuscular power and energy were superior to anything of the kind thatMr. Mellish could artificially produce, longed for swift motion andviolent exercise, and, even with an expert partner, could hardlytame herself to the quietude of dancing as practised in London. Whenwaltzing with Lucian she felt as though she were carrying a stickround the room in the awkward fashion in which Punch carries hisbaton. In spite of her impression that he was a man of unusuallycorrect morals and great political importance, and greatly to beconsidered in private life because he was Miss Carew's cousin, itwas hard to spend quarter-hours with him that some of the bestdancers in London asked for. 

She began to tire of the subject of Cashel and Lydia. She began totire of Lucian's rigidity. She began to tire exceedingly of thevigilance she had to maintain constantly over her own manners andprinciples. Somehow, this vigilance defeated itself; for she oneevening overheard a lady of rank speak of her as a stuck-up countrygirl. The remark gave her acute pain: for a week afterwards she didnot utter a word or make a movement in society without firstconsidering whether it could by any malicious observer be consideredrustic or stuck-up. But the more she strove to attain perfectpropriety of demeanor, the more odious did she seem to herself, and, she inferred, to others. She longed for Lydia's secret of alwaysdoing the right thing at the right moment, even when defyingprecedent. Sometimes she blamed the dulness of the people she metfor her shortcomings. It was impossible not to be stiff with them. When she chatted with an entertaining man, who made her laugh andforget herself for a while, she was conscious afterwards of havingbeen at her best with him. But she saw others who, in stupidsociety, were pleasantly at their ease. She began to fear at lastthat she was naturally disqualified by her comparatively humblebirth from acquiring the well-bred air for which she envied thoseamong whom she moved. 

One day she conceived a doubt whether Lucian was so safe anauthority and example in matters of personal deportment as she hadhitherto unthinkingly believed. He could not dance; his conversationwas priggish; it was impossible to feel at ease when speaking to him. Was it courageous to stand in awe of his opinion? Was it courageousto stand in awe of anybody? Alice closed her lips proudly and began tobe defiant. Then a reminiscence, which had never before failed torouse indignation in her, made her laugh. She recalled thescandalous spectacle of Lucian's formal perpendicularityoverbalanced and doubled up into Mrs. Hoskyn's gilded arm-chair inillustration of the prize-fighter's theory of effort defeatingitself. After all, what was that caressing touch of Cashel's hand incomparison with the tremendous rataplan he had beaten on the ribs ofParadise? Could it be true that effort defeated itself--in personalbehavior, for instance? A ray of the truth that underlay Cashel'sgrotesque experiment was flickering in her mind as she asked herselfthat question. She thought a good deal about it; and one afternoon, when she looked in at four at-homes in succession, she studied thebehavior of the other guests from a new point of view, comparing themost mannered with the best mannered, and her recent self with both. The result half convinced her that she had been occupied during herfirst London season in displaying, at great pains, a very unripeself-consciousness--or, as she phrased it, in making an insufferablefool of herself. 

Shortly afterwards, she met Lucian at a cinderella, or dancing-partyconcluding at midnight. He came at eleven, and, as usual, gravelyasked whether he might have the pleasure of dancing with her. Thisform of address he never varied. To his surprise, she made somedifficulty about granting the favor, and eventually offered him "thesecond extra. " He bowed. Before he could resume a vertical positiona young man came up, remarked that he thought this was his turn, andbore Alice away. Lucian smiled indulgently, thinking that thoughAlice's manners were wonderfully good, considering her antecedents, yet she occasionally betrayed a lower tone than that which he soughtto exemplify in his own person. 

"I wish you would learn to reverse, " said Alice unexpectedly to him, when they had gone round the room twice to the strains of the secondextra. 

"I DO reverse, " he said, taken aback, and a little indignant. 

"Everybody does--that way. "

This silenced him for a moment. Then he said, slowly, "Perhaps I amrather out of practice. I am not sure that reversing is quitedesirable. Many people consider it bad form. "

When they stopped--Alice was always willing to rest during a waltzwith Lucian--he asked her whether she had heard from Lydia. 

"You always ask me that, " she replied. "Lydia never writes exceptwhen she has something particular to say, and then only a fewlines. "

"Precisely. But she might have had something particular to say sincewe last met. "

"She hasn't had, " said Alice, provoked by an almost arch smile fromhim. 

"She will be glad to hear that I have at last succeeded inrecovering possession of the Warren Lodge from its undesirabletenants. "

"I thought they went long ago, " said Alice, indifferently. 

"The men have not been there for a month or more. The difficulty wasto get them to remove their property. However, we are rid of themnow. The only relic of their occupation is a Bible with half thepages torn out, and the rest scrawled with records of bets, recipesfor sudorific and other medicines, and a mass of unintelligiblememoranda. One inscription, in faded ink, runs, 'To Robert Mellish, from his affectionate mother, with her sincere hope that he may everwalk in the ways of this book. ' I am afraid that hope was notfulfilled. "

"How wicked of him to tear a Bible!" said Alice, seriously. Then shelaughed, and added, "I know I shouldn't; but I can't help it. "

"The incident strikes me rather as being pathetic, " said Lucian, wholiked to show that he was not deficient in sensibility. "One canpicture the innocent faith of the poor woman in her boy's future, and so forth. "

"Inscriptions in books are like inscriptions on tombstones, " saidAlice, disparagingly. "They don't mean much. "

"I am glad that these men have no further excuse for going toWiltstoken. It was certainly most unfortunate that Lydia should havemade the acquaintance of one of them. "

"So you have said at least fifty times, " replied Alice, deliberately. "I believe you are jealous of that poor boxer. "

Lucian became quite red. Alice trembled at her own audacity, butkept a bold front. 

"Really--it's too absurd, " he said, betraying his confusion byassuming a carelessness quite foreign to his normal manner. "In whatway could I possibly be jealous, Miss Goff?"

"That is best known to yourself. "

Lucian now saw plainly that there was a change in Alice, and that hehad lost ground with her. The smarting of his wounded vanitysuddenly obliterated his impression that she was, in the main, awell-conducted and meritorious young woman. But in its place cameanother impression that she was a spoiled beauty. And, as he was byno means fondest of the women whose behavior accorded best with hisnotions of propriety, he found, without at once acknowledging tohimself, that the change was not in all respects a change for theworse. Nevertheless, he could not forgive her last remark, though hetook care not to let her see how it stung him. 

"I am afraid I should cut a poor figure in an encounter with myrival, " he said, smiling. 

"Call him out and shoot him, " said Alice, vivaciously. "Very likelyhe does not know how to use a pistol. "

He smiled again; but had Alice known how seriously he entertainedher suggestion for some moments before dismissing it asimpracticable, she would not have offered it. Putting a bullet intoCashel struck him rather as a luxury which he could not afford thanas a crime. Meanwhile, Alice, being now quite satisfied that thisMr. Webber, on whom she had wasted so much undeserved awe, might betreated as inconsiderately as she used to treat her beaux atWiltstoken, proceeded to amuse herself by torturing him a little. 

"It is odd, " she said, reflectively, "that a common man like thatshould be able to make himself so very attractive to Lydia. It wasnot because he was such a fine man; for she does not care in theleast about that. I don't think she would give a second look at thehandsomest man in London, she is so purely intellectual. And yet sheused to delight in talking to him. "

"Oh, that is a mistake. Lydia has a certain manner which leadspeople to believe that she is deeply interested in the person shehappens to be speaking to; But it is only manner--it means nothing. "

"I know that manner of hers perfectly well. But this was somethingquite different. "

Lucian shook his head reproachfully. "I cannot jest on so serious amatter, " he said, resolving to make the attempt to re-establish hisdignity with Alice. "I think, Miss Groff, that you perhaps hardlyknow how absurd your supposition is. There are not many men ofdistinction in Europe with whom my cousin is not personallyacquainted. A very young girl, who had seen little of the world, might possibly be deceived by the exterior of such a man as Byron. Awoman accustomed to associate with writers, thinkers, artists, statesmen, and diplomatists could make no such mistake. No doubt theman's vulgarity and uncouth address amused her for a moment; but--"

"But why did she ask him to come to her Friday afternoons?"

"A mere civility which she extended to him because he assisted herin some difficulty she got into in the streets. "

"She might as well have asked a policeman to come to see her. Idon't believe that was it. "

Lucian at that moment hated Alice. "I am sorry you think such athing possible, " he said. "Shall we resume our waltz?"

Alice was not yet able to bear an implication that she did notunderstand society sufficiently to appreciate the distance betweenLydia and Cashel. 

"Of course I know it is impossible, " she said, in her old manner. "Idid not mean it. "

Lucian found some difficulty in gathering from this what she didmean; and they presently took refuge in waltzing. Subsequently, Alice, fearing that her new lights had led her too far, drew back alittle; led the conversation to political matters, and expressed heramazement at the extent and variety of the work he performed inDowning Street. He accepted her compliments with perfectseriousness; and she felt satisfied that she had, on the whole, raised herself in his esteem by her proceedings during the evening. But she was mistaken. She knew nothing of politics or official work, and he knew the worthlessness of her pretended admiration of hisshare in them, although he felt that it was right that she shouldrevere his powers from the depths of her ignorance. What stuck likea burr in his mind was that she thought him small enough to bejealous of the poor boxer, and found his dancing awkward. 

After that dance Alice thought much about Lucian, and also about theway in which society regulated marriages. Before Miss Carew sentfor her she had often sighed because all the nice men she knew ofmoved in circles into which an obscure governess had no chance ofadmission. She had received welcome attentions from themoccasionally at subscription balls; but for sustained intimacy andproposals of marriage she had been dependent on the native youth ofWiltstoken, whom she looked upon as louts or prigs, and among whomWallace Parker had shone pre-eminent as a university man, scholar, and gentleman. And now that she was a privileged beauty in societywhich would hardly tolerate Wallace Parker, she found that the nicemen were younger sons, poor and extravagant, far superior to LucianWebber as partners for a waltz, but not to be thought of as partnersin domestic economy. Alice had experienced the troubles of poverty, and had never met with excellence in men except in poems, which shehad long ago been taught to separate from the possibilities ofactual life. She had, therefore, no conception of any degree ofmerit in a husband being sufficient to compensate for slender meansof subsistence. She was not base-minded; nothing could have inducedher to marry a man, however rich, whom she thought wicked. Shewanted money; but she wanted more than money; and here it was thatshe found supply failing to answer the demand. For not only were allthe handsome, gallant, well-bred men getting deeply into debt byliving beyond smaller incomes than that with which Wallace Parkerhad tempted her, but many of those who had inherited both riches andrank were as inferior to him, both in appearance and address, asthey were in scholarship. No man, possessing both wealth andamiability, had yet shown the least disposition to fall in love withher. 

One bright forenoon in July, Alice, attended by a groom, went to thepark on horseback. The Row looked its best. The freshness of morningwas upon horses and riders; there were not yet any jaded peoplelolling supine in carriages, nor discontented spectators sitting inchairs to envy them. Alice, who was a better horsewoman than mighthave been expected from the little practice she had had, appeared toadvantage in the saddle. She had just indulged in a brisk canterfrom the Corner to the Serpentine, when she saw a large white horseapproaching with Wallace Parker on its back. 

"Ah!" he exclaimed, expertly wheeling his steed and taking off hishat at the same time with an intentional display of gallantry andhorsemanship. "How are you, Alice?"

"Goodness!" cried Alice, forgetting her manners in her astonishment. "What brings you here; and where on earth did you get that horse?"

"I presume, Alice, " said Parker, satisfied with the impression hehad made, "that I am here for much the same reason as you are--toenjoy the morning in proper style. As for Rozinante, I borrowed him. Is that chestnut yours? Excuse the rudeness of the question. "

"No, " said Alice, coloring a little. "This seems such an unlikelyplace to meet you. "

"Oh, no. I always take a turn in the season. But certainly it wouldhave been a very unlikely place for us to meet a year ago. "

So far, Alice felt, she was getting the worst of the conversation. She changed the subject. "Have you been to Wiltstoken since I lastsaw you?"

"Yes. I go there once every week at least. "

"Every week! Janet never told me. "

Parker implied by a cunning air that he thought he knew the reasonof that; but he said nothing. Alice, piqued, would not condescend tomake inquiries. So he said, presently, "How is Miss Thingumbob?"

"I do not know any one of that name. "

"You know very well whom I mean. Your aristocratic patron, MissCarew. "

Alice flushed. "You are very impertinent, Wallace, " she said, grasping her riding-whip. "How dare you call Miss Carew my patron?"

Wallace suddenly became solemn. "I did not know that you objected tobe reminded of all you owe her, " he said. "Janet never speaksungratefully of her, though she has done nothing for Janet. "

"I have not spoken ungratefully, " protested Alice, almost in tears. "I feel sure that you are never tired of speaking ill of me to themat home. "

"That shows how little you understand my real character. I alwaysmake excuses for you. "

"Excuses for what? What have I done? What do you mean?"

"Oh, I don't mean anything, if you don't. I thought from yourbeginning to defend yourself that you felt yourself to be in thewrong. "

"I did not defend myself; and I won't have you say so, Wallace. "

"Always your obedient, humble servant, " he replied, with complacentirony. 

She pretended not to hear him, and whipped up her horse to a smarttrot. The white steed being no trotter, Parker followed at alumbering canter. Alice, possessed by a shamefaced fear that he wasmaking her ridiculous, soon checked her speed; and the white horsesubsided to a walk, marking its paces by deliberate bobs of itsunfashionably long mane and tail. 

"I have something to tell you, " said Parker at last. 

Alice did not deign to reply. 

"I think it better to let you know at once, " he continued. "The factis, I intend to marry Janet. "

"Janet won't, " said Alice, promptly, retorting first, and thenreflecting on the intelligence, which surprised her more than itpleased her. 

Parker smiled conceitedly, and said, "I don't think she will raiseany difficulty if you give her to understand that it is all overbetween US. "

"That what is all over?"

"Well, if you prefer it, that there never has been anything betweenus. Janet believes that we were engaged. So did a good many otherpeople until you went into high life. "

"I cannot help what people thought. "

"And they all know that I, at least, was ready to perform my part ofthe engagement honorably. "

"Wallace, " she said, with a sudden change of tone; "I think we hadbetter separate. It is not right for me to be riding about the parkwith you when I have nobody belonging to me here except aman-servant. "

"Just as you please, " he said, coolly, halting. "May I assure Janetthat you wish her to marry me?"

"Most certainly not. I do not wish anyone to marry you, much less myown sister. I am far inferior to Janet; and she deserves a muchbetter husband than I do. "

"I quite agree with you, though I don't quite see what that has todo with it. As far as I understand you, you will neither marry meyourself--mind, I am quite willing to fulfil my engagementstill--nor let any one else have me. Is that so?"

"You may tell Janet, " said Alice, vigorously, her face glowing, "that if we--you and I--were condemned to live forever on a desertisl--No; I will write to her. That will be the best way. Good-morning. "

Parker, hitherto imperturbable, now showed signs of alarm. "I beg, Alice, " he said, "that you will say nothing unfair to her of me. Youcannot with truth say anything bad of me. "

"Do you really care for Janet?" said Alice, wavering. 

"Of course, " he replied, indignantly. "Janet is a very superiorgirl. "

"I have always said so, " said Alice, rather angry because some oneelse had forestalled her with the meritorious admission. "I willtell her the simple truth--that there has never been anythingbetween us except what is between all cousins; and that there nevercould have been anything more on my part. I must go now. I don'tknow what that man must think of me already. "

"I should be sorry to lower you in his esteem, " said Parker, maliciously. "Good-bye, Alice. " Uttering the last words in acareless tone, he again pulled up the white horse's head, raised hishat, and sped away. It was not true that he was in the habit ofriding in the park every season. He had learned from Janet thatAlice was accustomed to ride there in the forenoon; and he had hiredthe white horse in order to meet her on equal terms, feeling that agentleman on horseback in the road by the Serpentine could be at nosocial disadvantage with any lady, however exalted her associates. 

As for Alice, she went home with his reminder that Miss Carew washer patron rankling in her. The necessity for securing anindependent position seemed to press imminently upon her. And as thesole way of achieving this was by marriage, she felt for the timewilling to marry any man, without regard to his person, age, ordisposition, if only he could give her a place equal to that of MissCarew in the world, of which she had lately acquired the manners andcustoms. 

CHAPTER XII

When the autumn set in, Alice was in Scotland learning to shoot; andLydia was at Wiltstoken, preparing her father's letters and memoirsfor publication. She did not write at the castle, all the rooms inwhich were either domed, vaulted, gilded, galleried, three-sided, six-sided, anything except four-sided, or in some way suggestive ofthe "Arabian Nights' Entertainments, " and out of keeping with theassociations of her father's life. In her search for a congruousroom to work in, the idea of causing a pavilion to be erected in theelm vista occurred to her. But she had no mind to be disturbed justthen by the presence of a troop of stone-masons, slaters, andcarpenters, nor any time to lose in waiting for the end of theiroperations. So she had the Warren Lodge cleansed and lime washed, and the kitchen transformed into a comfortable library, where, asshe sat facing the door at her writing-table, in the centre of theroom, she could see the elm vista through one window and throughanother a tract of wood and meadow land intersected by the high-roadand by a canal, beyond which the prospect ended in a distant greenslope used as a sheep run. The other apartments were used by acouple of maid-servants, who kept the place well swept and dusted, prepared Miss Carew's lunch, answered her bell, and went on hererrands to the castle; and, failing any of these employments, satoutside in the sun, reading novels. When Lydia had worked in thisretreat daily for two months her mind became so full of the old lifewith her father that the interruptions of the servants oftenrecalled her to the present with a shock. On the twelfth of Augustshe was bewildered for a moment when Phoebe, one of the maids, entered and said, "If you please, miss, Bashville is wishful to know can he speak toyou a moment?"

Permission being given, Bashville entered. Since his wrestle withCashel he had never quite recovered his former imperturbability. Hismanner and speech were as smooth and respectful as before, but hiscountenance was no longer steadfast; he was on bad terms with thebutler because he had been reproved by him for blushing. On thisoccasion he came to beg leave to absent himself during theafternoon. He seldom asked favors of this kind, and was of coursenever refused. 

"The road is quite thronged to-day, " she observed, as he thankedher. "Do you know why?"

"No, madam, " said Bashville, and blushed. 

"People begin to shoot on the twelfth, " she said; "but I suppose itcannot have anything to do with that. Is there a race, or a fair, orany such thing in the neighborhood?"

"Not that I am aware of, madam. "

Lydia dipped her pen in the ink and thought no more of the subject. Bashville returned to the castle, attired himself like a countrygentleman of sporting tastes, and went out to enjoy his holiday. 

The forenoon passed away peacefully. There was no sound in theWarren Lodge except the scratching of Lydia's pen, the ticking ofher favorite skeleton clock, an occasional clatter of crockery fromthe kitchen, and the voices of the birds and maids without. The hourfor lunch approached, and Lydia became a little restless. Sheinterrupted her work to look at the clock, and brushed a speck ofdust from its dial with the feather of her quill. Then she lookedabsently through the window along the elm vista, where she had onceseen, as she had thought, a sylvan god. This time she saw a lessromantic object--a policeman. She looked again, incredulously, therehe was still, a black-bearded, helmeted man, making a dark blot inthe green perspective, and surveying the landscape cautiously. Lydiarang the bell, and bade Phoebe ask the man what he wanted. 

The girl soon returned out of breath, with the news that there werea dozen more constables hiding in the road, and that the one she hadspoken to had given no account of himself, but had asked her howmany gates there were to the park; whether they were always locked, and whether she had seen many people about. She felt sure that amurder had been committed somewhere. Lydia shrugged her shoulders, and ordered luncheon, during which Phoebe gazed eagerly through thewindow, and left her mistress to wait on herself. 

"Phoebe, " said Lydia, when the dishes were removed; "you may go tothe gate lodge, and ask them there what the policemen want. But donot go any further. Stay. Has Ellen gone to the castle with thethings?"

Phoebe reluctantly admitted that Ellen had. 

"Well, you need not wait for her to return; but come back as quicklyas you can, in case I should want anybody. "

"Directly, miss, " said Phoebe, vanishing. 

Lydia, left alone, resumed her work leisurely, occasionally pausingto gaze at the distant woodland, and note with transient curiosity aflock of sheep on the slope, or a flight of birds above thetree-tops. Something more startling occurred presently. A man, apparently half-naked, and carrying a black object under his arm, darted through a remote glade with the swiftness of a stag, anddisappeared. Lydia concluded that he had been disturbed whilebathing in the canal, and had taken flight with his wardrobe underhis arm. She laughed at the idea, turned to her manuscript again, and wrote on. Suddenly there was a rustle and a swift footstepwithout. Then the latch was violently jerked up, and Cashel Byronrushed in as far as the threshold, where he stood, stupefied at thepresence of Lydia, and the change in the appearance of the room. 

He was himself remarkably changed. He was dressed in a pea-jacket, which evidently did not belong to him, for it hardly reached hismiddle, and the sleeves were so short that his forearms were halfbare, showing that he wore nothing beneath this borrowed garment. Below it he had on white knee-breeches, with green stains of bruisedgrass on them. The breeches were made with a broad ilap in front, under which, and passing round his waist, was a scarf of crimsonsilk. From his knees to his socks, the edges of which had fallenover his laced boots, his legs were visible, naked, and muscular. Onhis face was a mask of sweat, dust, and blood, partly rubbed away inplaces by a sponge, the borders of its passage marked by blackstreaks. Underneath his left eye was a mound of bluish flesh nearlyas large as a walnut. The jaw below it, and the opposite cheek, wereseverely bruised, and his lip was cut through at one corner. He hadno hat; his close-cropped hair was disordered, and his ears were asthough they had been rubbed with coarse sand-paper. 

Lydia looked at him for some seconds, and he at her, speechless. Then she tried to speak, failed, and sunk into her chair. 

"I didn't know there was any one here, " he said, in a hoarse, panting whisper. "The police are after me. I have fought for anhour, and run over a mile, and I'm dead beat--I can go no farther. Let me hide in the back room, and tell them you haven't seen anyone, will you?"

"What have you done?" she said, conquering her weakness with aneffort, and standing up. 

"Nothing, " he replied, groaning occasionally as he recovered breath. "Business, that's all. "

"Why are the police pursuing you? Why are you in such a dreadfulcondition?"

Cashel seemed alarmed at this. There was a mirror in the lid of apaper-case on the table. Lie took it up and looked at himselfanxiously, but was at once relieved by what he saw. "I'm all right, "he said. "I'm not marked. That mouse"--he pointed gayly to the lumpunder his eye-"will run away to-morrow. I am pretty tidy, considering. But it's bellows to mend with me at present. Whoosh! Myheart is as big as a bullock's after that run. "

"You ask me to shelter you, " said Lydia, sternly. "What have youdone? Have you committed murder?"

"No!" exclaimed Cashel, trying to open his eyes widely in hisastonishment, but only succeeding with one, as the other wasgradually closing. "I tell you I have been fighting; and it'sillegal. You don't want to see me in prison, do you? Confound him, "he added, reverting to her question with sudden wrath; "asteam-hammer wouldn't kill him. You might as well hit a sack ofnails. And all my money, my time, my training, and my day's troublegone for nothing! It's enough to make a man cry. "

"Go, " said Lydia, with uncontrollable disgust. "And do not let mesee which way you go. How dare you come to me?"

The sponge-marks on Cashel's face grew whiter, and he began, to pantheavily again. "Very well, " he said. "I'll go. There isn't a boy inyour stables that would give me up like that. "

As he spoke, he opened the door; but he involuntarily shut it againimmediately. Lydia looked through the window, and saw a crowd ofmen, police and others, hurrying along the elm vista. Cashel cast aglance round, half piteous, half desperate, like a hunted animal. Lydia could not resist it. "Quick!" she cried, opening one of theinner doors. "Go in there, and keep quiet--if you can. " And, as hesulkily hesitated a moment, she stamped vehemently. He slunk insubmissively. She shut the door and resumed her place at thewriting-table, her heart beating with a kind of excitement she hadnot felt since, in her early childhood, she had kept guilty secretsfrom her nurse. 

There was a tramping without, and a sound of voices. Then twoperemptory raps at the door. 

"Come in, " said Lydia, more composedly than she was aware of. Thepermission was not waited for. Before she ceased speaking apoliceman opened the door and looked quickly round the room. Heseemed rather taken aback by what he saw, and finally touched hishelmet to signify respect for Lydia. He was about to speak, whenPhoebe, flushed with running, pushed past him, put her hand on thedoor, and pertly asked what he wanted. 

"Come away from the door, Phoebe, " said Lydia. "Wait here with meuntil I give you leave to go, " she added, as the girl moved towardsthe inner door. "Now, " she said, turning courteously to thepoliceman, "what is the matter?"

"I ask your pardon, mum, " said the constable, agreeably. "Did youhappen to see any one pass hereabouts lately?"

"Do you mean a man only partly dressed, and carrying a black coat?"said Lydia. 

"That's him, miss, " said the policeman, greatly interested. " Whichway did he go?"

"I will show you where I saw him, " said Lydia, quietly rising andgoing with the man to the door, outside which she found a crowd ofrustics, and five policemen, having in custody two men, one of whomwas Mellish (without a coat), and the other a hook-nosed man, whoselike Lydia had seen often on race-courses. She pointed out the gladeacross which she had seen Cashel run, and felt as if the guilt ofthe deception she was practising was wrenching some fibre in herheart from its natural order. But she spoke with apparentself-possession, and no shade of suspicion fell on the minds of thepolice. 

Several peasants now came forward, each professing to know exactlywhither Cashel had been making when he crossed the glade. While theywere disputing, many persons resembling the hook-nosed captive ingeneral appearance sneaked into the crowd and regarded the policewith furtive hostility. Soon after, a second detachment of policecame up, with another prisoner and another crowd, among whom wasBashville. 

"Better go in, mum, " said the policeman who had spoken to Lydiafirst. "We must keep together, being so few, and he ain't fit foryou to look at. "

But Lydia had looked already, and had guessed that the last prisonerwas Paradise, although his countenance was damaged beyondrecognition. His costume was like that of Cashel, except that he wasgirt with a blue handkerchief with white spots, and his shoulderswere wrapped in a blanket, through one of the folds of which hisnaked ribs could be seen, tinged with every hue that a bad bruisecan assume. A shocking spectacle appeared where his face hadformerly been. A crease and a hole in the midst of a cluster oflumps of raw flesh indicated the presence of an eye and a mouth; therest of his features were indiscernible. He could still see alittle, for he moved his puffed and lacerated hand to arrange hisblanket, and demanded hoarsely, and with greatly impededarticulation, whether the lady would stand a dram to a poor fightingman wot had done his best for his backers. On this some one produceda flask, and Mellish volunteered, provided he were released for amoment, to get the contents down Paradise's throat. As soon as thebrandy had passed his swollen lips he made a few preliminary sounds, and then shouted, "He sent for the coppers because he couldn't stand another round. Iam ready to go on. "

The policemen bade him hold his tongue, closed round him, and hidhim from Lydia, who, without showing the mingled pity and loathingwith which his condition inspired her, told them to bring him to thecastle, and have him attended to there. She added that the wholeparty could obtain refreshment at the same time. The sergeant, whowas very tired and thirsty, wavered in his resolution to continuethe pursuit. Lydia, as usual, treated the matter as settled. 

"Bashville, " she said, "will you please show them the way, and seethat they are satisfied. "

"Some thief has stole my coat, " said Mellish, sullenly, toBashville. "If you'll lend me one, governor, and these blessedpolicemen will be so kind as not to tear it off my back, I'll sendit down to you in a day or two. I'm a respectable man, and have beenher ladyship's tenant here. "

"Your pal wants it worse than you, " said the sergeant. "If there wasan old coachman's cape or anything to put over him, I would see itreturned safe. I don't want to bring him round the country in ablanket, like a wild Injin. "

"I have a cloak inside, " said Bashville. "I'll get it for you. " Andbefore Lydia could devise a pretext for stopping him, he went out, and she heard him reentering the lodge by the back door. It seemedto her that a silence fell on the crowd, as if her deceit werealready discovered. Then Mellish, who had been waiting for anopportunity to protest against the last remark of the policeman, said, angrily, "Who are you calling my pal? I hope I may be struck dead for a liarif ever I set my eyes on him in my life before. "

Lydia looked at him as a martyr might look at a wretch to whom shewas to be chained. He was doing as she had done--lying. ThenBashville, having passed through the other rooms, came into thelibrary by the inner door, with an old livery cloak on his arm. 

"Put that on him, " he said, "and come along to the castle with me. You can see the roads for five miles round from the south tower, andrecognize every man on them, through the big telescope. By yourleave, madam, I think Phoebe had better come with us to help. "

"Certainly, " said Lydia, looking steadfastly at him. 

"I'll get clothes at the castle for the man that wants them, " headded, trying to return her gaze, but failing with a blush. "Nowboys. Come along. "

"I thank your ladyship, " said the sergeant. "We have had a hardmorning of it, and we can do no more at present than drink yourhealth. " He touched his helmet again, and Lydia bowed to him. "Keepclose together, men, " he shouted, as the crowd moved off withBashville. 

"Ah, " sneered Mellish, "keep close together like the geese do. Things has come to a pretty pass when an Englishman is run in forstopping when he sees a crowd. "

"All right, " said the sergeant. "I have got that bundle of coloredhandkerchiefs you were selling; and I'll find the other man beforeyou're a day older. It's a pity, seeing how you've behaved so welland haven't resisted us, that you won't drop a hint of where thoseropes and stakes are hid. I might have a good word at the sessionsfor any one who would put me in the way of finding them. "

"Ropes and stakes! Fiddlesticks and grandmothers! There weren't noropes and stakes. It was only a turn-up--that is, if there was anyfighting at all. _I_ didn't see none; but I s'pose you did. But thenyou're clever, and I'm not. "

By this time the last straggler of the party had disappeared fromLydia, who had watched their retreat from the door of the WarrenLodge. When she turned to go in she saw Cashel cautiously enteringfrom the room in which he had lain concealed. His excitement hadpassed off; he looked cold and anxious, as if a reaction weresetting in. 

"Are they all gone?" he said. "That servant of yours is a good sort. He has promised to bring me some clothes. As for you, you're betterthan--What's the matter? Where are you going to?"

Lydia had put on her hat, and was swiftly wrapping herself in ashawl. Wreaths of rosy color were chasing each other through hercheeks; and her eyes and nostrils, usually so tranquil, weredilated. 

"Won't you speak to me?" he said, irresolutely. 

"Just this, " she replied, with passion. "Let me never see you again. The very foundations of my life are loosened: I have told a lie. Ihave made my servant--an honorable man--an accomplice in a lie. Weare worse than you; for even your wild-beast's handiwork is a lessevil than the bringing of a falsehood into the world. This is whathas come to me out of our acquaintance. I have given you ahiding-place. Keep it. I will never enter it again. "

Cashel, appalled, shrank back with an expression such as a childwears when, in trying to steal sweet-meats from a high shelf, itpulls the whole cupboard down about its ears. He neither spoke norstirred as she left the lodge. 

Finding herself presently at the castle, she went to her boudoir, where she found her maid, the French lady, from whose indignantdescription of the proceedings below she gathered that the policemenwere being regaled with bread and cheese, and beer; and that theattendance of a surgeon had been dispensed with, Paradise's woundshaving been dressed skilfully by Mellish. Lydia bade her sendBashville to the Warren Lodge to see that there were no strangersloitering about it, and ordered that none of the female servantsshould return there until he came back. Then she sat down and triednot to think. But she could not help thinking; so she submitted andtried to think the late catastrophe out. An idea that she haddisjointed the whole framework of things by creating a false belieffilled her imagination. The one conviction that she had brought outof her reading, observing, reflecting, and living was that theconcealment of a truth, with its resultant false beliefs, mustproduce mischief, even though the beginning of that mischief mightbe as inconceivable as the end. She made no distinction between thesubtlest philosophical misconception and the vulgarest lie. The evilof Cashel's capture was measurable, the evil of a lie beyond allmeasure. She felt none the less assured of that evil because shecould not foresee one bad consequence likely to ensue from what shehad done. Her misgivings pressed heavily upon her; for her father, adetermined sceptic, had taught her his own views, and she was, therefore, destitute of the consolations which religion has for thewrongdoer. It was plainly her duty to send for the policeman andclear up the deception she had practised on him. But this she couldnot do. Her will, in spite of her reason, acted in the oppositedirection. And in this paralysis of her moral power she saw the evilof the lie beginning. She had given it birth, and nature would notpermit her to strangle the monster. 

At last her maid returned and informed her that the canaille hadgone away. When she was again alone, she rose and walked slowly toand fro through the room, forgetting the lapse of time in therestless activity of her mind, until she was again interrupted, thistime by Bashville. 

"Well?"

He was daunted by her tone; for he had never before heard her speakhaughtily to a servant. He did not understand that he had changedsubjectively, and was now her accomplice. 

"He's given himself up. "

"What do you mean?" she said, with sudden dismay. 

"Byron, madam. I brought some clothes to the lodge for him, but whenI got there he was gone. I went round to the gates in search of him, and found him in the hands of the police. They told me he'd justgiven himself up. He wouldn't give any account of himself; and helooked--well, sullen and beaten down like. "

"What will they do with him?" she asked, turning quite pale. 

"A man got six weeks' hard labor, last month, for the same offence. Most probably that's what he'll get. And very little for what's he'sdone, as you'd say if you saw him doing it, madam. "

"Then, " said Lydia, sternly, "it was to see this"--she shrank fromnaming it--"this fight, that you asked my permission to go out!"

"Yes, madam, it was, " said Bashville, with some bitterness. "Irecognized Lord Worthington and plenty more noblemen and gentlementhere. "

Lydia was about to reply sharply; but she checked herself; and herusual tranquil manner came back as she said, "That is no reason whyyou should have been there. "

Bashville's color began to waver, and his voice to need increasedcontrol. "It's in human nature to go to such a thing once, " he said;"but once is enough, at least for me. You'll excuse my mentioningit, madam; but what with Lord Worthington and the rest of Byron'sbackers screaming oaths and abuse at the other man, and the oppositeparty doing the same to Byron--well, I may not be a gentleman; but Ihope I can conduct myself like a man, even when I'm losing money. "

"Then do not go to such an exhibition again, Bashville. I must notdictate to you what your amusements shall be; but I do not think youare likely to benefit yourself by copying Lord Worthington'stastes. "

"I copy no lord's tastes, " said Bashville, reddening. "You hid theman that was fighting, Miss Carew. Why do you look down on the manthat was only a bystander?"

Lydia's color rose, too. Her first impulse was to treat thisoutburst as rebellion against her authority, and crush it. But hersense of justice withheld her. 

"Would you have had me betray a fugitive who took refuge in myhouse, Bashville? YOU did not betray him. "

"No, " said Bashville, his expression subdued to one of rueful pride. "When I am beaten by a better man, I have courage enough to get outof his way and take no mean advantage of him. "

Lydia, not understanding, looked inquiringly at him. He made agesture as if throwing something from him, and continued recklessly, "But one way I'm as good as he, and better. A footman is held morerespectable than a prize-fighter. He's told you that he's in lovewith you; and if it is to be my last word, I'll tell you that theribbon round your neck is more to me than your whole body and soulis to him or his like. When he took an unfair advantage of me, andpretended to be a gentleman, I told Mr. Lucian of him, and showedhim up for what he was. But when I found him to-day hiding in thepantry at the Lodge, I took no advantage of him, though I knew wellthat if he'd been no more to you than any other man of his sort, you'd never have hid him. You know best why he gave himself up tothe police after your seeing his day's work. But I will leave him tohis luck. He is the best man: let the best man win. I am sorry, "added Bashville, recovering his ordinary suave manner with aneffort, "to inconvenience you by a short notice, but I should takeit as a particular favor if I might go this evening. "

"You had better, " said Lydia, rising quite calmly, and keepingresolutely away from her the strange emotional result of beingastonished, outraged, and loved at one unlooked-for stroke. "It isnot advisable that you should stay after what you have just--"

"I knew that when I said it, " interposed Bashville hastily anddoggedly. 

"In going away you will be taking precisely the course that would beadopted by any gentleman who had spoken to the same effect. I am notoffended by your declaration: I recognize your right to make it. Ifyou need my testimony to further your future arrangements, I shallbe happy to say that I believe you to be a man of honor. "

Bashville bowed, and said in a low voice, very nervously, that hehad no intention of going into service again, but that he shouldalways be proud of her good opinion. 

"You are fitted for better things, " she said. "If you embark in anyenterprise requiring larger means than you possess, I will be yoursecurity. I thank you for your invariable courtesy to me in thedischarge of your duties. Good-bye. "

She bowed to him and left the room. Bashville, awestruck, returnedher salutation as best he could, and stood motionless after shedisappeared; his mind advancing on tiptoe to grasp what had justpassed. His chief sensation was one of relief. He no longer dared tofancy himself in love with such a woman. Her sudden considerationfor him as a suitor overwhelmed him with a sense of his unfitnessfor such a part. He saw himself as a very young, very humble, andvery ignorant man, whose head had been turned by a pleasant placeand a kind mistress. Wakened from his dream, he stole away to packhis trunk, and to consider how best to account to hisfellow-servants for his departure. 

CHAPTER XIII

Lydia resumed her work next day with shaken nerves and a longing forsociety. Many enthusiastic young ladies of her acquaintance wouldhave brought her kisses and devotion by the next mail in response toa telegram; and many more practical people would have takenconsiderable pains to make themselves agreeable to her for the sakeof spending the autumn at Wiltstoken Castle. But she knew that theywould only cause her to regret her former solitude. She shrank fromthe people who attached themselves to her strength and riches evenwhen they had not calculated her gain, and were conscious only ofadmiration and gratitude. Alice, as a companion, had proved afailure. She was too young, and too much occupied with the proprietyof her own behavior, to be anything more to Lydia than an occasionaltax upon her patience. Lydia, to her own surprise, thought severaltimes of Miss Gisborne, and felt tempted to invite her, but wasrestrained by mistrust of the impulse to communicate with Cashel'smother, and reluctance to trace it to its source. Eventually sheresolved to conquer her loneliness, and apply herself with increaseddiligence to the memoir of her father. To restore her nerves, shewalked for an hour every day in the neighborhood, and drove out in apony carriage, in the evening. Bashville's duties were now fulfilledby the butler and Phoebe, Lydia being determined to admit no moreyoung footmen to her service. 

One afternoon, returning from one of her daily walks, she found astranger on the castle terrace, in conversation with the butler. Asit was warm autumn weather, Lydia was surprised to see a womanwearing a black silk mantle trimmed with fur, and heavily decoratedwith spurious jet beads. However, as the female inhabitants ofWiltstoken always approached Miss Carew in their best raiment, without regard to hours or seasons, she concluded that she was aboutto be asked for a subscription to a school treat, a temperancefestival, or perhaps a testimonial to one of the Wiltstoken curates. 

When she came nearer she saw that the stranger was an elderlylady--or possibly not a lady--with crimped hair, and ringletshanging at each ear in a fashion then long obsolete. 

"Here is Miss Carew, " said the butler, shortly, as if the old ladyhad tried his temper. "You had better talk to her yourself. "

At this she seemed fluttered, and made a solemn courtesy. Lydia, noticing the courtesy and the curls, guessed that her visitor kept adancing academy. Yet a certain contradictory hardihood in her frameand bearing suggested that perhaps she kept a tavern. However, asher face was, on the whole, an anxious and a good face, and as herattitude towards the lady of the castle was one of embarrassedhumility, Lydia acknowledged her salutation kindly, and waited forher to speak. 

"I hope you won't consider it a liberty, " said the stranger, tremulously. "I'm Mrs. Skene. "

Lydia became ominously grave; and Mrs. Skene reddened a little. Thenshe continued, as if repeating a carefully prepared and rehearsedspeech, "It would be esteemed a favor if I might have the honor of afew words in private with your ladyship. "

Lydia looked and felt somewhat stern; but it was not in her natureto rebuff any one without strong provocation. She invited hervisitor to enter, and led the way to the circular drawing-room, thestrange decorations of which exactly accorded with Mrs. Skene'sideas of aristocratic splendor. As a professor of deportment andetiquette, the ex-champion's wife was nervous under the observationof such an expert as Lydia; but she got safely seated without havingmade a mistake to reproach herself with. For, although entering aroom seems a simple matter to many persons, it was to Mrs. Skene anoperation governed by the strict laws of the art she professed, andone so elaborate that few of her pupils mastered it satisfactorilywith less than a month's practice. Mrs Skene soon dismissed it fromher mind. She was too old to dwell upon such vanities when realanxieties were pressing upon her. 

"Oh, miss, " she began, appealingly, "the boy!"

Lydia knew at once who was meant. But she repeated, as if at a loss, "The boy?" And immediately accused herself of insincerity. 

"Our boy, ma'am. Cashel. "

"Mrs. Skene!" said Lydia, reproachfully. 

Mrs. Skene understood all that Lydia's tone implied. "I know, ma'am, " she pleaded. "I know well. But what could I do but come toyou? Whatever you said to him, it has gone to his heart; and he'sdying. "

"Pardon me, " said Lydia, promptly; "men do not die of such things;and Mr. Cashel Byron is not so deficient either in robustness ofbody or hardness of heart as to be an exception to THAT rule. "

"Yes, miss, " said Mrs. Skene, sadly. "You are thinking of theprofession. You can't believe he has any feelings because he fights. Ah, miss, if you only knew them as I do! More tender-hearted mendon't breathe. Cashel is like a young child, his feelings are thateasily touched; and I have known stronger than he to die of brokenhearts only because they were unlucky in their calling. Just thinkwhat a high-spirited young man must feel when a lady calls him awild beast. That was a cruel word, miss; it was, indeed. "

Lydia was so disconcerted by this attack that she had to pauseawhile before replying. Then she said, "Are you aware, Mrs. Skene, that my knowledge of Mr. Byron is very slight--that I have not seenhim ten times in my life? Perhaps you do not know the circumstancesin which I last saw him. I was greatly shocked by the injuries hehad inflicted on another man; and I believe I spoke of them as thework of a wild beast. For your sake, I am sorry I said so; for hehas told me that he regards you as his mother; and--"

"Oh, no! Far from it, miss. I ask your pardon a thousand times fortaking the word out of your mouth; but me and Ned is no more to himthan your housekeeper or governess might be to you. That's what I'mafraid you don't understand, miss. He's no relation of ours. I doassure you that he's a gentleman born and bred; and when we go backto Melbourne next Christmas, it will be just the same as if he hadnever known us. "

"I hope he will not be so ungrateful as to forget you. He has toldme his history. "

"That's more than he ever told me, miss; so you may judge how muchhe thinks of you. "

A pause followed this. Mrs. Skene felt that the first exchange wasover, and that she had got the better in it. 

"Mrs. Skene, " said Lydia then, penetratingly; "when you came to payme this visit, what object did you propose to yourself? What do youexpect me to do?"

"Well, ma'am, " said Mrs. Skene, troubled, "the poor lad has hadcrosses lately. There was the disappointment about you--the firstone, I mean--that had been preying on his mind for a long time. Thenthere was that exhibition spar at the Agricultural Hall, whenParadise acted so dishonorable. Cashel heard that you were lookingon; and then he read the shameful way the newspapers wrote of him;and he thought you'd believe it all. I couldn't get that thought outof his head. I said to him, over and over again--"

"Excuse me, " said Lydia, interrupting. "We had better be frank withone another. It is useless to assume that he mistook my feeling onthat subject. I WAS shocked by the severity with which he treatedhis opponent. "

"But bless you, that's his business, " said Mrs. Skone, opening hereyes widely. "I put it to you, miss, " she continued, as if mildlyreprobating some want of principle on Lydia's part, "whether anhonest man shouldn't fulfil his engagements. I assure you that thepay a respectable professional usually gets for a spar like that ishalf a guinea; and that was all Paradise got. But Cashel stood onhis reputation, and wouldn't take less than ten guineas; and he gotit, too. Now many another in his position would have gone into thering and fooled away the time pretending to box, and just swindlingthose that paid him. But Cashel is as honest and high-minded as aking. You saw for yourself the trouble he took. He couldn't havespared himself less if he had been fighting for a thousand a sideand the belt, instead of for a paltry ten guineas. Surely you don'tthink the worse of him for his honesty, miss?"

"I confess, " said Lydia, laughing in spite of herself, "that yourview of the transaction did not occur to me. "

"Of course not, ma'am; no more it wouldn't to any one, without theywere accustomed to know the right and wrong of the profession. Well, as I was saying, miss, that was a fresh disappointment to him. Itworrited him more than you can imagine. Then came a deal of botherabout the match with Paradise. First Paradise could only get fivehundred pounds; and the boy wouldn't agree for less than a thousand. I think it's on your account that he's been so particular about themoney of late; for he was never covetous before. Then Mellish wasbent on its coming off down hereabouts; and the poor lad was somortal afraid of its getting to your ears, that he wouldn't consentuntil they persuaded him you would be in foreign parts in August. Glad I was when the articles were signed at last, before he wasworrited into his grave. All the time he was training he was longingfor a sight of you; but he went through with it as steady andfaithful as a man could. And he trained beautiful. I saw him on themorning of the fight; and he was like a shining angel; it would havedone a lady's heart good to look at him. Ned went about like amadman offering twenty to one on him: if he had lost, we should havebeen ruined at this moment. And then to think of the police comingjust as he was finishing Paradise. I cried like a child when I heardof it: I don't think there was ever anything so cruel. And he couldhave finished him quarter of an hour sooner, only he held back tomake the market for Ned. " Here Mrs. Skene, overcome, blew her nosebefore proceeding. "Then, on the top of that, came what passedbetwixt you and him, and made him give himself up to the police. Lord Worthington bailed him out; but what with the disgrace and thedisappointment, and his time and money thrown away, and the sting ofyour words, all coming together, he was quite broken-hearted. Andnow he mopes and frets; and neither me nor Ned nor Fan can get anygood of him. They tell me that he won't be sent to prison; but if heis"--here Mrs. Skene broke down and began to cry--"it will be thedeath of him, and God forgive those that have brought it about. "

Sorrow always softened Lydia; but tears hardened her again; she hadno patience with them. 

"And the other man?" she said. "Have you heard anything of him? Isuppose he is in some hospital. "

"In hospital!" repeated Mrs. Skene, checking her tears in alarm. "Who?"

"Paradise, " replied Lydia, pronouncing the name reluctantly. 

"He in hospital! Why, bless your innocence, miss, I saw himyesterday, looking as well as such an ugly brute could look--not amark on him, and he bragging what he would have done to Cashel ifthe police hadn't come up. He's a nasty, low fighting man, so he is;and I'm only sorry that our boy demeaned himself to strip with thelike of him. I hear that Cashel made a perfect picture of him, andthat you saw him. I suppose you were frightened, ma'am, and verynaturally, too, not being used to such sights. I have had my Nedbrought home to me in that state that I have poured brandy into hiseye, thinking it was his mouth; and even Cashel, careful as he is, has been nearly blind for three days. It is not to be expected thatthey could have all the money for nothing. Don't let it prey on yourmind, miss. If you married--I am only supposing it, " said Mrs. Skene in soothing parenthesis as she saw Lydia shrink from theword--"if you were married to a great surgeon, as you might bewithout derogation to your high rank, you'd be ready to faint if yousaw him cut off a leg or an arm, as he would have to do every dayfor his livelihood; but you'd be proud of his cleverness in beingable to do it. That's how I feel with regard to Ned. I tell you thetruth, ma'am, I shouldn't like to see him in the ring no more thanthe lady of an officer in the Guards would like to see her husbandin the field of battle running his sword into the poor blacks orinto the French; but as it's his profession, and people think sohighly of him for it, I make up my mind to it; and now I take quitean interest in it, particularly as it does nobody any harm. Not thatI would have you think that Ned ever took the arm or leg off a man:Lord forbid--or Cashel either. Oh, ma'am, I thank you kindly, andI'm sorry you should have given yourself the trouble. " This referredto the entry of a servant with tea. 

"Still, " said Lydia, when they were at leisure to resume theconversation, "I do not quite understand why you have come to me. Personally you are quite welcome; but in what way did you expect torelieve Mr. Byron's mind by visiting me? Did he ask you to come?"

"He'd have died first. I came down of my own accord, knowing whatwas the matter with him. "

"And what then?"

Mrs. Skene looked around to satisfy herself that they were alone. Then she leaned towards Lydia, and said in an emphatic whisper, "Why won't you marry him, miss?"

"Because I don't choose, Mrs. Skene, " said Lydia, with perfectgood-humor. 

"But consider a little, miss. Where will you ever get such anotherchance? Only think what a man he is! champion of the world and agentleman as well. The two things have never happened before, andnever will again. I have known lots of champions, but they were notfit company for the like of you. Ned was champion when I marriedhim; and my family thought that I lowered myself in doing it, although I was only a professional dancer on the stage. The men inthe ring are common men mostly; and so, though they are the best menin the kingdom, ladies are cut off from their society. But it hasbeen your good luck to take the fancy of one that's a gentleman. What more could a lady desire? Where will you find his equal inhealth, strength, good looks, or good manners? As to his character, I can tell you about that. In Melbourne, as you may suppose, all thegirls and women were breaking their hearts for his sake. I declareto you that I used to have two or three of them in every eveningmerely to look at him, and he, poor innocent lad, taking no morenotice of them than if they were cabbages. He used to be glad to getaway from them by going into the saloon and boxing with thegentlemen; and then they used to peep at him through the door. Theynever got a wink from him. You were the first, Miss Carew; and, believe me, you will be the last. If there had ever been another hecouldn't have kept it from me; because his disposition is as open asa child's. And his honesty is beyond everything you can imagine. Ihave known him to be offered eight hundred pounds to lose a fightthat he could only get two hundred by winning, not to mention hischance of getting nothing at all if he lost honestly. You know--forI see you know the world, ma'am--how few men would be proof againstsuch a temptation. There are men high up in their profession--sohigh that you'd as soon suspect the queen on her throne of sellingher country's battles as them--that fight cross on the sly when it'smade worth their while. My Ned is no low prize-fighter, as is wellknown; but when he let himself be beat by that little KillarneyPrimrose, and went out and bought a horse and trap next day, whatcould I think? There, ma'am, I tell you that of my own husband; andI tell you that Cashel never was beaten, although times out of mindit would have paid him better to lose than to win, along of thosewicked betting men. Not an angry word have I ever had from him, northe sign of liquor have I ever seen on him, except once on Ned'sbirthday; and then nothing but fun came out of him in his cups, whenthe truth comes out of all men. Oh, do just think how happy youought to be, miss, if you would only bring yourself to look at it inthe proper light. A gentleman born and bred, champion of the world, sober, honest, spotless as the unborn babe, able to take his ownpart and yours in any society, and mad in love with you! He thinksyou an angel from heaven and so I am sure you are, miss, in yourheart. I do assure you that my Fan gets quite put out because shethinks he draws comparisons to her disadvantage. I don't think youcan be so hard to please as to refuse him, miss. "

Lydia leaned back in her chair and looked at Mrs. Skene with acurious expression which soon brightened into an irrepressiblesmile. Mrs. Skene smiled very slightly in complaisance, but conveyedby her serious brow that what she had said was no laughing matter. 

"I must take some time to consider all that you have so eloquentlyurged, " said Lydia. "I am in earnest, Mrs. Skene; you have produceda great effect upon me. Now let us talk of something else for thepresent. Your daughter is quite well, I hope. "

"Thank you kindly, ma'am, she enjoys her health. "

"And you also?"

"I am as well as can be expected, " said Mrs. Skene, too fond ofcommiseration to admit that she was perfectly well. 

"You must have a rare sense of security, " said Lydia, watching her, "being happily married to so celebrated a--a professor of boxing asMr. Skene. Is it not pleasant to have a powerful protector?"

"Ah, miss, you little know, " exclaimed Mrs. Skene, falling into thetrap baited by her own grievances, and losing sight of Cashel'sinterests. "The fear of his getting into trouble is never off mymind. Ned is quietness itself until he has a drop of drink in him;and then he is like the rest--ready to fight the first that provokeshim. And if the police get hold of him he has no chance. There's nojustice for a fighting man. Just let it be said that he's aprofessional, and that's enough for the magistrate; away with him toprison, and good-by to his pupils and his respectability at once. That's what I live in terror of. And as to being protected, I'd letmyself be robbed fifty times over sooner than say a word to him thatmight bring on a quarrel. Many a time when we were driving home of anight have I overpaid the cabman on the sly, afraid he would grumbleand provoke Ned. It's the drink that does it all. Gentlemen areproud to be seen speaking with him in public; and they come up oneafter another asking what he'll have, until the next thing he knowsis that he's in bed with his boots on, his wrist sprained, and maybehis eye black, trying to remember what he was doing the nightbefore. What I suffered the first three years of our marriage nonecan tell. Then he took the pledge, and ever since that he's beenvery good--I haven't seen him what you could fairly call drunk, notmore than three times a year. It was the blessing of God, and abeating he got from a milkman in Westminster, that made him ashamedof himself. I kept him to it and made him emigrate out of the way ofhis old friends. Since that, there has been a blessing on him; andwe've prospered. "

"Is Cashel quarrelsome?"

At the tone of this question Mrs. Skene suddenly realized theuntimeliness of her complaints. "No, no, " she protested. "He neverdrinks; and as to fighting, if you can believe such a thing, miss, Idon't think he has had a casual turnup three times in his life--notoftener, at any rate. All he wants is to be married; and then he'llbe steady to his grave. But if he's left adrift now, Lord knows whatwill become of him. He'll mope first--he's moping at present--thenhe'll drink; then he'll lose his pupils, get out of condition, bebeaten, and--One word from you, miss, would save him. If I mightjust tell him--"

"Nothing, " said Lydia. "Absolutely nothing. The only assurance Ican give you is that you have softened the hard opinion that I hadformed of some of his actions. But that I should marry Mr. CashelByron is simply the most improbable thing in the world. Allquestions of personal inclination apart, the mere improbability isenough in itself to appal an ordinary woman. "

Mrs. Skene did not quite understand this; but she understoodsufficiently for her purpose. She rose to go, shaking her headdespondently, and saying, "I see how it is, ma'am. You think himbeneath you. Your relations wouldn't like it. "

"There is no doubt that my relatives would be greatly shocked; and Iam bound to take that into account for--what it is worth. "

"We should never trouble you, " said Mrs. Skene, lingering. "Englandwill see the last of us in a month of two. "

"That will make no difference to me, except that I shall regret notbeing able to have a pleasant chat with you occasionally. " This wasnot true; but Lydia fancied she was beginning to take a hardeneddelight in lying. 

Mrs. Skene was not to be consoled by compliments. She again shookher head. "It is very kind of you to give me good words, miss, " shesaid; "but if I might have one for the boy you could say what youliked to me. "

Lydia considered far before she replied. At last she said, "I amsorry I spoke harshly to him, since, driven as he was bycircumstances, I cannot see how he could have acted otherwise thanhe did. And I overlooked the economic conditions of his profession. In short, I am not used to fisticuffs; and what I saw shocked me somuch that I was unreasonable. But, " continued Lydia, checking Mrs. Skene's rising hope with a warning finger, "how, if you tell himthis, will you make him understand that I say so as an act ofjustice, and not in the least as a proffer of affection?"

"A crumb of comfort will satisfy him, miss. I'll just tell him thatI've seen you, and that you meant nothing by what you said the otherday; and--"

"Mrs. Skene, " said Lydia, interrupting her softly; "tell him nothingat all as yet. I have made up my mind at last. If he does not hearfrom me within a fortnight you may tell him what you please. Can youwait so long?"

"Of course. Whatever you wish, ma'am. But Mellish's benefit is to beto-morrow night; and--"

"What have I to do with Mellish or his benefit?"

Mrs. Skene, abashed, murmured apologetically that she was onlywishful that the boy should do himself credit. 

"If he is to benefit Mellish by beating somebody, he will not bebehindhand. Remember you are not to mention me for a fortnight. Isthat a bargain?"

"Whatever you wish, ma'am, " repeated Mrs. Skene, hardly satisfied. But Lydia gave her no further comfort; so she begged to take herleave, expressing a hope that things would turn out to the advantageof all parties. Then Lydia insisted on her partaking of some solidrefreshment, and afterwards drove her to the railway station in thepony-carriage. Just before they parted Lydia, suddenly recurring totheir former subject, said, "Does Mr. Byron ever THINK?"

"Think!" said Mrs. Skene emphatically. "Never. There isn't a morecheerful lad in existence, miss. "

Then Mrs. Skene was carried away to London, wondering whether itcould be quite right for a young lady to live in a gorgeous castlewithout any elder of her own sex, and to speak freely and civilly toher inferiors. When she got home she said nothing of her excursionto Mr. Skene, in whose disposition valor so entirely took the placeof discretion that he had never been known to keep a secret exceptas to the whereabouts of a projected fight. But she sat up late withher daughter Fanny, tantalizing her by accounts of the splendor ofthe castle, and consoling her by describing Miss Carew as a slightcreature with red hair and no figure (Fanny having jet black hair, fine arms, and being one of Cashel's most proficient pupils). 

"All the same, Fan, " added Mrs. Skene, as she took her candlestickat two in the morning, "if it comes off, Cashel will never be masterin his own house. "

"I can see that very plain, " said Fanny; "but if respectableprofessional people are not good enough for him, he will have onlyhimself to thank if he gets himself looked down upon by empty-headedswells. "

Meanwhile, Lydia, on her return to the castle after a long driveround the country, had attempted to overcome an attack ofrestlessness by setting to work on the biography of her father. Witha view to preparing a chapter on his taste in literature she hadlately been examining his favorite books for marked passages. Shenow resumed this search, not setting methodically to work, butstanding perched on the library ladder, taking down volume aftervolume, and occasionally dipping into the contents for a few pagesor so. At this desultory work the time passed as imperceptibly asthe shadows lengthened. The last book she examined was a volume ofpoems. There were no marks in it; but it opened at a page which hadevidently lain open often before. The first words Lydia saw werethese:

"What would I give for a heart of flesh to warm me through Insteadof this heart of stone ice-cold whatever I do; Hard and cold andsmall, of all hearts the worst of all. "

Lydia hastily stepped down from the ladder, and recoiled until shereached a chair, where she sat and read and reread these lines. Thefailing light roused her to action. She replaced the book on theshelf, and said, as she went to the writing-table, "If such a doubtas that haunted my father it will haunt me, unless I settle what isto be my heart's business now and forever. If it be possible for achild of mine to escape this curse of autovivisection, it mustinherit its immunity from its father, and not from me--from the manof emotion who never thinks, and not from the woman ofintrospection, who cannot help thinking. Be it so. "

CHAPTER XIV

Before many days had elapsed a letter came for Cashel as he sattaking tea with the Skene family. When he saw the handwriting, adeep red color mounted to his temples. 

"Oh, Lor'!" said Miss Skene, who sat next him. "Let's read it. "

"Go to the dickens, " cried Cashel, hastily baffling her as shesnatched at it. 

"Don't worrit him, Fan, " said Mrs. Skene, tenderly. 

"Not for the world, poor dear, " said Miss Skene, putting her handaffectionately on his shoulder. "Let me just peep at the name--tosee who it's from. Do, Cashel, DEAR. "

"It's from nobody, " said Cashel. "Here, get out. If you don't let mealone I'll make it warm for you the next time you come to me for alesson. "

"Very likely, " said Fanny, contemptuously. "Who had the best of itto-day, I should like to know?"

"Gev' him a hot un on the chin with her right as ever I see, "observed Skene, with hoarse mirth. 

Cashel went away from the table, out of Fanny's reach; and read theletter, which ran thus:

"Regent's Park. "Dear Mr. Cashel Byron, --I am desirous that youshould meet a lady friend of mine. She will be here at three o'clockto-morrow afternoon. You would oblige me greatly by calling on me atthat hour. 

"Yours faithfully, "Lydia Carew. "

There was a long pause, during which there was no sound in the roomexcept the ticking of the clock and the munching of shrimps by theex-champion. 

"Good news, I hope, Cashel, " said Mrs. Skene, at last, tremulously. 

"Blow me if I understand it, " said Cashel. "Can you make it out?"And he handed the letter to his adopted mother. Skene ceased eatingto see his wife read, a feat which was to him one of the wonders ofscience. 

"I think the lady she mentions must be herself, " said Mrs. Skene, after some consideration. 

"No, " said Cashel, shaking his head. "She always says what shemeans. "

"Ah, " said Skene, cunningly; "but she can't write it though. That'sthe worst of writing; no one can't never tell exactly what it means. I never signed articles yet that there weren't some misunderstandingabout; and articles is the best writing that can be had anywhere. "

"You'd better go and see what it means, " said Mrs. Skene. 

"Right, " said Skene. "Go and have it out with her, my boy. "

"It is short, and not particularly sweet, " said Fanny. "She mighthave had the civility to put her crest at the top. "

"What would you give to be her?" said Cashel, derisively, catchingthe letter as she tossed it disdainfully to him. 

"If I was I'd respect myself more than to throw myself at YOURhead. "

"Hush, Fanny, " said Mrs. Skene; "you're too sharp. Ned, you oughtn'tto encourage her by laughing. "

Next day Cashel rose early, went for a walk, paid extra attention tohis diet, took some exercise with the gloves, had a bath and a rubdown, and presented himself at Regent's Park at three o'clock inexcellent condition. Expecting to see Bashville, he was surprisedwhen the door was opened by a female servant. 

"Miss Carew at home?"

"Yes, sir, " said the girl, falling in love with him at first sight. "Mr. Byron, sir?"

"That's me, " said Cashel. "I say, is there any one with her?"

"Only a lady, sir. "

"Oh, d--n! Well, it can't be helped. Never say die. "

The girl led him then to a door, opened it, and when he entered shutit softly without announcing him. The room in which he found himselfwas a long one, lighted from the roof. The walls were hung withpictures. At the far end, with their backs towards him, were twoladies: Lydia, and a woman whose noble carriage and elegant formwould, have raised hopes of beauty in a man less preoccupied thanCashel. But he, after advancing some distance with his eyes onLydia, suddenly changed countenance, stopped, and was actuallyturning to fly, when the ladies, hearing his light step, faced aboutand rooted him to the spot. As Lydia offered him her hand, hercompanion, who had surveyed the visitor first with indifference, andthen with incredulous surprise, exclaimed, with a burst of delightedrecognition, like a child finding a long-lost plaything, "My darlingboy!" And going to Cashel with the grace of a swan, she clasped himin her arms. In acknowledgment of which he thrust his red, discomfited face over her shoulder, winked at Lydia with his tonguein his cheek, and said, "This is what you may call the voice of nature, and no mistake. "

"What a splendid creature you are!" said Mrs. Byron, holding him alittle way from her, the better to admire him. "Do you know howhandsome you are, you wretch?"

"How d'ye do, Miss Carew, " said Cashel, breaking loose, and turningto Lydia. "Never mind her; it's only my mother. At least, " he added, as if correcting himself, "she's my mamma. "

"And where have you come from? Where have you been? Do you know thatI have not seen you for seven years, you unnatural boy? Think of hisbeing my son, Miss Carew. Give me another kiss, my own, " shecontinued, grasping his arm affectionately. 

"What a muscular creature you are!"

"Kiss away as much as you like, " said Cashel, struggling with theold school-boy sullenness as it returned oppressively upon him. "Isuppose you're well. You look right enough. "

"Yes, " she said, mockingly, beginning to despise him for hisinability to act up to her in this thrilling scene; "I AM rightenough. Your language is as refined as ever. And why do you get yourhair cropped close like that? You must let it grow, and--"

"Now, look here, " said Cashel, stopping her hand neatly as sheraised it to rearrange his locks. "You just drop it, or I'll walkout at that door and you won't see me again for another seven years. You can either take me as you find me, or let me alone. Absalom andDan Mendoza came to grief through wearing their hair long, and I amgoing to wear mine short. "

Mrs. Byron became a shade colder. "Indeed!" she said. "Just the samestill, Cashel?"

"Just the same, both one and other of us, " he replied. "Before youspoke six words I felt as if we'd parted only yesterday. "

"I am rather taken aback by the success of my experiment, "interposed Lydia. "I invited you purposely to meet one another. Theresemblance between you led me to suspect the truth, and mysuspicion was confirmed by the account Mr. Byron gave me of hisadventures. "

Mrs. Byron's vanity was touched. "Is he like me?" she said, scanninghis features. He, without heeding her, said to Lydia withundisguised mortification, "And was THAT why you sent for me?"

"Are you disappointed?" said Lydia. 

"He is not in the least glad to see me, " said Mrs. Byron, plaintively. "He has no heart. "

"Now she'll go on for the next hour, " said Cashel, looking to Lydia, obviously because he found it much pleasanter than looking at hismother. "However, if you don't care, I don't. So, fire away, mamma. "

"And you think we are really like one another?" said Mrs. Byron, notheeding him. "Yes; I think we are. There is a certain--Are youmarried, Cashel?" with sudden mistrust. 

"Ha! ha! ha!" shouted Cashel. "No; but I hope to be, some day, " headded, venturing to glance again at Lydia, who was, however, attentively observing Mrs. Byron. 

"Well, tell me everything about yourself. What are you? Now, I dohope, Cashel, that you have not gone upon the stage. "

"The stage!" said Cashel, contemptuously. "Do I look like it?"

"You certainly do not, " said Mrs. Byron, whimsically--"although youhave a certain odious professional air, too. What did you do whenyou ran away so scandalously from that stupid school in the north?How do you earn your living? Or DO you earn it?"

"I suppose I do, unless I am fed by ravens, as Elijah was. What doyou think I was best fitted for by my education and bringing up?Sweep a crossing, perhaps! When I ran away from Panley, I went tosea. "

"A sailor, of all things! You don't look like one. And pray, whatrank have you attained in your profession?"

"The front rank. The top of the tree, " said Cashel, shortly. 

"Mr. Byron is not at present following the profession of a sailor;nor has he done so for many years, " said Lydia. 

Cashel looked at her, half in appeal, half in remonstrance. 

"Something very different, indeed, " pursued Lydia, with quietobstinacy. "And something very startling. "

"CAN'T you shut up?" exclaimed Cashel. "I should have expected moresense from you. What's the use of setting her on to make a fuss andput me in a rage? I'll go away if you don't stop. "

"What is the matter?" said Mrs. Byron. "Have you been doing anythingdisgraceful, Cashel?"

"There she goes. I told you so. I keep a gymnasium, that's all. There's nothing disgraceful in that, I hope. "

"A gymnasium?" repeated Mrs. Byron, with imperious disgust. "Whatnonsense! You must give up everything of that kind, Cashel. It isvery silly, and very low. You were too ridiculously proud, ofcourse, to come to me for the means of keeping yourself in a properposition. I suppose I shall have to provide you with--"

"If I ever take a penny from you, may I--" Cashel caught Lydia'sanxious look, and checked himself. He paused and got away a step, acunning smile flickering on his lips. "No, " he said; "it's justplaying into your hands to lose temper with you. You think you knowme, and you want to force the fighting. Well, we'll see. Make meangry now if you can. "

"There is not the slightest reason for anger, " said Mrs. Byron, angry herself. "Your temper seems to have become ungovernable--or, rather, to have remained so; for it was never remarkable forsweetness. "

"No, " retorted Cashel, jeering good-humoredly. "Not the slightestoccasion to lose my temper! Not when I am told that I am silly andlow! Why, I think you must fancy that you're talking to your littleCashel, that blessed child you were so fond of. But you're not. You're talking--now for a screech, Miss Carew!--to the champion ofAustralia, the United States, and England, holder of three silverbelts and one gold one (which you can have to wear in 'King John' ifyou think it'll become you); professor of boxing to the nobility andgentry of St. James's, and common prize-fighter to the whole globe, without reference to weight or color, for not less than five hundredpounds a side. That's Cashel Byron. "

Mrs. Byron recoiled, astounded. After a pause she said, "Oh, Cashel, how COULD you?" Then, approaching him again, "Do you mean to saythat you go out and fight those great rough savages?"

"Yes, I do. "

"And that you BEAT them?"

"Yes. Ask Miss Carew how Billy Paradise looked after standing beforeme for an hour. "

"You wonderful boy! What an occupation! And you have done all thisin your own name?"

"Of course I have. I am not ashamed of it. I often wondered whetheryou had seen my name in the papers. "

"I never read the papers. But you must have heard of my return toEngland. Why did you not come to see me?"

"I wasn't quite certain that you would like it, " said Cashel, uneasily, avoiding her eye. "Hullo!" he exclaimed, as he attemptedto refresh himself by another look at Lydia, "she's given us theslip. "

"She is quite right to leave us alone together under thecircumstances. And now tell me why my precious boy should doubt thathis own mother wished to see him. "

"I don't know why he should, " said Cashel, with melancholysubmission to her affection. "But he did. "

"How insensible you are! Did you not know that you were always mycherished darling--my only son?"

Cashel, who was now sitting beside her on an ottoman, groaned andmoved restlessly, but said nothing. 

"Are you glad to see me?"

"Yes, " said Cashel, dismally, "I suppose I am. I--By Jingo, " hecried, with sudden animation, "perhaps you can give me a lift here. I never thought of that. I say, mamma; I am in great trouble atpresent, and I think you can help me if you will. "

Mrs. Byron looked at him satirically. But she said, soothingly, "Ofcourse I will help you--as far as I am able--my precious one. All Ipossess is yours. "

Cashel ground his feet on the floor impatiently, and then sprang up. After an interval, during which he seemed to be swallowing someindignant protest, he said, "You may put your mind at rest, once and for all, on the subject ofmoney. I don't want anything of that sort. "

"I am glad you are so independent, Cashel. "

"So am I. "

"Do, pray, be more amiable. "

"I am amiable enough, " he cried, desperately, "only you won'tlisten. "

"My treasure, " said Mrs. Byron, remorsefully. "What is the matter?"

"Well, " said Cashel, somewhat mollified, "it is this. I want tomarry Miss Carew; that's all. "

"YOU marry Miss Carew!" Mrs. Byron's tenderness had vanished, andher tone was shrewd and contemptuous. "Do you know, you silly boy, that--"

"I know all about it, " said Cashel, determinedly--"what she is, andwhat I am, and the rest of it. And I want to marry her; and, what'smore, I will marry her, if I have to break the neck of every swellin London first. So you can either help me or not, as you please;but if you won't, never call me your precious boy any more. Now!"

Mrs. Byron abdicated her dominion there and then forever. She satwith quite a mild expression for some time in silence. Then shesaid, "After all, I do not see why you should not. It would be a very goodmatch for you. "

"Yes; but a deuced bad one for her. "

"Really, I do not see that, Cashel. When your uncle dies, I supposeyou will succeed to the Dorsetshire property. "

"I the heir to a property! Are you in earnest?"

"Of course. Don't you know who your people are?"

"How could I? You never told me. Do you mean to say that I have anuncle?"

"Old Bingley Byron? Certainly. "

"Well, I AM blowed. But--but--I mean--Supposing he IS my uncle, amI his lawful heir?"

"Yes. Walford Byron, the only other brother of your father, diedyears ago, while you were at Moncrief's; and he had no sons. Bingleyis a bachelor. "

"But, " said Cashel, cautiously, "won't there be some bother aboutmy--at least--"

"My dearest child, what are you thinking or talking about? Nothingcan be clearer than your title. "

"Well, " said Cashel, blushing, "a lot of people used to make outthat you weren't married at all. "

"What!" exclaimed Mrs. Byron, indignantly. "Oh, they DARE not sayso! Impossible. Why did you not tell me at once?"

"I didn't think about it, " said Cashel, hastily excusing himself. "Iwas too young to care. It doesn't matter now. My father is dead, isn't he?"

"He died when you were a baby. You have often made me angry withyou, poor little innocent, by reminding me of him. Do not talk ofhim to me. "

"Not if you don't wish. Just one thing, though, mamma. Was he agentleman?"

"Of course. What a question!"

"Then I am as good as any of the swells that think themselves herequals? She has a cousin in the government office; a fellow whogives out that he is the home secretary, and most likely sits in abig chair in a hall and cheeks the public. Am I as good as he is?"

"You are perfectly well connected by your mother's side, Cashel. TheByrons are only commoners; but even they are one of the oldestcounty families in England. "

Cashel began to show signs of excitement. "How much a year are theyworth?" he demanded. 

"I do not know how much they are worth now. Your father was alwaysin difficulties, and so was his father. But Bingley is a miser. Fivethousand a year, perhaps. "

"That's an independence. That's enough. She said she couldn't expecta man to be so thunderingly rich as she is. "

"Indeed? Then you have discussed the question with her?"

Cashel was about to speak, when a servant entered to say that MissCarew was in the library, and begged that they would come to her assoon as they were quite disengaged. When the maid withdrew he said, eagerly, "I wish you'd go home, mamma, and let me catch her in the library byherself. Tell me where you live, and I'll come in the evening andtell you all about it. That is, if you have no objection. "

"What objection could I possibly have, dearest one? Are you surethat you are not spoiling your chance by too much haste? She has nooccasion to hurry, Cashel, and she knows it. "

"I am dead certain that now is my time or never. I always know byinstinct when to go in and finish. Here's your mantle. "

"In such a hurry to get rid of your poor old mother, Cashel?"

"Oh, bother! you're not old. You won't mind my wanting you to go forthis once, will you?"

She smiled affectionately, put on her mantle, and turned her cheektowards him to be kissed. The unaccustomed gesture alarmed him; heretreated a step, and involuntary assumed an attitude ofself-defence, as if the problem before him were a pugilistic one. Recovering himself immediately, he kissed her, and impatientlyaccompanied her to the house door, which he closed softly behindher, leaving her to walk in search of her carriage alone. Then hestole up-stairs to the library, where he found Lydia reading. 

"She's gone, " he said. 

Lydia put down her book, looked up at him, saw what was coming, looked down again to hide a spasm of terror, and said, with a steadyseverity that cost her a great effort, "I hope you have notquarrelled. "

"Lord bless you, no! We kissed one another like turtle-doves. At oddmoments she wheedles me into feeling fond of her in spite of myself. She went away because I asked her to. "

"And why do you ask my guests to go away?"

"Because I wanted to be alone with you. Don't look as if you didn'tunderstand. She's told me a whole heap of things about myself thatalter our affairs completely. My birth is all right; I'm heir to acounty family that came over with the Conqueror, and I shall have adecent income. I can afford to give away weight to old Webber now. "

"Well, " said Lydia, sternly. 

"Well, " said Cashel, unabashed, "the only use of all that to me isthat I may marry if I like. No more fighting or teaching now. "

"And when you are married, will you be as tender to your wife as youare to your mother?"

Cashel's elation vanished. "I knew you'd think that, " he said. "I amalways the same with her; I can't help it. She makes me look like afool, or like a brute. Have I ever been so with you?"

"Yes, " said Lydia. "Except, " she added, "that you have never shownabsolute dislike to me. "

"Ah! EXCEPT! That's a very big except. But I don't dislike her. Blood is thicker than water, and I have a softness for her; only Iwon't put up with her nonsense. But it's different with you. I don'tknow how to say it; I'm not good at sentiment--not that there's anysentiment about it. At least, I don't mean that; but--You're fondof me in a sort of way, ain't you?"

"Yes; I'm fond of you in a sort of way. "

"Well, then, " he said, uneasily, "won't you marry me? I'm not such afool as you think; and you'll like me better after a while. "

Lydia became very pale. "Have you considered, " she said, "thathenceforth you will be an idle man, and that I shall always be abusy woman, preoccupied with the work that may seem very dull toyou?"

"I won't be idle. There's lots of things I can do besides boxing. We'll get on together, never fear. People that are fond of oneanother never have any difficulty; and people that hate each othernever have any comfort. I'll be on the lookout to make you happy. You needn't fear my interrupting your Latin and Greek: I won'texpect you to give up your whole life to me. Why should I? There'sreason in everything. So long as you are mine, and nobody else's, I'll be content. And I'll be yours and nobody else's. What's the useof supposing half a dozen accidents that may never happen? Let'ssign reasonable articles, and then take our chance. You have toomuch good-nature ever to be nasty. "

"It would be a hard bargain, " she said, doubtfully; "for you wouldhave to give up your occupation; and I should give up nothing but myunfruitful liberty. "

"I will swear never to fight again; and you needn't swear anything. If that is not an easy bargain, I don't know what is. "

"Easy for me, yes. But for you?"

"Never mind me. You do whatever you like; and I'll do whatever youlike. You have a conscience; so I know that whatever you like willbe the best thing. I have the most science; but you have the mostsense. Come!"

Lydia looked around, as if for a means of escape. Cashel waitedanxiously. There was a long pause. 

"It can't be, " he said, pathetically, "that you are afraid of mebecause I was a prize-fighter. "

"Afraid of you! No: I am afraid of myself; afraid of the future;afraid FOR you. But my mind is already made up on this subject. WhenI brought about this meeting between you and your mother Idetermined to marry you if you asked me again. "

She stood up, quietly, and waited. The rough hardihood of the ringfell from him like a garment: he blushed deeply, and did not knowwhat to do. Nor did she; but without willing it she came a stepcloser to him, and turned up her face towards his. He, nearly blindwith confusion, put his arms about her and kissed her. Suddenly shebroke loose from his arms, seized the lapels of his coat tightly inher hands, and leaned back until she nearly hung from him with allher weight. 

"Cashel, " she said, "we are the silliest lovers in the world, Ibelieve--we know nothing about it. Are you really fond of me?"

She recovered herself immediately, and made no further demonstrationof the kind. He remained shy, and was so evidently anxious to go, that she presently asked him to leave her for a while, though shewas surprised to feel a faint pang of disappointment when heconsented. 

On leaving the house he hurried to the address which his mother hadgiven him: a prodigious building in Westminster, divided intoresidential flats, to the seventh floor of which he ascended in alift. As he stepped from it he saw Lucian Webber walking away fromhim along a corridor. Obeying a sudden impulse, he followed, andovertook him just as he was entering a room. Lucian, finding thatsome one was resisting his attempt to close the door, looked out, recognized Cashel, turned white, and hastily retreated into theapartment, where, getting behind a writing-table, he snatched arevolver from a drawer. Cashel recoiled, amazed and frightened, withhis right arm up as if to ward off a blow. 

"Hullo!" he cried. "Drop that d--d thing, will you? If you don't, I'll shout for help. "

"If you approach me I will fire, " said Lucian, excitedly. "I willteach you that your obsolete brutality is powerless against theweapons science has put into the hands of civilized men. Leave myapartments. I am not afraid of you; but I do not choose to bedisturbed by your presence. "

"Confound your cheek, " said Cashel, indignantly; "is that the wayyou receive a man who comes to make a friendly call on you?"

"Friendly NOW, doubtless, when you see that I am well protected. "

Cashel gave a long whistle. "Oh, " he said, "you thought I came topitch into you. Ha! ha! And you call that science--to draw a pistolon a man. But you daren't fire it, and well you know it. You'dbetter put it up, or you may let it off without intending to: Inever feel comfortable when I see a fool meddling with firearms. Icame to tell you that I'm going to be married to your cousin. Ain'tyou glad?"

Lucian's face changed. He believed; but he said, obstinately, "Idon't credit that statement. It is a lie. "

This outraged Cashel. "I tell you again, " he said, in a menacingtone, "that your cousin is engaged to me. Now call me a liar, andhit me in the face, if you dare. Look here, " he added, taking aleather case from his pocket, and extracting from it a bank note, "I'll give you that twenty-pound note if you will hit me one blow. "

Lucian, sick with fury, and half paralyzed by a sensation which hewould not acknowledge as fear, forced himself to come forward. Cashel thrust out his jaw invitingly, and said, with a sinistergrin, "Put it in straight, governor. Twenty pounds, remember. "

At that moment Lucian would have given all his political and socialchances for the courage and skill of a prize-fighter. He could seeonly one way to escape the torment of Cashel's jeering and the self-reproach of a coward. He desperately clenched his fist and struckout. The blow wasted itself on space; and he stumbled forwardagainst his adversary, who laughed uproariously, grasped his hand, clapped him on the back, and exclaimed, "Well done, my boy. I thought you were going to be mean; but you'vebeen game, and you're welcome to the stakes. I'll tell Lydia thatyou have fought me for twenty pounds and won on your merits. Ain'tyou proud of yourself for having had a go at the champion?"

"Sir--" began Lucian. But nothing coherent followed. 

"You just sit down for a quarter of an hour, and don't drinkanything, and you'll be all right. When you recover you'll be gladyou showed pluck. So, good-night, for the present--I know how youfeel, and I'll be off. Be sure not to try to settle yourself withwine; it'll only make you worse. Ta-ta!"

As Cashel withdrew, Lucian collapsed into a chair, shaken by therevival of passions and jealousies which he had thought ascompletely outgrown as the school-boy jackets in which he hadformerly experienced them. He tried to think of some justificationof his anger--some better reason for it than the vulgar taunt of abully. He told himself presently that the idea of Lydia marryingsuch a man had maddened him to strike. As Cashel had predicted, hewas beginning to plume himself on his pluck. This vein ofreflection, warring with his inner knowledge that he had been drivenby fear and hatred into a paroxysm of wrath against a man to whom heshould have set an example of dignified self-control, produced anexhausting whirl in his thoughts, which were at once quickened andconfused by the nervous shock of bodily violence, to which he wasquite unused. Unable to sit still, he rose, put on his hat, wentout, and drove to the house in Regent's Park. 

Lydia was in her boudoir, occupied with a book, when he entered. Hewas not an acute observer; he could see no change in her. She was ascalm as ever; her eyes were not even fully open, and the touch ofher hand subdued him as it had always done. Though he had neverentertained any hope of possessing her since the day when she hadrefused him in Bedford Square, a sense of intolerable loss came uponhim as he saw her for the first time pledged to another--and suchanother!

"Lydia, " he said, trying to speak vehemently, but failing to shakeoff the conventional address of which he had made a second nature, "I have heard something that has filled me with inexpressibledismay. Is it true?"

"The news has travelled fast, " she said. "Yes; it is true. " Shespoke composedly, and so kindly that he choked in trying to reply. 

"Then, Lydia, you are the chief actor in a greater tragedy than Ihave ever witnessed on the stage. "

"It is strange, is it not?" she said, smiling at his effort to beimpressive. 

"Strange! It is calamitous. I trust I may be allowed to say so. Andyou sit there reading as calmly as though nothing had happened. "

She handed him the book without a word. 

"'Ivanhoe'!" he said. "A novel!"

"Yes. Do you remember once, before you knew me very well, telling methat Scott's novels were the only ones that you liked to see in thehands of ladies?"

"No doubt I did. But I cannot talk of literature just--"

"I am not leading you away from what you want to talk about. I wasabout to tell you that I came upon 'Ivanhoe' by chance half an hourago, when I was searching--I confess it--for something very romanticto read. Ivanhoe was a prize-fighter--the first half of the book isa description of a prize-fight. I was wondering whether someromancer of the twenty-fourth century will hunt out the exploits ofmy husband, and present him to the world as a sort of Englishnineteenth-century Cyd, with all the glory of antiquity upon hisdeeds. "

Lucian made a gesture of impatience. "I have never been able tounderstand, " he said, "how it is that a woman of your ability canhabitually dwell on perverse and absurd ideas. Oh, Lydia, is this tobe the end of all your great gifts and attainments? Forgive me if Itouch a painful chord; but this marriage seems to me so unnaturalthat I must speak out. Your father made you one of the richest andbest-educated women in the world. Would he approve of what you areabout to do?"

"It almost seems to me that he educated me expressly to some suchend. Whom would you have me marry?"

"Doubtless few men are worthy of you, Lydia. But this man least ofall. Could you not marry a gentleman? If he were even an artist, apoet, or a man of genius of any kind, I could bear to think of it;for indeed I am not influenced by class prejudice in the matter. Buta--I will try to say nothing that you must not in justice admit tobe too obvious to be ignored--a man of the lower orders, pursuing acalling which even the lower orders despise; illiterate, rough, awaiting at this moment a disgraceful sentence at the hands of thelaw! Is it possible that you have considered all these things?"

"Not very deeply; they are not of a kind to concern me much. I canconsole you as to one of them. I have always recognized him as agentleman, in your sense of the word. He proves to be so--one ofconsiderable position, in fact. As to his approaching trial, I havespoken with Lord Worthington about it, and also with the lawyers whohave charge of the case; and they say positively that, owing tocertain proofs not being in the hands of the police, a defence canbe set up that will save him from imprisonment. "

"There is no such defence possible, " said Lucian, angrily. 

"Perhaps not. As far as I understand it, it is rather an aggravationof the offence than an excuse for it. But if they imprison him itwill make no difference. He can console himself by the certaintythat I will marry him at once when he is released. "

Lucian's face lengthened. He abandoned the argument, and said, blankly, "I cannot suppose that you would allow yourself to bedeceived. If he is a gentleman of position, that of course altersthe case completely. "

"Very little indeed from my point of view. Hardly at all. And now, worldly cousin Lucian, I have satisfied you that I am not going toconnect you by marriage with a butcher, bricklayer, or other memberof the trades from which Cashel's profession, as you warned me, isusually recruited. Stop a moment. I am going to do justice to you. You want to say that my unworldly friend Lucian is far more deeplyconcerned at seeing the phoenix of modern culture throw herself awayon a man unworthy of her. "

"That IS what I mean to say, except that you put it too modestly. Itis a case of the phoenix, not only of modern culture, but of naturalendowment and of every happy accident of the highest civilization, throwing herself away on a man specially incapacitated by his tastesand pursuits from comprehending her or entering the circle in whichshe moves. "

"Listen to me patiently, Lucian, and I will try to explain themystery to you, leaving the rest of the world to misunderstand me asit pleases. First, you will grant me that even a phoenix must marrysome one in order that she may hand on her torch to her children. Her best course would be to marry another phoenix; but as she--poorgirl!--cannot appreciate even her own phoenixity, much less that ofanother, she must perforce be content with a mere mortal. Who is themortal to be? Not her cousin Lucian; for rising young politiciansmust have helpful wives, with feminine politics and powers ofvisiting and entertaining; a description inapplicable to thephoenix. Not, as you just now suggested, a man of letters. Thephoenix has had her share of playing helpmeet to a man of letters, and does not care to repeat that experience. She is sick to death ofthe morbid introspection and womanish self-consciousness of poets, novelists, and their like. As to artists, all the good ones aremarried; and ever since the rest have been able to read in hundredsof books that they are the most gifted and godlike of men, they arebecome almost as intolerable as their literary flatterers. No, Lucian, the phoenix has paid her debt to literature and art by thetoil of her childhood. She will use and enjoy both of them in futureas best she can; but she will never again drudge in theirlaboratories. You say that she might at least have married agentleman. But the gentlemen she knows are either amateurs of thearts, having the egotism of professional artists without theirability, or they are men of pleasure, which means that they aredancers, tennis-players, butchers, and gamblers. I leave thenonentities out of the question. Now, in the eyes of a phoenix, aprize-fighter is a hero in comparison with a wretch who sets a leashof greyhounds upon a hare. Imagine, now, this poor phoenix meetingwith a man who had never been guilty of self-analysis in hislife--who complained when he was annoyed, and exulted when he wasglad, like a child (and unlike a modern man)--who was honest andbrave, strong and beautiful. You open your eyes, Lucian: you do notdo justice to Cashel's good looks. He is twenty-five, and yet thereis not a line in his face. It is neither thoughtful, nor poetic, norwearied, nor doubting, nor old, nor self-conscious, as so many ofhis contemporaries' faces are--as mine perhaps is. The face of apagan god, assured of eternal youth, and absolutely disqualifiedfrom comprehending 'Faust. ' Do you understand a word of what I amsaying, Lucian?"

"I must confess that I do not. Either you have lost your reason, orI have. I wish you had never taking to reading 'Faust. '"

"It is my fault. I began an explanation, and rambled off, womanlike, into praise of my lover. However, I will not attempt to complete myargument; for if you do not understand me from what I have alreadysaid, the further you follow the wider you will wander. The truth, in short, is this: I practically believe in the doctrine ofheredity; and as my body is frail and my brain morbidly active, Ithink my impulse towards a man strong in body and untroubled in minda trustworthy one. You can understand that; it is a plainproposition in eugenics. But if I tell you that I have chosen thiscommon pugilist because, after seeing half the culture of Europe, Idespaired of finding a better man, you will only tell me again thatI have lost my reason. "

"I know that you will do whatever you have made up your mind to do, "said Lucian, desolately. 

"And you will make the best of it, will you not?"

"The best or the worst of it does not rest with me. I can onlyaccept it as inevitable. "

"Not at all. You can make the worst of it by behaving distantly toCashel; or the best of it by being friendly with him. "

Lucian reddened and hesitated. She looked at him, mutely encouraginghim to be generous. 

"I had better tell you, " he said. "I have seen him since--since--"Lydia nodded. "I mistook his object in coming into my room as hedid, unannounced. In fact, he almost forced his way in. Some wordsarose between us. At last he taunted me beyond endurance, andoffered me--characteristically--twenty pounds to strike him. And Iam sorry to say that I did so. "

"You did so! And what followed?"

"I should say rather that I meant to strike him; for he avoided me, or else I missed my aim. He only gave the money and went away, evidently with a high opinion of me. He left me with a very low oneof myself. "

"What! He did not retaliate!" exclaimed Lydia, recovering her color, which had fled. "And you STRUCK him!" she added. 

"He did not, " replied Lucian, passing by the reproach. "Probably hedespised me too much. "

"That is not fair, Lucian. He behaved very well--for aprize-fighter! Surely you do not grudge him his superiority in thevery art you condemn him for professing. "

"I was wrong, Lydia; but I grudged him you. I know I have actedhastily; and I will apologize to him. I wish matters had fallen outotherwise. "

"They could not have done so; and I believe you will yet acknowledgethat they have arranged themselves very well. And now that thephoenix is disposed of, I want to read you a letter I have receivedfrom Alice Goff, which throws quite a new light on her character. Ihave not seen her since June, and she seems to have gained threeyears' mental growth in the interim. Listen to this, for example. "

And so the conversation turned upon Alice. 

When Lucian returned to his chambers, he wrote the following note, which he posted to Cashel Byron before going to bed:

"Dear Sir, --I beg to enclose you a bank-note which you left herethis evening. I feel bound to express my regret for what passed onthat occasion, and to assure you that it proceeded from amisapprehension of your purpose in calling on me. The nervousdisorder into which the severe mental application and late hours ofthe past session have thrown me must be my excuse. I hope to havethe pleasure of meeting you again soon, and offering you personallymy congratulations on your approaching marriage. "I am, dear sir, yours truly, "Lucian Webber. "

CHAPTER XV

In the following month Cashel Byron, William Paradise, and RobertMellish appeared in the dock together, the first two for having beenprincipals in a prize-fight, and Mellish for having acted as bottle-holder to Paradise. These offences were verbosely described in along indictment which had originally included the fourth man who hadbeen captured, but against whom the grand jury had refused to find atrue bill. The prisoners pleaded not guilty. 

The defence was that the fight, the occurrence of which wasadmitted, was not a prize-fight, but the outcome of an enmity whichhad subsisted between the two men since one of them, at a publicexhibition at Islington, had attacked and bitten the other. Insupport of this, it was shown that Byron had occupied a house atWiltstoken, and had lived there with Mellish, who had invitedParadise to spend a holiday with him in the country. This accountedfor the presence of the three men at Wiltstoken on the day inquestion. Words had arisen between Byron and Paradise on the subjectof the Islington affair; and they had at last agreed to settle thedispute in the old English fashion. They had adjourned to a field, and fought fairly and determinedly until interrupted by the police, who were misled by appearances into the belief that the affair was aprize-fight. 

Prize-fighting was a brutal pastime, Cashel Byron's counsel said;but a fair, stand-up fight between two unarmed men, though doubtlesstechnically a breach of the peace, had never been severely dealtwith by a British jury or a British judge; and the case would beamply met by binding over the prisoners, who were now on the best ofterms with one another, to keep the peace for a reasonable period. The sole evidence against this view of the case, he argued, waspolice evidence; and the police were naturally reluctant to admitthat they had found a mare's nest. In proof that the fight had beenpremeditated, and was a prize-fight, they alleged that it had takenplace within an enclosure formed with ropes and stakes. But wherewere those ropes and stakes? They were not forthcoming; and he(counsel) submitted that the reason was not, as had been suggested, because they had been spirited away, for that was plainlyimpossible; but because they had existed only in the excitedimagination of the posse of constables who had arrested theprisoners. 

Again, it had been urged that the prisoners were in fightingcostume. But cross-examination had elicited that fighting costumemeant practically no costume at all: the men had simply stripped inorder that their movements might be unembarrassed. It had beenproved that Paradise had been--well, in the traditional costume ofParadise (roars of laughter) until the police borrowed a blanket toput upon him. 

That the constables had been guilty of gross exaggeration was shownby their evidence as to the desperate injuries the combatants hadinflicted upon one another. Of Paradise in particular it had beenalleged that his features were obliterated. The jury had before themin the dock the man whose features had been obliterated only a fewweeks previously. If that were true, where had the prisoner obtainedthe unblemished lineaments which he was now, full of health andgood-humor, presenting to them? (Renewed laughter. Paradise grinningin confusion. ) It was said that these terrible injuries, the tracesof which had disappeared so miraculously, were inflicted by theprisoner Byron, a young gentleman tenderly nurtured, and visiblyinferior in strength and hardihood to his herculean opponent. Doubtless Byron had been emboldened by his skill in mimic combat totry conclusions, under the very different conditions of realfighting, with a man whose massive shoulders and determined cast offeatures ought to have convinced him that such an enterprise wasnothing short of desperate. Fortunately the police had interferedbefore he had suffered severely for his rashness. Yet it had beenalleged that he had actually worsted Paradise in theencounter--obliterated his features. That was a fair sample of thepolice evidence, which was throughout consistently incredible and atvariance with the dictates of common-sense. 

Attention was then drawn to the honorable manner in which Byron hadcome forward and given himself up to the police the moment he becameaware that they were in search of him. Paradise would, beyond adoubt, have adopted the same course had he not been arrested atonce, and that, too, without the least effort at resistance on hispart. That was hardly the line of conduct that would have suggesteditself to two lawless prize-fighters. 

An attempt had been made to prejudice the prisoner Byron by thestatement that he was a notorious professional bruiser. But no proofof that was forthcoming; and if the fact were really notorious therecould be no difficulty in proving it. Such notoriety as Mr. Byronenjoyed was due, as appeared from the evidence of Lord Worthingtonand others, to his approaching marriage to a lady of distinction. Was it credible that a highly connected gentleman in this enviableposition would engage in a prize-fight, risking disgrace andpersonal disfigurement, for a sum of money that could be no objectto him, or for a glory that would appear to all his friends aslittle better than infamy?

The whole of the evidence as to the character of the prisoners wentto show that they were men of unimpeachable integrity andrespectability. An impression unfavorable to Paradise might havebeen created by the fact that he was a professional pugilist and aman of hasty temper; but it had also transpired that he had onseveral occasions rendered assistance to the police, therebyemploying his skill and strength in the interests of law and order. As to his temper, it accounted for the quarrel which thepolice--knowing his profession--had mistaken for a prize-fight. 

Mellish was a trainer of athletes, and hence the witnesses to hischaracter were chiefly persons connected with sport; but they werenot the less worthy of credence on that account. 

In fine, the charge would have been hard to believe even ifsupported by the strongest evidence. But when there was noevidence--when the police had failed to produce any of theaccessories of a prize-fight--when there were no ropes norposts--no written articles--no stakes nor stakeholders--no secondsexcept the unfortunate man Mellish, whose mouth was closed by a lawwhich, in defiance of the obvious interests of justice, forbade aprisoner to speak and clear himself--nothing, in fact, but thefancies of constables who had, under cross-examination, not onlycontradicted one another, but shown the most complete ignorance (ahighly creditable ignorance) of the nature and conditions of aprize-fight; then counsel would venture to say confidently that thetheory of the prosecution, ingenious as it was, and ably as it hadbeen put forward, was absolutely and utterly untenable. 

This, and much more argument of equal value, was delivered withrelish by a comparatively young barrister, whose spirits rose as hefelt the truth change and fade while he rearranged its attendantcircumstances. Cashel listened for some time anxiously. He flushedand looked moody when his marriage was alluded to; but when thewhole defence was unrolled, he was awestruck, and stared at hisadvocate as if he half feared that the earth would gape and swallowsuch a reckless perverter of patent facts. Even the judge in thecity; and was eventually invited to represent a Dorsetshireconstituency in Parliament in the Radical interest. He was returnedby a large majority; and, having a loud voice and an easy manner, hesoon acquired some reputation both in and out of the House ofCommons by the popularity of his own views, and the extent of hiswife's information, which he retailed at second hand. He made hismaiden speech in the House unabashed the first night he sat there. Indeed, he was afraid of nothing except burglars, big dogs, doctors, dentists, and street-crossings. Whenever any accident occurredthrough any of these he preserved the newspaper in which it wasreported, read it to Lydia very seriously, and repeated his favoriteassertion that the only place in which a man was safe was the ring. As he objected to most field sports on the ground of inhumanity, she, fearing that he would suffer in health and appearance from wantof systematic exercise, suggested that he should resume the practiceof boxing with gloves. But he was lazy in this matter, and had aprejudice that boxing did not become a married man. His career as apugilist was closed by his marriage. 

His admiration for his wife survived the ardor of his first love forher, and she employed all her forethought not to disappoint hisreliance on her judgment. She led a busy life, and wrote somelearned monographs, as well as a work in which she denouncededucation as practised in the universities and public schools. Herchildren inherited her acuteness and refinement with their father'srobustness and aversion to study. They were precocious and impudent, had no respect for Cashel, and showed any they had for their motherprincipally by running to her when they were in difficulties. Shenever punished nor scolded them; but she contrived to make theirmisdeeds recoil naturally upon them so inevitably that they soonacquired a lively moral sense which restrained them much moreeffectually than the usual methods of securing order in the nursery. Cashel treated them kindly for the purpose of conciliating them; andwhen Lydia spoke of them to him in private, he seldom said more thanthat the imps were too sharp for him, or that he was blest if hedidn't believe that they were born older than their father. Lydiaoften thought so too; but the care of this troublesome family hadone advantage for her. It left her little time to think aboutherself, or about the fact that when the illusion of her love passedaway Cashel fell in her estimation. But the children were a success;and she soon came to regard him as one of them. When she had leisureto consider the matter at all, which seldom occurred, it seemed toher that, on the whole, she had chosen wisely. 

Alice Goff, when she heard of Lydia's projected marriage, saw thatshe must return to Wiltstoken, and forget her brief social splendoras soon as possible. She therefore thanked Miss Carew for herbounty, and begged to relinquish her post of companion. Lydiaassented, but managed to delay this sacrifice to a sense of duty andnecessity until a day early in winter, when Lucian gave way to ahankering after smiled once or twice; and when he did so the jurymengrinned, but recovered their solemnity suddenly when the benchrecollected itself and became grave again. Every one in court knewthat the police were right--that there had been a prize-fight--thatthe betting on it had been recorded in all the sporting papers forweeks beforehand--that Cashel was the most terrible fighting man ofthe day, and that Paradise had not dared to propose a renewal of theinterrupted contest. And they listened with admiration and delightwhile the advocate proved that these things were incredible andnonsensical. 

It remained for the judge to sweep away the defence, or to favor theprisoners by countenancing it. Fortunately for them, he was an oldman; and could recall, not without regret, a time when the memory ofCribb and Molyneux was yet green. He began his summing-up by tellingthe jury that the police had failed to prove that the fight was aprize-fight. After that, the public, by indulging in roars oflaughter whenever they could find a pretext for doing so withoutbeing turned out of court, showed that they had ceased to regard thetrial seriously. 

Finally the jury acquitted Mellish, and found Cashel and Paradiseguilty of a common assault. They were sentenced to two days'imprisonment, and bound over to keep the peace for twelve months insureties of one hundred and fifty pounds each. The sureties wereforthcoming; and as the imprisonment was supposed to date from thebeginning of the sessions, the prisoners were at once released. 

CHAPTER XVI

Miss Carew, averse to the anomalous relations of courtship, made aslittle delay as possible in getting married. Cashel's luck was notchanged by the event. Bingley Byron died three weeks after theceremony (which was civic and private); and Cashel had to claimpossession of the property in Dorsetshire, in spite of his expressedwish that the lawyers would take themselves and the property to thedevil, and allow him to enjoy his honeymoon in peace. The transferwas not, however, accomplished at once. Owing to his mother'scapricious reluctance to give the necessary information withoutreserve, and to the law's delay, his first child was born some timebefore his succession was fully established and the doors of hisancestral hall opened to him. The conclusion of the business was agreat relief to his attorneys, who had been unable to shake hisconviction that the case was clear enough, but that the referee hadbeen squared. By this he meant that the Lord Chancellor had beenbribed to keep him out of his property. 

His marriage proved an unusually happy one. To make up for the lossof his occupation, he farmed, and lost six thousand pounds by it;tried gardening with better success; began to meddle in commercialenterprises, and became director of several trading companies in thecity; and was eventually invited to represent a Dorsetshireconstituency in Parliament in the Radical interest. He was returnedby a large majority; and, having a loud voice and an easy manner, hesoon acquired some reputation both in and out of the House ofCommons by the popularity of his own views, and the extent of hiswife's information, which he retailed at second hand. He made hismaiden speech in the House unabashed the first night he sat there. Indeed, he was afraid of nothing except burglars, big dogs, doctors, dentists, and street-crossings. Whenever any accident occurredthrough any of these he preserved the newspaper in which it wasreported, read it to Lydia very seriously, and repeated his favoriteassertion that the only place in which a man was safe was the ring. As he objected to most field sports on the ground of inhumanity, she, fearing that he would suffer in health and appearance from wantof systematic exercise, suggested that he should resume the practiceof boxing with gloves. But he was lazy in this matter, and had aprejudice that boxing did not become a married man. His career as apugilist was closed by his marriage. 

His admiration for his wife survived the ardor of his first love forher, and she employed all her forethought not to disappoint hisreliance on her judgment. She led a busy life, and wrote somelearned monographs, as well as a work in which she denouncededucation as practised in the universities and public schools. Herchildren inherited her acuteness and refinement with their father'srobustness and aversion to study. They were precocious and impudent, had no respect for Cashel, and showed any they had for their motherprincipally by running to her when they were in difficulties. Shenever punished nor scolded them; but she contrived to make theirmisdeeds recoil naturally upon them so inevitably that they soonacquired a lively moral sense which restrained them much moreeffectually than the usual methods of securing order in the nursery. Cashel treated them kindly for the purpose of conciliating them; andwhen Lydia spoke of them to him in private, he seldom said more thanthat the imps were too sharp for him, or that he was blest if hedidn't believe that they were born older than their father. Lydiaoften thonght so too; but the care of this troublesome family hadone advantage for her. It left her little time to think aboutherself, or about the fact that when the illusion of her love passedaway Cashel fell in her estimation. But the children were a success;and she soon came to regard him as one of them. When she had leisureto consider the matter at all, which seldom occurred, it seemed toher that, on the whole, she had chosen wisely. 

Alice Goff, when she heard of Lydia's projected marriage, saw thatshe must return to Wiltstoken, and forget her brief social splendoras soon as possible. She therefore thanked Miss Carew for herbounty, and begged to relinquish her post of companion. Lydiaassented, but managed to delay this sacrifice to a sense of duty andnecessity until a day early in winter, when Lucian gave way to ahankering after domestic joys that possessed him, and allowed hiscousin to persuade him to offer his hand to Alice. She indignantlyrefused--not that she had any reason to complain of him, but becausethe prospect of returning to Wiltstoken made her feel ill used, andshe could not help revenging her soreness upon the first person whomshe could find a pretext for attacking. He, lukewarm before, nowbecame eager, and she was induced to relent without much difficulty. Lucian was supposed to have made a brilliant match; and, as itproved, he made a fortunate one. She kept his house, entertained hisguests, and took charge of his social connections so ably that incourse of time her invitations came to be coveted by people who weredesirous of moving in good society. She was even better looking as amatron than she had been as a girl; and her authority in matters ofetiquette inspired nervous novices with all the terrors she hadherself felt when she first visited Wiltstoken Castle. She invitedher brother-in-law and his wife to dinner twice a year--at midsummerand Easter; but she never admitted that either Wallace Parker orCashel Byron were gentlemen, although she invited the latter freely, notwithstanding the frankness with which he spoke to strangers afterdinner of his former exploits, without deference to theirprofessions or prejudices. Her respect for Lydia remained so greatthat she never complained to her of Cashel save on one occasion, when he had shown a bishop, whose house had been recently brokeninto and robbed, how to break a burglar's back in the act ofgrappling with him. 

The Skenes returned to Australia and went their way there, as Mrs. Byron did in England, in the paths they had pursued for yearsbefore. Cashel spoke always of Mrs. Skene as "mother, " and of Mrs. Byron as "mamma. "

William Paradise, though admired by the fair sex for his strength, courage, and fame, was not, like Cashel and Skene, wise or fortunateenough to get a good wife. He drank so exceedingly that he had butfew sober intervals after his escape from the law. He claimed thetitle of champion of England on Cashel's retirement from the ring, and challenged the world. The world responded in the persons ofsundry young laboring men with a thirst for glory and a taste forfighting. Paradise fought and prevailed twice. Then he drank whilein training, and was beaten. But by this time the ring had againfallen into the disrepute from which Cashel's unusual combination ofpugilistic genius with honesty had temporarily raised it; and thelaw, again seizing Paradise as he was borne vanquished from thefield, atoned for its former leniency by incarcerating him for sixmonths. The abstinence thus enforced restored him to health andvigor; and he achieved another victory before he succeeded indrinking himself into his former state. This was his last triumph. With his natural ruffianism complicated by drunkenness, he wentrapidly down the hill into the valley of humiliation. After becomingnoted for his readiness to sell the victories he could no longerwin, he only appeared in the ring to test the capabilities ofuntried youths, who beat him to their hearts' content. He became apotman, and was immediately discharged as an inebriate. He had sunkinto beggary when, hearing in his misery that his former antagonistwas contesting a parliamentary election, he applied to him for alms. Cashel at the time was in Dorsetshire; but Lydia relieved thedestitute wretch, whose condition was now far worse than it had beenat their last meeting. At his next application, which followed soon, he was confronted by Cashel, who bullied him fiercely, threatened tobreak every bone in his skin if he ever again dared to presenthimself before Lydia, flung him five shillings, and bade him begone. For Cashel retained for Paradise that contemptuous andruthless hatred in which a duly qualified professor holds a quack. Paradise bought a few pence-worth of food, which he could hardlyeat, and spent the rest in brandy, which he drank as fast as hisstomach would endure it. Shortly afterwards a few sporting papersreported his death, which they attributed to "consumption, broughton by the terrible injuries sustained by him in his celebrated fightwith Cashel Byron. "