TOMMY AND GRIZEL

BY

J. M. BARRIE

ILLUSTRATED BY BERNARD PARTRIDGE

1900, 1912

CONTENTS

PART I

CHAPTER

 I HOW TOMMY FOUND A WAY

 II THE SEARCH FOR THE TREASURE

 III SANDYS ON WOMAN

 IV GRIZEL OF THE CROOKED SMILE

 V THE TOMMY MYTH

 VI GHOSTS THAT HAUNT THE DEN

 VII THE BEGINNING OF THE DUEL

 VIII WHAT GRIZEL'S EYES SAID

 IX GALLANT BEHAVIOUR OF T. SANDYS

 X GAVINIA ON THE TRACK

 XI THE TEA-PARTY

 XII IN WHICH A COMEDIAN CHALLENGES TRAGEDY TO BOWLS

 XIII LITTLE WELLS OF GLADNESS

 XIV ELSPETH

 XV BY PROSEN WATER

 XVI "HOW COULD YOU HURT YOUR GRIZEL SO!"

 XVII HOW TOMMY SAVED THE FLAG

PART II

CHAPTER

 XVIII THE GIRL SHE HAD BEEN

 XIX OF THE CHANGE IN THOMAS

 XX A LOVE-LETTER

 XXI THE ATTEMPT TO CARRY ELSPETH BY NUMBERS

 XXII GRIZEL'S GLORIOUS HOUR

 XXIII TOMMY LOSES GRIZEL

 XXIV THE MONSTER

 XXV MR. T. SANDYS HAS RETURNED TO TOWN

 XXVI GRIZEL ALL ALONE

 XXVII GRIZEL'S JOURNEY

XXVIII TWO OF THEM

 XXIX THE RED LIGHT

 XXX THE LITTLE GODS DESERT HIM

 XXXI "THE MAN WITH THE GREETIN' EYES"

 XXXII TOMMY'S BEST WORK

XXXIII THE LITTLE GODS RETURN WITH A LADY

 XXXIV A WAY IS FOUND FOR TOMMY

 XXXV THE PERFECT LOVER

ILLUSTRATIONS

PART I

And clung to it, his teeth set. 

"She is standing behind that tree looking at us. "

She did not look up, she waited. 

PART II

"I sit still by his arm-chair and tell him what is happening to hisGrizel. "

They told Aaron something. 

"But my friends still call me Mrs. Jerry, " she said softly. 

"I woke up, " she said He heard their seductive voices, they dancedaround him in numbers. 

TOMMY AND GRIZEL

 PART I

CHAPTER I

HOW TOMMY FOUND A WAY

O. P. Pym, the colossal Pym, that vast and rolling figure, who neverknew what he was to write about until he dipped grandly, an author insuch demand that on the foggy evening which starts our story hispublishers have had his boots removed lest he slip thoughtlessly roundthe corner before his work is done, as was the great man's way--shallwe begin with him, or with Tommy, who has just arrived in London, carrying his little box and leading a lady by the hand? It was Pym, aswe are about to see, who in the beginning held Tommy up to the publicgaze, Pym who first noticed his remarkable indifference to femalesociety, Pym who gave him----But alack! does no one remember Pym forhimself? Is the king of the _Penny Number_ already no more than abutton that once upon a time kept Tommy's person together? And we areat the night when they first met! Let us hasten into Marylebone beforelittle Tommy arrives and Pym is swallowed like an oyster. 

This is the house, 22 Little Owlet Street, Marylebone, but which werehis rooms it is less easy to determine, for he was a lodger whoflitted placidly from floor to floor according to the state of hisfinances, carrying his apparel and other belongings in one greatarmful, and spilling by the way. On this particular evening he was onthe second floor front, which had a fireplace in the corner, furnitureall his landlady's and mostly horsehair, little to suggest his callingsave a noble saucerful of ink, and nothing to draw attention from Pym, who lolled, gross and massive, on a sofa, one leg over the back of it, the other drooping, his arms extended, and his pipe, which he couldfind nowhere, thrust between the buttons of his waistcoat, anagreeable pipe-rack. He wore a yellow dressing-gown, or could scarcelybe said to wear it, for such of it as was not round his neck he hadconverted into a cushion for his head, which is perhaps the part ofhim we should have turned to first It was a big round head, theplentiful gray hair in tangles, possibly because in Pym's lastflitting the comb had dropped over the banisters; the features wereugly and beyond life-size, yet the forehead had altered little exceptin colour since the day when he was near being made a fellow of hiscollege; there was sensitiveness left in the thick nose, humour in theeyes, though they so often watered; the face had gone to flabbiness atlast, but not without some lines and dents, as if the head hadresisted the body for a space before the whole man rolled contentedlydownhill. 

He had no beard. "Young man, let your beard grow. " Those who haveforgotten all else about Pym may recall him in these words. They werehis one counsel to literary aspirants, who, according as they took it, are now bearded and prosperous or shaven and on the rates. To shavecosts threepence, another threepence for loss of time--nearly tenpounds a year, three hundred pounds since Pym's chin first bristled. With his beard he could have bought an annuity or a cottage in thecountry, he could have had a wife and children, and driven hisdog-cart, and been made a church-warden. All gone, all shaved, and forwhat? When he asked this question he would move his hand across hischin with a sigh, and so, bravely to the barber's. 

Pym was at present suffering from an ailment that had spread him outon that sofa again and again--acute disinclination to work. 

Meanwhile all the world was waiting for his new tale; so thepublishers, two little round men, have told him. They have blustered, they have fawned, they have asked each other out to talk it overbehind the door. 

Has he any idea of what the story is to be about?

He has no idea. 

Then at least, Pym--excellent Pym--sit down and dip, and let us seewhat will happen. 

He declined to do even that. While all the world waited, this wasPym's ultimatum:

"I shall begin the damned thing at eight o'clock. "

Outside, the fog kept changing at intervals from black to white, aslazily from white to black (the monster blinking); there was not asound from the street save of pedestrians tapping with their sticks onthe pavement as they moved forward warily, afraid of an embrace withthe unknown; it might have been a city of blind beggars, one of them aboy. 

At eight o'clock Pym rose with a groan and sat down in hisstocking-soles to write his delicious tale. He was now alone. Butthough his legs were wound round his waste-paper basket, and he dippedoften and loudly in the saucer, like one ringing at the door of Fancy, he could not get the idea that would set him going. He was stilldipping for inspiration when T. Sandys, who had been told to find thesecond floor for himself, knocked at the door, and entered, quaking. 

"I remember it vividly, " Pym used to say when questioned in the afteryears about this his first sight of Tommy, "and I hesitate to decidewhich impressed me more, the richness of his voice, so remarkable in aboy of sixteen, or his serene countenance, with its noble forehead, behind which nothing base could lurk. "

Pym, Pym! it is such as you that makes the writing of biographydifficult. The richness of Tommy's voice could not have struck you, for at that time it was a somewhat squeaky voice; and as for the nobleforehead behind which nothing base could lurk, how could you say that, Pym, you who had a noble forehead yourself?

No; all that Pym saw was a pasty-faced boy sixteen years old, and ofan appearance mysteriously plain; hair light brown, and wavingdefiance to the brush; nothing startling about him but the expressionof his face, which was almost fearsomely solemn and apparentlyunchangeable. He wore his Sunday blacks, of which the trousers mightwith advantage have borrowed from the sleeves; and he was so nervousthat he had to wet his lips before he could speak. He had left thedoor ajar for a private reason; but Pym, misunderstanding, thought hedid it to fly the more readily if anything was flung at him, and soconcluded that he must be a printer's devil. Pym had a voice thatshook his mantelpiece ornaments; he was all on the same scale as hisink-pot. "Your Christian name, boy?" he roared hopefully, for it wasthus he sometimes got the idea that started him. 

"Thomas, " replied the boy. 

Pym gave him a look of disgust "You may go, " he said. But when helooked up presently, Thomas was still there. He was not only there, but whistling--a short, encouraging whistle that seemed to be directedat the door. He stopped quickly when Pym looked up, but during theremainder of the interview he emitted this whistle at intervals, always with that anxious glance at his friend the door; and itsstrained joviality was in odd contrast with his solemn face, like acheery tune played on the church organ. 

"Begone!" cried Pym. 

"My full name, " explained Tommy, who was speaking the Englishcorrectly, but with a Scots accent, "is Thomas Sandys. And fine youknow who that is, " he added, exasperated by Pym's indifference. "I'mthe T. Sandys that answered your advertisement. "

Pym knew who he was now. "You young ruffian, " he gasped, "I neverdreamt that you would come!"

"I have your letter engaging me in my pocket, " said Tommy, boldly, andhe laid it on the table. Pym surveyed it and him in comic dismay, then with a sudden thought produced nearly a dozen letters from adrawer, and dumped them down beside the other. It was now his turn tolook triumphant and Tommy aghast. 

Pym's letters were all addressed from the Dubb of Prosen Farm, nearThrums, N. B. , to different advertisers, care of a London agency, andwere Tommy's answers to the "wants" in a London newspaper which hadfound its way to the far North. "X Y Z" was in need of a chemist'sassistant, and from his earliest years, said one of the letters, chemistry had been the study of studies for T. Sandys. He was glad toread, was T. Sandys, that one who did not object to long hours wouldbe preferred, for it seemed to him that those who objected to longhours did not really love their work, their heart was not in it, andonly where the heart is can the treasure be found. 

"123" had a vacancy for a page-boy, "Glasgow Man" for a photographer;page-boy must not be over fourteen, photographer must not be undertwenty. "I am a little over fourteen, but I look less, " wrote T. Sandys to "123"; "I am a little under twenty, " he wrote to "GlasgowMan, " "but I look more. " His heart was in the work. 

To be a political organizer! If "H and H, " who advertised for one, only knew how eagerly the undersigned desired to devote his life topolitical organizing!

In answer to "Scholastic's" advertisement for janitor in a boys'school, T. Sandys begged to submit his name for consideration. 

Undoubtedly the noblest letter was the one applying for thesecretaryship of a charitable society, salary to begin at once, butthe candidate selected must deposit one hundred pounds. Theapplication was noble in its offer to make the work a labour of love, and almost nobler in its argument that the hundred pounds wasunnecessary. 

"Rex" had a vacancy in his drapery department. T. Sandys had made aunique study of drapery. 

Lastly, "Anon" wanted an amanuensis. "Salary, " said "Anon, " who seemedto be a humourist, "salary large but uncertain. " He added with equalcandour: "Drudgery great, but to an intelligent man the pickings maybe considerable. " Pickings! Is there a finer word in the language? T. Sandys had felt that he was particularly good at pickings. Butamanuensis? The thing was unknown to him; no one on the farm couldtell him what it was. But never mind; his heart was in it. 

All this correspondence had produced one reply, the letter on whichTommy's hand still rested. It was a brief note, signed "O. P. Pym, " andengaging Mr. Sandys on his own recommendation, "if he really feltquite certain that his heart (treasure included) was in the work. " Sofar good, Tommy had thought when he received this answer, but therewas nothing in it to indicate the nature of the work, nothing to showwhether O. P. Pym was "Scholastic, " or "123, " or "Rex, " or any otheradvertiser in particular. Stop, there was a postscript: "I need not gointo details about your duties, as you assure me you are so wellacquainted with them, but before you join me please send (in writing)a full statement of what you think they are. "

There were delicate reasons why Mr. Sandys could not do that, but oh, he was anxious to be done with farm labour, so he decided to pack andrisk it. The letter said plainly that he was engaged; what for he mustfind out slyly when he came to London. So he had put his letter firmlyon Pym's table; but it was a staggerer to find that gentleman inpossession of the others. 

One of these was Pym's by right; the remainder were a humourous giftfrom the agent who was accustomed to sift the correspondence of hisclients. Pym had chuckled over them, and written a reply that heflattered himself would stump the boy; then he had unexpectedly comeinto funds (he found a forgotten check while searching his old pocketsfor tobacco-crumbs), and in that glory T. Sandys escaped his memory. Result, that they were now face to face. 

A tiny red spot, not noticeable before, now appeared in Tommy's eyes. It was never there except when he was determined to have his way. Pym, my friend, yes, and everyone of you who is destined to challengeTommy, 'ware that red light!

"Well, which am I?" demanded Pym, almost amused, Tommy was soobviously in a struggle with the problem. 

The saucer and the blank pages told nothing. "Whichever you are, " theboy answered heavily, "it's not herding nor foddering cattle, and solong as it's not that, I'll put my heart in it, and where the heartis, there the treasure--"

He suddenly remembered that his host must be acquainted with thesentiment. 

Easy-going Pym laughed, then said irritably, "Of what use could a mereboy be to me?"

"Then it's not the page-boy!" exclaimed Tommy, thankfully. 

"Perhaps I am 'Scholastic, '" suggested Pym. 

"No, " said Tommy, after a long study of his face. 

Pym followed this reasoning, and said touchily, "Many a schoolmasterhas a red face. "

"Not that kind of redness, " explained Tommy, without delicacy. 

"I am 'H and H, '" said Pym. 

"You forget you wrote to me as one person, " replied Tommy. "So Idid. That was because I am the chemist; and I must ask you, Thomas, for your certificate. "

Tommy believed him this time, and Pym triumphantly poured himself aglass of whisky, spilling some of it on his dressing-gown. 

"Not you, " said Tommy, quickly; "a chemist has a steady hand. "

"Confound you!" cried Pym, "what sort of a boy is this?"

"If you had been the draper you would have wiped the drink off yourgown, " continued Tommy, thoughtfully, "and if you had been 'GlasgowMan' you would have sucked it off, and if you had been the charitablesociety you wouldn't swear in company. " He flung out his hand. "I'lltell you who you are, " he said sternly, "you're 'Anon. '"

Under this broadside Pym succumbed. He sat down feebly. "Right, " hesaid, with a humourous groan, "and I shall tell you who you are. I amafraid you are my amanuensis!"

Tommy immediately whistled, a louder and more glorious note thanbefore. 

"Don't be so cocky, " cried Pym, in sudden rebellion. "You are only myamanuensis if you can tell me what that is. If you can't--out you go!"

He had him at last! Not he!

"An amanuensis, " said Tommy, calmly, "is one who writes to dictation. Am I to bring in my box? It's at the door. "

This made Pym sit down again. "You didn't know what an amanuensis waswhen you answered my advertisement, " he said. 

"As soon as I got to London, " Tommy answered, "I went into abookseller's shop, pretending I wanted to buy a dictionary, and Ilooked the word up. "

"Bring in your box, " Pym said, with a groan. 

But it was now Tommy's turn to hesitate. "Have you noticed, " he askedawkwardly, "that I sometimes whistle?"

"Don't tell me, " said Pym, "that you have a dog out there. "

"It's not a dog, " Tommy replied cautiously. 

Pym had resumed his seat at the table and was once more toying withhis pen. "Open the door, " he commanded, "and let me see what you havebrought with you. "

Tommy obeyed gingerly, and then Pym gaped, for what the open doorrevealed to him was a tiny roped box with a girl of twelve sitting onit. She was dressed in some dull-coloured wincey, and looked cold andpatient and lonely, and as she saw the big man staring at her shestruggled in alarm to her feet, and could scarce stand on them. Tommywas looking apprehensively from her to Pym. 

"Good God, boy!" roared Pym, "are you married?"

"No, " cried Tommy, in agony, "she's my sister, and we're orphans, anddid you think I could have the heart to leave Elspeth behind?" He tookher stoutly by the hand. 

"And he never will marry, " said little Elspeth, almost fiercely; "willyou, Tommy?"

"Never!" said Tommy, patting her and glaring at Pym. 

But Pym would not have it. "Married!" he shouted. "Magnificent!" Andhe dipped exultantly, for he had got his idea at last. Forgetting eventhat he had an amanuensis, he wrote on and on and on. 

"He smells o' drink, " Elspeth whispered. 

"All the better, " replied Tommy, cheerily. "Make yourself at home, Elspeth; he's the kind I can manage. Was there ever a kind I couldnamanage?" he whispered, top-heavy with conceit. 

"There was Grizel, " Elspeth said, rather thoughtlessly; and thenTommy frowned. 

CHAPTER II

THE SEARCH FOR THE TREASURE

Six years afterwards Tommy was a famous man, as I hope you do not needto be told; but you may be wondering how it came about. The wholequestion, in Pym's words, resolves itself into how the solemn littledevil got to know so much about women. It made the world marvel whenthey learned his age, but no one was quite so staggered as Pym, whohad seen him daily for all those years, and been damning him for hisindifference to the sex during the greater part of them. 

It began while he was still no more than an amanuensis, sitting withhis feet in the waste-paper basket, Pym dictating from the sofa, andswearing when the words would not come unless he was perpendicular. Among the duties of this amanuensis was to remember the name of theheroine, her appearance, and other personal details; for Pymconstantly forgot them in the night, and he had to go searching backthrough his pages for them, cursing her so horribly that Tommy signedto Elspeth to retire to her tiny bedroom at the top of the house. Hewas always most careful of Elspeth, and with the first pound he earnedhe insured his life, leaving all to her, but told her nothing aboutit, lest she should think it meant his early death. As she grew olderhe also got good dull books for her from a library, and gave her apiano on the hire system, and taught her many things about life, verycarefully selected from his own discoveries. 

Elspeth out of the way, he could give Pym all the information wanted. "Her name is Felicity, " he would say at the right moment; "she hascurly brown hair in which the sun strays, and a blushing neck, and hereyes are like blue lakes. "

"Height!" roared Pym. "Have I mentioned it?"

"No; but she is about five feet six. "

"How the ---- could you know that?"

"You tell Percy's height in his stocking-soles, and when she reachedto his mouth and kissed him she had to stand on her tiptoes so to do. "

Tommy said this in a most businesslike tone, but could not helpsmacking his lips. He smacked them again when he had to write: "Haveno fear, little woman; I am by your side. " Or, "What a sweet child youare!"

Pym had probably fallen into the way of making the Percys revel insuch epithets because he could not remember the girl's name; but thisdelicious use of the diminutive, as addressed to full-grown ladies, went to Tommy's head. His solemn face kept his secret, but he had somenarrow escapes; as once, when saying good-night to Elspeth, he kissedher on mouth, eyes, nose, and ears, and said: "Shall I tuck you in, little woman?" He came to himself with a start. 

"I forgot, " he said hurriedly, and got out of the room without tellingher what he had forgotten. 

Pym's publishers knew their man, and their arrangement with him wasthat he was paid on completion of the tale. But always before hereached the middle he struck for what they called his honorarium; andthis troubled them, for the tale was appearing week by week as it waswritten. If they were obdurate, he suddenly concluded his story insuch words as these:

"Several years have passed since these events took place, and thescene changes to a lovely garden by the bank of old Father Thames. Ayoung man sits by the soft-flowing stream, and he is calm as the sceneitself; for the storm has passed away, and Percy (for it is no other)has found an anchorage. As he sits musing over the past, Felicitysteals out by the French window and puts her soft arms around hisneck. 'My little wife!' he murmurs. _The End--unless you pay up bymessenger. _"

This last line, which was not meant for the world (but little wouldPym have cared though it had been printed), usually brought hisemployers to their knees; and then, as Tommy advanced in experience, came the pickings--for Pym, with money in his pockets, had importantengagements round the corner, and risked intrusting his amanuensiswith the writing of the next instalment, "all except the bang at theend. "

Smaller people, in Tommy's state of mind, would have hurried straightto the love-passages; but he saw the danger, and forced his Pegasusaway from them. "Do your day's toil first, " he may be conceived sayingto that animal, "and at evenfall I shall let you out to browse. " So, with this reward in front, he devoted many pages to the drearyadventures of pretentious males, and even found a certain pleasure inkeeping the lady waiting. But as soon as he reached her he lost hishead again. 

"Oh, you beauty! oh, you small pet!" he said to himself, with solemntransport. 

As the artist in him was stirred, great problems presented themselves;for instance, in certain circumstances was "darling" or "little one"the better phrase? "Darling" in solitary grandeur is more pregnant ofmeaning than "little one, " but "little" has a flavour of thepatronizing which "darling" perhaps lacks. He wasted many sheets oversuch questions; but they were in his pocket when Pym or Elspeth openedthe door. It is wonderful how much you can conceal between the touchon the handle and the opening of the door, if your heart is in it. 

Despite this fine practice, however, he was the shyest of mankind inthe presence of women, and this shyness grew upon him with the years. Was it because he never tried to uncork himself? Oh, no! It was aboutthis time that he, one day, put his arm round Clara, the servant--notpassionately, but with deliberation, as if he were making anexperiment with machinery. He then listened, as if to hear Claraticking. He wrote an admirable love-letter--warm, dignified, sincere--to nobody in particular, and carried it about in his pocketin readiness. But in love-making, as in the other arts, those do itbest who cannot tell how it is done; and he was always stricken with apalsy when about to present that letter. It seemed that he was onlyable to speak to ladies when they were not there. Well, if he couldnot speak, he thought the more; he thought so profoundly that in timethe heroines of Pym ceased to thrill him. 

This was because he had found out that they were not flesh and blood. But he did not delight in his discovery: it horrified him; for what hewanted was the old thrill. To make them human so that they could behis little friends again--nothing less was called for. This meantslaughter here and there of the great Pym's brain-work, and Tommytried to keep his hands off; but his heart was in it. In Pym's pagesthe ladies were the most virtuous and proper of their sex (thoughdreadfully persecuted), but he merely told you so at the beginning, and now and again afterwards to fill up, and then allowed them to actwith what may be called rashness, so that the story did not reallysuffer. Before Tommy was nineteen he changed all that. Out went thisbecause she would not have done it, and that because she could nothave done it. Fathers might now have taken a lesson from T. Sandys inthe upbringing of their daughters. He even sternly struck out thediminutives. With a pen in his hand and woman in his head, he had suchnoble thoughts that his tears of exaltation damped the pages as hewrote, and the ladies must have been astounded as well as proud to seewhat they were turning into. 

That was Tommy with a pen in his hand and a handkerchief hard by; butit was another Tommy who, when the finest bursts were over, sat backin his chair and mused. The lady was consistent now, and he wouldthink about her, and think and think, until concentration, which is apair of blazing eyes, seemed to draw her out of the pages to his side, and then he and she sported in a way forbidden in the tale. While hesat there with eyes riveted, he had her to dinner at a restaurant, andtook her up the river, and called her "little woman"; and when sheheld up her mouth he said tantalizingly that she must wait until hehad finished his cigar. This queer delight enjoyed, back he popped herinto the story, where she was again the vehicle for such glorioussentiments that Elspeth, to whom he read the best of them, feared hewas becoming too good to live. 

In the meantime the great penny public were slowly growing restive, and at last the two little round men called on Pym to complain that hewas falling off; and Pym turned them out of doors, and then sat downheroically to do what he had not done for two decades--to read hislatest work. 

"Elspeth, go upstairs to your room, " whispered Tommy, and then hefolded his arms proudly. He should have been in a tremble, butlatterly he had often felt that he must burst if he did not soon readsome of his bits to Pym, more especially the passages about thehereafter; also the opening of Chapter Seventeen. 

At first Pym's only comment was, "It is the same old drivel as before;what more can they want?"

But presently he looked up, puzzled. "Is this chapter yours or mine?"he demanded. 

"It is about half and half, " said Tommy. 

"Is mine the first half? Where does yours begin?" "That is notexactly what I mean, " explained Tommy, in a glow, but backing alittle; "you wrote that chapter first, and then I--I--"

"You rewrote it!" roared Pym. "You dared to meddle with--" He wasspeechless with fury. 

"I tried to keep my hand off, " Tommy said, with dignity, "but thething had to be done, and they are human now. "

"Human! who wants them to be human? The fiends seize you, boy! youhave even been tinkering with my heroine's personal appearance; whatis this you have been doing to her nose?"

"I turned it up slightly, that's all, " said Tommy. 

"I like them down, " roared Pym. 

"I prefer them up, " said Tommy, stiffly. 

"Where, " cried Pym, turning over the leaves in a panic, "where is thescene in the burning house?"

"It's out, " Tommy explained, "but there is a chapter in its placeabout--it's mostly about the beauty of the soul being everything, andmere physical beauty nothing. Oh, Mr. Pym, sit down and let me read itto you. "

But Pym read it, and a great deal more, for himself. No wonder hestormed, for the impossible had been made not only consistent, butunreadable. The plot was lost for chapters. The characters no longerdid anything, and then went and did something else: you were toldinstead how they did it. You were not allowed to make up your own mindabout them: you had to listen to the mind of T. Sandys; he describedand he analyzed; the road he had tried to clear through the thicketwas impassable for chips. 

"A few more weeks of this, " said Pym, "and we should all three beturned out into the streets. "

Tommy went to bed in an agony of mortification, but presently to hisside came Pym. 

"Where did you copy this from?" he asked. "'It is when we are thinkingof those we love that our noblest thoughts come to us, and the moreworthy they are of our love the nobler the thought; hence it is thatno one has done the greatest work who did not love God. '"

"I copied it from nowhere, " replied Tommy, fiercely; "it's my own. "

"Well, it has nothing to do with the story, and so is only a blot onit, and I have no doubt the thing has been said much better before. Still, I suppose it is true. "

"It's true, " said Tommy; "and yet--"

"Go on. I want to know all about it. "

"And yet, " Tommy said, puzzled, "I've known noble thoughts come to mewhen I was listening to a brass band. "

Pym chuckled. "Funny things, noble thoughts, " he agreed. He readanother passage: "'It was the last half-hour of day when I wasadmitted, with several others, to look upon my friend's dead face. Ahandkerchief had been laid over it. I raised the handkerchief. I knownot what the others were thinking, but the last time we met he hadtold me something, it was not much--only that no woman had ever kissedhim. It seemed to me that, as I gazed, the wistfulness came back tohis face. I whispered to a woman who was present, and stooping overhim, she was about to--but her eyes were dry, and I stopped her. Thehandkerchief was replaced, and all left the room save myself. Again Iraised the handkerchief. I cannot tell you how innocent he looked. '"

"Who was he?" asked Pym. 

"Nobody, " said Tommy, with some awe; "it just came to me. Do younotice how simple the wording is? It took me some time to make it sosimple. "

"You are just nineteen, I think?"

"Yes. "

Pym looked at him wonderingly. 

"Thomas, " he said, "you are a very queer little devil. "

He also said: "And it is possible you may find the treasure you arealways talking about. Don't jump to the ceiling, my friend, because Isay that. I was once after the treasure, myself; and you can seewhether I found it. "

From about that time, on the chances that this mysterious treasuremight spring up in the form of a new kind of flower, Pym zealouslycultivated the ground, and Tommy had an industrious time of it. He wastaken off his stories, which at once regained their elasticity, andput on to exercises. 

"If you have nothing to say on the subject, say nothing, " was one ofthe new rules, which few would have expected from Pym. Another was:"As soon as you can say what you think, and not what some other personhas thought for you, you are on the way to being a remarkable man. "

"Without concentration, Thomas, you are lost; concentrate, though yourcoat-tails be on fire. 

"Try your hand at description, and when you have done chortling overthe result, reduce the whole by half without missing anything out. 

"Analyze your characters and their motives at the prodigious length inwhich you revel, and then, my sonny, cut your analysis out. It is foryour own guidance, not the reader's. 

"'I have often noticed, ' you are always saying. The story has nothingto do with you. Obliterate yourself. I see that will be your stiffestjob. 

"Stop preaching. It seems to me the pulpit is where you should lookfor the treasure. Nineteen, and you are already as didactic asseventy. "

And so on. Over his exercises Tommy was now engrossed for so long aperiod that, as he sits there, you may observe his legs slowlylengthening and the coming of his beard. No, his legs lengthened as hesat with his feet in the basket; but I feel sure that his beard burstthrough prematurely some night when he was thinking too hard about theladies. 

There were no ladies in the exercises, for, despite their altercationabout noses, Pym knew that on this subject Tommy's mind was a blank. But he recognized the sex's importance, and becoming possessed oncemore of a black coat, marched his pupil into the somewhat shoddydrawing-rooms that were still open to him, and there ordered Tommy tobe fascinated for his future good. But it was as it had always been. Tommy sat white and speechless and apparently bored; could not evensay, "You sing with so much expression!" when the lady at thepianoforte had finished. 

"Shyness I could pardon, " the exasperated Pym would roar; "but want ofinterest is almost immoral. At your age the blood would have beencoursing through my veins. Love! You are incapable of it. There is nota drop of sentiment in your frozen carcass. "

"Can I help that?" growled Tommy. It was an agony to him even to speakabout women. 

"If you can't, " said Pym, "all is over with you. An artist withoutsentiment is a painter without colours. Young man, I fear you aredoomed. "

And Tommy believed him, and quaked. He had the most gallant struggleswith himself. He even set his teeth and joined a dancing-class; thoughneither Pym nor Elspeth knew of it, and it never showed afterwards inhis legs. In appearance he was now beginning to be the Sandys of thephotographs: a little over the middle height and rather heavily built;nothing to make you uncomfortable until you saw his face. That solemncountenance never responded when he laughed, and stood coldly by whenhe was on fire; he might have winked for an eternity, and still theonlooker must have thought himself mistaken. In his boyhood the maskhad descended scarce below his mouth, for there was a dimple in thechin to put you at ease; but now the short brown beard had come, andhe was for ever hidden from the world. 

He had the dandy's tastes for superb neckties, velvet jackets, and hegot the ties instead of dining; he panted for the jacket, knew all theshop-windows it was in, but for years denied himself, with a moan, sothat he might buy pretty things for Elspeth. When eventually he gotit, Pym's friends ridiculed him. When he saw how ill his face matchedit he ridiculed himself. Often when Tommy was feeling that now at lastthe ladies must come to heel, he saw his face suddenly in a mirror, and all the spirit went out of him. But still he clung to his velvetjacket. 

I see him in it, stalking through the terrible dances, a heroic figureat last. He shuddered every time he found himself on one leg; he gotsternly into everybody's way; he was the butt of the little noodle ofan instructor. All the social tortures he endured grimly, in the hopethat at last the cork would come out. Then, though there were allkinds of girls in the class, merry, sentimental, practical, coquettish, prudes, there was no kind, he felt, whose heart he couldnot touch. In love-making, as in the favourite Thrums game of thedambrod, there are sixty-one openings, and he knew them all. Yet atthe last dance, as at the first, the universal opinion of his partners(shop-girls, mostly, from the large millinery establishments, who hadto fly like Cinderellas when the clock struck a certain hour) was thathe kept himself to himself, and they were too much the lady to make upto a gentleman who so obviously did not want them. 

Pym encouraged his friends to jeer at Tommy's want of interest in thesex, thinking it a way of goading him to action. One evening, thebottles circulating, they mentioned one Dolly, goddess at some bar, asa fit instructress for him. Coarse pleasantries passed, but for a timehe writhed in silence, then burst upon them indignantly for theirunmanly smirching of a woman's character, and swept out, leaving thema little ashamed. That was very like Tommy. 

But presently a desire came over him to see this girl, and it camebecause they had hinted such dark things about her. That was like himalso. 

There was probably no harm in Dolly, though it is man's proud right toquestion it in exchange for his bitters. She was tall and willowy, andstretched her neck like a swan, and returned you your change withdisdainful languor; to call such a haughty beauty Dolly was one of theminor triumphs for man, and Dolly they all called her, except the onlyone who could have given an artistic justification for it. 

This one was a bearded stranger who, when he knew that Pym and hisfriends were elsewhere, would enter the bar with a cigar in his mouth, and ask for a whisky-and-water, which was heroism again, for smokingwas ever detestable to him, and whisky more offensive than quinine. But these things are expected of you, and by asking for the whisky youget into talk with Dolly; that is to say, you tell her several timeswhat you want, and when she has served every other body you get it. The commercial must be served first; in the barroom he blocks the waylike royalty in the street. There is a crown for us all somewhere. 

Dolly seldom heard the bearded one's "good-evening"; she could notpossibly have heard the "dear, " for though it was there, it remainedbehind his teeth. She knew him only as the stiff man who got separatedfrom his glass without complaining, and at first she put this down toforgetfulness, and did nothing, so that he could go away withoutdrinking; but by and by, wherever he left his tumbler, cunninglyconcealed behind a water-bottle, or temptingly in front of acommercial, she restored it to him, and there was a twinkle in hereye. 

"You little rogue, so you see through me!" Surely it was an easy thingto say; but what he did say was "Thank you. " Then to himself he said, "Ass, ass, ass!"

Sitting on the padded seat that ran the length of the room, andsurreptitiously breaking his cigar against the cushions to help it onits way to an end, he brought his intellect to bear on Dolly at adistance, and soon had a better knowledge of her than could be claimedby those who had Dollied her for years. He also wove romances abouther, some of them of too lively a character, and others so noble andsad and beautiful that the tears came to his eyes, and Dolly thoughthe had been drinking. He could not have said whether he would preferher to be good or bad. 

These were but his leisure moments, for during the long working hourshe was still at the exercises, toiling fondly, and right willing totear himself asunder to get at the trick of writing. So he passedfrom exercises to the grand experiment. 

It was to be a tale, for there, they had taken for granted, lay thetreasure. Pym was most considerate at this time, and mentioned womanwith an apology. 

"I have kept away from them in the exercises, " he said in effect, "because it would have been useless (as well as cruel) to force you tolabour on a subject so uncongenial to you; and for the same reason Ihave decided that it is to be a tale of adventure, in which theheroine need be little more than a beautiful sack of coals which yourcavalier carries about with him on his left shoulder. I am afraid wemust have her to that extent, Thomas, but I am not asking much of you;dump her down as often as you like. "

And Thomas did his dogged best, the red light in his eye; though hehad not, and never could have had, the smallest instinct forstory-writing, he knew to the finger-tips how it is done; but for everhe would have gone on breaking all the rules of the game. How hewrestled with himself! Sublime thoughts came to him (nearly all aboutthat girl), and he drove them away, for he knew they beat only againstthe march of his story, and, whatever befall, the story must march. Relentlessly he followed in the track of his men, pushing the drearydogs on to deeds of valour. He tried making the lady human, and thenshe would not march; she sat still, and he talked about her; hedumped her down, and soon he was yawning. This weariness was whatalarmed him most, for well he understood that there could be notreasure where the work was not engrossing play, and he doubted nomore than Pym that for him the treasure was in the tale or nowhere. Had he not been sharpening his tools in this belief for years? Strangeto reflect now that all the time he was hacking and sweating at thatnovel (the last he ever attempted) it was only marching towards thewaste-paper basket!

He had a fine capacity, as has been hinted, for self-deception, and intime, of course, he found a way of dodging the disquieting truth. This, equally of course, was by yielding to his impulses. He allowedhimself an hour a day, when Pym was absent, in which he wrote thestory as it seemed to want to write itself, and then he cut this pieceout, which could be done quite easily, as it consisted only ofmoralizings. Thus was his day brightened, and with this relaxation tolook forward to be plodded on at his proper work, delving so hard thathe could avoid asking himself why he was still delving. What shall wesay? He was digging for the treasure in an orchard, and every now andagain he came out of his hole to pluck an apple; but though the applewas so sweet to the mouth, it never struck him that the treasuremight be growing overhead. At first he destroyed the fruit of hisstolen hour, and even after he took to carrying it about fondly in hispocket, and to rewriting it in a splendid new form that had come tohim just as he was stepping into bed, he continued to conceal it fromhis overseer's eyes. And still he thought all was over with him whenPym said the story did not march. 

"It is a dead thing, " Pym would roar, flinging down themanuscript, --"a dead thing because the stakes your man is playing for, a woman's love, is less than a wooden counter to you. You are a finepiece of mechanism, my solemn-faced don, but you are a watch thatwon't go because you are not wound up. Nobody can wind the artist upexcept a chit of a girl; and how you are ever to get one to take pityon you, only the gods who look after men with a want can tell. 

"It becomes more impenetrable every day, " he said. "No use yoursitting there tearing yourself to bits. Out into the street with you!I suspend these sittings until you can tell me you have kissed agirl. "

He was still saying this sort of thing when the famous "Letters" werepublished--T. Sandys, author. "Letters to a Young Man About to beMarried" was the full title, and another almost as applicable wouldhave been "Bits Cut Out of a Story because They Prevented itsMarching. " If you have any memory you do not need to be told how thatsplendid study, so ennobling, so penetrating, of woman at her best, took the town. Tommy woke a famous man, and, except Elspeth, no onewas more pleased than big-hearted, hopeless, bleary Pym. 

"But how the ---- has it all come about!" he kept roaring. 

"A woman can be anything that the man who loves her would have herbe, " says the "Letters"; and "Oh, " said woman everywhere, "if all menhad the same idea of us as Mr. Sandys!"

"To meet Mr. T. Sandys. " Leaders of society wrote it on theirinvitation cards. Their daughters, athirst for a new sensation, thrilled at the thought, "Will he talk to us as nobly as he writes?"And oh, how willing he was to do it, especially if their noses wereslightly tilted!

CHAPTER III

SANDYS ON WOMAN

"Can you kindly tell me the name of the book I want?"

It is the commonest question asked at the circulating library bydainty ladies just out of the carriage; and the librarian, afterlooking them over, can usually tell. In the days we have now to speakof, however, he answered, without looking them over:

"Sandys's 'Letters, '"

"Ah, yes, of course. May I have it, please?"

"I regret to find that it is out. "

Then the lady looked naughty. "Why don't you have two copies?" shepouted. 

"Madam, " said the librarian, "we have a thousand. "

A small and very timid girl of eighteen, with a neat figure thatshrank from observation, although it was already aware that it lookedbest in gray, was there to drink in this music, and carried it home inher heart. She was Elspeth, and that dear heart was almost too fullat this time. I hesitate whether to tell or to conceal how it evencreated a disturbance in no less a place than the House of Commons. She was there with Mrs. Jerry, and the thing was recorded in thepapers of the period in these blasting words: "The Home Secretary wasunderstood to be quoting a passage from 'Letters to a Young Man, ' butwe failed to catch its drift, owing to an unseemly interruption fromthe ladies' gallery. "

"But what was it you cried out?" Tommy asked Elspeth, when she thoughtshe had told him everything. (Like all true women, she always began inthe middle. )

"Oh, Tommy, have I not told you? I cried out, 'I'm his sister. '"

Thus, owing to Elspeth's behaviour, it can never be known which wasthe passage quoted in the House; but we may be sure of one thing--thatit did the House good. That book did everybody good. Even Pym couldonly throw off its beneficent effects by a tremendous effort, andyoung men about to be married used to ask at the bookshops, not forthe "Letters, " but simply for "Sandys on Woman, " acknowledging Tommyas the authority on the subject, like Mill on Jurisprudence, orThomson and Tait on the Differential Calculus. Controversies ragedabout it. Some thought he asked too much of man, some thought he sawtoo much in women; there was a fear that young people, knowing at lasthow far short they fell of what they ought to be, might shrink fromthe matrimony that must expose them to each other, now that they hadSandys to guide them, and the persons who had simply married andrisked it (and it was astounding what a number of them there proved tobe) wrote to the papers suggesting that he might yield a little in thenext edition. But Sandys remained firm. 

At first they took for granted that he was a very aged gentleman; hehad, indeed, hinted at this in the text; and when the truth came out("And just fancy, he is not even married!") the enthusiasm wasdoubled. "Not engaged!" they cried. "Don't tell that to me. Nounmarried man could have written such a eulogy of marriage withoutbeing on the brink of it. " Perhaps she was dead? It ran through thetown that she was dead. Some knew which cemetery. 

The very first lady Mr. Sandys ever took in to dinner mentioned thisrumour to him, not with vulgar curiosity, but delicately, with a hintof sympathy in waiting, and it must be remembered, in fairness toTommy, that all artists love sympathy. This sympathy uncorked him, andour Tommy could flow comparatively freely at last. Observe thedelicious change. 

"Has that story got abroad?" he said simply. "The matter is one which, I need not say, I have never mentioned to a soul. "

"Of course not, " the lady said, and waited eagerly. 

If Tommy had been an expert he might have turned the conversation tobrighter topics, but he was not; there had already been long pauses, and in dinner talk it is perhaps allowable to fling on any faggotrather than let the fire go out. "It is odd that I should be talkingof it now, " he said musingly. 

"I suppose, " she said gently, to bring him out of the reverie intowhich he had sunk, "I suppose it happened some time ago?"

"Long, long ago, " he answered. (Having written as an aged person, heoften found difficulty in remembering suddenly that he was two andtwenty. )

"But you are still a very young man. "

"It seems long ago to me, " he said with a sigh. 

"Was she beautiful?"

"She was beautiful to my eyes. "

"And as good, I am sure, as she was beautiful. "

"Ah me!" said Tommy. 

His confidante was burning to know more, and hoping they were beingobserved across the table; but she was a kind, sentimental creature, though stout, or because of it, and she said, "I am so afraid that myquestions pain you. "

"No, no, " said Tommy, who was very, very happy. 

"Was it very sudden?"

"Fever. "

"Ah! but I meant your attachment. "

"We met and we loved, " he said with gentle dignity. 

"That is the true way, " said the lady. 

"It is the only way, " he said decisively. 

"Mr. Sandys, you have been so good, I wonder if you would tell me hername?"

"Felicity, " he said, with emotion. Presently he looked up. "It is verystrange to me, " he said wonderingly, "to find myself saying thesethings to you who an hour ago were a complete stranger to me. But youare not like other women. "

"No, indeed!" said the lady, warmly. 

"That, " he said, "must be why I tell you what I have never told toanother human being. How mysterious are the workings of the heart!"

"Mr. Sandys, " said the lady, quite carried away, "no words of mine canconvey to you the pride with which I hear you say that. Be assuredthat I shall respect your confidences. " She missed his next remarkbecause she was wondering whether she dare ask him to come to dinneron the twenty-fifth, and then the ladies had to retire, and by thetime he rejoined her he was as tongue-tied as at the beginning. Thecork had not been extracted; it had been knocked into the bottle, where it still often barred the way, and there was always, as we shallsee, a flavour of it in the wine. 

"You will get over it yet; the summer and the flowers will come to youagain, " she managed to whisper to him kind-heartedly, as she wasgoing. 

"Thank you, " he said, with that inscrutable face. It was far from hisdesign to play a part. He had, indeed, had no design at all, but anopportunity for sentiment having presented itself, his mouth hadopened as at a cherry. He did not laugh afterwards, even when hereflected how unexpectedly Felicity had come into his life; he thoughtof her rather with affectionate regard, and pictured her as a tall, slim girl in white. When he took a tall, slim girl in white in todinner, he could not help saying huskily:

"You remind me of one who was a very dear friend of mine. I was muchstartled when you came into the room. "

"You mean some one who is dead?" she asked in awe-struck tones. 

"Fever, " he said. 

"You think I am like her in appearance?"

"In every way, " he said dreamily; "the same sweet--pardon me, but itis very remarkable. Even the tones of the voice are the same. Isuppose I ought not to ask your age?"

"I shall be twenty-one in August. " "She would have been twenty-onein August had she lived, " Tommy said with fervour. "My dear younglady--"

This was the aged gentleman again, but she did not wince; he soonfound out that they expect authors to say the oddest things, and thisproved to be a great help to him. 

"My dear young lady, I feel that I know you very well. "

"That, " she said, "is only because I resemble your friend outwardly. The real me (she was a bit of philosopher also) you cannot know atall. "

He smiled sadly. "Has it ever struck you, " he asked, "that you arevery unlike other women?"

"Oh, how ever could you have found that out?" she exclaimed, amazed. 

Almost before he knew how it came about, he was on terms of verypleasant sentiment with this girl, for they now shared between them asecret that he had confided to no other. His face, which had been somuch against him hitherto, was at last in his favour; it showed soplainly that when he looked at her more softly or held her hand longerthan is customary, he was really thinking of that other of whom shewas the image. Or if it did not precisely show that, it suggestedsomething or other of that nature which did just as well. There was asweet something between them which brought them together and alsokept them apart; it allowed them to go a certain length, while it wasalso a reason why they could never, never exceed that distance; andthis was an ideal state for Tommy, who could be most loyal and tenderso long as it was understood that he meant nothing in particular. Shewas the right kind of girl, too, and admired him the more (and perhapswent a step further) because he remained so true to Felicity's memory. 

You must not think him calculating and cold-blooded, for nothing couldbe less true to the fact. When not engaged, indeed, on his new work, he might waste some time planning scenes with exquisite ladies, inwhich he sparkled or had a hidden sorrow (he cared not which); butthese scenes seldom came to life. He preferred very pretty girls to berather stupid (oh, the artistic instinct of the man!), but instead ofkeeping them stupid, as he wanted to do, he found himself trying toimprove their minds. They screwed up their noses in the effort. Meaning to thrill the celebrated beauty who had been specially invitedto meet him, he devoted himself to a plain woman for whose plainness asudden pity had mastered him (for, like all true worshippers of beautyin women, he always showed best in the presence of plain ones). Withthe intention of being a gallant knight to Lady I-Won't-Tell-the-Name, a whim of the moment made him so stiff to her that she ultimatelyasked the reason; and such a charmingly sad reason presented itself tohim that she immediately invited him to her riverside party onThursday week. He had the conversations and incidents for that partyready long before the day arrived; he altered them and polished themas other young gentlemen in the same circumstances overhaul theirboating costumes; but when he joined the party there was among themthe children's governess, and seeing her slighted, his blood boiled, and he was her attendant for the afternoon. 

Elspeth was not at this pleasant jink in high life. She had beeninvited, but her ladyship had once let Tommy kiss her hand for thefirst and last time, so he decided sternly that this was no place forElspeth. When temptation was nigh, he first locked Elspeth up, andthen walked into it. 

With two in every three women he was still as shy as ever, but thethird he escorted triumphantly to the conservatory. She did no harm tohis work--rather sent him back to it refreshed. It was as if he wereshooting the sentiment which other young men get rid of more graduallyby beginning earlier, and there were such accumulations of it that Idon't know whether he ever made up on them. Punishment sought him inthe night, when he dreamed constantly that he was married--to whomscarcely mattered; he saw himself coming out of a church a marriedman, and the fright woke him up. But with the daylight came again histalent for dodging thoughts that were lying in wait, and he yielded asrecklessly as before to every sentimental impulse. As illustration, take his humourous passage with Mrs. Jerry. Geraldine Something washer name, but her friends called her Mrs. Jerry. 

She was a wealthy widow, buxom, not a day over thirty when she wasmerry, which might be at inappropriate moments, as immediately aftershe had expressed a desire to lead the higher life. "But I have atheory, my dear, " she said solemnly to Elspeth, "that no woman is ableto do it who cannot see her own nose without the help of a mirror. "She had taken a great fancy to Elspeth, and made many engagements withher, and kept some of them, and the understanding was that sheapprenticed herself to Tommy through Elspeth, he being too terrible toface by himself, or, as Mrs. Jerry expressed it, "all nose. " So Tommyhad seen very little of her, and thought less, until one day he calledby passionate request to sign her birthday-book, and heard himselfproposing to her instead!

For one thing, it was twilight, and she had forgotten to ring for thelamps. That might have been enough, but there was more: she read tohim part of a letter in which her hand was solicited in marriage. "And, for the life of me, " said Mrs. Jerry, almost in tears, "I cannotdecide whether to say yes or no. "

This put Tommy in a most awkward position. There are probably men whocould have got out of it without proposing; but to him there seemed atthe moment no other way open. The letter complicated matters also bybeginning "Dear Jerry, " and saying "little Jerry" furtheron--expressions which stirred him strangely. 

"Why do you read this to me?" he asked, in a voice that broke alittle. 

"Because you are so wise, " she said. "Do you mind?"

"Do I mind!" he exclaimed bitterly. ("Take care, you idiot!" he saidto himself. )

"I was asking your advice only. Is it too much?"

"Not at all. I am quite the right man to consult at such a moment, amI not?"

It was said with profound meaning; but his face was as usual. 

"That is what I thought, " she said, in all good faith. 

"You do not even understand!" he cried, and he was also lookinglongingly at his hat. 

"Understand what?"

"Jerry, " he said, and tried to stop himself, with the result that headded, "dear little Jerry!" ("What am I doing!" he groaned. )

She understood now. "You don't mean--" she began, in amazement. 

"Yes, " he cried passionately. "I love you. Will you be my wife?" ("Iam lost!")

"Gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Jerry; and then, on reflection, she becameindignant. "I would not have believed it of you, " she said scornfully. "Is it my money, or what? I am not at all clever, so you must tellme. "

With Tommy, of course, it was not her money. Except when he hadElspeth to consider, he was as much a Quixote about money as Pymhimself; and at no moment of his life was he a snob. 

"I am sorry you should think so meanly of me, " he said with dignity, lifting his hat; and he would have got away then (which, when you cometo think of it, was what he wanted) had he been able to resist animpulse to heave a broken-hearted sigh at the door. 

"Don't go yet, Mr. Sandys, " she begged. "I may have been hasty. Andyet--why, we are merely acquaintances!"

He had meant to be very careful now, but that word sent him off again. "Acquaintances!" he cried. "No, we were never that. "

"It almost seemed to me that you avoided me. "

"You noticed it!" he said eagerly. "At least, you do me that justice. Oh, how I tried to avoid you!"

"It was because--"

"Alas!"

She was touched, of course, but still puzzled. "We know so little ofeach other, " she said. 

"I see, " he replied, "that you know me very little, Mrs. Jerry; butyou--oh, Jerry, Jerry! I know you as no other man has ever known you!"

"I wish I had proof of it, " she said helplessly. 

Proof! She should not have asked Tommy for proof. "I know, " he cried, "how unlike all other women you are. To the world you are like therest, but in your heart you know that you are different; you know it, and I know it, and no other person knows it. "

Yes, Mrs. Jerry knew it, and had often marvelled over it in theseclusion of her boudoir; but that another should have found it outwas strange and almost terrifying. 

"I know you love me now, " she said softly. "Only love could have shownyou that. But--oh, let me go away for a minute to think!" And she ranout of the room. 

Other suitors have been left for a space in Tommy's state of doubt, but never, it may be hoped, with the same emotions. Oh, heavens! ifshe should accept him! He saw Elspeth sickening and dying of the news. 

His guardian angel, however, was very good to Tommy at this time; orperhaps, like cannibals with their prisoner, the god of sentiment (whohas a tail) was fattening him for a future feast; and Mrs. Jerry'sanswer was that it could never be. 

Tommy bowed his head. 

But she hoped he would let her be his very dear friend. It would bethe proudest recollection of her life that Mr. Sandys had entertainedsuch feelings for her. 

Nothing could have been better, and he should have found difficulty inconcealing his delight; but this strange Tommy was really feeling hispart again. It was an unforced tear that came to his eye. Quitenaturally he looked long and wistfully at her. 

"Jerry, Jerry!" he articulated huskily, and whatever the words mean inthese circumstances he really meant; then he put his lips to her handfor the first and last time, and so was gone, broken but brave. He wasin splendid fettle for writing that evening. Wild animals sleep aftergorging, but it sent this monster, refreshed, to his work. 

Nevertheless, the incident gave him some uneasy reflections. Was he, indeed, a monster? was one that he could dodge, as yet; but supposeMrs. Jerry told his dear Elspeth of what had happened? She had saidthat she would not, but a secret in Mrs. Jerry's breast was like herpug in her arms, always kicking to get free. "Elspeth, " said Tommy, "what do you say to going north and having a sight of Thrums again?"

He knew what she would say. They had been talking for years of goingback; it was the great day that all her correspondence with oldfriends in Thrums looked forward to. 

"They made little of you, Tommy, " she said, "when we left; but I'mthinking they will all be at their windows when you go back. "

"Oh, " replied Thomas, "that's nothing. But I should like to shake Corpby the hand again. "

"And Aaron, " said Elspeth. She was knitting stockings for Aaron atthat moment. 

"And Gavinia, " Tommy said, "and the Dominie. "

"And Ailie. "

And then came an awkward pause, for they were both thinking of thatindependent girl called Grizel. She was seldom discussed. Tommy wasoddly shy about mentioning her name; he would have preferred Elspethto mention it: and Elspeth had misgivings that this was so, with theresult that neither could say "Grizel" without wondering what was inthe other's mind. Tommy had written twice to Grizel, the first timeunknown to Elspeth, but that was in the days when the ladies of thepenny numbers were disturbing him, and, against his better judgment(for well he knew she would never stand it), he had begun his letterwith these mad words: "Dear Little Woman. " She did not answer this, but soon afterwards she wrote to Elspeth, and he was not mentioned inthe letter proper, but it carried a sting in its tail. "P. S. , " it said"How is Sentimental Tommy?"

None but a fiend in human shape could have written thus, and Elspethput her protecting arms round her brother. "Now we know what Grizelis, " she said. "I am done with her now. "

But when Tommy had got back his wind he said nobly: "I'll call her nonames. If this is how she likes to repay me for--for all mykindnesses, let her. But, Elspeth, if I have the chance, I shall go onbeing good to her just the same. "

Elspeth adored him for it, but Grizel would have stamped had sheknown. He had that comfort. 

The second letter he never posted. It was written a few months beforehe became a celebrity, and had very fine things indeed in it, for oldDr. McQueen, Grizel's dear friend, had just died at his post, and itwas a letter of condolence. While Tommy wrote it he was in a quiver ofgenuine emotion, as he was very pleased to feel, and it had aspecially satisfying bit about death, and the world never being thesame again. He knew it was good, but he did not send it to her, for noreason I can discover save that postscripts jarred on him. 

CHAPTER IV

GRIZEL OF THE CROOKED SMILE

To expose Tommy for what he was, to appear to be scrupulously fair tohim so that I might really damage him the more, that is what I set outto do in this book, and always when he seemed to be finding a way ofgetting round me (as I had a secret dread he might do) I was toremember Grizel and be obdurate. But if I have so far got past some ofhis virtues without even mentioning them (and I have), I know how manyopportunities for discrediting him have been missed, and that wouldnot greatly matter, there are so many more to come, if Grizel were onmy side. But she is not; throughout those first chapters a voice hasbeen crying to me, "Take care; if you hurt him you will hurt me"; andI know it to be the voice of Grizel, and I seem to see her, rockingher arms as she used to rock them when excited in the days of herinnocent childhood. "Don't, don't, don't!" she cried at every cruelword I gave him, and she, to whom it was ever such agony to weep, dropped a tear upon each word, so that they were obliterated; and"Surely I knew him best, " she said, "and I always loved him"; and shestood there defending him, with her hand on her heart to conceal thegaping wound that Tommy had made. 

Well, if Grizel had always loved him there was surely something fineand rare about Tommy. But what was it, Grizel? Why did you always lovehim, you who saw into him so well and demanded so much of men? When Iask that question the spirit that hovers round my desk to protectTommy from me rocks her arms mournfully, as if she did not know theanswer; it is only when I seem to see her as she so often was in life, before she got that wound and after, bending over some little childand looking up radiant, that I think I suddenly know why she alwaysloved Tommy. It was because he had such need of her. 

I don't know whether you remember, but there were once some childrenwho played at Jacobites in the Thrums Den under Tommy's leadership. Elspeth, of course, was one of them, and there were Corp Shiach, andGavinia, and lastly, there was Grizel. Had Tommy's parents been aliveshe would not have been allowed to join, for she was a painted lady'schild; but Tommy insisted on having her, and Grizel thought it wasjust sweet of him. He also chatted with her in public places, as ifshe were a respectable character; and oh, how she longed to berespectable! but, on the other hand, he was the first to point out howsuperbly he was behaving, and his ways were masterful, so theindependent girl would not be captain's wife; if he said she wascaptain's wife he had to apologize, and if he merely looked it he hadto apologize just the same. 

One night the Painted Lady died in the Den, and then it would havegone hard with the lonely girl had not Dr. McQueen made her his littlehousekeeper, not out of pity, he vowed (she was so anxious to be toldthat), but because he was an old bachelor sorely in need of someone totake care of him. And how she took care of him! But though she was sohappy now, she knew that she must be very careful, for there wassomething in her blood that might waken and prevent her being a goodwoman. She thought it would be sweet to be good. 

She told all this to Tommy, and he was profoundly interested, andconsulted a wise man, whose advice was that when she grew up sheshould be wary of any man whom she liked and mistrusted in one breath. Meaning to do her a service, Tommy communicated this to her; and then, what do you think? Grizel would have no more dealings with him! By andby the gods, in a sportive mood, sent him to labour on a farm, whence, as we have seen, he found a way to London, and while he wasgrowing into a man Grizel became a woman. At the time of the doctor'sdeath she was nineteen, tall and graceful, and very dark and pale. When the winds of the day flushed her cheek she was beautiful; but itwas a beauty that hid the mystery of her face. The sun made her merry, but she looked more noble when it had set; then her pallor shone witha soft, radiant light, as though the mystery and sadness and serenityof the moon were in it. The full beauty of Grizel came out only atnight, like the stars. 

I had made up my mind that when the time came to describe Grizel'smere outward appearance I should refuse her that word "beautiful"because of her tilted nose; but now that the time has come, I wonderat myself. Probably when I am chapters ahead I shall return to thisone and strike out the word "beautiful, " and then, as likely as not, Ishall come back afterwards and put it in again. Whether it will bethere at the end, God knows. Her eyes, at least, were beautiful. Theywere unusually far apart, and let you look straight into them, andnever quivered; they were such clear, gray, searching eyes, theyseemed always to be asking for the truth. And she had an adorablemouth. In repose it was, perhaps, hard, because it shut so decisively;but often it screwed up provokingly at one side, as when she smiled, or was sorry, or for no particular reason; for she seemed unable tocontrol this vagary, which was perhaps a little bit of babyhood thathad forgotten to grow up with the rest of her. At those moments theessence of all that was characteristic and delicious about her seemedto have run to her mouth; so that to kiss Grizel on her crooked smilewould have been to kiss the whole of her at once. She had a quaint wayof nodding her head at you when she was talking. It made you forgetwhat she was saying, though it was really meant to have precisely theopposite effect. Her voice was rich, with many inflections. When shehad much to say it gurgled like a stream in a hurry; but its cooingnote was best worth remembering at the end of the day. There weretimes when she looked like a boy. Her almost gallant bearing, thepoise of her head, her noble frankness--they all had something in themof a princely boy who had never known fear. 

I have no wish to hide her defects; I would rather linger over them, because they were part of Grizel, and I am sorry to see them go one byone. Thrums had not taken her to its heart. She was a proud-purse, they said, meaning that she had a haughty walk. Her sense of justicewas too great. She scorned frailties that she should have pitied. (Howstrange to think that there was a time when pity was not the feelingthat leaped to Grizel's bosom first!) She did not care for study. Shelearned French and the pianoforte to please the doctor; but shepreferred to be sewing or dusting. When she might have been reading, she was perhaps making for herself one of those costumes that annoyedevery lady of Thrums who employed a dressmaker; or, more probably, itwas a delicious garment for a baby; for as soon as Grizel heard thatthere was a new baby anywhere, all her intellect deserted her, and shebecame a slave. Books often irritated her because she disagreed withthe author; and it was a torment to her to find other people holdingto their views when she was so certain that hers were right. In churchshe sometimes rocked her arms; and the old doctor by her side knewthat it was because she could not get up and contradict the minister. She was, I presume, the only young lady who ever dared to say that shehated Sunday because there was so much sitting still in it. 

Sitting still did not suit Grizel. At all other times she was happy;but then her mind wandered back to the thoughts that had lived tooclosely with her in the old days, and she was troubled. What woke herfrom these reveries was probably the doctor's hand placed verytenderly on her shoulder, and then she would start, and wonder howlong he had been watching her, and what were the grave thoughtsbehind his cheerful face; for the doctor never looked more cheerfulthan when he was drawing Grizel away from the ugly past, and he talkedto her as if he had noticed nothing; but after he went upstairs hewould pace his bedroom for a long time; and Grizel listened, and knewthat he was thinking about her. Then, perhaps, she would run up tohim, and put her arms around his neck. These scenes brought the doctorand Grizel very close together; but they became rarer as she grew up, and then for once that she was troubled she was a hundred timesirresponsible with glee, and "Oh, you dearest, darlingest, " she wouldcry to him, "I must dance, --I must, I must!--though it is a fast-day;and you must dance with your mother this instant--I am so happy, sohappy!" "Mother" was his nickname for her, and she delighted in theword. She lorded it over him as if he were her troublesome boy. 

How could she be other than glorious when there was so much to do? Thework inside the house she made for herself, and outside the doctormade it for her. At last he had found for nurse a woman who couldfollow his instructions literally, who understood that if he said fiveo'clock for the medicine the chap of six would not do as well, who didnot in her heart despise the thermometer, and who resolutely preventedthe patient from skipping out of bed to change her pillow-slipsbecause the minister was expected. Such tyranny enraged every suffererwho had been ill before and got better; but what they chieflycomplained of to the doctor (and he agreed with a humourous sigh) washer masterfulness about fresh air and cold water. Windows were openedthat had never been opened before (they yielded to her pressure with agroan); and as for cold water, it might have been said that a bathfollowed her wherever she went--not, mark me, for putting your handsand face in, not even for your feet; but in you must go, the whole ofyou, "as if, " they said indignantly, "there was something the matterwith our skin. "

She could not gossip, not even with the doctor, who liked it of anevening when he had got into his carpet shoes. There was no usetelling her a secret, for she kept it to herself for evermore. She hadideas about how men should serve a woman, even the humblest, that madethe men gaze with wonder, and the women (curiously enough) withirritation. Her greatest scorn was for girls who made themselves cheapwith men; and she could not hide it. It was a physical pain to Grizelto hide her feelings; they popped out in her face, if not in words, and were always in advance of her self-control. To the doctor thisimpulsiveness was pathetic; he loved her for it, but it sometimesmade him uneasy. 

He died in the scarlet-fever year. "I'm smitten, " he suddenly said ata bedside; and a week afterwards he was gone. 

"We must speak of it now, Grizel, " he said, when he knew that he wasdying. 

She pressed his hand. She knew to what he was referring. "Yes, " shesaid, "I should love you to speak of it now. "

"You and I have always fought shy of it, " he said, "making a pretencethat it had altogether passed away. I thought that was best for you. "

"Dearest, darlingest, " she said, "I know--I have always known. "

"And you, " he said, "you pretended because you thought it was best forme. "

She nodded. "And we saw through each other all the time, " she said. 

"Grizel, has it passed away altogether now?"

Her grip upon his hand did not tighten in the least. "Yes, " she couldsay honestly, "it has altogether passed away. "

"And you have no more fear?"

"No, none. "

It was his great reward for all that he had done for Grizel. 

"I know what you are thinking of, " she said, when he did not speak. "You are thinking of the haunted little girl you rescued seven yearsago. "

"No, " he answered; "I was thanking God for the brave, wholesome womanshe has grown into; and for something else, Grizel--for letting melive to see it. "

"To do it, " she said, pressing his hand to her breast. 

She was a strange girl, and she had to speak her mind. "I don't thinkGod has done it all, " she said. "I don't even think that He told youto do it. I think He just said to you, 'There is a painted lady'schild at your door. You can save her if you like. '

"No, " she went on, when he would have interposed; "I am sure He didnot want to do it all. He even left a little bit of it to me to domyself. I love to think that I have done a tiny bit of it myself. Ithink it is the sweetest thing about God that He lets us do some of itourselves. Do I hurt you, darling?"

No, she did not hurt him, for he understood her. "But you arenaturally so impulsive, " he said, "it has often been a sharp pain tome to see you so careful. "

"It was not a pain to me to be careful; it was a joy. Oh, the thousanddear, delightful joys I have had with you!"

"It has made you strong, Grizel, and I rejoice in that; but sometimesI fear that it has made you too difficult to win. "

"I don't want to be won, " she told him. 

"You don't quite mean that, Grizel. "

"No, " she said at once. She whispered to him impulsively: "It is theonly thing I am at all afraid of now. "

"What?"

"Love. "

"You will not be afraid of it when it comes. "

"But I want to be afraid, " she said. 

"You need not, " he answered. "The man on whom those clear eyes restlovingly will be worthy of it all. If he were not, they would be thefirst to find him out. "

"But need that make any difference?" she asked. "Perhaps though Ifound him out I should love him just the same. "

"Not unless you loved him first, Grizel. "

"No, " she said at once again. "I am not really afraid of love, " shewhispered to him. "You have made me so happy that I am afraid ofnothing. "

Yet she wondered a little that he was not afraid to die, but when shetold him this he smiled and said: "Everybody fears death except thosewho are dying. " And when she asked if he had anything on his mind, hesaid: "I leave the world without a care. Not that I have seen all Iwould fain have seen. Many a time, especially this last year, when Ihave seen the mother in you crooning to some neighbour's child, I havethought to myself, 'I don't know my Grizel yet; I have seen her in thebud only, ' and I would fain--" He broke off. "But I have no fears, " hesaid. "As I lie here, with you sitting by my side, looking so serene, I can say, for the first time for half a century, that I have nothingon my mind. 

"But, Grizel, I should have married, " he told her. "The chief lessonmy life has taught me is that they are poor critturs--the men whodon't marry. "

"If you had married, " she said, "you might never have been able tohelp me. "

"It is you who have helped me, " he replied. "God sent the child; He ismost reluctant to give any of us up. Ay, Grizel, that's what my lifehas taught me, and it's all I can leave to you. " The last he saw ofher, she was holding his hand, and her eyes were dry, her teeth wereclenched; but there was a brave smile upon her face, for he had toldher that it was thus he would like to see her at the end. After hisdeath, she continued to live at the old house; he had left it to her("I want it to remain in the family, " he said), with all his savings, which were quite sufficient for the needs of such a manager. He hadalso left her plenty to do, and that was a still sweeter legacy. 

And the other Jacobites, what of them? Hi, where are you, Corp? Herehe comes, grinning, in his spleet new uniform, to demand our ticketsof us. He is now the railway porter. Since Tommy left Thrums "steam"had arrived in it, and Corp had by nature such a gift for givingluggage the twist which breaks everything inside as you dump it downthat he was inevitably appointed porter. There was no travelling toThrums without a ticket. At Tilliedrum, which was the junction forThrums, you showed your ticket and were then locked in. A hundredyards from Thrums. Corp leaped upon the train and fiercely demandedyour ticket. At the station he asked you threateningly whether you hadgiven up your ticket. Even his wife was afraid of him at such times, and had her ticket ready in her hand. 

His wife was one Gavinia, and she had no fear of him except when shewas travelling. To his face she referred to him as a doited sumph, butto Grizel pleading for him she admitted that despite his warts andquarrelsome legs he was a great big muckle sonsy, stout, buirdly wellset up, wise-like, havering man. When first Corp had proposed to her, she gave him a clout on the head; and so little did he know of the sexthat this discouraged him. He continued, however, to propose and sheto clout him until he heard, accidentally (he woke up in church), of aman in the Bible who had wooed a woman for seven years, and thisexample he determined to emulate; but when Gavinia heard of it shewas so furious that she took him at once. Dazed by his good fortune, he rushed off with it to his aunt, whom he wearied with his repetitionof the great news. 

"To your bed wi' you, " she said, yawning. 

"Bed!" cried Corp, indignantly. "And so, auntie, says Gavinia, 'Yes, 'says she, 'I'll hae you. ' Those were her never-to-be-forgotten words. "

"You pitiful object, " answered his aunt. "Men hae been married aforenow without making sic a stramash. "

"I daursay, " retorted Corp; "but they hinna married Gavinia. " And thisis the best known answer to the sneer of the cynic. 

He was a public nuisance that night, and knocked various people upafter they had gone to bed, to tell them that Gavinia was to have him. He was eventually led home by kindly though indignant neighbours; butearly morning found him in the country, carrying the news from farm tofarm. 

"No, I winna sit down, " he said; "I just cried in to tell you Gaviniais to hae me. " Six miles from home he saw a mud house on the top of ahill, and ascended genially. He found at their porridge a very oldlady with a nut-cracker face, and a small boy. We shall see themagain. "Auld wifie, " said Corp, "I dinna ken you, but I've juststepped up to tell you that Gavinia is to hae me. "

It made him the butt of the sportive. If he or Gavinia were nigh, theygathered their fowls round them and then said: "Hens, I didna bringyou here to feed you, but just to tell you that Gavinia is to hae me. "This flustered Gavinia; but Grizel, who enjoyed her own jokes tooheartily to have more than a polite interest in those of other people, said to her: "How can you be angry! I think it was just sweet of him. "

"But was it no vulgar?"

"Vulgar!" said Grizel. "Why, Gavinia, that is how every lady wouldlike a man to love her. "

And then Gavinia beamed. "I'm glad you say that, " she said; "for, though I wouldna tell Corp for worlds, I fell likit it. "

But Grizel told Corp that Gavinia liked it. 

"It was the proof, " she said, smiling, "that you have the right tomarry her. You have shown your ticket. Never give it up, Corp. "

About a year afterwards Corp, armed in his Sunday stand, rushed toGrizel's house, occasionally stopping to slap his shiny knees. "Grizel, " he cried, "there's somebody come to Thrums without aticket!" Then he remembered Gavinia's instructions. "Mrs. Shiach'scompliments, " he said ponderously, "and it's a boy. "

"Oh, Corp!" exclaimed Grizel, and immediately began to put on her hatand jacket. Corp watched her uneasily. "Mrs. Shiach's compliments, "he said firmly, "and he's ower young to be bathed yet; but she's awidto show him off to you, " he hastened to add. "'Tell Grizel, ' was herfirst words. "

"Tell Grizel"! They were among the first words of many mothers. None, they were aware, would receive the news with quite such glee as she. They might think her cold and reserved with themselves, but to see thelook on her face as she bent over a baby, and to know that the babywas yours! What a way she had with them! She always welcomed them asif in coming they had performed a great feat. That is what babies areagape for from the beginning. Had they been able to speak they wouldhave said "Tell Grizel" themselves. 

"And Mrs. Shiach's compliments, " Corp remembered, "and she would bewindy if you would carry the bairn at the christening. "

"I should love it, Corp! Have you decided on the name?"

"Lang syne. Gin it were a lassie we were to call her Grizel--"

"Oh, how sweet of you!"

"After the finest lassie we ever kent, " continued Corp, stoutly. "ButI was sure it would be a laddie. "

"Why?" "Because if it was a laddie it was to be called after Him, "he said, with emphasis on the last word; "and thinks I to mysel', 'He'll find a way. ' What a crittur he was for finding a way, Grizel!And he lookit so holy a' the time. Do you mind that swear word o'his--'stroke'? It just meant 'damn'; but he could make even 'damn'look holy. "

"You are to call the baby Tommy?"

"He'll be christened Thomas Sandys Shiach, " said Corp. "I hankeredafter putting something out o' the Jacobites intil his name; and Isays to Gavinia, 'Let's call him Thomas Sandys Stroke Shiach, ' says I, 'and the minister'll be nane the wiser'; but Gavinia was scandalized. "

Grizel reflected. "Corp, " she said, "I am sure Gavinia's sister willexpect to be asked to carry the baby. I don't think I want to do it. "

"After you promised!" cried Corp, much hurt. "I never kent you tobreak a promise afore. "

"I will do it, Corp, " she said, at once. 

She did not know then that Tommy would be in church to witness theceremony, but she knew before she walked down the aisle with T. S. Shiach in her arms. It was the first time that Tommy and she had seeneach other for seven years. That day he almost rivalled his namesakein the interests of the congregation, who, however, took prodigiouscare that he should not see it--all except Grizel; she smiled awelcome to him, and he knew that her serene gray eyes were watchinghim. 

CHAPTER V

THE TOMMY MYTH

On the evening before the christening, Aaron Latta, his head sunkfarther into his shoulders, his beard gone grayer, no otherperceptible difference in a dreary man since we last saw him in thebook of Tommy's boyhood, had met the brother and sister at thestation, a barrow with him for their luggage. It was a great hour forhim as he wheeled the barrow homeward, Elspeth once more by his side;but he could say nothing heartsome in Tommy's presence, and Tommy wasas uncomfortable in his. The old strained relations between these twoseemed to begin again at once. They were as self-conscious as twomastiffs meeting in the street; and both breathed a sigh of reliefwhen Tommy fell behind. 

"You're bonny, Elspeth, " Aaron then said eagerly. "I'm glad, glad tosee you again. "

"And him too, Aaron?" Elspeth pleaded. 

"He took you away frae me. "

"He has brought me back. " "Ay, and he has but to whistle to you andaway you go wi' him again. He's ower grand to bide lang here now. "

"You don't know him, Aaron. We are to stay a long time. Do you knowMrs. McLean invited us to stay with her? I suppose she thought yourhouse was so small. But Tommy said, 'The house of the man whobefriended us when we were children shall never be too small for us. '"

"Did he say that? Ay, but, Elspeth, I would rather hear what yousaid. "

"I said it was to dear, good Aaron Latta I was going back, and to noone else. "

"God bless you for that, Elspeth. "

"And Tommy, " she went on, "must have his old garret room again, towrite as well as sleep in, and the little room you partitioned off thekitchen will do nicely for me. "

"There's no a window in it, " replied Aaron; "but it will do fine foryou, Elspeth. " He was almost chuckling, for he had a surprise inwaiting for her. "This way, " he said excitedly, when she would havegone into the kitchen, and he flung open the door of what had been hiswarping-room. The warping-mill was gone--everything that had beenthere was gone. What met the delighted eyes of Elspeth and Tommy was acozy parlour, which became a bedroom when you opened that other door. "You are a leddy now, Elspeth, " Aaron said, husky with pride, "andyou have a leddy's room. Do you see the piano?"

He had given up the warping, having at last "twa three hunder'" in thebank, and all the work he did now was at a loom which he had put intothe kitchen to keep him out of languor. "I have sorted up the garret, too, for you, " he said to Tommy, "but this is Elspeth's room. "

"As if Tommy would take it from me!" said Elspeth, running into thekitchen to hug this dear Aaron. 

"You may laugh, " Aaron replied vindictively, "but he is taking it fraeyou already"; and later, when Tommy was out of the way, he explainedhis meaning. "I did it all for you, Elspeth; 'Elspeth's room, ' Icalled it. When I bought the mahogany arm-chair, 'That's Elspeth'schair, ' I said to mysel'; and when I bought the bed, 'It's hers, ' Isaid. Ay; but I was soon disannulled o' that thait, for, in spite ofme, they were all got for him. Not a rissom in that room is yours ormine, Elspeth; every muhlen belongs to him. "

"But who says so, Aaron? I am sure he won't. "

"I dinna ken them. They are leddies that come here in their carriagesto see the house where Thomas Sandys was born. "

"But, Aaron, he was born in London!" "They think he was born in thishouse, " Aaron replied doggedly, "and it's no for me to cheapen him. "

"Oh, Aaron, you pretend----"

"I was never very fond o' him, " Aaron admitted, "but I winna cheapenJean Myles's bairn, and when they chap at my door and say they wouldlike to see the room Thomas Sandys was born in, I let them see thebest room I have. So that's how he has laid hands on your parlor, Elspeth. Afore I can get rid o' them they gie a squeak and cry, 'Wasthat Thomas Sandys's bed?' and I says it was. That's him taking thevery bed frae you, Elspeth. "

"You might at least have shown them his bed in the garret, " she said. 

"It's a shilpit bit thing, " he answered, "and I winna cheapen him. They're curious, too, to see his favourite seat. "

"It was the fender, " she declared. 

"It was, " he assented, "but it's no for me to cheapen him, so I letthem see your new mahogany chair. 'Thomas Sandys's chair, ' they callit, and they sit down in it reverently. They winna even leave you thepiano. 'Was this Thomas Sandys's piano?' they speir. 'It was, ' says I, and syne they gowp at it. " His under lip shot out, a sure sign that hewas angry. "I dinna blame him, " he said, "but he had the samemasterful way of scooping everything into his lap when he was aladdie, and I like him none the mair for it"; and from this positionAaron would not budge. 

"Quite right, too, " Tommy said, when he heard of it. "But you can tellhim, Elspeth, that we shall allow no more of those prying women tocome in. " And he really meant this, for he was a modest man that day, was Tommy. Nevertheless, he was, perhaps, a little annoyed to find, asthe days went on, that no more ladies came to be turned away. 

He heard that they had also been unable to resist the desire to shakehands with Thomas Sandys's schoolmaster. "It must have been a pleasureto teach him, " they said to Cathro. 

"Ah me, ah me!" Cathro replied enigmatically. It had so often been apleasure to Cathro to thrash him!

"Genius is odd, " they said. "Did he ever give you any trouble?"

"We were like father and son, " he assured them. With natural pride heshowed them the ink-pot into which Thomas Sandys had dipped as a boy. They were very grateful for his interesting reminiscence that when thepot was too full Thomas inked his fingers. He presented several ofthem with the ink-pot. 

Two ladies, who came together, bothered him by asking what the HughBlackadder competition was. They had been advised to inquire of himabout Thomas Sandys's connection therewith by another schoolmaster, aMr. Ogilvy, whom they had met in one of the glens. 

Mr. Cathro winced, and then explained with emphasis that the HughBlackadder was a competition in which the local ministers were thesole judges; he therefore referred the ladies to them. The ladies didgo to a local minister for enlightenment, to Mr. Dishart; but, afterreflecting, Mr. Dishart said that it was too long a story, and thisanswer seemed to amuse Mr. Ogilvy, who happened to be present. 

It was Mr. McLean who retailed this news to Tommy. He and Ailie hadwalked home from church with the newcomers on the day after theirarrival, the day of the christening. They had not gone into Aaron'shouse, for you are looked askance at in Thrums if you pay visits onSundays, but they had stood for a long time gossiping at the door, which is permitted by the strictest. Ailie was in a twitter, as ofold, and not able even yet to speak of her husband without anapologetic look to the ladies who had none. And oh, how proud she wasof Tommy's fame! Her eyes were an offering to him. 

"Don't take her as a sample of the place, though, " Mr. McLean warnedhim, "for Thrums does not catch fire so readily as London. " It wasquite true. "I was at the school wi' him, " they said up there, andimplied that this damned his book. 

But there were two faithful souls, or, more strictly, one, for Corpcould never have carried it through without Gavinia's help. Tommycalled on them promptly at their house in the Bellies Brae (fourrooms, but a lodger), and said, almost before he had time to look, that the baby had Corp's chin and Gavinia's eyes. He had made this upon the way. He also wanted to say, so desirous was he of pleasing hisold friends, that he should like to hold the baby in his arms; but itwas such a thundering lie that even an author could not say it. 

Tommy sat down in that house with a very warm heart for its inmates;but they chilled him--Gavinia with her stiff words, and Corp bylooking miserable instead of joyous. 

"I expected you to come to me first, Corp, " said Tommy, reproachfully. "I had scarcely a word with you at the station. "

"He couldna hae presumed, " replied Gavinia, primly. 

"I couldna hae presumed, " said Corp, with a groan. 

"Fudge!" Tommy said. "You were my greatest friend, and I like you asmuch as ever, Corp. " Corp's face shone, but Gavinia said at once, "You werena sic great friends as that; were you, man?"

"No, " Corp replied gloomily. 

"Whatever has come over you both?" asked Tommy, in surprise. "You willbe saying next, Gavinia, that we never played at Jacobites in theDen!"

"I dinna deny that Corp and me played, " Gavinia answered determinedly, "but you didna. You said to us, 'Think shame, ' you said, 'to beplaying vulgar games when you could be reading superior books. ' Theywere his very words, were they no, man?" she demanded of her unhappyhusband, with a threatening look. 

"They were, " said Corp, in deepest gloom. 

"I must get to the bottom of this, " said Tommy, rising, "and as youare too great a coward, Corp, to tell the truth with that shamelesswoman glowering at you, out you go, Gavinia, and take your disgracedbairn with you. Do as you are told, you besom, for I am Captain Strokeagain. "

Corp was choking with delight as Gavinia withdrew haughtily. "I wassure you would sort her, " he said, rubbing his hands, "I was sure youwasna the kind to be ashamed o' auld friends. "

"But what does it mean?"

"She has a notion, " Corp explained, growing grave again, "that itwouldna do for you to own the like o' us. 'We mauna cheapen him, ' shesaid. She wanted you to see that we hinna been cheapening you. " Hesaid, in a sepulchral voice, "There has been leddies here, and theywant to ken what Thomas Sandys was like as a boy. It's me they speirfor, but Gavinia she just shoves me out o' sight, and says she, 'Leavethem to me. '"

Corp told Tommy some of the things Gavinia said about Thomas Sandys asa boy: how he sat rapt in church, and, instead of going bird-nesting, lay on the ground listening to the beautiful little warblers overhead, and gave all his pennies to poorer children, and could repeat theShorter Catechism, beginning at either end, and was very respectful tothe aged and infirm, and of a yielding disposition, and said, from hisearliest years, "I don't want to be great; I just want to be good. "

"How can she make them all up?" Tommy asked, with respectful homage toGavinia. 

Corp, with his eye on the door, produced from beneath the bed a littlebook with coloured pictures. It was entitled "Great Boyhoods, " by"Aunt Martha. " "She doesna make them up, " he whispered; "she gets themout o' this. "

"And you back her up, Corp, even when she says I was not your friend!"

"It was like a t' knife intil me, " replied loyal Corp; "every time Iforswore you it was like a t' knife, but I did it, ay, and I'll go ondoing it if you think my friendship cheapens you. "

Tommy was much moved, and gripped his old lieutenant by the hand. Healso called Gavinia ben, and, before she could ward him off, themasterful rogue had saluted her on the cheek. "That, " said Tommy, "isto show you that I am as fond of the old times and my old friends asever, and the moment you deny it I shall take you to mean, Gavinia, that you want another kiss. "

"He's just the same!" Corp remarked ecstatically, when Tommy had gone. 

"I dinna deny, " Gavinia said, "but what he's fell taking"; and for atime they ruminated. 

"Gavinia, " said Corp, suddenly, "I wouldna wonder but what he's a geylad wi' the women!"

"What makes you think that?" she replied coldly, and he had theprudence not to say. He should have followed his hero home to bedisabused of this monstrous notion, for even while it was beingpropounded Tommy was sitting in such an agony of silence in a woman'spresence that she could not resist smiling a crooked smile at him. Hiswant of words did not displease Grizel; she was of opinion that youngmen should always be a little awed by young ladies. 

He had found her with Elspeth on his return home. Would Grizel calland be friendly? he had asked himself many times since he saw her inchurch yesterday, and Elspeth was as curious. Each wanted to knowwhat the other thought of her, but neither had the courage to inquire, they both wanted to know so much. Her name had been mentioned butcasually, not a word to indicate that she had grown up since they sawher last. The longer Tommy remained silent, the more, he knew, didElspeth suspect him. He would have liked to say, in a careless voice, "Rather pretty, isn't she?" but he felt that this little Elspeth wouldsee through him at once. 

For at the first glance he had seen what Grizel was, and a thrill ofjoy passed through him as he drank her in; it was but the joy of theeyes for the first moment, but it ran to his heart to say, "This isthe little hunted girl that was!" and Tommy was moved with a manlygladness that the girl who once was so fearful of the future had growninto this. The same unselfish delight in her for her own sake cameover him again when he shook hands with her in Aaron's parlor. Thisglorious creature with the serene eyes and the noble shoulders hadbeen the hunted child of the Double Dykes! He would have liked to raceback into the past and bring little Grizel here to look. How manyboyish memories he recalled! and she was in every one of them. Hisheart held nothing but honest joy in this meeting after so many years;he longed to tell her how sincerely he was still her friend. Well, whydon't you tell her, Tommy? It is a thing you are good at, and youhave been polishing up the phrases ever since she passed down theaisle with Master Shiach in her arms; you have even planned out a wayof putting Grizel at her ease, and behold, she is the only one of thethree who is at ease. What has come over you? Does the reader think itwas love? No, it was only that pall of shyness; he tried to fling itoff, but could not. Behold Tommy being buried alive!

Elspeth showed less contemptibly than her brother, but it was Grizelwho did most of the talking. She nodded her head and smiled crookedlyat Tommy, but she was watching him all the time. She wore a dress inwhich brown and yellow mingled as in woods on an autumn day, and thejacket had a high collar of fur, over which she watched him. Let ussay that she was watching to see whether any of the old Tommy was leftin him. Yet, with this problem confronting her, she also had time tostudy the outer man, Tommy the dandy--his velvet jacket (a new one), his brazen waistcoat, his poetic neckerchief, his spotless linen. Hisvelvet jacket was to become the derision of Thrums, but Tommy took hisbonneting haughtily, like one who was glad to suffer for a Cause. There were to be meetings here and there where people told with awehow many shirts he sent weekly to the wash. Grizel disdained his dandytastes; why did not Elspeth strip him of them? And oh, if he mustwear that absurd waistcoat, could she not see that it would lookanother thing if the second button was put half an inch farther back?How sinful of him to spoil the shape of his silly velvet jacket bycarrying so many letters in the pockets! She learned afterwards thathe carried all those letters because there was a check in one of them, he did not know which, and her sense of orderliness was outraged. Elspeth did not notice these things. She helped Tommy by herhelplessness. There is reason to believe that once in London, when shehad need of a new hat, but money there was none, Tommy, looking verydefiant, studied ladies' hats in the shop-windows, brought all hisintellect to bear on them, with the result that he did concoct out ofElspeth's old hat a new one which was the admired of O. P. Pym andfriends, who never knew the name of the artist. But obviously he couldnot take proper care of himself, and there is a kind of woman, of whomGrizel was one, to whose breasts this helplessness makes an unfairappeal. Oh, to dress him properly! She could not help liking to be amother to men; she wanted them to be the most noble characters, butcompletely dependent on her. 

Tommy walked home with her, and it seemed at first as if Elspeth'sabsence was to be no help to him. He could not even plagiarize from"Sandys on Woman. " No one knew so well the kind of thing he should besaying, and no one could have been more anxious to say it, but aweight of shyness sat on the lid of Tommy. Having for half an hourraged internally at his misfortune, he now sullenly embraced it. "If Iam this sort of an ass, let me be it in the superlative degree, " hemay be conceived saying bitterly to himself. He addressed Grizelcoldly as "Miss McQueen, " a name she had taken by the doctor's wishsoon after she went to live with him. 

"There is no reason why you should call me that, " she said. "Call meGrizel, as you used to do. "

"May I?" replied Tommy, idiotically. He knew it was idiotic, but thatmood now had grip of him. 

"But I mean to call you Mr. Sandys, " she said decisively. 

He was really glad to hear it, for to be called Tommy by anyone wasnow detestable to him (which is why I always call him Tommy in thesepages). So it was like him to say, with a sigh, "I had hoped to hearyou use the old name. "

That sigh made her look at him sharply. He knew that he must becareful with Grizel, and that she was irritated, but he had to go on. 

"It is strange to me, " said Sentimental Tommy, "to be back here afterall those years, walking this familiar road once more with you. Ithought it would make me feel myself a boy again, but, heigh-ho, ithas just the opposite effect: I never felt so old as I do to-day. "

His voice trembled a little, I don't know why. Grizel frowned. 

"But you never were as old as you are to-day, were you?" she inquiredpolitely. It whisked Tommy out of dangerous waters and laid him at herfeet. He laughed, not perceptibly or audibly, of course, but somewhereinside him the bell rang. No one could laugh more heartily at himselfthan Tommy, and none bore less malice to those who brought him toland. 

"That, at any rate, makes me feel younger, " he said candidly; and nowthe shyness was in full flight. 

"Why?" asked Grizel, still watchful. 

"It is so like the kind of thing you used to say to me when we wereboy and girl. I used to enrage you very much, I fear, " he said, halfgleefully. 

"Yes, " she admitted, with a smile, "you did. "

"And then how you rocked your arms at me, Grizel! Do you remember?"

She remembered it all so well! This rocking of the arms, as theycalled it, was a trick of hers that signified sudden joy or pain. Theyhung rigid by her side, and then shook violently with emotion. 

"Do you ever rock them now when people annoy you?" he asked. 

"There has been no one to annoy me, " she replied demurely, "since youwent away. "

"But I have come back, " Tommy said, looking hopefully at her arms. 

"You see they take no notice of you. "

"They don't remember me yet. As soon as they do they will cry out. "

Grizel shook her head confidently, and in this she was pitting herselfagainst Tommy, always a bold thing to do. 

"I have been to see Corp's baby, " he said suddenly; and this was soimportant that she stopped in the middle of the road. 

"What do you think of him?" she asked, quite anxiously. 

"I thought, " replied Tommy, gravely, and making use of one of Grizel'spet phrases, "I thought he was just sweet. "

"Isn't he!" she cried; and then she knew that he was making fun ofher. Her arms rocked. 

"Hurray!" cried Tommy, "they recognize me now! Don't be angry, Grizel, " he begged her. "You taught me, long ago, what was the rightthing to say about babies, and how could I be sure it was you until Isaw your arms rocking?"

"It was so like you, " she said reproachfully, "to try to make me doit. "

"It was so unlike you, " he replied craftily, "to let me succeed. And, after all, Grizel, if I was horrid in the old days I alwaysapologized. "

"Never!" she insisted. 

"Well, then, " said Tommy, handsomely, "I do so now"; and then theyboth laughed gaily, and I think Grizel was not sorry that there was alittle of the boy who had been horrid left in Tommy--just enough toknow him by. 

"He'll be vain, " her aged maid, Maggy Ann, said curiously to her thatevening. They were all curious about Tommy. 

"I don't know that he is vain, " Grizel replied guardedly. 

"If he's no vain, " Maggy Ann retorted, "he's the first son of Adam itcould be said o'. I jalouse it's his bit book. "

"He scarcely mentioned it. "

"Ay, then, it's his beard. "

Grizel was sure it was not that. 

"Then it'll be the women, " said Maggy Ann. 

"Who knows!" said Grizel of the watchful eyes; but she smiled toherself. She thought not incorrectly that she knew one woman of whomMr. Sandys was a little afraid. 

About the same time Tommy and Elspeth were discussing her. Elspeth wasin bed, and Tommy had come into the room to kiss her good-night--hehad never once omitted doing it since they went to London, and he wasalways to do it, for neither of them was ever to marry. 

"What do you think of her?" Elspeth asked. This was their great timefor confidences. 

"Of whom?" Tommy inquired lightly. 

"Grizel. "

He must be careful. 

"Rather pretty, don't you think?" he said, gazing at the ceiling. 

She was looking at him keenly, but he managed to deceive her. She wasmuch relieved, and could say what was in her heart. "Tommy, " she said, "I think she is the most noble-looking girl I ever saw, and if shewere not so masterful in her manner she would be beautiful. " It wasnice of Elspeth to say it, for she and Grizel were never very greatfriends. 

Tommy brought down his eyes. "Did you think as much of her as that?"he said. "It struck me that her features were not quite classic. Hernose is a little tilted, is it not?"

"Some people like that kind of nose, " replied Elspeth. "It is notclassic, " Tommy said sternly. 

CHAPTER VI

GHOSTS THAT HAUNT THE DEN

Looking through the Tommy papers of this period, like a conscientiousbiographer, I find among them manuscripts that remind me howdiligently he set to work at his new book the moment he went North, and also letters which, if printed, would show you what a wise andgood man Tommy was. But while I was fingering those, there floatedfrom them to the floor a loose page, and when I saw that it was achemist's bill for oil and liniment I remembered something I had nighforgotten. "Eureka!" I cried. "I shall tell the story of the chemist'sbill, and some other biographer may print the letters. "

Well, well! but to think that this scrap of paper should flutter intoview to damn him after all those years!

The date is Saturday, May 28, by which time Tommy had been a week inThrums without doing anything very reprehensible, so far as Grizelknew. She watched for telltales as for a mouse to show at its hole, and at the worst, I think, she saw only its little head. That was whenTommy was talking beautifully to her about her dear doctor. He wouldhave done wisely to avoid this subject; but he was so notoriously goodat condolences that he had to say it. He had thought it out, you mayremember, a year ago, but hesitated to post it; and since then it hadlain heavily within him, as if it knew it was a good thing and pinedto be up and strutting. 

He said it with emotion; evidently Dr. McQueen had been very dear tohim, and any other girl would have been touched; but Grizel stiffened, and when he had finished, this is what she said, quite snappily:

"He never liked you. "

Tommy was taken aback, but replied, with gentle dignity, "Do youthink, Grizel, I would let that make any difference in my estimate ofhim?"

"But you never liked him, " said she; and now that he thought of it, this was true also. It was useless to say anything about the artisticinstinct to her; she did not know what it was, and would have hadplain words for it as soon as he told her. Please to picture Tommypicking up his beautiful speech and ramming it back into his pocket asif it were a rejected manuscript. 

"I am sorry you should think so meanly of me, Grizel, " he said withmanly forbearance, and when she thought it all out carefully thatnight she decided that she had been hasty. She could not help watchingTommy for backslidings, but oh, it was sweet to her to decide that shehad not found any. 

"It was I who was horrid, " she announced to him frankly, and Tommyforgave her at once. She offered him a present: "When the doctor diedI gave some of his things to his friends; it is the Scotch custom, youknow. He had a new overcoat; it had been worn but two or three times. I should be so glad if you would let me give it to you for saying suchsweet things about him. I think it will need very little alteration. "

Thus very simply came into Tommy's possession the coat that was toplay so odd a part in his history. "But oh, Grizel, " said he, withmock reproach, "you need not think that I don't see through you! Yourdeep design is to cover me up. You despise my velvet jacket!"

"It does not--" Grizel began, and stopped. 

"It is not in keeping with my doleful countenance, " said Tommy, candidly; "that was what you were to say. Let me tell you a secret, Grizel: I wear it to spite my face. Sha'n't give up my velvet jacketfor anybody, Grizel; not even for you. " He was in gay spirits, becausehe knew she liked him again; and she saw that was the reason, and itwarmed her. She was least able to resist Tommy when he was most aboy, and it was actually watchful Grizel who proposed that he and sheand Elspeth should revisit the Den together. How often since the daysof their childhood had Grizel wandered it alone, thinking of thosedear times, making up her mind that if ever Tommy asked her to go intothe Den again with him she would not go, the place was so much sweeterto her than it could be to him. And yet it was Grizel herself who wassaying now, "Let us go back to the Den. "

Tommy caught fire. "We sha'n't go back, " he cried defiantly, "as menand women. Let us be boy and girl again, Grizel. Let us have thatSaturday we missed long ago. I missed a Saturday on purpose, Grizel, so that we should have it now. "

She shook her head wistfully, but she was glad that Tommy would fainhave had one of the Saturdays back. Had he waxed sentimental she wouldnot have gone a step of the way with him into the past, but when hewas so full of glee she could take his hand and run back into it. 

"But we must wait until evening, " Tommy said, "until Corp isunharnessed; we must not hurt the feelings of Corp by going back tothe Den without him. "

"How mean of me not to think of Corp!" Grizel cried; but the nextmoment she was glad she had not thought of him, it was so delicious tohave proof that Tommy was more loyal. "But we can't turn back theclock, can we, Corp?" she said to the fourth of the conspirators, towhich Corp replied, with his old sublime confidence, "He'll find away. "

And at first it really seemed as if Tommy had found a way. They didnot go to the Den four in a line or two abreast--nothing so common asthat. In the wild spirits that mastered him he seemed to be the boyincarnate, and it was always said of Tommy by those who knew him bestthat if he leaped back into boyhood they had to jump with him. Thosewho knew him best were with him now. He took command of them in theold way. He whispered, as if Black Cathro were still on the prowl forhim. Corp of Corp had to steal upon the Den by way of the Silent Pool, Grizel by the Queen's Bower, Elspeth up the burn-side, Captain Strokedown the Reekie Brothpot. Grizel's arms rocked with delight in thedark, and she was on her way to the Cuttle Well, the trysting-place, before she came to and saw with consternation that Tommy had beenordering her about. 

She was quite a sedate young lady by the time she joined them at thewell, and Tommy was the first to feel the change. "Don't you thinkthis is all rather silly?" she said, when he addressed her as the LadyGriselda, and it broke the spell. Two girls shot up into women, abeard grew on Tommy's chin, and Corp became a father. Grizel hadblown Tommy's pretty project to dust just when he was most gleefulover it; yet, instead of bearing resentment, he pretended not even toknow that she was the culprit. 

"Corp, " he said ruefully, "the game is up!" And "Listen, " he said, when they had sat down, crushed, by the old Cuttle Well, "do you hearanything?"

It was a very still evening. "I hear nocht, " said Corp, "but thetrickle o' the burn. What did you hear?"

"I thought I heard a baby cry, " replied Tommy, with a groan. "I thinkit was your baby, Corp. Did you hear it, Grizel?"

She understood, and nodded. 

"And you, Elspeth?"

"Yes. "

"My bairn!" cried the astounded Corp. 

"Yours, " said Tommy, reproachfully; "and he has done for us. Ladiesand gentlemen, the game is up. "

Yes, the game was up, and she was glad, Grizel said to herself, asthey made their melancholy pilgrimage of what had once been anenchanted land. But she felt that Tommy had been very forbearing toher, and that she did not deserve it. Undoubtedly he had ordered herabout, but in so doing had he not been making half-pathetic sport ofhis old self--and was it with him that she was annoyed for ordering, or with herself for obeying? And why should she not obey, when it wasall a jest? It was as if she still had some lingering fear of Tommy. Oh, she was ashamed of herself. She must say something nice to him atonce. About what? About his book, of course. How base of her not tohave done so already! but how good of him to have overlooked hersilence on that great topic!

It was not ignorance of its contents that had kept her silent. Toconfess the horrid truth, Grizel had read the book suspiciously, looking as through a microscope for something wrong--hoping not tofind it, but peering minutely. The book, she knew, was beautiful; butit was the writer of the book she was peering for--the Tommy she hadknown so well, what had he grown into? In her heart she had exultedfrom the first in his success, and she should have been still moreglad (should she not?) to learn that his subject was woman; but no, that had irritated her. What was perhaps even worse, she had beenstill more irritated on hearing that the work was rich in sublimethoughts. As a boy, he had maddened her most in his grandest moments. I can think of no other excuse for her. 

She would not accept it as an excuse for herself now. What she sawwith scorn was that she was always suspecting the worst of Tommy. Very probably there was not a thought in the book that had been putin with his old complacent waggle of the head. "Oh, am I not awonder!" he used to cry, when he did anything big; but that was noreason why she should suspect him of being conceited still. Veryprobably he really and truly felt what he wrote--felt it not only atthe time, but also next morning. In his boyhood Mr. Cathro hadchristened him Sentimental Tommy; but he was a man now, and surely thesentimentalities in which he had dressed himself were flung aside forever, like old suits of clothes. So Grizel decided eagerly, and shewas on the point of telling him how proud she was of his book, whenTommy, who had thus far behaved so well, of a sudden went to pieces. 

He and Grizel were together. Elspeth was a little in front of them, walking with a gentleman who still wondered what they meant by sayingthat they had heard his baby cry. "For he's no here, " Corp had saidearnestly to them all; "though I'm awid for the time to come when I'llbe able to bring him to the Den and let him see the Jacobites' Lair. "

There was nothing startling in this remark, so far as Grizel coulddiscover; but she saw that it had an immediate and incomprehensibleeffect on Tommy. First, he blundered in his talk as if he was thinkingdeeply of something else; then his face shone as it had been wont tolight up in his boyhood when he was suddenly enraptured with himself;and lastly, down his cheek and into his beard there stole a tear ofagony. Obviously, Tommy was in deep woe for somebody or something. 

It was a chance for a true lady to show that womanly sympathy of whichsuch exquisite things are said in the first work of T. Sandys: but itmerely infuriated Grizel, who knew that Tommy did not feel nearly sodeeply as she this return to the Den, and, therefore, what was he insuch distress about? It was silly sentiment of some sort, she was sureof that. In the old days she would have asked him imperiously to tellher what was the matter with him; but she must not do that now--shedare not even rock her indignant arms; she could only walk silently byhis side, longing fervently to shake him. 

He had quite forgotten her presence; indeed, she was not really there, for a number of years had passed, and he was Corp Shiach, walking theDen alone. To-morrow he was to bring his boy to show him the old Lairand other fondly remembered spots; to-night he must revisit themalone. So he set out blithely, but, to his bewilderment, he could notfind the Lair. It had not been a tiny hollow where muddy watergathered; he remembered an impregnable fortress full of men whosearmour rattled as they came and went; so this could not be the Lair. He had taken the wrong way to it, for the way was across a lagoon, upa deep-flowing river, then by horse till the rocky ledge terrified allfour-footed things; no, up a grassy slope had never been the way. Hecame night after night, trying different ways; but he could not findthe golden ladder, though all the time he knew that the Lair laysomewhere over there. When he stood still and listened he could hearthe friends of his youth at play, and they seemed to be calling: "Areyou coming, Corp? Why does not Corp come back?" but he could never seethem, and when he pressed forward their voices died away. Then at lasthe said sadly to his boy: "I shall never be able to show you the Lair, for I cannot find the way to it. " And the boy was touched, and hesaid: "Take my hand, father, and I will lead you to the Lair; I foundthe way long ago for myself. "

It took Tommy about two seconds to see all this, and perhaps anotherhalf-minute was spent in sad but satisfactory contemplation of it. Then he felt that, for the best effect, Corp's home life was toocomfortable; so Gavinia ran away with a soldier. He was now so sorryfor Corp that the tear rolled down. But at the same moment he saw howthe effect could be still further heightened by doing away with hisfriend's rude state of health, and he immediately jammed him betweenthe buffers of two railway carriages, and gave him a wooden leg. Itwas at this point that a lady who had kept her arms still too longrocked them frantically, then said, with cutting satire: "Are you notfeeling well, or have you hurt yourself? You seem to be very lame. "And Tommy woke with a start, to see that he was hobbling as if one ofhis legs were timber to the knee. 

"It is nothing, " he said modestly. "Something Corp said set methinking; that is all. "

He had told the truth, and if what he imagined was twenty times morereal to him than what was really there, how could Tommy help it?Indignant Grizel, however, who kept such a grip of facts, would makeno such excuse for him. 

"Elspeth!" she called. 

"There is no need to tell her, " said Tommy. But Grizel was obdurate. 

"Come here, Elspeth, " she cried vindictively. "Something Corp said amoment ago has made your brother lame. "

Tommy was lame; that was all Elspeth and Corp heard or could think ofas they ran back to him. When did it happen? Was he in great pain? Hadhe fallen? Oh, why had he not told Elspeth at once?

"It is nothing, " Tommy insisted, a little fiercely. 

"He says so, " Grizel explained, "not to alarm us. But he is sufferinghorribly. Just before I called to you his face was all drawn up inpain. "

This made the sufferer wince. "That was another twinge, " she saidpromptly. "What is to be done, Elspeth?"

"I think I could carry him, " suggested Corp, with a forward movementthat made Tommy stamp his foot--the wooden one. 

"I am all right, " he told them testily, and looking uneasily atGrizel. 

"How brave of you to say so!" said she. 

"It is just like him, " Elspeth said, pleased with Grizel's remark. 

"I am sure it is, " Grizel said, so graciously. 

It was very naughty of her. Had she given him a chance he would haveexplained that it was all a mistake of Grizel's. That had been hisintention; but now a devil entered into Tommy and spoke for him. 

"I must have slipped and sprained my ankle, " he said. "It is slightlypainful; but I shall be able to walk home all right, Corp, if you letme use you as a staff. "

I think he was a little surprised to hear himself saying this; but, assoon as it was said, he liked it. He was Captain Stroke playing in theDen again, after all, and playing as well as ever. Nothing being soreal to Tommy as pretence, I daresay he even began to feel his anklehurting him. "Gently, " he begged of Corp, with a gallant smile, andclenching his teeth so that the pain should not make him cry outbefore the ladies. Thus, with his lieutenant's help, did Stroke manageto reach Aaron's house, making light of his mishap, assuring themcheerily that he should be all right to-morrow, and carefully avoidingGrizel's eye, though he wanted very much to know what she thought ofhim (and of herself) now. 

There were moments when she did not know what to think, and thatalways distressed Grizel, though it was a state of mind with whichTommy could keep on very friendly terms. The truth seemed toomonstrous for belief. Was it possible she had misjudged him? Perhapshe really had sprained his ankle. But he had made no pretence of thatat first, and besides, --yes, she could not be mistaken, --it was theother leg. 

She soon let him see what she was thinking. "I am afraid it is tooserious a case for me, " she said, in answer to a suggestion from Corp, who had a profound faith in her medical skill, "but, if youlike, "--she was addressing Tommy now, --"I shall call at Dr. Gemmell's, on my way home, and ask him to come to you. "

"There is no necessity; a night's rest is all I need, " he answeredhastily. 

"Well, you know best, " she said, and there was a look on her facewhich Thomas Sandys could endure from no woman. "On secondthoughts, " he said, "I think it would be advisable to have a doctor. Thank you very much, Grizel. Corp, can you help me to lift my foot onto that chair? Softly--ah!--ugh!"

His eyes did not fall before hers. "And would you mind asking him tocome at once, Grizel?" he said sweetly. She went straight to thedoctor. 

CHAPTER VII

THE BEGINNING OF THE DUEL

It was among old Dr. McQueen's sayings that when he met a man who wascertified to be in no way remarkable he wanted to give three cheers. There are few of them, even in a little place like Thrums; but DavidGemmell was one. 

So McQueen had always said, but Grizel was not so sure. "He is verygood-looking, and he does not know it, " she would point out. "Oh, whata remarkable man!"

She had known him intimately for nearly six years now, ever since hebecame the old doctor's assistant on the day when, in the tail of someothers, he came to Thrums, aged twenty-one, to apply for the post. Grizel had even helped to choose him; she had a quaint recollection ofhis being submitted to her by McQueen, who told her to look him overand say whether he would do--an odd position in which to place afourteen-year-old girl, but Grizel had taken it most seriously, and, indeed, of the two men only Gemmell dared to laugh. 

"You should not laugh when it is so important, " she said gravely; andhe stood abashed, although I believe he chuckled again when he retiredto his room for the night. She was in that room next morning as soonas he had left it, to smell the curtains (he smoked), and see whetherhe folded his things up neatly and used both the brush and the comb, but did not use pomade, and slept with his window open, and reallytook a bath instead of merely pouring the water into it and laying thesponge on top (oh, she knew them!)--and her decision, after some days, was that, though far from perfect, he would do, if he loved her deardarling doctor sufficiently. By this time David was openly afraid ofher, which Grizel noticed, and took to be, in the circumstances, asatisfactory sign. 

She watched him narrowly for the next year, and after that she ceasedto watch him at all. She was like a congregation become so sure of itsminister's soundness that it can risk going to sleep. To begin with, he was quite incapable of pretending to be anything he was not. Oh, how unlike a boy she had once known! His manner, like his voice, wasquiet. Being himself the son of a doctor, he did not dodder throughlife amazed at the splendid eminence he had climbed to, which is theweakness of Scottish students when they graduate, and often for fiftyyears afterwards. How sweet he was to Dr. McQueen, never forgettingthe respect due to gray hairs, never hinting that the new school ofmedicine knew many things that were hidden from the old, and alwayshaving the sense to support McQueen when she was scolding him for hisnumerous naughty ways. When the old doctor came home now on coldnights it was not with his cravat in his pocket, and Grizel knew verywell who had put it round his neck. McQueen never had the humiliation, so distressing to an old doctor, of being asked by patients to sendhis assistant instead of coming himself. He thought they preferredhim, and twitted David about it; but Grizel knew that David hadsometimes to order them to prefer the old man. She knew that when hesaid good-night and was supposed to have gone to his lodgings, he wasprobably off to some poor house where, if not he, a tired woman mustsit the long night through by a sufferer's bedside, and she realizedwith joy that his chief reason for not speaking of such things wasthat he took them as part of his natural work and never even knew thathe was kind. He was not specially skilful, he had taken no honourseither at school or college, and he considered himself to be a veryordinary young man. If you had said that on this point you disagreedwith him, his manner probably would have implied that he thought youa bit of an ass. 

When a new man arrives in Thrums, the women come to their doors to seewhether he is good-looking. They said No of Tommy when he came back, but it had been an emphatic Yes for Dr. Gemmell. He was tall and veryslight, and at twenty-seven, as at twenty-one, despite the growth of aheavy moustache, there was a boyishness about his appearance, whichis, I think, what women love in a man more than anything else. Theyare drawn to him by it, and they love him out of pity when it goes. Isuppose it brings back to them some early, beautiful stage in theworld's history when men and women played together without fear. Perhaps it lay in his smile, which was so winning that wrinkled olddames spoke of it, who had never met the word before, smiles beinglittle known in Thrums, where in a workaday world we find itsufficient either to laugh or to look thrawn. His dark curly hair waswhat Grizel was most suspicious of; he must be vain of that, shethought, until she discovered that he was quite sensitive to its beingmentioned, having ever detested his curls as an eyesore, and in hisboyhood clipped them savagely to the roots. He had such a firm chin, if there had been another such chin going a-begging, I should haveliked to clap it on to Tommy Sandys. 

Tommy Sandys! All this time we have been neglecting that bravesufferer, and while we talk his ankle is swelling and swelling. Well, Grizel was not so inconsiderate, for she walked very fast and with anexceedingly determined mouth to Dr. Gemmell's lodgings. He was stillin lodgings, having refused to turn Grizel out of her house, thoughshe had offered to let it to him. She left word, the doctor not beingin, that he was wanted at once by Mr. Sandys, who had sprained hisankle. 

Now, then, Tommy!

For an hour, perhaps until she went to bed, she remained merciless. She saw the quiet doctor with the penetrating eyes examining thatankle, asking a few questions, and looking curiously at his patient;then she saw him lift his hat and walk out of the house. 

It gave her pleasure; no, it did not. While she thought of this Tommyshe despised, there came in front of him a boy who had played with herlong ago when no other child would play with her, and now he said, "You have grown cold to me, Grizel, " and she nodded assent, and littlewells of water rose to her eyes and lay there because she had noddedassent. 

She had never liked Dr. Gemmell so little as when she saw himapproaching her house next morning. The surgery was still attached toit, and very often he came from there, his visiting-book in his hand, to tell her of his patients, even to consult her; indeed, to talk toGrizel about his work without consulting her would have beendifficult, for it was natural to her to decide what was best foreverybody. These consultations were very unprofessional, but from herfirst coming to the old doctor's house she had taken it as a matter ofcourse that in his practice, as in affairs relating to his boots andbuttons, she should tell him what to do and he should do it. McQueenhad introduced his assistant to this partnership half-shamefacedly andwith a cautious wink over the little girl's head; and Gemmell fellinto line at once, showing her his new stethoscope as gravely as if hemust abandon it at once should not she approve, which fine behaviour, however, was quite thrown away on Grizel, who, had he conductedhimself otherwise, would merely have wondered what was the matter withthe man; and as she was eighteen or more before she saw that she hadexceeded her duties, it was then, of course, too late to cease doingit. 

She knew now how good, how forbearing, he had been to the little girl, and that it was partly because he was acquainted with her touchinghistory. The grave courtesy with which he had always treated her--andwhich had sometimes given her as a girl a secret thrill of delight, itwas so sweet to Grizel to be respected--she knew now to be less hisnatural manner to women than something that came to him in herpresence because he who knew her so well thought her worthy ofdeference; and it helped her more, far more, than if she had seen itturn to love. Yet as she received him in her parlor now--her toospotless parlor, for not even the ashes in the grate were visible, which is a mistake--she was not very friendly. He had discovered whatTommy was, and as she had been the medium she could not blame him forthat, but how could he look as calm as ever when such a deplorablething had happened?

"What you say is true; I knew it before I asked you to go to him, andI knew you would find it out; but please to remember that he is a manof genius, whom it is not for such as you to judge. "

That was the sort of haughty remark she held ready for him while theytalked of other cases; but it was never uttered, for by and by hesaid:

"And then, there is Mr. Sandys's ankle. A nasty accident, I amafraid. "

Was he jesting? She looked at him sharply. "Have you not been to seehim yet?" she asked. 

He thought she had misunderstood him. He had been to see Mr. Sandystwice, both last night and this morning. 

And he was sure it was a sprain?

Unfortunately it was something worse--dislocation; further mischiefmight show itself presently. 

"Haemorrhage into the neighbouring joint on inflammation?" she askedscientifically and with scorn. 

"Yes. "

Grizel turned away from him. "I think not, " she said. 

Well, possibly not, if Mr. Sandys was careful and kept his foot fromthe ground for the next week. The doctor did not know that she wasdespising him, and he proceeded to pay Tommy a compliment. "I had toreduce the dislocation, of course, " he told her, "and he bore thewrench splendidly, though there is almost no pain more acute. "

"Did he ask you to tell me that?" Grizel was thirsting to inquire, butshe forbore. Unwittingly, however, the doctor answered the question. "I could see, " he said, "that Mr. Sandys made light of his sufferingsto save his sister pain. I cannot recall ever having seen a brotherand sister so attached. "

That was quite true, Grizel admitted to herself. In all herrecollections of Tommy she could not remember one critical moment inwhich Elspeth had not been foremost in his thoughts. It passed throughher head, "Even now he must make sure that Elspeth is in peace of mindbefore he can care to triumph over me, " and she would perhaps havefelt less bitter had he put his triumph first. 

His triumph! Oh, she would show him whether it was a triumph. He haddestroyed for ever her faith in David Gemmell. The quiet, observantdoctor, who had such an eye for the false, had been deceived as easilyas all the others, and it made her feel very lonely. But never mind;Tommy should find out, and that within the hour, that there was onewhom he could not cheat. Her first impulse, always her first impulse, was to go straight to his side and tell him what she thought of him. Her second, which was neater, was to send by messenger her complimentsto Mr. And Miss Sandys, and would they, if not otherwise engaged, comeand have tea with her that afternoon? Not a word in the note about theankle, but a careful sentence to the effect that she had seen Dr. Gemmell to-day, and proposed asking him to meet them. 

Maggy Ann, who had conveyed the message, came back with the reply. Elspeth regretted that they could not accept Grizel's invitation, owing to the accident to her brother being _very much more_ seriousthan Grizel seemed to think. "I can't understand, " Elspeth added, "whyDr. Gemmell did not tell you this when he saw you. "

"Is it a polite letter?" asked inquisitive Maggy Ann, and Grizelassured her that it was most polite. "I hardly expected it, " said theplain-spoken dame, "for I'm thinking by their manner it's more thancan be said of yours. "

"I merely invited them to come to tea. "

"And him wi' his leg broke! Did you no ken he was lying on chairs?"

"I did not know it was so bad as that, Maggy Ann. So my letter seemedto annoy him, did it?" said Grizel, eagerly, and, I fear, wellpleased. 

"It angered her most terrible, " said Maggy Ann, "but no him. He gave asort of a laugh when he read it. "

"A laugh!"

"Ay, and syne she says, 'It is most heartless of Grizel; she does noteven ask how you are to-day; one would think she did not know of theaccident'; and she says, 'I have a good mind to write her a very stiffletter. ' And says he in a noble, melancholic voice, 'We must not hurtGrizel's feelings, ' he says. And she says, 'Grizel thinks it wasnothing because you bore it so cheerfully; oh, how little she knowsyou!' she says; and 'You are too forgiving, ' she says. And says he, 'If I have anything to forgive Grizel for, I forgive her willingly. 'And syne she quieted down and wrote the letter. "

Forgive her! Oh, how it enraged Grizel! How like the Tommy of old toput it in that way. There never had been a boy so good at forgivingpeople for his own crimes, and he always looked so modest when he didit. He was reclining on his chairs at this moment, she was sure hewas, forgiving her in every sentence. She could have endured it moreeasily had she felt sure that he was seeing himself as he was; but sheremembered him too well to have any hope of that. 

She put on her bonnet, and took it off again; a terrible thing, remember, for Grizel to be in a state of indecision. For the remainderof that day she was not wholly inactive. Meeting Dr. Gemmell in thestreet, she impressed upon him the advisability of not allowing Mr. Sandys to move for at least a week. 

"He might take a drive in a day or two, " the doctor thought, "with hissister. "

"He would be sure to use his foot, " Grizel maintained, "if you oncelet him rise from his chair; you know they all do. " And Gemmell agreedthat she was right. So she managed to give Tommy as irksome a time aspossible. 

But next day she called. To go through another day without letting himsee how despicable she thought him was beyond her endurance. Elspethwas a little stiff at first, but Tommy received her heartily and withnothing in his manner to show that she had hurt his finer feelings. His leg (the wrong leg, as Grizel remembered at once) was extended ona chair in front of him; but instead of nursing it ostentatiously asso many would have done, he made humourous remarks at its expense. "The fact is, " he said cheerily, "that so long as I don't move I neverfelt better in my life. And I daresay I could walk almost as well aseither of you, only my tyrant of a doctor won't let me try. " "Hetold me you had behaved splendidly, " said Grizel, "while he wasreducing the dislocation. How brave you are! You could not haveendured more stoically though there had been nothing the matter withit. "

"It was soon over, " Tommy replied lightly. "I think Elspeth sufferedmore than I. "

Elspeth told the story of his heroism. "I could not stay in the room, "she said; "it was too terrible. " And Grizel despised tootender-hearted Elspeth for that; she was so courageous at facing painherself. But Tommy had guessed that Elspeth was trembling behind thedoor, and he had called out, "Don't cry, Elspeth; I am all right; itis nothing at all. "

"How noble!" was Grizel's comment, when she heard of this; and thenElspeth was her friend again, insisted on her staying to tea, and wentinto the kitchen to prepare it. Aaron was out. 

The two were alone now, and in the circumstances some men would havegiven the lady the opportunity to apologize, if such was her desire. But Tommy's was a more generous nature; his manner was that of oneless sorry to be misjudged than anxious that Grizel should not suffertoo much from remorse. If she had asked his pardon then and there, Iam sure he would have replied, "Right willingly, Grizel, " and beggedher not to give another thought to the matter. What is of moreimportance, Grizel was sure of this also, and it was the magnanimityof him that especially annoyed her. There seemed to be no disturbingit. Even when she said, "Which foot is it?" he answered, "The one onthe chair, " quite graciously, as if she had asked a natural question. 

Grizel pointed out that the other foot must be tired of being a footin waiting. It had got a little exercise, Tommy replied lightly, lastnight and again this morning, when it had helped to convey him to andfrom his bed. 

Had he hopped? she asked brutally. 

No, he said; he had shuffled along. Half rising, he attempted to showher humourously how he walked nowadays--tried not to wince, but hadto. Ugh, that was a twinge! Grizel sarcastically offered herassistance, and he took her shoulder gratefully. They crossed theroom--a tedious journey. "Now let me see if you can manage alone, " shesays, and suddenly deserts him. 

He looked rather helplessly across the room. Few sights are sopathetic as the strong man of yesterday feeling that the chair by thefire is a distant object to-day. Tommy knew how pathetic it was, butGrizel did not seem to know. 

"Try it, " she said encouragingly; "it will do you good. "

[Illustration: And clung to it, his teeth set. ]

He got as far as the table, and clung to it, his teeth set. Grizelclapped her hands. "Excellently done!" she said, with fell meaning, and recommended him to move up and down the room for a little; hewould feel ever so much the better for it afterwards. 

The pain--was--considerable, he said. Oh, she saw that, but he hadalready proved himself so good at bearing pain, and the new school ofsurgeons held that it was wise to exercise an injured limb. 

Even then it was not a reproachful glance that Tommy gave her, thoughthere was some sadness in it. He moved across the room several times, a groan occasionally escaping him. "Admirable!" said his critic. "Bravo! Would you like to stop now?"

"Not until you tell me to, " he said determinedly, but with a gasp. 

"It must be dreadfully painful, " she replied coldly, "but I shouldlike you to go on. " And he went on until suddenly he seemed to havelost the power to lift his feet. His body swayed; there was anappealing look on his face. "Don't be afraid; you won't fall, " saidGrizel. But she had scarcely said it when he fainted dead away, andwent down at her feet. 

"Oh, how dare you!" she cried in sudden flame, and she drew back fromhim. But after a moment she knew that he was shamming no longer--orshe knew it and yet could not quite believe it; for, hurrying out ofthe room for water, she had no sooner passed the door than she swiftlyput back her head as if to catch him unawares; but he lay motionless. 

The sight of her dear brother on the floor paralyzed Elspeth, whocould only weep for him, and call to him to look at her and speak toher. But in such an emergency Grizel was as useful as any doctor, andby the time Gemmell arrived in haste the invalid was being brought to. The doctor was a practical man who did not ask questions while therewas something better to do. Had he asked any as he came in, Grizelwould certainly have said: "He wanted to faint to make me believe hereally has a bad ankle, and somehow he managed to do it. " And if thedoctor had replied that people can't faint by wishing, she would havesaid that he did not know Mr. Sandys. 

But, with few words, Gemmell got his patient back to the chairs, andproceeded to undo the bandages that were round his ankle. Grizel stoodby, assisting silently. She had often assisted the doctors, but neverbefore with that scornful curl of her lip. So the bandages wereremoved and the ankle laid bare. It was very much swollen anddiscoloured, and when Grizel saw this she gave a little cry, and theointment she was holding slipped from her hand. For the first timesince he came to Thrums, she had failed Gemmell at a patient's side. 

"I had not expected it to be--like this, " she said in a quiveringvoice, when he looked at her in surprise. 

"It will look much worse to-morrow, " he assured them, grimly. "I can'tunderstand, Miss Sandys, how this came about. "

"Miss Sandys was not in the room, " said Grizel, abjectly, "but I was, and I--"

Tommy's face was begging her to stop. He was still faint and in pain, but all thought of himself left him in his desire to screen her. "Iowe you an apology, doctor, " he said quickly, "for disregarding yourinstructions. It was entirely my own fault; I would try to walk. "

"Every step must have been agony, " the doctor rapped out; and Grizelshuddered. 

"Not nearly so bad as that, " Tommy said, for her sake. 

"Agony, " insisted the doctor, as if, for once, he enjoyed the word. "It was a mad thing to do, as surely you could guess, Grizel. Why didyou not prevent him?"

"She certainly did her best to stop me, " Tommy said hastily; "but Isuppose I had some insane fit on me, for do it I would. I am verysorry, doctor. "

His face was wincing with pain, and he spoke jerkily; but the doctorwas still angry. He felt that there was something between these twowhich he did not understand, and it was strange to him, andunpleasant, to find Grizel unable to speak for herself. I think hedoubted Tommy from that hour. All he said in reply, however, was: "Itis unnecessary to apologize to me; you yourself are the onlysufferer. "

But was Tommy the only sufferer? Gemmell left, and Elspeth followedhim to listen to those precious words which doctors drop, as from avial, on the other side of a patient's door; and then Grizel, who hadbeen standing at the window with head averted, turned slowly round andlooked at the man she had wronged. Her arms, which had been hangingrigid, the fists closed, went out to him to implore forgiveness. Idon't know how she held herself up and remained dry-eyed, her wholebeing wanted so much to sink by the side of his poor, tortured foot, and bathe it in her tears. 

So, you see, he had won; nothing to do now but forgive herbeautifully. Go on, Tommy; you are good at it. 

But the unexpected only came out of Tommy. Never was there a softerheart. In London the old lady who sold matches at the street cornerhad got all his pence; had he heard her, or any other, mourning a sonsentenced to the gallows, he would immediately have wondered whetherhe might take the condemned one's place. (What a speech Tommy couldhave delivered from the scaffold!) There was nothing he would not jumpat doing for a woman in distress, except, perhaps, destroy hisnote-book. And Grizel was in anguish. She was his suppliant, hisbrave, lonely little playmate of the past, the noble girl of to-day, Grizel whom he liked so much. As through a magnifying-glass he saw hertop-heavy with remorse for life, unable to sleep of nights, crushedand----

He was not made of the stuff that could endure it. The truth must out. "Grizel, " he said impulsively, "you have nothing to be sorry for. Youwere quite right. I did not hurt my foot that night in the Den, butafterwards, when I was alone, before the doctor came. I wricked ithere intentionally in the door. It sounds incredible; but I set myteeth and did it, Grizel, because you had challenged me to a duel, andI would not give in. "

As soon as it was out he was proud of himself for having thegenerosity to confess it. He looked at Grizel expectantly. 

Yes, it sounded incredible, and yet she saw that it was true. AsElspeth returned at that moment, Grizel could say nothing. She stoodlooking at him only over her high collar of fur. Tommy actuallythought that she was admiring him. 

CHAPTER VIII

WHAT GRIZEL'S EYES SAID

To be the admired of women--how Tommy had fought for it since first hedrank of them in Pym's sparkling pages! To some it seems to be easy, but to him it was a labour of Sisyphus. Everything had been againsthim. But he concentrated. No labour was too Herculean; he wasprepared, if necessary, to walk round the world to get to the otherside of the wall across which some men can step. And he did take aroundabout way. It is my opinion, for instance, that he wrote his bookin order to make a beginning with the ladies. 

That as it may be, at all events he is on the right side of the wallnow, and here is even Grizel looking wistfully at him. Had she admiredhim for something he was not (and a good many of them did that) hewould have been ill satisfied. He wanted her to think him splendidbecause he was splendid, and the more he reflected the more clearlyhe saw that he had done a big thing. How many men would have had thecourage to wrick their foot as he had done? (He shivered when hethought of it. ) And even of these Spartans how many would have let thereward slip through their fingers rather than wound the feelings of agirl? These had not been his thoughts when he made confession; he hadspoken on an impulse; but now that he could step out and have a lookat himself, he saw that this made it a still bigger thing. He wasmodestly pleased that he had not only got Grizel's admiration, butearned it, and he was very kind to her when next she came to see him. No one could be more kind to them than he when they admired him. Hehad the most grateful heart, had our Tommy. 

When next she came to see him! That was while his ankle still nailedhim to the chair, a fortnight or so during which Tommy was at hisbest, sending gracious messages by Elspeth to the many who called toinquire, and writing hard at his new work, pad on knee, so like abrave soul whom no unmerited misfortune could subdue that it wouldhave done you good merely to peep at him through the window. Grizelcame several times, and the three talked very ordinary things, mostlyreminiscences; she was as much a plain-spoken princess as ever, butoften he found her eyes fixed on him wistfully, and he knew what theywere saying; they spoke so eloquently that he was a little nervouslest Elspeth should notice. It was delicious to Tommy to feel thatthere was this little unspoken something between him and Grizel; hehalf regretted that the time could not be far distant when she mustput it into words--as soon, say, as Elspeth left the room; anexquisite moment, no doubt, but it would be the plucking of theflower. 

Don't think that Tommy conceived Grizel to be in love with him. On mysacred honour, that would have horrified him. 

Curiously enough, she did not take the first opportunity Elspeth gaveher of telling him in words how much she admired his brave confession. She was so honest that he expected her to begin the moment the doorclosed, and now that the artistic time had come for it, he wanted it;but no. He was not hurt, but he wondered at her shyness, and castabout for the reason. He cast far back into the past, and caught alittle girl who had worn this same wistful face when she admired himmost. He compared those two faces of the anxious girl and the serenewoman, and in the wistfulness that sometimes lay on them both theylooked alike. Was it possible that the fear of him which the years haddriven out of the girl still lived a ghost's life to haunt the woman?

At once he overflowed with pity. As a boy he had exulted in Grizel'sfear of him; as a man he could feel only the pain of it. There was noone, he thought, less to be dreaded of a woman than he; oh, so sureTommy was of that! And he must lay this ghost; he gave his whole heartto the laying of it. 

Few men, and never a woman, could do a fine thing so delicately as he;but of course it included a divergence from the truth, for to Tommyafloat on a generous scheme the truth was a buoy marking sunken rocks. She had feared him in her childhood, as he knew well; he thereforeproceeded to prove to her that she had never feared him. She hadthought him masterful, and all his reminiscences now went to show thatit was she who had been the masterful one. 

"You must often laugh now, " he said, "to remember how I feared you. The memory of it makes me afraid of you still. I assure you, I joukitback, as Corp would say, that day I saw you in church. It was theinstinct of self-preservation. 'Here comes Grizel to lord it over meagain, ' I heard something inside me saying. You called me masterful, and yet I had always to give in to you. That shows what a gentle, yielding girl you were, and what a masterful character I was!"

His intention, you see, was, without letting Grizel know what he wasat, to make her think he had forgotten certain unpleasant incidents intheir past, so that, seeing they were no longer anything to him, theymight the sooner become nothing to her. And she believed that he hadforgotten, and she was glad. She smiled when he told her to go onbeing masterful, for old acquaintance had made him like it. Hers, indeed, was a masterful nature; she could not help it; and if the timeever came when she must help it, the glee of living would be gone fromher. 

She did continue to be masterful--to a greater extent than Tommy, thusnobly behaving, was prepared for; and his shock came to him at thevery moment when he was modestly expecting to receive the prize. Shehad called when Elspeth happened to be out; and though now able tomove about the room with the help of a staff, he was still aninteresting object. He saw that she thought so, and perhaps it madehim hobble slightly more, not vaingloriously, but because he was suchan artist. He ceased to be an artist suddenly, however, when Grizelmade this unexpected remark:

"How vain you are!"

Tommy sat down, quite pale. "Did you come here to say that to me, Grizel?" he inquired, and she nodded frankly over her high collar offur. He knew it was true as Grizel said it, but though taken aback, hecould bear it, for she was looking wistfully at him, and he knew wellwhat Grizel's wistful look meant; so long as women admired him Tommycould bear anything from them. "God knows I have little to be vainof, " he said humbly. 

"Those are the people who are most vain, " she replied; and he laugheda short laugh, which surprised her, she was so very serious. 

"Your methods are so direct, " he explained. "But of what am I vain, Grizel? Is it my book?"

"No, " she answered, "not about your book, but about meaner things. What else could have made you dislocate your ankle rather than admitthat you had been rather silly?"

Now "silly" is no word to apply to a gentleman, and, despite hisforgiving nature, Tommy was a little disappointed in Grizel. 

"I suppose it was a silly thing to do, " he said, with just a touch ofstiffness. 

"It was an ignoble thing, " said she, sadly. 

"I see. And I myself am the meaner thing than the book, am I?"

"Are you not?" she asked, so eagerly that he laughed again. 

"It is the first compliment you have paid my book, " he pointed out. 

"I like the book very much, " she answered gravely. "No one can be moreproud of your fame than I. You are hurting me very much by pretendingto think that it is a pleasure to me to find fault with you. " Therewas no getting past the honesty of her, and he was touched by it. Besides, she did admire him, and that, after all, is the great thing. 

"Then why say such things, Grizel?" he replied good-naturedly. 

"But if they are true?"

"Still let us avoid them, " said he; and at that she was mostdistressed. 

"It is so like what you used to say when you were a boy!" she cried. 

"You are so anxious to have me grow up, " he replied, with properdolefulness. "If you like the book, Grizel, you must have patiencewith the kind of thing that produced it. That night in the Den, when Iwon your scorn, I was in the preliminary stages of composition. Atsuch times an author should be locked up; but I had got out, you see. I was so enamoured of my little fancies that I forgot I was with you. No wonder you were angry. "

"I was not angry with you for forgetting me, " she said sharply. (Therewas no catching Grizel, however artful you were. ) "But you weresighing to yourself, you were looking as tragic as if some dreadfulcalamity had occurred--"

"The idea that had suddenly come to me was a touching one, " he said. 

"But you looked triumphant, too. "

"That was because I saw I could make something of it. " "Why did youwalk as if you were lame?"

"The man I was thinking of, " Tommy explained, "had broken his leg. Idon't mind telling you that it was Corp. "

He ought to have minded telling her, for it could only add to herindignation; but he was too conceited to give weight to that. 

"Corp's leg was not broken, " said practical Grizel. 

"I broke it for him, " replied Tommy; and when he had explained, hereyes accused him of heartlessness. 

"If it had been my own, " he said, in self-defence, "it should havegone crack just the same. "

"Poor Gavinia! Had you no feeling for her?"

"Gavinia was not there, " Tommy replied triumphantly. "She had run offwith a soldier. "

"You dared to conceive that?"

"It helped. "

Grizel stamped her foot. "You could take away dear Gavinia's characterwith a smile!"

"On the contrary, " said Tommy, "my heart bled for her. Did you notnotice that I was crying?" But he could not make Grizel smile; so, toplease her, he said, with a smile that was not very sincere: "I wish Iwere different, but that is how ideas come to me--at least, all thosethat are of any value. "

"Surely you could fight against them and drive them away?"

This to Tommy, who held out sugar to them to lure them to him! Butstill he treated her with consideration. 

"That would mean my giving up writing altogether, Grizel, " he saidkindly. 

"Then why not give it up?"

Really! But she admired him, and still he bore with her. 

"I don't like the book, " she said, "if it is written at such a cost. "

"People say the book has done them good, Grizel. "

"What does that matter, if it does you harm?" In her eagerness topersuade him, her words came pell-mell. "If writing makes you live insuch an unreal world, it must do you harm. I see now what Mr. Cathromeant, long ago, when he called you Senti----"

Tommy winced. "I remember what Mr. Cathro called me, " he said, withsurprising hauteur for such a good-natured man. "But he does not callme that now. No one calls me that now, except you, Grizel. "

"What does that matter, " she replied distressfully, "if it is true? Inthe definition of sentimentality in the dictionary--"

He rose indignantly. "You have been looking me up in the dictionary, have you, Grizel?"

"Yes, the night you told me you had hurt your ankle intentionally. "

He laughed, without mirth now. "I thought you had put that down tovanity. "

"I think, " she said, "it was vanity that gave you the courage to doit. " And he liked one word in this remark. 

"Then you do give me credit for a little courage?"

"I think you could do the most courageous things, " she told him, "solong as there was no real reason why you should do them. "

It was a shot that rang the bell. Oh, our Tommy heard it ringing. But, to do him justice, he bore no malice; he was proud, rather, ofGrizel's marksmanship. "At least, " he said meekly, "it was courageousof me to tell you the truth in the end?" But, to his surprise, sheshook her head. 

"No, " she replied; "it was sweet of you. You did it impulsively, because you were sorry for me, and I think it was sweet. But impulseis not courage. "

So now Tommy knew all about it. His plain-spoken critic had beenexamining him with a candle, and had paid particular attention to hisdefects; but against them she set the fact that he had done somethingchivalrous for her, and it held her heart, though the others were inpossession of the head. "How like a woman!" he thought, with apleased smile. He knew them!

Still he was chagrined that she made so little of his courage, and itwas to stab her that he said, with subdued bitterness: "I always had asuspicion that I was that sort of person, and it is pleasant to haveit pointed out by one's oldest friend. No one will ever accuse you ofwant of courage, Grizel. "

She was looking straight at him, and her eyes did not drop, but theylooked still more wistful. Tommy did not understand the courage thatmade her say what she had said, but he knew he was hurting her; heknew that if she was too plain-spoken it was out of loyalty, and thatto wound Grizel because she had to speak her mind was a shame--yes, healways knew that. 

But he could do it; he could even go on: "And it is satisfactory thatyou have thought me out so thoroughly, because you will not need tothink me out any more. You know me now, Grizel, and can have no morefear of me. "

"When was I ever afraid of you?" she demanded. She was looking at himsuspiciously now. 

"Never as a girl?" he asked. It jumped out of him. He was sorry assoon as he had said it. 

There was a long pause. "So you remembered it all the time, " she saidquietly. "You have been making pretence--again!" He asked her toforgive him, and she nodded her head at once. "But why did you pretendto have forgotten?"

"I thought it would please you, Grizel. "

"Why should pretence please me?" She rose suddenly, in a white heat. "You don't mean to say that you think I am afraid of you still?"

He said No a moment too late. He knew it was too late. 

"Don't be angry with me, Grizel, " he begged her, earnestly. "I am soglad I was mistaken. It made me miserable. I have been a terribleblunderer, but I mean well; I misread your eyes. "

"My eyes?"

"They have always seemed to be watching me, and often there was such awistful look in them--it reminded me of the past. "

"You thought I was still afraid of you! Say it, " said Grizel, stampingher foot. But he would not say it. It was not merely fear that hethought he had seen in her eyes, you remember. This was still hiscomfort, and, I suppose, it gave the touch of complacency to his facethat made Grizel merciless. She did not mean to be merciless, but onlyto tell the truth. If some of her words were scornful, there wassadness in her voice all the time, instead of triumph. "For years andyears, " she said, standing straight as an elvint, "I have been able tolaugh at all the ignorant fears of my childhood; and if you don'tknow why I have watched you and been unable to help watching you sinceyou came back, I shall tell you. But I think you might have guessed, you who write books about women. It is because I liked you when youwere a boy. You were often horrid, but you were my first friend whenevery other person was against me. You let me play with you when noother boy or girl would let me play. And so, all the time you havebeen away, I have been hoping that you were growing into a noble man;and when you came back, I watched to see whether you were the nobleman I wanted you so much to be, and you are not. Do you see now why myeyes look wistful? It is because I wanted to admire you, and I can't. "

She went away, and the great authority on women raged about the room. Oh, but he was galled! There had been five feet nine of him, but hewas shrinking. By and by the red light came into his eyes. 

CHAPTER IX

GALLANT BEHAVIOUR OF T. SANDYS

There were now no fewer than three men engaged, each in his own way, in the siege of Grizel, nothing in common between them except insultedvanity. One was a broken fellow who took for granted that shepreferred to pass him by in the street. His bow was also an apology toher for his existence. He not only knew that she thought him whollydespicable, but agreed with her. In the long ago (yesterday, forinstance) he had been happy, courted, esteemed; he had even esteemedhimself, and so done useful work in the world. But she had flung himto earth so heavily that he had made a hole in it out of which hecould never climb. There he lay damned, hers the glory of destroyinghim--he hoped she was proud of her handiwork. That was one ThomasSandys, the one, perhaps, who put on the velvet jacket in the morning. But it might be number two who took that jacket off at night. He wasa good-natured cynic, vastly amused by the airs this little girl puton before a man of note, and he took a malicious pleasure in lettingher see that they entertained him. He goaded her intentionally intoexpressions of temper, because she looked prettiest then, and trifledwith her hair (but this was in imagination only), and called her aquaint child (but this was beneath his breath). The third--he might bethe one who wore the jacket--was a haughty boy who was not only donewith her for ever, but meant to let her see it. (His soul cried, Oh, oh, for a conservatory and some of society's darlings, and Grizel atthe window to watch how he got on with them!) And now that I think ofit, there was also a fourth: Sandys, the grave author, whose life (intwo vols. 8vo. ) I ought at this moment to be writing, without a wordabout the other Tommies. They amused him a good deal. When they weredoing something big he would suddenly appear and take a note of it. 

The boy, who was stiffly polite to her (when Tommy was angry he becamevery polite), told her that he had been invited to the Spittal, theseat of the Rintoul family, and that he understood there were somecharming girls there. 

"I hope you will like them, " Grizel said pleasantly. 

"If you could see how they will like me!" he wanted to reply; but ofcourse he could not, and unfortunately there was no one by to say itfor him. Tommy often felt this want of a secretary. 

The abject one found a glove of Grizel's, that she did not know shehad lost, and put it in his pocket. There it lay, unknown to her. Heknew that he must not even ask them to bury it with him in his grave. This was a little thing to ask, but too much for him. He saw hiseffects being examined after all that was mortal of T. Sandys had beenconsigned to earth, and this pathetic little glove coming to light. Ah, then, then Grizel would know! By the way, what would she haveknown? I am sure I cannot tell you. Nor could Tommy, forced to facethe question in this vulgar way, have told you. Yet, whatever it was, it gave him some moist moments. If Grizel saw him in this mood, herreproachful look implied that he was sentimentalizing again. Howlittle this chit understood him!

The man of the world sometimes came upon the glove in his pocket, andlaughed at it, as such men do when they recall their callow youth. Hetook walks with Grizel without her knowing that she accompanied him;or rather, he let her come, she was so eager. In his imagination (forbright were the dreams of Thomas!) he saw her looking longingly afterhim, just as the dog looks; and then, not being really a cruel man, hewould call over his shoulder, "Put on your hat, little woman; you cancome. " Then he conceived her wandering with him through the Den andCaddam Wood, clinging to his arm and looking up adoringly at him. "What a loving little soul it is!" he said, and pinched her ear, whereat she glowed with pleasure. "But I forgot, " he would add, bantering her; "you don't admire me. Heigh-ho! Grizel wants to admireme, but she can't!" He got some satisfaction out of these flights offancy, but it had a scurvy way of deserting him in the hour ofgreatest need; where was it, for instance, when the real Grizelappeared and fixed that inquiring eye on him?

He went to the Spittal several times, Elspeth with him when she caredto go; for Lady Rintoul and all the others had to learn and rememberthat, unless they made much of Elspeth, there could be no T. Sandysfor them. He glared at anyone, male or female, who, on beingintroduced to Elspeth, did not remain, obviously impressed, by herside. "Give pleasure to Elspeth or away I go, " was written all overhim. And it had to be the right kind of pleasure, too. The ladies mustfeel that she was more innocent than they, and talk accordingly. Hewould walk the flower-garden with none of them until he knew forcertain that the man walking it with little Elspeth was a person to betrusted. Once he was convinced of this, however, he was very much attheir service, and so little to be trusted himself that perhaps theyshould have had careful brothers also. He told them, one at a time, that they were strangely unlike all the other women he had known, andheld their hands a moment longer than was absolutely necessary, andthen went away, leaving them and him a prey to conflicting andpuzzling emotions. 

Lord Rintoul, whose hair was so like his skin that in the familyportraits he might have been painted in one colour, could never ridhimself of the feeling that it must be a great thing to a writing chapto get a good dinner; but her ladyship always explained him away withan apologetic smile which went over his remarks like a piece ofindia-rubber, so that in the end he had never said anything. She was aslight, pretty woman of nearly forty, and liked Tommy because heremembered so vividly her coming to the Spittal as a bride. He evenremembered how she had been dressed--her white bonnet, for instance. 

"For long, " Tommy said, musing, "I resented other women in whitebonnets; it seemed profanation. "

"How absurd!" she told him, laughing. "You must have been quite asmall boy at the time. "

"But with a lonely boy's passionate admiration for beautiful things, "he answered; and his gravity was a gentle rebuke to her. "It was all along time ago, " he said, taking both her hands in his, "but I neverforget, and, dear lady, I have often wanted to thank you. " What he wasthanking her for is not precisely clear, but she knew that theartistic temperament is an odd sort of thing, and from this time LadyRintoul liked Tommy, and even tried to find the right wife for himamong the families of the surrounding clergy. His step was sometimesquite springy when he left the Spittal; but Grizel's shadow was alwayswaiting for him somewhere on the way home, to take the life out ofhim, and after that it was again, oh, sorrowful disillusion! oh, worldgone gray! Grizel did not admire him. T. Sandys was no longer a wonderto Grizel. He went home to that as surely as the labourer to hisevening platter. 

And now we come to the affair of the Slugs. Corp had got a holiday, and they were off together fishing the Drumly Water, by Lord Rintoul'spermission. They had fished the Drumly many a time without it, andthis was to be another such day as those of old. The one who woke atfour was to rouse the other. Never had either waked at four; but oneof them was married now, and any woman can wake at any hour shechooses, so at four Corp was pushed out of bed, and soon thereafterthey took the road. Grizel's blinds were already up. "Do you mind, "Corp said, "how often, when we had boasted we were to start at fourand didna get roaded till six, we wriggled by that window so thatGrizel shouldna see us?"

"She usually did see us, " Tommy replied ruefully. "Grizel alwaysspotted us, Corp, when we had anything to hide, and missed us when wewere anxious to be seen. "

"There was no jouking her, " said Corp. "Do you mind how that used tobother you?" a senseless remark to a man whom it was botheringstill--or shall we say to a boy? For the boy came back to Tommy whenhe heard the Drumly singing; it was as if he had suddenly seen hismother looking young again. There had been a thunder-shower as theydrew near, followed by a rush of wind that pinned them to a dike, swept the road bare, banged every door in the glen, and then sanksuddenly as if it had never been, like a mole in the sand. But now thesun was out, every fence and farm-yard rope was a string of diamonddrops. There was one to every blade of grass; they lurked among thewild roses; larks, drunken with song, shook them from their wings. Thewhole earth shone so gloriously with them that for a time Tommy ceasedto care whether he was admired. We can pay nature no highercompliment. 

But when they came to the Slugs! The Slugs of Kenny is a wild crevicethrough which the Drumly cuts its way, black and treacherous, into alovely glade where it gambols for the rest of its short life; youwould not believe, to see it laughing, that it had so lately escapedfrom prison. To the Slugs they made their way--not to fish, for anytrout that are there are thinking for ever of the way out and ofnothing else, but to eat their luncheon, and they ate it sitting onthe mossy stones their persons had long ago helped to smooth, andlooking at a roan-branch, which now, as then, was trailing in thewater. 

There were no fish to catch, but there was a boy trying to catch them. He was on the opposite bank; had crawled down it, only other boys cantell how, a barefooted urchin of ten or twelve, with an enormousbagful of worms hanging from his jacket button. To put a new worm onthe hook without coming to destruction, he first twisted his legsabout a young birch, and put his arms round it. He was after a bigone, he informed Corp, though he might as well have been fishing in atreatise on the art of angling. 

Corp exchanged pleasantries with him; told him that Tommy was CaptainUre, and that he was his faithful servant Alexander Bett, both ofEdinburgh. Since the birth of his child, Corp had become something ofa humourist. Tommy was not listening. As he lolled in the sun he wasturning, without his knowledge, into one of the other Tommies. Let uswatch the process. 

He had found a half-fledged mavis lying dead in the grass. Rememberalso how the larks had sung after rain. 

Tommy lost sight and sound of Corp and the boy. What he seemed to seewas a baby lark that had got out of its nest sideways, a fall of halfa foot only, but a dreadful drop for a baby. "You can get back thisway, " its mother said, and showed it the way, which was quite easy, but when the baby tried to leap, it fell on its back. Then the mothermarked out lines on the ground, from one to the other of which it wasto practise hopping, and soon it could hop beautifully so long as itsmother was there to say every moment, "How beautifully you hop!" "Nowteach me to hop up, " the little lark said, meaning that it wanted tofly; and the mother tried to do that also, but in vain; she could soarup, up, up bravely, but could not explain how she did it. Thisdistressed her very much, and she thought hard about how she hadlearned to fly long ago last year, but all she could recall forcertain was that you suddenly do it. "Wait till the sun comes outafter rain, " she said, half remembering. "What is sun? What is rain?"the little bird asked. "If you cannot teach me to fly, teach me tosing. " "When the sun comes out after rain, " the mother replied, "thenyou will know how to sing. " The rain came, and glued the little bird'swings together. "I shall never be able to fly nor to sing, " it wailed. Then, of a sudden, it had to blink its eyes; for a glorious light hadspread over the world, catching every leaf and twig and blade of grassin tears, and putting a smile into every tear. The baby bird's breastswelled, it did not know why; and it fluttered from the ground, it didnot know how. "The sun has come out after the rain, " it trilled. "Thank you, sun; thank you, thank you! Oh, mother, did you hear me? Ican sing!" And it floated up, up, up, crying, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" to the sun. "Oh, mother, do you see me? I am flying!" Andbeing but a baby, it soon was gasping, but still it trilled the sameecstasy, and when it fell panting to earth it still trilled, and thedistracted mother called to it to take breath or it would die, but itcould not stop. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" it sang to the suntill its little heart burst. 

With filmy eyes Tommy searched himself for the little pocket-book inwhich he took notes of such sad thoughts as these, and in place of thebook he found a glove wrapped in silk paper. He sat there with it inhis hand, nodding his head over it so broken-heartedly you could nothave believed that he had forgotten it for several days. 

Death was still his subject; but it was no longer a bird he saw: itwas a very noble young man, and his white, dead face stared at the skyfrom the bottom of a deep pool. I don't know how he got there, but awoman who would not admire him had something to do with it. No sunafter rain had come into that tragic life. To the water that had endedit his white face seemed to be saying, "Thank you, thank you, thankyou. " It was the old story of a faithless woman. He had given her hisheart, and she had played with it. For her sake he had striven to befamous; for her alone had he toiled through dreary years in London, the goal her lap, in which he should one day place his book--a poor, trivial little work, he knew (yet much admired by the best critics). Never had his thoughts wandered for one instant of that time toanother woman; he had been as faithful in life as in death; and nowshe came to the edge of the pool and peered down at his staring eyesand laughed. 

He had got thus far when a shout from Corp brought him, dazed, to hisfeet. It had been preceded by another cry, as the boy and the saplinghe was twisted round toppled into the river together, uprooted stonesand clods pounding after them and discolouring the pool into which thetorrent rushes between rocks, to swirl frantically before it divesdown a narrow channel and leaps into another caldron. 

There was no climbing down those precipitous rocks. Corp was shouting, gesticulating, impotent. "How can you stand so still?" he roared. 

For Tommy was standing quite still, like one not yet thoroughlyawake. The boy's head was visible now and again as he was carriedround in the seething water; when he came to the outer ring down thatchannel he must infallibly go, and every second or two he was in awider circle. 

Tommy was awake now, and he could not stand still and see a boy drownbefore his eyes. He knew that to attempt to save him was to face aterrible danger, especially as he could not swim; but he kicked offhis boots. There was some gallantry in the man. 

"You wouldna dare!" Corp cried, aghast. 

Tommy hesitated for a moment, but he had abundance of physicalcourage. He clenched his teeth and jumped. But before he jumped hepushed the glove into Corp's hand, saying, "Give her that, and tellher it never left my heart. " He did not say who she was; he scarcelyknew that he was saying it. It was his dream intruding on reality, asa wheel may revolve for a moment longer after the spring breaks. 

Corp saw him strike the water and disappear. He tore along the bank ashe had never run before, until he got to the water's edge below theSlugs, and climbed and fought his way to the scene of the disaster. Before he reached it, however, we should have had no hero had not thesapling, the cause of all this pother, made amends by barring the waydown the narrow channel. Tommy was clinging to it, and the boy tohim, and, at some risk, Corp got them both ashore, where they laygasping like fish in a creel. 

The boy was the first to rise to look for his fishing-rod, and he wassurprised to find no six-pounder at the end of it. "She has broke theline again!" he said; for he was sure then and ever afterwards that abig one had pulled him in. 

Corp slapped him for his ingratitude; but the man who had saved thisboy's life wanted no thanks. "Off to your home with you, wherever itis, " he said to the boy, who obeyed silently; and then to Corp: "He isa little fool, Corp, but not such a fool as I am. " He lay on his face, shivering, not from cold, not from shock, but in a horror of himself. I think it may fairly be said that he had done a brave if foolhardything; it was certainly to save the boy that he had jumped, and he hadgiven himself a moment's time in which to draw back if he chose, whichvastly enhances the merit of the deed. But sentimentality had beenthere also, and he was now shivering with a presentiment of the lengthto which it might one day carry him. 

They lit a fire among the rocks, at which he dried his clothes, andthen they set out for home, Corp doing all the talking. "What a townthere will be about this in Thrums!" was his text; and he wassurprised when Tommy at last broke silence by saying passionately:"Never speak about this to me again, Corp, as long as you live. Promise me that. Promise never to mention it to anyone. I want no oneto know what I did to-day, and no one will ever know unless you tell;the boy can't tell, for we are strangers to him. "

"He thinks you are a Captain Ure, and that I'm Alexander Bett, hisservant, " said Corp. "I telled him that for a divert. "

"Then let him continue to think that. "

Of course Corp promised. "And I'll go to the stake afore I break mypromise, " he swore, happily remembering one of the Jacobite oaths. Buthe was puzzled. They would make so much of Tommy if they knew. Theywould think him a wonder. Did he not want that?

"No, " Tommy replied. 

"You used to like it; you used to like it most michty. "

"I have changed. "

"Ay, you have; but since when? Since you took to making printedbooks?"

Tommy did not say, but it was more recently than that. What he wassurrendering no one could have needed to be told less than he; themagnitude of the sacrifice was what enabled him to make it. He wasalways at home among the superlatives; it was the little things thatbothered him. In his present fear of the ride that sentimentalitymight yet goad him to, he craved for mastery over self; he knew thathis struggles with his Familiar usually ended in an embrace, and hehad made a passionate vow that it should be so no longer. The bestbeginning of the new man was to deny himself the glory that would behis if his deed were advertised to the world. Even Grizel must neverknow of it--Grizel, whose admiration was so dear to him. Thus hepunished himself, and again I think he deserves respect. 

CHAPTER X

GAVINIA ON THE TRACK

Corp, you remember, had said that he would go to the stake rather thanbreak his promise; and he meant it, too, though what the stake was, and why such a pother about going to it, he did not know. He was tolearn now, however, for to the stake he had to go. This was becauseGavinia, when folding up his clothes, found in one of the pockets aglove wrapped in silk paper. 

Tommy had forgotten it until too late, for when he asked Corp for theglove it was already in Gavinia's possession, and she had declined toreturn it without an explanation. "You must tell her nothing, " Tommysaid sternly. He was uneasy, but relieved to find that Corp did notknow whose glove it was, nor even why gentlemen carry a lady's glovein their pocket. 

At first Gavinia was mildly curious only, but her husband's refusal toanswer any questions roused her dander. She tried cajolery, fried histake of trout deliciously for him, and he sat down to them sniffing. They were small, and the remainder of their brief career was in twoparts. First he lifted them by the tail, then he laid down the tail. But not a word about the glove. 

She tried tears. "Dinna greet, woman, " he said in distress. "Whatwould the bairn say if he kent I made you greet?"

Gavinia went on greeting, and the baby, waking up, promptly took herside. 

"D----n the thing!" said Corp. 

"Your ain bairn!"

"I meant the glove!" he roared. 

It was curiosity only that troubled Gavinia. A reader of romance, asyou may remember, she had encountered in the printed page a score ofladies who, on finding such parcels in their husbands' pockets, lefttheir homes at once and for ever, and she had never doubted but thatit was the only course to follow; such is the power of the writer offiction. But when the case was her own she was merely curious; suchare the limitations of the writer of fiction. That there was a womanin it she did not believe for a moment. This, of course, did notprevent her saying, with a sob, "Wha is the woman?"

With great earnestness Corp assured her that there was no woman. Heeven proved it: "Just listen to reason, Gavinia. If I was sich ablack as to be chief wi' ony woman, and she wanted to gie me apresent, weel, she might gie me a pair o' gloves, but one glove, whatuse would one glove be to me? I tell you, if a woman had the impidenceto gie me one glove, I would fling it in her face. "

Nothing could have been clearer, and he had put it thus consideratelybecause when a woman, even the shrewdest of them, is excited (any manknows this), one has to explain matters to her as simply and patientlyas if she were a four-year-old; yet Gavinia affected to beunconvinced, and for several days she led Corp the life of a lodger inhis own house. 

"Hands off that poor innocent, " she said when he approached the baby. 

If he reproved her, she replied meekly, "What can you expect frae awoman that doesna wear gloves?"

To the baby she said: "He despises you, my bonny, because you hae nogloves. Ay, that's what maks him turn up his nose at you. But yourmother is fond o' you, gloves or no gloves. "

She told the baby the story of the glove daily, with many monstrousadditions. 

When Corp came home from his work, she said that a poor, love-lornfemale had called with a boot for him, and a request that he shouldcarry it in the pocket of his Sabbath breeks. 

Worst of all, she listened to what he said in the night. Corp had ahabit of talking in his sleep. He was usually taking tickets at suchtimes, and it had been her custom to stop him violently; but now shechanged her tactics: she encouraged him. "I would be lying in my bed, "he said to Tommy, "dreaming that a man had fallen into the Slugs, andinstead o' trying to save him I cried out, 'Tickets there, all ticketsready, ' and first he hands me a glove and neist he hands me a boot andhavers o' that kind sich as onybody dreams. But in the middle o' mydream it comes ower me that I had better waken up to see whatGavinia's doing, and I open my een, and there she is, sitting up, hearkening avidly to my every word, and putting sly questions to meabout the glove. "

"What glove?" Tommy asked coldly. 

"The glove in silk paper. "

"I never heard of it, " said Tommy. 

Corp sighed. "No, " he said loyally, "neither did I"; and he went backto the station and sat gloomily in a wagon. He got no help from Tommy, not even when rumours of the incident at the Slugs became noisedabroad. 

"A'body kens about the laddie now, " he said. 

"What laddie?" Tommy inquired. 

"Him that fell into the Slugs. "

"Ah, yes, " Tommy said; "I have just been reading about it in thepaper. A plucky fellow, this Captain Ure who saved him. I wonder whohe is. "

"I wonder!" Corp said with a groan. 

"There was an Alexander Bett with him, according to the papers, " Tommywent on. "Do you know any Bett?"

"It's no a Thrums name, " Corp replied thankfully. "I just made it up. "

"What do you mean?" Tommy asked blankly. 

Corp sighed, and went back again to the wagon. He was particularlytruculent that evening when the six-o'clock train came in. "Tickets, there; look slippy wi' your tickets. " His head bobbed up at the windowof another compartment. "Tick----" he began, and then he ducked. 

The compartment contained a boy looking as scared as if he had justhad his face washed, and an old woman who was clutching a large linenbag as if expecting some scoundrel to appear through the floor andgrip it. With her other hand she held on to the boy, and being unusedto travel, they were both sitting very self-conscious, humble, anddefiant, like persons in church who have forgotten to bring theirBible. The general effect, however, was lost on Corp, for whom it wasenough that in one of them he recognized the boy of the Slugs. Hethought he had seen the old lady before, also, but he could not giveher a name. It was quite a relief to him to notice that she was notwearing gloves. 

He heard her inquiring for one Alexander Bett, and being told thatthere was no such person in Thrums, "He's married on a woman of thename of Gavinia, " said the old lady; and then they directed her to thehouse of the only Gavinia in the place. With dark forebodings Corpskulked after her. He remembered who she was now. She was the oldwoman with the nut-cracker face on whom he had cried in, more than ayear ago, to say that Gavinia was to have him. Her mud cottage hadbeen near the Slugs. Yes, and this was the boy who had been suppingporridge with her. Corp guessed rightly that the boy had rememberedhis unlucky visit. "I'm doomed!" Corp muttered to himself--pronouncingit in another way. 

The woman, the boy, and the bag entered the house of Gavinia, andpresently she came out with them. She was looking very important andterrible. They went straight to Ailie's cottage, and Corp waswondering why, when he suddenly remembered that Tommy was to be thereat tea to-day. 

CHAPTER XI

THE TEA-PARTY

It was quite a large tea-party, and was held in what had been theschool-room; nothing there now, however, to recall an academic past, for even the space against which a map of the world (Mercator'sprojection) had once hung was gone the colour of the rest of thewalls, and with it had faded away the last relic of the Hanky School. 

"It will not fade so quickly from my memory, " Tommy said, to pleaseMrs. McLean. His affection for his old schoolmistress was as sincereas hers for him. I could tell you of scores of pretty things he haddone to give her pleasure since his return, all carried out, too, witha delicacy which few men could rival, and never a woman; but theymight make you like him, so we shall pass them by. 

Ailie said, blushing, that she had taught him very little. "EverythingI know, " he replied, and then, with a courteous bow to the gentlemanopposite, "except what I learned from Mr. Cathro. "

"Thank you, " Cathro said shortly. Tommy had behaved splendidly to him, and called him his dear preceptor, and yet the Dominie still itched tobe at him with the tawse as of old. "And fine he knows I'm itching, "he reflected, which made him itch the more. 

It should have been a most successful party, for in the rehearsalsbetween the hostess and her maid Christina every conceivabledifficulty had been ironed out. Ailie was wearing her black silk, butwithout the Honiton lace, so that Miss Sophia Innes need not becomedepressed; and she had herself taken the chair with the weak back. Mr. Cathro, who, though a lean man, needed a great deal of room at table, had been seated far away from the spinet, to allow Christina to passhim without climbing. Miss Sophia and Grizel had the doctor betweenthem, and there was also a bachelor, but an older one, for Elspeth. Mr. McLean, as stout and humoursome as of yore, had solemnly promisedhis wife to be jocular but not too jocular. Neither minister couldcomplain, for if Mr. Dishart had been asked to say grace, Mr. Gloagknew that he was to be called on for the benediction. Christina, obeying strict orders, glided round the table leisurely, as if shewere not in the least excited, though she could be heard rushingalong the passage like one who had entered for a race. And, lastly, there was, as chief guest, the celebrated Thomas Sandys. It shouldhave been a triumph of a tea-party, and yet it was not. Mrs. McLeancould not tell why. 

Grizel could have told why; her eyes told why every time they restedscornfully on Mr. Sandys. It was he, they said, who was spoiling theentertainment, and for the pitiful reason that the company were notmaking enough of him. He was the guest of the evening, but they weretalking admiringly of another man, and so he sulked. Oh, how shescorned Tommy!

That other man was, of course, the unknown Captain Ure, gallantrescuer of boys, hero of all who admire brave actions except thejealous Sandys. Tommy had pooh-poohed him from the first, to Grizel'sunutterable woe. 

"Have you not one word of praise for such a splendid deed?" she hadasked in despair. 

"I see nothing splendid about it, " he replied coldly. 

"I advise you in your own interests not to talk in that way toothers, " she said. "Don't you see what they will say?"

"I can't help that, " answered Tommy the just. "If they ask my opinion, I must give them the truth. I thought you were fond of the truth, Grizel. " To that she could only wring her hands and say nothing; butit had never struck her that the truth could be so bitter. 

And now he was giving his opinion at Mrs. McLean's party, and theywere all against him, except, in a measure, Elspeth's bachelor, whosaid cheerily, "We should all have done it if we had been in CaptainUre's place; I would have done it myself, Miss Elspeth, though notfond of the water. " He addressed all single ladies by their Christianname with a Miss in front of it. This is the mark of the confirmedbachelor, and comes upon him at one-and-twenty. 

"I could not have done it, " Grizel replied decisively, though she wasmuch the bravest person present, and he explained that he meant themen only. His name was James Bonthron; let us call him Mr. James. 

"Men are so brave!" she responded, with her eyes on Tommy, and hereceived the stab in silence. Had the blood spouted from the wound, itwould have been an additional gratification to him. Tommy was likethose superb characters of romance who bare their breast to the enemyand say, "Strike!"

"Well, well, " Mr. Cathro observed, "none of us was on the spot, and sowe had no opportunity of showing our heroism. But you were near by, Mr. Sandys, and if you had fished up the water that day, instead ofdown, you might have been called upon. I wonder what you would havedone?"

Yes, Tommy was exasperating to him still as in the long ago, andCathro said this maliciously, yet feeling that he did a risky thing, so convinced was he by old experience that you were getting in the wayof a road-machine when you opposed Thomas Sandys. 

"I wonder, " Tommy replied quietly. 

The answer made a poor impression, and Cathro longed to go on. "But hewas always most dangerous when he was quiet, " he reflected uneasily, and checked himself in sheer funk. 

Mr. Gloag came, as he thought, to Tommy's defence. "If Mr. Sandysquestions, " he said heavily, "whether courage would have beenvouchsafed to him at that trying hour, it is right and fitting that heshould admit it with Christian humility. "

"Quite so, quite so, " Mr. James agreed, with heartiness. He had begunto look solemn at the word "vouchsafed. "

"For we are differently gifted, " continued Mr. Gloag, now addressinghis congregation. "To some is given courage, to some learning, to somegrace. Each has his strong point, " he ended abruptly, and tuckedreverently into the jam, which seemed to be his. 

"If he would not have risked his life to save the boy, " Elspethinterposed hotly, "it would have been because he was thinking of me. "

"I should like to believe that thought of you would have checked me, "Tommy said. 

"I am sure it would, " said Grizel. 

Mr. Cathro was rubbing his hands together covertly, yet half wishinghe could take her aside and whisper: "Be canny; it's grand to hearyou, but be canny; he is looking most extraordinar meek, and unless hehas cast his skin since he was a laddie, it's not chancey to meddlewith him when he is meek. "

The doctor also noticed that Grizel was pressing Tommy too hard, andthough he did not like the man, he was surprised--he had alwaysthought her so fair-minded. 

"For my part, " he said, "I don't admire the unknown half so much forwhat he did as for his behaviour afterwards. To risk his life wassomething, but to disappear quietly without taking any credit for itwas finer and I should say much more difficult. "

"I think it was sweet of him, " Grizel said. 

"I don't see it, " said Tommy, and the silence that followed shouldhave been unpleasant to him; but he went on calmly: "Doubtless it wasa mere impulse that made him jump into the pool, and impulse is notcourage. " He was quoting Grizel now, you observe, and though he didnot look at her, he knew her eyes were fixed on him reproachfully. "And so, " he concluded, "I suppose Captain Ure knew he had done nogreat thing, and preferred to avoid exaggerated applause. "

Even Elspeth was troubled; but she must defend her dear brother. "Hewould have avoided it himself, " she explained quickly. "He dislikespraise so much that he does not understand how sweet it is to smallerpeople. "

This made Tommy wince. He was always distressed when timid Elspethblurted out things of this sort in company, and not the least of hismerits was that he usually forbore from chiding her for it afterwards, so reluctant was he to hurt her. In a world where there were no womenexcept Elspeths, Tommy would have been a saint. He saw the doctorsmiling now, and at once his annoyance with her changed to wrathagainst him for daring to smile at little Elspeth. She saw the smile, too, and blushed; but she was not angry: she knew that the people whosmiled at her liked her, and that no one smiled so much at her as Dr. Gemmell. 

The Dominie said fearfully: "I have no doubt that explains it, MissSandys. Even as a boy I remember your brother had a horror of vulgarapplause. "

"Now, " he said to himself, "he will rise up and smite me. " But no;Tommy replied quietly;

"I am afraid that was not my character, Mr. Cathro; but I hope I havechanged since then, and that I could pull a boy out of the waterwithout wanting to be extolled for it. "

That he could say such things before her was terrible to Grizel. Itwas perhaps conceivable that he might pull the boy out of the water, as he so ungenerously expressed it; but that he could refrain frombasking in the glory thereof, that, she knew, was quite impossible. Her eyes begged him to take back those shameful words, but he bravelydeclined; not even to please Grizel could he pretend that what was notwas. No more sentiment for T. Sandys. 

"The spirit has all gone out of him; what am I afraid of?" reflectedthe Dominie, and he rose suddenly to make a speech, tea-cup in hand. "Cathro, Cathro, you tattie-doolie, you are riding to destruction, "said a warning voice within him, but against his better judgment hestifled it and began. He begged to propose the health of Captain Ure. He was sure they would all join with him cordially in drinking it, including Mr. Sandys, who unfortunately differed from them in hisestimation of the hero; that was only, however, as had beenconclusively shown, because he was a hero himself, and so could makelight of heroic deeds--with other sly hits at Mr. Sandys. But when allthe others rose to drink the toast, Tommy remained seated. The Dominiecoughed. "Perhaps Mr. Sandys means to reply, " Grizel suggestedicily. And it was at this uncomfortable moment that Christina appearedsuddenly, and in a state of suppressed excitement requested hermistress to speak with her behind the door. All the knowing ones wereaware that something terrible must have happened in the kitchen. MissSophia thought it might be the china tea-pot. She smiled reassuringlyto signify that, whatever it was, she would help Mrs. McLean through, and so did Mr. James. He was a perfect lady. 

How dramatic it all was, as Ailie said frequently afterwards. She wasback in a moment, with her hand on her heart. "Mr. Sandys, " were herastounding words, "a lady wants to see you. "

Tommy rose in surprise, as did several of the others. 

"Was it really you?" Ailie cried. "She says it was you!"

"I don't understand, Mrs. McLean, " he answered; "I have done nothing. "

"But she says--and she is at the door!"

All eyes turned on the door so longingly that it opened under theirpressure, and a boy who had been at the keyhole stumbled forward. 

"That's him!" he announced, pointing a stern finger at Mr. Sandys. 

"But he says he did not do it, " Ailie said. 

"He's a liar, " said the boy. His manner was that of the police, andit had come so sharply upon Tommy that he looked not unlike a detectedcriminal. 

Most of them thought he was being accused of something vile, and theDominie demanded, with a light heart, "Who is the woman?" while Mr. James had a pleasant feeling that the ladies should be requested toretire. But just then the woman came in, and she was much older thanthey had expected. 

"That's him, granny, " the boy said, still severely; "that's the man assaved my life at the Slugs. " And then, when the truth was dawning onthem all, and there were exclamations of wonder, a pretty scenesuddenly presented itself, for the old lady, who had entered with thetimidest courtesy, slipped down on her knees before Tommy and kissedhis hand. That young rascal of a boy was all she had. 

They were all moved by her simplicity, but none quite so much asTommy. He gulped with genuine emotion, and saw her through a maze ofbeautiful thoughts that delayed all sense of triumph and even made himforget, for a little while, to wonder what Grizel was thinking of himnow. As the old lady poured out her thanks tremblingly, he wasexcitedly planning her future. He was a poor man, but she was to bebrought by him into Thrums to a little cottage overgrown with roses. No more hard work for these dear old hands. She could sell scones, perhaps. She should have a cow. He would send the boy to college andmake a minister of him; she should yet hear her grandson preach in thechurch to which as a boy--

But here the old lady somewhat imperilled the picture by risingactively and dumping upon the table the contents of the bag--a fowlfor Tommy. 

She was as poor an old lady as ever put a halfpenny into the churchplate on Sundays; but that she should present a hen to the preserverof her grandson, her mind had been made up from the moment she hadreason to think she could find him, and it was to be the finest hen inall the country round. She was an old lady of infinite spirit, anddaily, dragging the boy with her lest he again went a-fishing, shetrudged to farms near and far to examine and feel their hens. She wasa brittle old lady who creaked as she walked, and cracked like awhin-pod in the heat, but she did her dozen miles or more a day, andpassed all the fowls in review, and could not be deceived by thecraftiest of farmers' wives; and in the tail of the day she becamepossessor, and did herself thraw the neck of the stoutest and toughesthen that ever entered a linen bag head foremost. By this time the boyhad given way in the legs, and hence the railway journey, its costdefrayed by admiring friends. 

With careful handling he should get a week out of her gift, sheexplained complacently, besides two makes of broth; and she and theboy looked as if they would like dearly to sit opposite Tommy duringthose seven days and watch him gorging. 

If you look at the matter aright it was a handsomer present than manya tiara, but if you are of the same stuff as Mr. James it was only ahen. Mr. James tittered, and one or two others made ready to titter. It was a moment to try Tommy, for there are doubtless heroes asgallant as he who do not know how to receive a present of a hen. Grizel, who had been holding back, moved a little nearer. If he hurtthat sweet old woman's feelings, she could never forgive him--never!

He heard the titter, and ridicule was terrible to him; but he alsoknew why Grizel had come closer, and what she wanted of him. OurTommy, in short, had emerged from his emotion, and once more knew whatwas what. It was not his fault that he stood revealed a hero: thelittle gods had done it; therefore let him do credit to the chosen ofthe little gods. The way he took that old lady's wrinkled hand, andbowed over it, and thanked her, was an ode to manhood. Everyone wastouched. Those who had been about to titter wondered what on earth Mr. James had seen to titter at, and Grizel almost clapped her hands withjoy; she would have done it altogether had not Tommy just then madethe mistake of looking at her for approval. She fell back, and, intoxicated with himself, he thought it was because her heart was toofull for utterance. Tommy was now splendid, and described the affairat the Slugs with an adorable modesty. 

"I assure you, it was a much smaller thing to do than you imagine; itwas all over in a few minutes; I knew that in your good nature youwould make too much of it, and so--foolishly, I can see now--I triedto keep it from you. As for the name Captain Ure, it was an inventionof that humourous dog, Corp. "

And so on, with the most considerate remarks when they insisted onshaking hands with him: "I beseech you, don't apologize to me; I seeclearly that the fault was entirely my own. Had I been in your place, Mr. James, I should have behaved precisely as you have done, and hadyou been at the Slugs you would have jumped in as I did. Mr. Cathro, you pain me by holding back; I assure you I esteem my old Dominie morethan ever for the way in which you stuck up for Captain Ure, thoughyou must see why I could not drink that gentleman's health. "

And Mr. Cathro made the best of it, wringing Tommy's hand effusively, while muttering, "Fool, donnard stirk, gowk!" He was addressinghimself and any other person who might be so presumptuous as to try toget the better of Thomas Sandys. Cathro never tried it again. HadTommy died that week his old Dominie would have been very chary ofwhat he said at the funeral. 

They were in the garden now, the gentlemen without their hats. "Haveyou made your peace with him?" Cathro asked Grizel, in a cautiousvoice. "He is a devil's buckie, and I advise you to follow my example, Miss McQueen, and capitulate. I have always found him reasonable solong as you bend the knee to him. "

"I am not his enemy, " replied Grizel, loftily, "and if he has done anoble thing I am proud of him and will tell him so. "

"I would tell him so, " said the Dominie, "whether he had done it ornot. "

"Do you mean, " she asked indignantly, "that you think he did not doit?"

"No, no, no, " he answered hurriedly; "or mercy's sake, don't tell himI think that. " And then, as Tommy was out of ear-shot: "But I seethere is no necessity for my warning you against standing in his wayagain, Miss McQueen, for you are up in arms for him now. "

"I admire brave men, " she replied, "and he is one, is he not?"

"You'll find him reasonable, " said the Dominie, drily. 

But though it was thus that she defended Tommy when others hinteddoubts, she had not yet said she was proud of him to the man whowanted most to hear it. For one brief moment Grizel had exulted onlearning that he and Captain Ure were one, and then suddenly, to allthe emotions now running within her, a voice seemed to cry, "Halt!"and she fell to watching sharply the doer of noble deeds. Her eyeswere not wistful, nor were they contemptuous, but had Tommy been lesselated with himself he might have seen that they were puzzled andsuspicious. To mistrust him in face of such evidence seemed half ashame; she was indignant with herself even while she did it; but shecould not help doing it, the truth about Tommy was such a vital thingto Grizel. She had known him so well, too well, up to a minute ago, and this was not the man she had known. 

How unfair she was to Tommy while she watched! When the old lady wason her knees thanking him, and every other lady was impressed by thefeeling he showed, it seemed to Grizel that he was again in the armsof some such absurd sentiment as had mastered him in the Den. When hebehaved so charmingly about the gift she was almost sure he looked ather as he had looked in the old days before striding his legs andscreaming out, "Oh, am I not a wonder? I see by your face that youthink me a wonder!" All the time he was so considerately putting thosewho had misjudged him at their ease she believed he did itconsiderately that they might say to each other, "How considerate heis!" When she misread Tommy in such comparative trifles as these, isit to be wondered that she went into the garden still tortured by adoubt about the essential? It was nothing less than torture to her;when you discover what is in her mind, Tommy, you may console yourselfwith that. 

He discovered what was in her mind as Mr. Cathro left her. She feltshy, he thought, of coming to him after what had taken place, and, with the generous intention of showing that she was forgiven, hecrossed good-naturedly to her. 

"You were very severe, Grizel, " he said, "but don't let that distressyou for a moment; it served me right for not telling the truth atonce. "

She did not flinch. "Do we know the truth now?" she asked, looking athim steadfastly. "I don't want to hurt you--you know that; but pleasetell me, did you really do it? I mean, did you do it in the way wehave been led to suppose?"

It was a great shock to Tommy. He had not forgotten his vows to changehis nature, and had she been sympathetic now he would have confessedto her the real reason of his silence. He wanted boyishly to tell her, though of course without mention of the glove; but her words hardenedhim. 

"Grizel!" he cried reproachfully, and then in a husky voice: "Can youreally think so badly of me as that?"

"I don't know what to think, " she answered, pressing her handstogether, "I know you are very clever. "

He bowed slightly. 

"Did you?" she asked again. She was no longer chiding herself forbeing over-careful; she must know the truth. 

He was silent for a moment. Then, "Grizel, " he said, "I am about topain you very much, but you give me no option. I did do it preciselyas you have heard. And may God forgive you for doubting me, " he addedwith a quiver, "as freely as I do. "

You will scarcely believe this, but a few minutes afterwards, Grizelhaving been the first to leave, he saw her from the garden going, nothome, but in the direction of Corp's house, obviously to ask himwhether Tommy had done it. Tommy guessed her intention at once, and helaughed a bitter ho-ho-ha, and wiped her from his memory. 

"Farewell, woman; I am done with you, " are the terrible words you mayconceive Tommy saying. Next moment, however, he was hurriedly biddinghis hostess good-night, could not even wait for Elspeth, clapped hishat on his head, and was off after Grizel. It had suddenly struck himthat, now the rest of the story was out, Corp might tell her about theglove. Suppose Gavinia showed it to her!

Sometimes he had kissed that glove passionately, sometimes pressed hislips upon it with the long tenderness that is less intoxicating butmakes you a better man; but now, for the first time, he asked himselfbluntly why he had done those things, with the result that he wasstriding to Corp's house. It was not only for his own sake that hehurried; let us do him that justice. It was chiefly to save Grizel thepain of thinking that he whom she had been flouting loved her, as shemust think if she heard the story of the glove. That it could benothing but pain to her he was boyishly certain, for assuredly thisscornful girl wanted none of his love. And though she was scornful, she was still the dear companion of his boyhood. Tommy was honestlyanxious to save Grizel the pain of thinking that she had flouted a manwho loved her. 

He took a different road from hers, but, to his annoyance, they met atCouthie's corner. He would have passed her with a distant bow, but shewould have none of that. "You have followed me, " said Grizel, withthe hateful directness that was no part of Tommy's character. 

"Grizel!"

"You followed me to see whether I was going to question Corp. You wereafraid he would tell me what really happened. You wanted to see himfirst to tell him what to say. "

"Really, Grizel--"

"Is it not true?"

There are no questions so offensive to the artistic nature as thosethat demand a Yes or No for answer. "It is useless for me to say it isnot true, " he replied haughtily, "for you won't believe me. "

"Say it and I shall believe you, " said she. 

Tommy tried standing on the other foot, but it was no help. "I presumeI may have reasons for wanting to see Corp that you are unacquaintedwith, " he said. 

"Oh, I am sure of it!" replied Grizel, scornfully. She had been hopinguntil now, but there was no more hope left in her. 

"May I ask what it is that my oldest friend accuses me of? Perhaps youdon't even believe that I was Captain Ure?"

"I am no longer sure of it. "

"How you read me, Grizel! I could hoodwink the others, but never you. I suppose it is because you have such an eye for the worst inanyone. "

It was not the first time he had said something of this kind to her;for he knew that she suspected herself of being too ready to findblemishes in others, to the neglect of their better qualities, andthat this made her uneasy and also very sensitive to the charge. To-day, however, her own imperfections did not matter to her; she wasas nothing to herself just now, and scarcely felt his insinuations. 

"I think you were Captain Ure, " she said slowly, "and I think you didit, but not as the boy imagines. "

"You may be quite sure, " he replied, "that I would not have done ithad there been the least risk. That, I flatter myself, is how youreason it out. "

"It does not explain, " she said, "why you kept the matter secret. "

"Thank you, Grizel! Well, at least I have not boasted of it. "

"No, and that is what makes me----" She paused. 

"Go on, " said he, "though I can guess what agreeable thing you weregoing to say. "

But she said something else: "You may have noticed that I took the boyaside and questioned him privately. "

"I little thought then, Grizel, that you suspected me of being animpostor. "

She clenched her hands again; it was all so hard to say, and yet shemust say it! "I did not. I saw he believed his story. I was asking himwhether you had planned his coming with it to Mrs. McLean's house atthat dramatic moment. "

"You actually thought me capable of that!"

"It makes me horrid to myself, " she replied wofully, "but if I thoughtyou had done that I could more readily believe the rest. "

"Very well, Grizel, " he said, "go on thinking the worst of me; I wouldnot deprive you of that pleasure if I could. "

"Oh, cruel, cruel!" she could have replied; "you know it is nopleasure; you know it is a great pain. " But she did not speak. 

"I have already told you that the boy's story is true, " he said, "andnow you ask me why I did not shout it from the housetops myself. Perhaps it was for your sake, Grizel; perhaps it was to save you thedistress of knowing that in a momentary impulse I could so far forgetmyself as to act the part of a man. "

She pressed her hands more tightly. "I may be wronging you, " sheanswered; "I should love to think so; but--you have something you wantto say to Corp before I see him. "

"Not at all, " Tommy said; "if you still want to see Corp, let us gotogether. " She hesitated, but she knew how clever he was. "I preferto go alone, " she replied. "Forgive me if I ask you to turn back. "

"Don't go, " he entreated her. "Grizel, I give you my word of honour itis to save you acute pain that I want to see Corp first. " She smiledwanly at that, for though, as we know, it was true, she misunderstoodhim. He had to let her go on alone. 

CHAPTER XII

IN WHICH A COMEDIAN CHALLENGES TRAGEDY TO BOWLS

When Grizel opened the door of Corp's house she found husband and wifeat home, the baby in his father's arms; what is more, Gavinia waslooking on smiling and saying, "You bonny litlin, you're windy to havehim dandling you; and no wonder, for he's a father to be proud o'. "Corp was accepting it all with a complacent smirk. Oh, agreeablechange since last we were in this house! oh, happy picture of domesticbliss! oh--but no, these are not the words; what we meant to say was, "Gavinia, you limmer, so you have got the better of that man of yoursat last. "

How had she contrived it? We have seen her escorting the old lady tothe Dovecot, Corp skulking behind. Our next peep at them shows Gaviniaback at her house, Corp peering through the window and wonderingwhether he dare venture in. Gavinia was still bothered, for though sheknew now the story of Tommy's heroism, there was no glove in it, andit was the glove that maddened her. 

"No, I ken nothing about a glove, " the old lady had assured her. 

"Not a sylup was said about a glove, " maintained Christina, who hadgiven her a highly coloured narrative of what took place in Mrs. McLean's parlour. 

"And yet there's a glove in't as sure as there's a quirk in't, "Gavinia kept muttering to herself. She rose to have another look atthe hoddy-place in which she had concealed the glove from her husband, and as she did so she caught sight of him at the window. He bobbed atonce, but she hastened to the door to scarify him. The clock had givenonly two ticks when she was upon him, but in that time she hadcompletely changed her plan of action. She welcomed him with smiles ofpride. Thus is the nimbleness of women's wit measured once and forall. They need two seconds if they are to do the thing comfortably. 

"Never to have telled me, and you behaved so grandly!" she cried, withadoring glances that were as a carpet on which he strode pompouslyinto the house. 

"It wasna me that did it; it was him, " said Corp, and even then hefeared that he had told too much. "I kenna what you're speakingabout, " he added loyally. 

"Corp, " she answered, "you needna be so canny, for the laddie is inthe town, and Mr. Sandys has confessed all. "

"The whole o't?"

"Every risson. "

"About the glove, too?"

"Glove and all, " said wicked Gavinia, and she continued to feast hereyes so admiringly on her deceived husband that he passed quickly fromthe gratified to the dictatorial. 

"Let this be a lesson to you, woman, " he said sternly; and Gaviniaintimated with humility that she hoped to profit by it. 

"Having got the glove in so solemn a way, " he went on, "it would havebeen ill done of me to blab to you about it. Do you see that now, woman?"

She said it was as clear as day to her. "And a solemn way it was, " sheadded, and then waited eagerly. 

"My opinion, " continued Corp, lowering his voice as if this were notmatter for the child, "is that it's a love-token frae some Londonwoman. "

"Behear's!" cried Gavinia. 

"Else what, " he asked, "would make him hand it to me so solemn-like, and tell me to pass it on to her if he was drowned? I didna think o'that at the time, but it has come to me, Gavinia; it has come. "

This was a mouthful indeed to Gavinia. So the glove was the propertyof Mr. Sandys, and he was in love with a London lady, and--no, this istoo slow for Gavinia; she saw these things in passing, as one whojumps from the top of a house may have lightning glimpses through manywindows on the way down. What she jumped to was the vital question, Who was the woman?

But she was too cunning to ask a leading question. 

"Ay, she's his lady-love, " she said, controlling herself, "but Iforget her name. It was a very wise-like thing o' you to speir thewoman's name. "

"But I didna. "

"You didna!"

"He was in the water in a klink. "

Had Gavinia been in Corp's place she would have had the name out ofTommy, water or no water; but she did not tell her husband what shethought of him. 

"Ay, of course, " she said pleasantly. "It was after you helped him outthat he telled you her name. "

"Did he say he telled me her name?"

"He did. "

"Well, then, I've fair forgot it. "

Instead of boxing his ears she begged him to reflect. Result ofreflection, that if the name had been mentioned to Corp, which hedoubted, it began with M. 

Was it Mary?

That was the name. 

Or was it Martha?

It had a taste of Martha about it. 

It was not Margaret?

It might have been Margaret. 

Or Matilda?

It was fell like Matilda. 

And so on. "But wi' a' your wheedling, " Corp reminded his wife, bantering her from aloft, "you couldna get a scraping out o' me till Iwas free to speak. "

He thought it a good opportunity for showing Gavinia her place onceand for all. "In small matters, " he said, "I gie you your ain way, forthough you may be wrang, thinks I to mysel', 'She's but a woman'; butin important things, Gavinia, if I humoured you I would spoil you, solet this be a telling to you that there's no diddling a determinedman"; to which she replied by informing the baby that he had a fatherto be proud of. 

A father to be proud of! They were the words heard by Grizel as sheentered. She also saw Gavinia looking admiringly at her man, and inthat doleful moment she thought she understood all. It was Corp whohad done it, and Tommy had been the looker-on. He had sought to keepthe incident secret because, though he was in it, the glory had beenwon by another (oh, how base!), and now, profiting by the boy'smistake, he was swaggering in that other's clothes (oh, baser still!). Everything was revealed to her in a flash, and she stooped over thebaby to hide a sudden tear. She did not want to hear any more. 

The baby cried. Babies are aware that they can't do very much; but allof them who knew Grizel were almost contemptuously confident of theirpower over her, and when this one saw (they are very sharp) that inhis presence she could actually think of something else, he was sohurt that he cried. 

Was she to be blamed for thinking so meanly of Tommy? You can blameher with that tear in her eye if you choose; but I can think only ofthe gladness that came afterwards when she knew she had been unjust tohim. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" the bird sang to its Creatorwhen the sun came out after rain, and it was Grizel's song as shelistened to Corp's story of heroic Tommy. There was no room in herexultant heart for remorse. It would have shown littleness to be ableto think of herself at all when she could think so gloriously of him. She was more than beautiful now; she was radiant; and it was becauseTommy was the man she wanted him to be. As those who are cold holdout their hands to the fire did she warm her heart at what Corp had totell, and the great joy that was lit within her made her radiant. Nowthe baby was in her lap, smiling back to her. He thought he had doneit all. "So you thought you could resist me!" the baby crowed. 

The glove had not been mentioned yet. "The sweetest thing of all tome, " Grizel said, "is that he did not want me to hear the story fromyou, Corp, because he knew you would sing his praise so loudly. "

"I'm thinking, " said Gavinia, archly, "he had another reason for nowanting you to question Corp. Maybe he didna want you to ken about theLondon lady and her glove. Will you tell her, man, or will I?"

They told her together, and what had been conjectures were now putforward as facts. Tommy had certainly said a London lady, and ascertainly he had given her name, but what it was Corp could notremember. But "Give her this and tell her it never left my heart"--hecould swear to these words. 

"And no words could be stronger, " Gavinia said triumphantly. Sheproduced the glove, and was about to take off its paper wrapping whenGrizel stopped her. 

"We have no right, Gavinia. " "I suppose we hinna, and I'm thinkingthe pocket it came out o' is feeling gey toom without it. Will youtake it back to him?"

"It was very wrong of you to keep it, " Grizel answered, "but I can'ttake it to him, for I see now that his reason for wanting me not tocome here was to prevent my hearing about it. I am sorry you told me. Corp must take it back. " But when she saw it being crushed in Corp'srough hand, a pity for the helpless glove came over her. She said:"After all, I do know about it, so I can't pretend to him that Idon't. I will give it to him, Corp"; and she put the little package inher pocket with a brave smile. 

Do you think the radiance had gone from her face now? Do you think thejoy that had been lit in her heart was dead? Oh, no, no! Grizel hadnever asked that Tommy should love her; she had asked only that heshould be a fine man. She did not ask it for herself, only for him. She could not think of herself now, only of him. She did not think sheloved him. She thought a woman should not love any man until she knewhe wanted her to love him. 

But if Tommy had wanted it she would have been very glad. She knew, oh, she knew so well, that she could have helped him best. Many anoble woman has known it as she stood aside. 

In the meantime Tommy had gone home in several states ofmind--reckless, humble, sentimental, most practical, defiant, apprehensive. At one moment he was crying, "Now, Grizel, now, when itis too late, you will see what you have lost. " At the next he quakedand implored the gods to help him out of his predicament. It wasapprehension that, on the whole, played most of the tunes, for he wasby no means sure that Grizel would not look upon the affair of theglove as an offer of his hand, and accept him. They would show her theglove, and she would, of course, know it to be her own. "Give her thisand tell her it never left my heart. " The words thumped within himnow. How was Grizel to understand that he had meant nothing inparticular by them?

I wonder if you misread him so utterly as to believe that he thoughthimself something of a prize? That is a vulgar way of looking atthings of which our fastidious Tommy was incapable. As much as Grizelherself, he loathed the notion that women have a thirsty eye on man;when he saw them cheapening themselves before the sex that should holdthem beyond price, he turned his head and would not let his mind dwellon the subject. He was a sort of gentleman, was Tommy. And he knewGrizel so well that had all the other women in the world been of thiskind, it would not have persuaded him that there was a drop of suchblood in her. Then, if he feared that she was willing to be his, itmust have been because he thought she loved him? Not a bit of it. Asalready stated, he thought he had abundant reason to think otherwise. It was remorse that he feared might bring her to his feet, thediscovery that while she had been gibing at him he had been a heroicfigure, suffering in silence, eating his heart for love of her. Undoubtedly that was how Grizel must see things now; he must seem toher to be an angel rather than a mere man; and in sheer remorse shemight cry, "I am yours!" Vain though Tommy was, the picture gave himnot a moment's pleasure. Alarm was what he felt. 

Of course he was exaggerating Grizel's feelings. She had too muchself-respect and too little sentiment to be willing to marry any manbecause she had unintentionally wronged him. But this was how Tommywould have acted had he happened to be a lady. Remorse, pity, no onewas so good at them as Tommy. 

In his perturbation he was also good at maidenly reserve. He feltstrongly that the proper course for Grizel was not to refer to theglove--to treat that incident as closed, unless he chose to reopen it. This was so obviously the correct procedure that he seemed to see heradopting it like a sensible girl, and relief would have come to himhad he not remembered that Grizel usually took her own way, and thatit was seldom his way. 

There were other ways of escape. For instance, if she would only lethim love her hopelessly. Oh, Grizel had but to tell him there was nohope, and then how finely he would behave! It would bring out all thatwas best in him. He saw himself passing through life as her veryperfect knight. "Is there no hope for me?" He heard himself beggingfor hope, and he heard also her firm answer: "None!" How he had alwaysadmired the outspokenness of Grizel. Her "None!" was as splendidlydecisive as of yore. 

The conversation thus begun ran on in him, Tommy doing the speakingfor both (though his lips never moved), and feeling the scene asvividly as if Grizel had really been present and Elspeth was not. Elspeth was sitting opposite him. 

"At least let me wait, Grizel, " he implored. "I don't care for howlong; fix a time yourself, and I shall keep to it, and I promise neverto speak one word of love to you until that time comes, and then ifyou bid me go I shall go. Give me something to live for. It binds youto nothing, and oh, it would make such a difference to me. "

Then Grizel seemed to reply gently, but with the firmness he adored:"I know I cannot change, and it would be mistaken kindness to do asyou suggest. No, I can give you no hope; but though I can never marryyou, I will watch your future with warm regard, for you have to-daypaid me the highest compliment a man can pay a woman. "

(How charmingly it was all working out!)

Tommy bowed with dignity and touched her hand with his lips. What isit they do next in Pym and even more expensive authors? Oh, yes! "Ifat any time in your life, dear Grizel, " he said, "you are in need of afriend, I hope you will turn first to me. It does not matter whereyour message reaches me, I will come to you without delay. "

In his enthusiasm he saw the letter being delivered to him in CentralAfrica, and immediately he wheeled round on his way to Thrums. 

"There is one other little request I should like to make of you, " hesaid huskily. "Perhaps I ask too much, but it is this: may I keep yourglove?"

She nodded her head; she was so touched that she could scarcely trustherself to speak. "But you will soon get over this, " she said at last;"another glove will take the place of mine; the time will come whenyou will be glad that I said I could not marry you. "

"Grizel!" he cried in agony. He was so carried away by his feelingsthat he said the word aloud. 

"Where?" asked Elspeth, looking at the window. 

"Was it not she who passed just now?" he replied promptly; and theywere still discussing his mistake when Grizel did pass, but only tostop at the door. She came in. 

"My brother must have the second sight, " declared Elspeth, gaily, "forhe saw you coming before you came"; and she told what had happened, while Grizel looked happily at Tommy, and Tommy looked apprehensivelyat her. Grizel, he might have seen, was not wearing the tragic face ofsacrifice; it was a face shining with gladness, a girl still too happyin his nobility to think remorsefully of her own misdeeds. To let himknow that she was proud of him, that was what she had come forchiefly, and she was even glad that Elspeth was there to hear. It wasan excuse to her to repeat Corp's story, and she told it with defiantlooks at Tommy that said, "You are so modest, you want to stop me, butElspeth will listen; it is nearly as sweet to Elspeth as it is to me, and I shall tell her every word, yes, and tell her a great deal of ittwice. "

It was not modesty which made Tommy so anxious that she should thinkless of him, but naturally it had that appearance. The most heroicfellows, I am told, can endure being extolled by pretty girls, buthere seemed to be one who could not stand it. 

"You need not think it is of you we are proud, " she assured himlight-heartedly; "it is really of ourselves. I am proud of being yourfriend. To-morrow, when I hear the town ringing your praises, I shallnot say, 'Yes, isn't he wonderful?' I shall say, 'Talk of me; I, too, am an object of interest, for I am his friend. '"

"I have often been pointed out as his sister, " said Elspeth, complacently. 

"He did not choose his sister, " replied Grizel, "but he chose hisfriends. "

For a time he could suck no sweetness from it. She avoided the glove, he was sure, only because of Elspeth's presence. But anon therearrived to cheer him a fond hope that she had not heard of it, and asthis became conviction, exit the Tommy who could not abide himself, and enter another who was highly charmed therewith. Tommy had a notionthat certain whimsical little gods protected him in return for thesport he gave them, and he often kissed his hand to them when theycame to the rescue. He would have liked to kiss it now, but gave agrateful glance instead to the corner in the ceiling where they satchuckling at him. Grizel admired him at last. Tra, la, la! What a deargirl she was! Into his manner there crept a certain masterfulness, andinstead of resisting it she beamed. Rum-ti-tum!

"If you want to spoil me, " he said lazily, "you will bring me thatfootstool to rest my heroic feet upon. " She smiled and brought it. She even brought a cushion for his heroic head. Adoring little thingthat she was, he must be good to her. 

He was now looking forward eagerly to walking home with her. I can'ttell you how delicious he meant to be. When she said she must go, heskipped upstairs for his hat, and wafted the gods their kiss. But itwas always the unexpected that lay in wait for Tommy. He and she wereno sooner out of the house than Grizel said, "I did not mention theglove, as I was not sure whether Elspeth knew of it. "

He had turned stone-cold. 

"Corp and Gavinia told me, " she went on quietly, "before I had time tostop them. Of course I should have preferred not to know until I heardit from yourself. "

Oh, how cold he was!

"But as I do know, I want to tell you that it makes me very happy. "

They had stopped, for his legs would carry him no farther. "Get us outof this, " every bit of him was crying, but not one word could Tommysay. 

"I knew you would want to have it again, " Grizel said brightly, producing the little parcel from her pocket, "so I brought it to you. "

The frozen man took it and held it passively in his hand. His gods hadflown away. 

No, they were actually giving him another chance. What was thisGrizel was saying? "I have not looked at it, for to take it out of itswrapping would have been profanation. Corp told me she was a Londongirl; but I know nothing more, not even her name. You are not angrywith me for speaking of her, are you? Surely I may wish you and hergreat happiness. "

He was saved. The breath came back quickly to him. He filled like areleased ball. Had ever a heart better right to expand? Grizel, looking so bright and pleased, had snatched him from the Slugs. Surelyyou will be nice to your preserver, Tommy. You will not be lessgrateful than a country boy?

Ah me! not even yet have we plumed his vanity. But we are to do itnow. He could not have believed it of himself, but in the midst of hisrejoicings he grew bitter, and for no better reason than that Grizel'sface was bright. 

"I am glad, " he said quite stiffly, "that it is such pleasant news toyou. "

His tone surprised her; but she was in a humble mood, and answered, without being offended: "It is sweet news to me. How could you thinkotherwise?"

So it was sweet to her to think that he was another's! He who had beenmodestly flattering himself a few moments ago that he must take carenot to go too far with this admiring little girl! O woman, woman, howdifficult it is to know you, and how often, when we think we know youat last, have we to begin again at the beginning! He had never askedan enduring love from her; but surely, after all that had passedbetween them, he had a right to expect a little more than this. Was itmaidenly to bring the glove and hand it to him without a tremor? Ifshe could do no more, she might at least have turned a little palewhen Corp told her of it, and then have walked quietly away. Next dayshe could have referred to it, with just the slightest break in hervoice. But to come straight to him, looking delighted--

"And, after all, I am entitled to know first, " Grizel said, "for I amyour oldest friend. "

Friend! He could not help repeating the word with bitter emphasis. Forher sake, as it seemed to him now, he had flung himself into the blackwaters of the Drumly. He had worn her glove upon his heart. It hadbeen the world to him. And she could stand there and call herself hisfriend. The cup was full. Tommy nodded his head sorrowfully threetimes. 

"So be it, Grizel, " he said huskily; "so be it!" Sentiment could nowcarry him where it willed. The reins were broken. 

"I don't understand. "

Neither did he; but, "Why should you? What is it to you!" he criedwildly. "Better not to understand, for it might give you fiveminutes' pain, Grizel, a whole five minutes, and I should be sorry togive you that. "

"What have I said! What have I done!"

"Nothing, " he answered her, "nothing. You have been most exemplary;you have not even got any entertainment out of it. The thing neverstruck you as possible. It was too ludicrous!"

He laughed harshly at the package, which was still in his hand. "Poorlittle glove, " he said; "and she did not even take the trouble to lookat you. You might have looked at it, Grizel. I have looked at it agood deal. It meant something to me once upon a time when I was a vainfool. Take it and look at it before you fling it away. It will makeyou laugh. "

Now she knew, and her arms rocked convulsively. Joy surged to herface, and she drove it back. She looked at him steadfastly over thecollar of her jacket; she looked long, as if trying to be suspiciousof him for the last time. Ah, Grizel, you are saying good-bye to yourbest friend!

As she looked at him thus there was a mournfulness in her brave facethat went to Tommy's heart and almost made a man of him. It was as ifhe knew that she was doomed. 

"Grizel, " he cried, "don't look at me in that way!" And he would havetaken the package from her, but she pressed it to her heart. 

"Don't come with me, " she said almost in a whisper, and went away. 

He did not go back to the house. He wandered into the country, quiteobjectless when he was walking fastest, seeing nothing when he stoodstill and stared. Elation and dread were his companions. What elationwhispered he could not yet believe; no, he could not believe it. Whilehe listened he knew that he must be making up the words. By and by hefound himself among the shadows of the Den. If he had loved Grizel hewould have known that it was here she would come, to the sweet Denwhere he and she had played as children, the spot where she had lovedhim first. She had always loved him--always, always. He did not knowwhat figure it was by the Cuttle Well until he was quite close toher. She was kissing the glove passionately, and on her eyes laylittle wells of gladness. 

CHAPTER XIII

LITTLE WELLS OF GLADNESS

It was dusk, and she had not seen him. In the silent Den he stoodmotionless within a few feet of her, so amazed to find that Grizelreally loved him that for the moment self was blotted out of his mind. He remembered he was there only when he heard his heavy breathing, andthen he tried to check it that he might steal away undiscovered. Divers emotions fought for the possession of him. He was in themeeting of many waters, each capable of whirling him where it chose, but two only imperious: the one the fierce joy of being loved; theother an agonizing remorse. He would fain have stolen away to thinkthis tremendous thing over, but it tossed him forward. "Grizel, " hesaid in a husky whisper, "Grizel!"

She did not start; she was scarcely surprised to hear his voice: shehad been talking to him, and he had answered. Had he not been thereshe would still have heard him answer. She could not see him moreclearly now than she had been seeing him through those little wells ofgladness. Her love for him was the whole of her. He came to her withthe opening and the shutting of her eyes; he was the wind that bit herand the sun that nourished her; he was the lowliest object by theCuttle Well, and he was the wings on which her thoughts soared toeternity. He could never leave her while her mortal frame endured. 

When he whispered her name she turned her swimming eyes to him, and astrange birth had come into her face. Her eyes said so openly theywere his, and her mouth said it was his, her whole being went out tohim; in the radiance of her face could be read immortal designs: themaid kissing her farewell to innocence was there, and the reason whyit must be, and the fate of the unborn; it was the first stirring forweal or woe of a movement that has no end on earth, but must roll on, growing lusty on beauty or dishonour till the crack of time. Thisbirth which comes to every woman at that hour is God's gift to her inexchange for what He has taken away, and when He has given it Hestands back and watches the man. 

To this man she was a woman transformed. The new bloom upon her faceentranced him. He knew what it meant. He was looking on the face oflove at last, and it was love coming out smiling from its hiding-placebecause it thought it had heard him call. The artist in him who haddone this thing was entranced, as if he had written an immortal page. 

But the man was appalled. He knew that he had reached the criticalmoment in her life and his, and that if he took one step fartherforward he could never again draw back. It would be comparatively easyto draw back now. To remain a free man he had but to tell her thetruth; and he had a passionate desire to remain free. He heard thevoices of his little gods screaming to him to draw back. But it couldbe done only at her expense, and it seemed to him that to tell thisnoble girl, who was waiting for him, that he did not need her, wouldbe to spill for ever the happiness with which she overflowed, and sapthe pride that had been the marrow of her during her twenty years oflife. Not thus would Grizel have argued in his place; but he could notchange his nature, and it was Sentimental Tommy, in an agony ofremorse for having brought dear Grizel to this pass, who had to decideher future and his in the time you may take to walk up a garden path. Either her mistake must be righted now or kept hidden from her forever. He was a sentimentalist, but in that hard moment he was tryingto be a man. He took her in his arms and kissed her reverently, knowing that after this there could be no drawing back. In that act hegave himself loyally to her as a husband. He knew he was not worthy ofher, but he was determined to try to be a little less unworthy; and ashe drew her to him a slight quiver went through her, so that for asecond she seemed to be holding back--for a second only, and thequiver was the rustle of wings on which some part of the Grizel wehave known so long was taking flight from her. Then she pressed closeto him passionately, as if she grudged that pause. I love her morethan ever, far more; but she is never again quite the Grizel we haveknown. 

He was not unhappy; in the near hereafter he might be as miserable asthe damned--the little gods were waiting to catch him alone andterrify him; but for the time, having sacrificed himself, Tommy wasaglow with the passion he had inspired. He so loved the thing he hadcreated that in his exultation he mistook it for her. He believed allhe was saying. He looked at her long and adoringly, not, as hethought, because he adored her, but because it was thus that lookshould answer look; he pressed her wet eyes reverently because thus itwas written in his delicious part; his heart throbbed with hers thatthey might beat in time. He did not love, but he was the perfectlover; he was the artist trying in a mad moment to be as well as todo. Love was their theme; but how to know what was said when betweenlovers it is only the loose change of conversation that gets intowords? The important matters cannot wait so slow a messenger; whilethe tongue is being charged with them, a look, a twitch of the mouth, a movement of a finger, transmits the story, and the words arrive, like Blücher, when the engagement is over. 

With a sudden pretty gesture--ah, so like her mother's!--she held theglove to his lips. "It is sad because you have forgotten it. "

"I have kissed it so often, Grizel, long before I thought I shouldever kiss you!"

She pressed it to her innocent breast at that. And had he really doneso? and which was the first time, and the second, and the third? Oh, dear glove, you know so much, and your partner lies at home in adrawer knowing nothing. Grizel felt sorry for the other glove. Shewhispered to Tommy as a terrible thing, "I think I love this gloveeven more than I love you--just a tiny bit more. " She could not partwith it. "It told me before you did, " she explained, begging him togive it back to her. 

"If you knew what it was to me in those unhappy days, Grizel!"

"I want it to tell me, " she whispered. 

And did he really love her? Yes, she knew he did, but how could he?

"Oh, Grizel, how could I help it!"

He had to say it, for it is the best answer; but he said it with asigh, for it sounded like a quotation. 

But how could she love him? I think her reply disappointed him. 

"Because you wanted me to, " she said, with shining eyes. It isprobably the commonest reason why women love, and perhaps it is thebest; but his vanity was wounded--he had expected to hear that he waspossessed of an irresistible power. 

"Not until I wanted you to?"

"I think I always wanted you to want me to, " she replied, naïvely;"but I would never have let myself love you, " she continued veryseriously, "until I was sure you loved me. "

"You could have helped it, Grizel!" He drew a blank face. 

"I did help it, " she answered. "I was always fighting the desire tolove you, --I can see that plainly, --and I always won. I thought Godhad made a sort of compact with me that I should always be the kind ofwoman I wanted to be if I resisted the desire to love you until youloved me. "

"But you always had the desire!" he said eagerly. 

"Always, but it never won. You see, even you did not know of it. Youthought I did not even like you! That was why you wanted to preventCorp's telling me about the glove, was it not? You thought it wouldpain me only! Do you remember what you said: 'It is to save you acutepain that I want to see Corp first'?"

All that seemed so long ago to Tommy now!

"How could you think it would be a pain to me!" she cried. 

"You concealed your feelings so well, Grizel. "

"Did I not?" she said joyously. "Oh, I wanted to be so careful, and Iwas careful. That is why I am so happy now. " Her face was glowing. Shewas full of odd, delightful fancies to-night. She kissed her hand tothe gloaming; no, not to the gloaming--to the little hunted, anxiousgirl she had been. 

[Illustration: "She is standing behind that tree looking at us. "]

"She is looking at us, " she said. "She is standing behind that treelooking at us. She wanted so much to grow into a dear, good woman thatshe often comes and looks at me eagerly. Sometimes her face is sofearful! I think she was a little alarmed when she heard you werecoming back. "

"She never liked me, Grizel. "

"Hush!" said Grizel, in a low voice. "She always liked you; she alwaysthought you a wonder. But she would be distressed if she heard metelling you. She thought it would not be safe for you to know. I musttell him now, dearest, darlingest, " she suddenly called out boldly tothe little self she had been so quaintly fond of because there was noother to love her. "I must tell him everything now, for you are nolonger your own. You are his. "

"She has gone away rocking her arms, " she said to Tommy. 

"No, " he replied. "I can hear her. She is singing because you are sohappy. "

"She never knew how to sing. "

"She has learned suddenly. Everybody can sing who has anything to singabout. And do you know what she said about your dear wet eyes, Grizel?She said they were just sweet. And do you know why she left us sosuddenly? She ran home gleefully to stitch and dust and beat carpets, and get baths ready, and look after the affairs of everybody, whichshe is sure must be going to rack and ruin because she has been awayfor half an hour!"

At his words there sparkled in her face the fond delight with which awoman assures herself that the beloved one knows her littleweaknesses, for she does not truly love unless she thirsts to have himunderstand the whole of her, and to love her in spite of the foiblesand for them. If he does not love you a little for the foibles, madam, God help you from the day of the wedding. 

But though Grizel was pleased, she was not to be cajoled. Shewandered with him through the Den, stopping at the Lair, and theQueen's Bower, and many other places where the little girl used towatch Tommy suspiciously; and she called, half merrily, halfplaintively: "Are you there, you foolish girl, and are you wringingyour hands over me? I believe you are jealous because I love himbest. "

"We have loved each other so long, she and I, " she said apologeticallyto Tommy. "Ah, " she said impulsively, when he seemed to be hurt, "don't you see it is because she doubts you that I am so sorry for thepoor thing!"

"Dearest, darlingest, " she called to the child she had been, "don'tthink that you can come to me when he is away, and whisper thingsagainst him to me. Do you think I will listen to your croakings, youpoor, wet-faced thing!"

"You child!" said Tommy. 

"Do you think me a child because I blow kisses to her?"

"Do you like me to think you one?" he replied. 

"I like you to call me child, " she said, "but not to think me one. "

"Then I shall think you one, " said he, triumphantly. He was so perfectan instrument for love to play upon that he let it play on and on, andlistened in a fever of delight. How could Grizel have doubted Tommy?The god of love himself would have sworn that there were a score ofarrows in him. He wanted to tell Elspeth and the others at once thathe and Grizel were engaged. I am glad to remember that it was he whourged this, and Grizel who insisted on its being deferred. He evenpretended to believe that Elspeth would exult in the news; but Grizelsmiled at him for saying this to please her. She had never been agreat friend of Elspeth's, they were so dissimilar; and she blamedherself for it now, and said she wanted to try to make Elspeth loveher before they told her. Tommy begged her to let him tell his sisterat once; but she remained obdurate, so anxious was she that herhappiness, when revealed, should bring only happiness to others. Therehad not come to Grizel yet the longing to be recognized as his by theworld. This love was so beautiful and precious to her that there wasan added joy in sharing the dear secret with him alone; it was a livething that might escape if she let anyone but him look between thefingers that held it. 

The crowning glory of loving and being loved is that the pair make noreal progress; however far they have advanced into the enchanted landduring the day, they must start again from the frontier next morning. Last night they had dredged the lovers' lexicon for superlatives andnot even blushed; to-day is that the heavens cracking or merelysomeone whispering "dear"? All this was very strange and wonderful toGrizel. She had never been so young in the days when she was a littlegirl. 

"I can never be quite so happy again!" she had said, with a wistfulsmile, on the night of nights; but early morn, the time of the daythat loves maidens best, retold her the delicious secret as it kissedher on the eyes, and her first impulse was to hurry to Tommy. When joyor sorrow came to her now, her first impulse was to hurry with it tohim. 

Was he still the same, quite the same? She, whom love had made a childof, asked it fearfully, as if to gaze upon him openly just at firstmight be blinding; and he pretended not to understand. "The same aswhat, Grizel?"

"Are you still--what I think you?"

"Ah, Grizel, not at all what you think me. "

"But you do?"

"Coward! You are afraid to say the word. But I do!"

"You don't ask whether I do!"

"No. "

"Why? Is it because you are so sure of me?"

He nodded, and she said it was cruel of him. 

"You don't mean that, Grizel. "

"Don't I?" She was delighted that he knew it. 

"No; you mean that you like me to be sure of it. "

"But I want to be sure of it myself. " "You are. That was why youasked me if I loved you. Had you not been sure of it you would nothave asked. "

"How clever you are!" she said gleefully, and caressed a button of hisvelvet coat. "But you don't know what that means! It does not meanthat I love you--not merely that. "

"No; it means that you are glad I know you so well. It is an ecstasyto you, is it not, to feel that I know you so well?"

"It is sweet, " she said. She asked curiously: "What did you do lastnight, after you left me? I can't guess, though I daresay you canguess what I did. "

"You put the glove under your pillow, Grizel. " (She had got theprecious glove. )

"However could you guess!"

"It has often lain under my own. "

"Oh!" said Grizel, breathless. 

"Could you not guess even that?"

"I wanted to be sure. Did it do anything strange when you had itthere?"

"I used to hear its heart beating. "

"Yes, exactly! But this is still more remarkable. I put it away atlast in my sweetest drawer, and when I woke in the morning it wasunder my pillow again. You could never have guessed that. "

"Easily. It often did the same thing with me. " "Story-teller! Butwhat did you do when you went home?"

He could not have answered that exhaustively, even if he would, forhis actions had been as contradictory as his emotions. He had fearedeven while he exulted, and exulted when plunged deep in fears. Therehad been quite a procession of Tommies all through the night; one ofthem had been a very miserable man, and the only thing he had beensure of was that he must be true to Grizel. But in so far as he didanswer he told the truth. 

"I went for a stroll among the stars, " he said. "I don't know when Igot to bed. I have found a way of reaching the stars. I have to sayonly, 'Grizel loves me, ' and I am there. "

"Without me!"

"I took you with me. "

"What did we see? What did we do?"

"You spoiled everything by thinking the stars were badly managed. Youwanted to take the supreme control. They turned you out. "

"And when we got back to earth?"

"Then I happened to catch sight of myself in a looking-glass, and Iwas scared. I did not see how you could possibly love me. A terrorcame over me that in the Den you must have mistaken me for someoneelse. It was a darkish night, you know. " "You are wanting me to sayyou are handsome. "

"No, no; I am wanting you to say I am very, very handsome. Tell me youlove me, Grizel, because I am beautiful. "

"Perhaps, " she replied, "I love you because your book is beautiful. "

"Then good-bye for ever, " he said sternly. 

"Would not that please you?"

"It would break my heart. "

"But I thought all authors--"

"It is the commonest mistake in the world. We are simple creatures, Grizel, and yearn to be loved for our face alone. "

"But I do love the book, " she said, when they became more serious, "because it is part of you. "

"Rather that, " he told her, "than that you should love me because I ampart of it. But it is only a little part of me, Grizel; only the bestpart. It is Tommy on tiptoes. The other part, the part that does notdeserve your love, is what needs it most. "

"I am so glad!" she said eagerly. "I want to think you need me. "

"How I need you!"

"Yes, I think you do--I am sure you do; and it makes me so happy. "

"Ah, " he said, "now I know why Grizel loves me. " And perhaps he didknow now. She loved to think that she was more to him than the newbook, but was not always sure of it; and sometimes this saddened her, and again she decided that it was right and fitting. She would hastento him to say that this saddened her. She would go just as impulsivelyto say that she thought it right. 

Her discoveries about herself were many. 

"What is it to-day?" he would say, smiling fondly at her. "I see it issomething dreadful by your face. "

"It is something that struck me suddenly when I was thinking of you, and I don't know whether to be glad or sorry. "

"Then be glad, you child. "

"It is this: I used to think a good deal of myself; the people herethought me haughty; they said I had a proud walk. "

"You have it still, " he assured her; the vitality in her as she movedwas ever a delicious thing to him to look upon. 

"Yes, I feel I have, " she admitted, "but that is only because I amyours; and it used to be because I was nobody's!"

"Do you expect my face to fall at that?"

"No, but I thought so much of myself once, and now I am nobody at all. At first it distressed me, and then I was glad, for it makes youeverything and me nothing. Yes, I am glad, but I am just a little bitsorry that I should be so glad!" "Poor Grizel!" said he. 

"Poor Grizel!" she echoed. "You are not angry with me, are you, forbeing almost sorry for her? She used to be so different. 'Where isyour independence, Grizel?' I say to her, and she shakes her sorrowfulhead. The little girl I used to be need not look for me any more; ifwe were to meet in the Den she would not know me now. "

Ah, if only Tommy could have loved in this way! He would have done itif he could. If we could love by trying, no one would ever have beenmore loved than Grizel. "Am I to be condemned because I cannot?" hesometimes said to himself in terrible anguish; for though prettythoughts came to him to say to her when she was with him, he sufferedanguish for her when he was alone. He knew it was tragic that suchlove as hers should be given to him, but what more could he do than hewas doing?

CHAPTER XIV

ELSPETH

Ever since the beginning of the book we have been neglecting Elspethso pointedly that were she not the most forgiving creature we shouldbe afraid to face her now. You are not angry with us, are you, Elspeth? We have been sitting with you, talking with you, thinking ofyou between the chapters, and the only reason why you have so seldomgot into them is that our pen insisted on running after yourfascinating brother. 

(That is the way to get round her. )

Tommy, it need not be said, never neglected her. The mere fact of hishaving an affair of his own at present is a sure sign that she iscomfortable, for, unless all were well with Elspeth, no venture couldhave lured him from her side. "Now I am ready for you, " he said to theworld when Elspeth had been, figuratively speaking, put to sleep; butuntil she was nicely tucked up the world had to wait. He was still asin his boyhood, when he had to see her with a good book in her handbefore he could set off on deeds of darkness. If this was but thestory of a brother and sister, there were matter for it that wouldmake the ladies want to kiss Tommy on the brow. 

That Dr. Gemmell disliked or at least distrusted him, Tommy knewbefore their acquaintance was an hour old; yet that same evening hehad said cordially to Elspeth:

"This young doctor has a strong face. "

She was evidently glad that Tommy had noticed it. "Do you think himhandsome?" she inquired. 

"Decidedly so, " he replied, very handsomely, for it is an indiscreetquestion to ask of a plain man. 

There was nothing small about Tommy, was there? He spoke thusmagnanimously because he had seen that the doctor liked Elspeth, andthat she liked him for liking her. Elspeth never spoke to him of suchthings, but he was aware that an extra pleasure in life came to herwhen she was admired; it gave her a little of the self-confidence sheso wofully lacked; the woman in her was stirred. Take such presents asthese to Elspeth, and Tommy would let you cast stones at himself forthe rest of the day, and shake your hand warmly on parting. InLondon Elspeth had always known quickly, almost at the first clash ofeyes, whether Tommy's friends were attracted by her, but she had notknown sooner than he. Those acquaintanceships had seldom ripened; butperhaps this was because, though he and she avoided talking of them, he was all the time taking such terrifying care of her. She was alwayslittle Elspeth to him, for whom he had done everything since thebeginning of her, a frail little female counterpart of himself thatwould never have dared to grow up had he not always been there to showher the way, like a stronger plant in the same pot. It was evenpathetic to him that Elspeth should have to become a woman while hewas a man, and he set to, undaunted, to help her in this matter also. To be admired of men is a woman's right, and he knew it gratifiedElspeth; therefore he brought them in to admire her. But beyondprofound respect they could not presume to go, he was watching them sovigilantly. He had done everything for her so far, and it was evidentthat he was now ready to do the love-making also, or at least to siftit before it reached her. Elspeth saw this, and perhaps it annoyed heronce or twice, though on the whole she was deeply touched; and theyoung gentlemen saw it also: they saw that he would not leave themalone with her for a moment, and that behind his cordial manner sat aTommy who had his eye on them. Subjects suitable for conversationbefore Elspeth seemed in presence of this strict brother to belimited. You had just begun to tell her the plot of the new novel whenT. Sandys fixed you with his gleaming orb. You were in the middle ofthe rumour about Mrs. Golightly when he let the poker fall. If thenewsboys were yelling the latest horror he quickly closed the window. He made all visitors self-conscious. If she was not in the room few ofthem dared to ask if she was quite well. They paled before expressingthe hope that she would feel stronger to-morrow. Yet when Tommy wentup to sit beside her, which was the moment the front door closed, hetook care to mention, incidentally, that they had been inquiring afterher. One of them ventured on her birthday to bring her flowers, butcould not present them, Tommy looked so alarming. A still more daringspirit once went the length of addressing her by her Christian name. She did not start up haughtily (the most timid of women are a surpriseat times), but the poker fell with a crash. 

He knew Elspeth so well that he could tell exactly how these pooryoung men should approach her. As an artist as well as a brother, hefrowned when they blundered. He would have liked to be the mediumthrough which they talked, so that he could give looks and words theirproper force. He had thought it all out so thoroughly for Elspeth'sbenefit that in an hour he could have drawn out a complete guide forher admirers. 

"At the first meeting look at her wistfully when she does not see you. She will see you. " It might have been Rule One. 

Rule Two: "Don't talk so glibly. " How often that was what the pokermeant!

Being herself a timid creature, Elspeth showed best among the timid, because her sympathetic heart immediately desired to put them at theirease. The more glibly they could talk, the less, she knew, were theyimpressed by her. Even a little boorishness was more complimentarythan chatter. Sometimes when she played on the piano which Tommy hadhired for her, the visitor was so shy that he could not even mutter"Thank you" to his hat; yet she might play to him again, and not tothe gallant who remarked briskly: "How very charming! What is thatcalled?"

To talk disparagingly of other women is so common a way among men ofpenetrating into the favour of one that, of course, some tried it withElspeth. Tommy could not excuse such blundering, for they were makingher despise them. He got them out of the house, and then he and shehad a long talk, not about them, but about men and women in general, from which she gathered once again that there was nobody like Tommy. 

When they bade each other good-night, she would say to him: "I thinkyou are the one perfect gentleman in the world. "

Or he might say: "You expect so much of men, Elspeth. "

To which her reply: "You have taught me to do it, and now I expectothers to be like you. " Sometimes she would even say: "When I see youso fond of me, and taking such care of me, I am ashamed. You think meso much better than I am. You consider me so pure and good, while Iknow that I am often mean, and even have wicked thoughts. It makes meashamed, but so proud of you, for I see that you are judging me byyourself. "

And then this Tommy would put the gas out softly and go to his ownroom, and, let us hope, blush a little. 

One stripling had proposed to Elspeth, and on her agitatedly declininghim, had flung out of the room in a pet. It spoiled all herafter-thoughts on the subject, and so roused her brother's indignationwith the fellow. If the great baby had only left all the arrangementsto Tommy, he could so easily have made that final scene one whichElspeth would remember with gratification for the remainder of herdays; for, of course, pride in the offer could not be great unless sheretained her respect for the man who made it. From the tremulousproposal and the manly acceptance of his fate to his dignified exit("Don't grieve for me, Miss Sandys; you never gave me the leastencouragement, and to have loved you will always make me a betterman"), even to a touching way of closing the door with one long, last, lingering look, Tommy could have fitted him like a tailor. 

From all which it will be seen that our splendid brother thoughtexclusively of what was best for Elspeth, and was willing that thegentlemen, having served their purpose, should, if it pleased them, gohang. Also, though he thought out every other possible move for thesuitor, it never struck him to compose a successful proposal, for thesimple reason that he was quite certain Elspeth would have none ofthem. Their attentions pleased her; but exchange Tommy for one ofthem--never! He knew it from her confessions at all stages of herlife; he had felt it from the days when he began to be father andmother to her as well as brother. In his heart he believed there wassomething of his own odd character in Elspeth which made her asincapable of loving as himself, and some of his devotion to her wasdue to this belief; for perhaps nothing touches us to the quick morethan the feeling that another suffers under our own curse; certainlynothing draws two souls so close together in a lonely comradeship. Butthough Tommy had reflected about these things, he did not troubleElspeth with his conclusions. He merely gave her to understand that heloved her and she loved him so much that neither of them had any loveto give to another. It was very beautiful, Elspeth thought, and alittle tragic. 

"You are quite sure that you mean that, " she might ask timidly, "andthat you are not flinging away your life on me?"

"You are all I need, " he answered cheerily, and he believed it. Or, ifhe was in another mood, he might reflect that perhaps he wasabstaining from love for Elspeth's sake, and that made him cheeryalso. 

And now David Gemmell was the man, and Tommy genially forgave him allelse for liking Elspeth. He invited the doctor, who so obviouslydistrusted him, to drop in of an evening for a game at the dambrod(which they both abominated, but it was an easy excuse); he asked himconfidentially to come in and see Aaron, who had been coughing lastnight; he put on all the airs of a hail-fellow-well-met, though theynever became him, and sat awkwardly on his face. David always seemedeager to come, and tried to rise above his suspicions of Tommy, asTommy saw, and failed, as Tommy saw again. Elspeth dosed the doctorwith stories of her brother's lovely qualities, and Tommy, theforgiving, honestly pitied the poor man for having to listen to them. He knew that if all went well Gemmell would presently propose, andfind that Elspeth (tearful at having to strike a blow) could notaccept him; but he did not look forward maliciously to this as hisrevenge on the doctor; he was thinking merely of what was good forElspeth. 

There was no open talk about David between the brother and sister. Some day, Tommy presumed, she would announce that the doctor had askedher to marry him; and oh, how sorry she was; and oh, what a good manhe was; and oh, Tommy knew she had never encouraged him; and oh, shecould never leave Tommy! But until that day arrived they avoidedtalking directly about what brought Gemmell there. That he came to seeElspeth neither of them seemed to conceive as possible. Did Tommychuckle when he saw David's eyes following her? No; solemn as a catblinking at the fire; noticed nothing. The most worldly chaperon, themost loving mother, could not have done more for Elspeth. Yet it wasnot done to find her a husband, but quite the reverse, as we haveseen. On reflection Tommy must smile at what he has been doing, butnot while he is working the figures. The artist never smiles athimself until afterwards. 

And now he not only wondered at times how Elspeth and David weregetting on, but whether she noticed how he was getting on with Grizel;for in matters relating to Tommy Elspeth was almost as sharp as he inmatters that related to her, and he knew it. When he proposed toElspeth that they should ask Gemmell to go fishing with them on themorrow ("He has been overworked of late and it would do him good") hewanted to add, in a careless voice, "We might invite Grizel also, " butcould not; his lips suddenly went dry. And when Elspeth said the wordsthat were so difficult to him, he wondered, "Did she say that becauseshe knew I wished it?" But he decided that she did not, for she wasevidently looking forward to to-morrow, and he knew she would beshuddering if she thought her Tommy was slipping. 

"I am so glad it was she who asked me, " Grizel said to him when hetold her. "Don't you see what it means? It means that she wants to getyou out of the way! You are not everything to her now as you used tobe. Are you glad, glad?"

"If I could believe it!" Tommy said. 

"What else could make her want to be alone with him?"

Nothing else could have made Grizel want to be alone with him, andshe must always judge others by herself. But Tommy knew that Elspethwas different, and that a girl with some of himself in her might wantto be alone with a man who admired her without wanting to marry him. 

CHAPTER XV

BY PROSEN WATER

That day by the banks of Prosen Water was one of Grizel's beautifulmemories. All the days when she thought he loved her became beautifulmemories. 

It was the time of reds and whites, for the glory of the broom hadpassed, except at great heights, and the wild roses were trooping in. When the broom is in flame there seems to be no colour but yellow; butwhen the wild roses come we remember that the broom was flaunting. Itwas not quite a lady, for it insisted on being looked at; while theselight-hearted things are too innocent to know that there is anyone tolook. Grizel was sitting by the side of the stream, adorning her hatfantastically with roses red and white and some that were neither. They were those that cannot decide whether they look best in white orred, and so waver for the whole of their little lives between the twocolours; there are many of them, and it is the pathetic thing aboutwild roses. She did not pay much heed to her handiwork. What she wassaying to herself was that in another minute he and she would bealone. Nothing else in the world mattered very much. Every bit of herwas conscious of it as the supreme event. Her fingers pressed it uponthe flowers. It was in her eyes as much as in her heart. He went oncasting his line, moving from stone to stone, dropping down the bank, ascending it, as if the hooking of a trout was something to him. Washe feeling to his marrow that as soon as those other two figuresrounded the bend in the stream he and she would have the world tothemselves? Ah, of course he felt it, but was it quite as much to himas it was to her?

"Not quite so much, " she said bravely to herself. "I don't want it tobe quite so much--but nearly. "

[Illustration: She did not look up, she waited. ]

And now they were alone as no two can be except those who love; forwhen the third person leaves them they have a universe to themselves, and it is closed in by the heavens, and the air of it is theconsciousness of each other's presence. She sat motionlessnow--trembling, exulting. She could no longer hear the talking of thewater, but she heard his step. He was coming slowly towards her. Shedid not look up--she waited; and while she waited time wasannihilated. 

He was coming to her to treat her as if she were a fond child; thatshe, of all women, could permit it was still delicious to him, and amarvel. She had let him do it yesterday, but perhaps she had regainedher independence in the night. As he hesitated he became anotherperson. In a flood of feeling he had a fierce desire to tell her thetruth about himself. But he did not know what it was. He put aside hisrod, and sat down very miserably beside her. 

"Grizel, I suppose I am a knave. " His lips parted to say it, but nowords came. She had given him an adorable look that stopped them as ifher dear hand had been placed upon his mouth. 

Was he a knave? He wanted honestly to know. He had not tried to makeher love him. Had he known in time he would even have warned heragainst it. He would never have said he loved her had she not first, as she thought, found it out; to tell her the truth then would havebeen brutal. He had made believe in order that she might remain happy. Was it even make-belief? Assuredly he did love her in his own way, inthe only way he was capable of. She was far more to him than anyother person except Elspeth. He delighted in her, and would havefought till he dropped rather than let any human being injure her. Allhis feelings for her were pure. He was prepared to marry her; but ifshe had not made that mistake, oh, what a delight it would have beento him never to marry anyone! He felt keenly miserable. 

"Grizel, I seem to be different from all other men. There seems to besome curse upon me that makes me unable to love as they do. I want tolove you, dear one; you are the only woman I ever wanted to love; butapparently I can't. I have decided to go on with this thing because itseems best for you; but is it? I would tell you all and leave thedecision to you, were it not that I fear you would think I wanted youto let me off. "

It would have been an honest speech, and he might have said it had hebegun at once, for it was in a passion to be out, so desirous was hethat dear Grizel should not be deceived; but he tried its effect firstupon himself, and as he went on the tragedy he saw mastered him. Heforgot that she was there, except as a figure needed to complete thepicture of the man who could not love. He saw himself a splendidlyhaggard creature with burning eyes standing aside while all the worldrolled by in pursuit of the one thing needful. It was a river, and hemust stand parched on the bank for ever and ever. Should he keep thatsorrowful figure a man or turn it into a woman? He tried a woman. Shewas on the bank now, her arms outstretched to the flood. Ah! she wouldbe so glad to drink, though she must drown. 

Grizel saw how mournful he had become as he gazed upon her. In hisface she had been seeing all the glories that can be given to mortals. Thoughts had come to her that drew her nearer to her God. Her trust inhim stretched to eternity. All that was given to her at that momentshe thought was also given to him. She seemed to know why, with lovelighting up their souls to each other, he could yet grow mournful. 

"Oh, " she cried, with a movement that was a passionate caress, "do youindeed love me so much as that? I never wanted you to love me quite somuch as that!"

It brought him back to himself, but without a start. Those suddenreturns to fact had ceased to bewilder him; they were grown so commonthat he passed between dreams and reality as through tissue-paper. 

"I did not mean, " she said at last, in a tremor, "that I wanted you tolove me less, but I am almost sorry that you love me quite so much. "

He dared say nothing, for he did not altogether understand. "I havethose fears, too, sometimes, " she went on; "I have had them when I waswith you, but more often when I was alone. They come to me suddenly, and I have such eager longings to run to you and tell you of them, andask you to drive them away. But I never did it; I kept them tomyself. "

"You could keep something back from me, Grizel?"

"Forgive me, " she implored; "I thought they would distress you, and Ihad such a desire to bring you nothing but happiness. To bear them bymyself seemed to be helping you, and I was glad, I was proud, to feelmyself of use to you even to that little extent. I did not know youhad the same fears; I thought that perhaps they came only to women;have you had them before? Fears, " she continued, so wistfully, "thatit is too beautiful to end happily? Oh, have you heard a voice crying, 'It is too beautiful; it can never be'?"

He saw clearly now; he saw so clearly that he was torn with emotion. "It is more than I can bear!" he said hoarsely. Surely he loved her. 

"Did you see me die?" she asked, in a whisper. "I have seen you die. "

"Don't, Grizel!" he cried. 

But she had to go on. "Tell me, " she begged; "I have told you. "

"No, no, never that, " he answered her. "At the worst I have had onlythe feeling that you could never be mine. "

She smiled at that. "I am yours, " she said softly; "nothing can takeaway that--nothing, nothing. I say it to myself a hundred times a day, it is so sweet. Nothing can separate us but death; I have thought ofall the other possible things, and none of them is strong enough. Butwhen I think of your dying, oh, when I think of my being left withoutyou!"

She rocked her arms in a frenzy, and called him dearest, darlingest. All the sweet names that had been the child Grizel's and the olddoctor's were Tommy's now. He soothed her, ah, surely as only a lovercould soothe. She was his Grizel, she was his beloved. No mortal couldhave been more impassioned than Tommy. He must have loved her. Itcould not have been merely sympathy, or an exquisite delight in beingthe man, or the desire to make her happy again in the quickest way, orall three combined? Whatever it was, he did not know; all he knew wasthat he felt every word he said, or seemed to feel it. 

"It is a punishment to me, " Grizel said, setting her teeth, "forloving you too much. I know I love you too much. I think I love youmore than God. "

She felt him shudder. 

"But if I feel it, " she said, shuddering also, yet unable to deceiveherself, "what difference do I make by saying it? He must know it isso, whether I say it or not. "

There was a tremendous difference to Tommy, but not of a kind he couldexplain, and she went on; she must tell him everything now. 

"I pray every night and morning; but that is nothing--everyone doesit. I know I thank God sincerely; I thank Him again and again andagain. Do you remember how, when I was a child, you used to behorrified because I prayed standing? I often say little prayersstanding now; I am always thanking Him for giving me you. But all thetime it is a bargain with Him. So long as you are well I love Him, butif you were to die I would never pray again. I have never said it inwords until to-day, but He must know it, for it is behind all myprayers. If He does not know, there cannot be a God. "

She was watching his face, half wofully, half stubbornly, as if, whatever might be the issue of those words, she had to say them. Shesaw how pained he was. To admit the possible non-existence of a Godwhen you can so easily leave the subject alone was horrible to Tommy. 

"I don't doubt Him, " she continued. "I have believed in Him ever sincethe time when I was such a lonely child that I did not know His name. I shall always believe in Him so long as He does not take you from me. But if He does, then I shall not believe in Him any more. It may bewrong, but that is what I feel. 

"It makes you care less for me!" she cried in anguish. 

"No, no, dear. "

"I don't think it makes God care less for me, " she said, veryseriously. "I think He is pleased that I don't try to cheat Him. "

Somehow Tommy felt uncomfortable at that. 

"There are people, " he said vaguely, like one who thought it best tomention no names, who would be afraid to challenge God in that way. "

"He would not be worth believing in, " she answered, "if He could berevengeful. He is too strong, and too loving, and too pitiful forthat. " But she took hold of Tommy as if to protect him. Had they beenin physical danger, her first impulse would have been to get in frontof him to protect him. The noblest women probably always love in thisway, and yet it is those who would hide behind them that men seem tolove the best. 

"I always feel--oh, I never can help feeling, " she said, "that nothingcould happen to you, that God Himself could not take you from me, while I had hold of you. "

"Grizel!"

"I mean only that He could not have the heart, " she said hastily. "No, I don't, " she had to add. "I meant what you thought I meant. Thatis why I feel it would be so sweet to be married, so that I could beclose to you every moment, and then no harm could come to you. I wouldkeep such a grip of you, I should be such a part of you, that youcould not die without my dying also. 

"Oh, do you care less for me now?" she cried. "I can't see things asclearly as you do, dearest, darlingest. I have not a beautiful naturelike yours. I am naturally rebellious. I have to struggle even to beas good as I am. There are evil things in my blood. You remember howwe found out that. God knew it, too, and He is compassionate. I thinkHe makes many pitying allowances for me. It is not wicked, is it, tothink that?"

"You used to know me too well, Grizel, to speak of my beautifulnature, " he said humbly. 

"I did think you vain, " she replied. "How odd to remember that!"

"But I was, and am. "

"I love to hear you proving you are not, " said she, beaming upon him. "Do you think, " she asked, with a sudden change of manner to thechildish, like one trying to coax a compliment out of him, "that Ihave improved at all during those last days? I think I am not quitesuch a horrid girl as I used to be; and if I am not, I owe it to you. I am so glad to owe it to you. " She told him that she was trying tomake herself a tiny bit more like him by studying his book. "It is notexactly the things you say of women that help me, for though they arelovely I am not sure that they are quite true. I almost hope they arenot true; for if they are, then I am not even an average woman. " Sheburied her face in his coat. "You say women are naturally purer thanmen, but I don't know. Perhaps we are more cunning only. Perhaps it isnot even a thing to wish; for if we were, it would mean that we aregood because there is less evil in us to fight against. Dear, forgiveme for saying that; it may be all wrong; but I think it is what nearlyall women feel in their hearts, though they keep it locked up tillthey die. I don't even want you to believe me. You think otherwise ofus, and it is so sweet of you that we try to be better than we are--toundeceive you would hurt so. It is not the book that makes me a betterwoman--it is the man I see behind it. "

He was too much moved to be able to reply--too much humbled. He vowedto himself that, whether he could love or not, he would be a goodhusband to this dear woman. 

"Ah, Grizel, " he declared, by and by, "what a delicious book you are, and how I wish I had written you! With every word you say, somethingwithin me is shouting, 'Am I not a wonder!' I warned you it would beso as soon as I felt that I had done anything really big, and I have. I have somehow made you love me. Ladies and gentlemen, " he exclaimed, addressing the river and the trees and the roses, "I have somehow madeher love me! Am I not a wonder?"

Grizel clapped her hands gaily; she was merry again. She could alwaysbe what Tommy wanted her to be. "Ladies and gentlemen, " she cried, "how could I help it?"

David had been coming back for his fly-book, and though he did nothear their words, he saw a light in Grizel's face that suddenly sethim thinking. For the rest of the day he paid little attention toElspeth; some of his answers showed her that he was not even listeningto her. 

CHAPTER XVI

"HOW COULD YOU HURT YOUR GRIZEL SO!"

To concentrate on Elspeth so that he might find out what was in hermind was, as we have seen, seldom necessary to Tommy; for he hadlearned her by heart long ago. Yet a time was now come when he had toconcentrate, and even then he was doubtful of the result. So often hehad put that mind of hers to rights that it was an open box to him, orhad been until he conceived the odd notion that perhaps it contained asecret drawer. This would have been resented by most brothers, butTommy's chagrin was nothing compared to the exhilaration with which heperceived that he might be about to discover something new aboutwoman. He was like the digger whose hand is on the point of closing ona diamond--a certain holiness added. 

What puzzled him was the state of affairs now existing between Elspethand the doctor. A week had elapsed since the fishing excursion, andDavid had not visited them. Too busy? Tommy knew that it is the busypeople who can find time. Could it be that David had proposed to herat the waterside?

No, he could not read that in Elspeth's face. He knew that she wouldbe in distress lest her refusal should darken the doctor's life fortoo long a time; but yet (shake your fist at him, ladies, for somisunderstanding you!) he expected also to note in that sympatheticface a look of subdued triumph, and as it was not there, David couldnot have proposed. 

The fact of her not having told him about it at once did not prove toTommy that there had been no proposal. His feeling was that she wouldconsider it too sacred a thing to tell even to him, but that it wouldforce its way out in a week or two. 

On the other hand, she could not have resisted dropping shyly suchremarks as these: "I think Dr. Gemmell is a noble man, " or, "Howwonderfully good Dr. Gemmell is to the poor!"

Also she would sometimes have given Tommy a glance that said, "Iwonder if you guess. " Had they quarrelled? Tommy smiled. If it wasbut a quarrel he was not merely appeased--he was pleased. Had he hadthe ordering of the affair, he would certainly have included a lovers'quarrel in it, and had it not been that he wanted to give her thepleasure of finding these things out for herself, he would have takenher aside and addressed her thus: "No need to look tragic, Elspeth;for to a woman this must be really one of the most charming moments inthe comedy. You feel that he would not have quarrelled had he had anyreal caring for you, and yet in your heart you know it is a proof thathe has. To a woman, I who know assure you that nothing can be moredelicious. Your feeling for him, as you and I well know, is but asentiment of attraction because he loves you as you are unable to lovehim, and as you are so pained by this quarrel, consider how much morepainful it must be to him. You think you have been slighted; that whena man has seemed to like you so much you have a right to be told so byhim, that you may help him with your sympathy. Oh, Elspeth, you thinkyourself unhappy just now when you are really in the middle of one ofthe pleasantest bits of it! Love is a series of thrills, the oneleading to the other, and, as your careful guardian, I would not haveyou miss one of them. You will come to the final bang quickly enough, and find it the finest thrill of all, but it is soon over. When youhave had to tell him that you are not for him, there are left only thepleasures of memory, and the more of them there were, the more therewill be to look back to. I beg you, Elspeth, not to hurry; loiterrather, smelling the flowers and plucking them, for you may never bethis way again. "

All these things he might have pointed out to Elspeth had he wantedher to look at the matter rationally, but he had no such wish. Hewanted her to enjoy herself as the blessed do, without knowing why. Nopity for the man, you see, but no ill will to him. David was havinghis thrills also, and though the last of them would seem a staggererto him at the time, it would gradually become a sunny memory. The onlytragedy is not to have known love. So long as you have theexperiences, it does not greatly matter whether your suit was afailure or successful. 

So Tommy decided, but he feared at the same time that there had beenno quarrel--that David had simply drawn back. 

How he saw through Elspeth's brave attempts to show that she had neverfor a moment thought of David's having any feeling for her saveordinary friendship--yes, they were brave, but not brave enough forTommy. At times she would say something bitter about life (not aboutthe doctor, for he was never mentioned), and it was painful to herbrother to see gentle Elspeth grown cynical. He suffered even morewhen her manner indicated that she knew she was too poor a creature tobe loved by any man. Tommy was in great woe about Elspeth at thistime. He was thinking much more about her than about Grizel; but donot blame him unreservedly for that: the two women who were his dearswere pulling him different ways, and he could not accompany both. Hehad made up his mind to be loyal to Grizel, and so all his pity couldgo to Elspeth. On the day he had his talk with the doctor, therefore, he had, as it were, put Grizel aside only because she was happy justnow, and so had not Elspeth's need of him. 

The doctor and he had met on the hill, whence the few who look may seeone of the fairest views in Scotland. Tommy was strolling up and down, and the few other persons on the hill were glancing with good-humouredsuspicion at him, as we all look at celebrated characters. Had he beenhappy he would have known that they were watching him, and perhapshave put his hands behind his back to give them more for their money, as the saying is; but he was miserable. His one consolation was thatthe blow he must strike Elspeth when he told her of his engagementneed not be struck just yet. David could not have chosen a worsemoment, therefore, for saying so bluntly what he said: "I hear you areto be married. If so, I should like to congratulate you. "

Tommy winced like one charged with open cruelty to his sister--chargedwith it, too, by the real criminal. 

"It is not true?" David asked quietly, and Tommy turned from himglaring. "I am sorry I spoke of it, as it is not true, " the doctorsaid after a pause, the crow's-feet showing round his eyes as alwayswhen he was in mental pain; and presently he went away, after givingTommy a contemptuous look. Did Tommy deserve that look? We mustremember that he had wanted to make the engagement public at once; ifhe shrank from admitting it for the present, it was because ofElspeth's plight. "Grizel, you might have given her a little time torecover from this man's faithlessness, " was what his heart cried. Hebelieved that Grizel had told David, and for the last time in his lifehe was angry with her. He strode down the hill savagely towards CaddamWood, where he knew he should find her. 

Soon he saw her. She was on one of the many tiny paths that lead thestranger into the middle of the wood and then leave him theremaliciously or because they dare not venture any farther themselves. They could play no tricks on Grizel, however, for she knew and wasfond of them all. Tommy had said that she loved them because they weresuch little paths, that they appealed to her like babies; and perhapsthere was something in it. 

She came up the path with the swing of one who was gleefully happy. Some of the Thrums people, you remember, said that Grizel struttedbecause she was so satisfied with herself, and if you like an uglyword, we may say that she strutted to-day. It was her whole beinggiving utterance to the joy within her that love had brought. AsGrizel came up the path on that bright afternoon, she could no morehave helped strutting than the bud to open on the appointed day. Shewas obeying one of Nature's laws. I think I promised long ago to tellyou of the day when Grizel would strut no more. Well, this is the day. Observe her strutting for the last time. It was very strange andtouching to her to remember in the after years that she had oncestrutted, but it was still more strange and touching to Tommy. 

She was like one overfilled with delight when she saw him. How couldshe know that he was to strike her?

He did not speak. She was not displeased. When anything so tremendoushappened as the meeting of these two, how could they find words atonce?

She bent and pressed her lips to his sleeve; but he drew away with agesture that startled her. 

"You are not angry?" she said, stopping. 

"Yes, " he replied doggedly. 

"Not with me?" Her hand went to her heart. "With me!" A wounded animalcould not have uttered a cry more pathetic. "Not with me!" Sheclutched his arm. 

"Have I no cause to be angry?" he said. 

She looked at him in bewilderment. Could this be he? Oh, could it beshe?

"Cause? How could I give you cause?"

It seemed unanswerable to her. How could Grizel do anything that wouldgive him the right to be angry with her? Oh, men, men! will you neverunderstand how absolutely all of her a woman's love can be? If shegives you everything, how can she give you more? She is not anotherperson; she is part of you. Does one finger of your hand plot againstanother?

He told her sullenly of his scene with the doctor. 

"I am very sorry, " she said; but her eyes were still searching for thereason why Tommy could be angry with her. 

"You made me promise to tell no one, " he said, "and I have kept mypromise: but you----"

The anguish that was Grizel's then! "You can't think that I told him!"she cried, and she held out her arms as if to remind him of who shewas. "You can believe that of your Grizel?"

"I daresay you have not done it wittingly; but this man has guessed, and he could never have guessed it from look or word of mine. "

"It must have been I!" she said slowly. "Tell me, " she cried like asuppliant, "how have I done it?"

"Your manner, your face, " he answered; "it must have been that. Idon't blame you. Grizel, but--yes, it must have been that, and it ishard on me. "

He was in misery, and these words leaped out. They meant only that itwas hard on him if Elspeth had to be told of his engagement in thehour of her dejection. He did not mean to hurt Grizel to the quick. However terrible the loss of his freedom might be to the man who couldnot love, he always intended to be true to her. But she gave the wordsa deeper meaning. 

She stood so still she seemed to be pondering, and at last she saidquietly, as if they had been discussing some problem outsidethemselves: "Yes, I think it must have been that. " She looked long athim. "It is very hard on you, " she said. 

"I feel sure it was that, " she went on; and now her figure was erect, and again it broke, and sometimes there was a noble scorn in hervoice, but more often there was only pitiful humility. "I feel sure itwas that, for I have often wondered how everybody did not know. I havebroken my promise. I used always to be able to keep a promise. I hadevery other fault, --I was hard and proud and intolerant, --but I wastrue. I think I was vain of that, though I see now it was onlysomething I could not help; from the moment when I had a difficulty inkeeping a promise, I ceased to keep it. I love you so much that Icarry my love in my face for all to read. They cannot see me meet youwithout knowing the truth; they cannot hear me say your name but Ibetray myself; I show how I love you in every movement; I am full ofyou. How can anyone look at me and not see you? I should have beenmore careful--oh, I could have been so much more careful had I lovedyou a little less! It is very hard on you. "

The note of satire had died out of her voice; her every look andgesture carried in it nothing but love for him; but all the unhappydog could say was something about self-respect. 

Her mouth opened as if for bitterness; but no sound came. "How muchself-respect do you think is left for me after to-day?" she saidmournfully at last; and then she quickly took a step nearer her dearone, as if to caress the spot where these words had struck him. Butshe stopped, and for a moment she was the Grizel of old. "Have nofear, " she said, with a trembling, crooked smile; "there is only onething to be done now, and I shall do it. All the blame is mine. Youshall not be deprived of your self-respect. "

He had not been asking for his freedom; but he heard it running to himnow, and he knew that if he answered nothing he would be whistling itback for ever. A madness to be free at any cost swept over him. He letgo his hold on self-respect, and clapped his hand on freedom. 

He answered nothing, and the one thing for her to do was to go; andshe did it. But it was only for a moment that she could be altogetherthe Grizel of old. She turned to take a long, last look at him; butthe wofulness of herself was what she saw. She cried, with infinitepathos, "Oh, how could you hurt your Grizel so!"

He controlled himself and let her go. His freedom was fawning on him, licking his hands and face, and in that madness he actually let Grizelgo. It was not until she was out of sight that he gave utterance to aharsh laugh. He knew what he was at that moment, as you and I shallnever be able to know him, eavesdrop how we may. 

He flung himself down in a blaeberry-bed, and lay there doggedly, hisweak mouth tightly closed. A great silence reigned; no, not a greatsilence, for he continued to hear the cry: "Oh, how could you hurtyour Grizel so!" She scarcely knew that she had said it; but to himwho knew what she had been, and what he had changed her into, and forwhat alone she was to blame, there was an unconscious pathos in itthat was terrible. It was the epitome of all that was Grizel, all thatwas adorable and all that was pitiful in her. It rang in his mind likea bell of doom. He believed its echo would not be quite gone from hisears when he died. If all the wise men in the world had met toconsider how Grizel could most effectively say farewell to Tommy, theycould not have thought out a better sentence. However completely hehad put himself emotionally in her place with this same object, hewould have been inspired by nothing quite so good. 

But they were love's dying words. He knew he could never again, thoughhe tried, be to Grizel what he had been. The water was spilled on theground. She had thought him all that was glorious in man--that waswhat her love had meant; and it was spilled. There was only one way inwhich he could wound her more cruelly than she was already hurt, andthat was by daring to ask her to love him still. To imply that hethought her pride so broken, her independence, her maidenly modesty, all that make up the loveliness of a girl, so lost that by entreatieshe could persuade her to forgive him, would destroy her altogether. Itwould reveal to her how low he thought her capable of falling. 

I suppose we should all like to think that it would have been thuswith Grizel, but our wishes are of small account. It was not manyminutes since she left Tommy, to be his no more, his knife still inher heart; but she had not reached the end of the wood when all infront of her seemed a world of goblins, and a future without him notto be faced. He might beat her or scorn her, but not for an hour couldshe exist without him. She wrung her arms in woe; the horror of whatshe was doing tore her in pieces; but not all this prevented herturning back. It could not even make her go slowly. She did not walkback; she stole back in little runs. She knew it was her destruction, but her arms were outstretched to the spot where she had left him. 

He was no longer there, and he saw her between the firs before shecould see him. As he realized what her coming back meant, his frameshook with pity for her. All the dignity had gone from her. She lookedas shamed as a dog stealing back after it had been whipped. She knewshe was shamed. He saw she knew it: the despairing rocking of her armsproved it; yet she was coming back to him in little runs. 

Pity, chivalry, oh, surely love itself, lifted him to his feet, andall else passed out of him save an imperious desire to save her asmuch humiliation as he could--to give her back a few of those garmentsof pride and self-respect that had fallen from her. At least sheshould not think that she had to come all the way to him. With astifled sob, he rose and ran up the path towards her. 

"Grizel! it is you! My beloved! how could you leave me! Oh, Grizel, mylove, how could you misunderstand me so!"

She gave a glad cry. She sought feebly to hold him at arm's length, tolook at him watchfully, to read him as in the old days; but the olddays were gone. He strained her to him. Oh, surely it was love atlast! He thanked God that he loved at last. 

CHAPTER XVII

HOW TOMMY SAVED THE FLAG

He loved at last, but had no time to exult just now, for he could notrejoice with Tommy while his dear one drooped in shame. Ah, so well heunderstood that she believed she had done the unpardonable thing inwoman, and that while she thought so she must remain a broken column. It was a great task he saw before him--nothing less than to make herthink that what she had done was not shameful, but exquisite; that shehad not tarnished the flag of love, but glorified it. Artfulness, youwill see, was needed; but, remember, he was now using all his arts inbehalf of the woman he loved. 

"You were so long in coming back to me, Grizel. The agony of it!""Did it seem long?" She spoke in a trembling voice, hiding her face inhim. She listened like one anxious to seize his answer as it left hisheart. 

"So long, " he answered, "that it seemed to me we must be old when wemet again. I saw a future without you stretching before me to thegrave, and I turned and ran from it. "

"That is how I felt, " she whispered. 

"You!" Tommy cried, in excellent amazement. 

"What else could have made me come?"

"I thought it was pity that had brought you--pity for me, Grizel. Ithought you had perhaps come back to be angry with me--"

"How could I be!" she cried. 

"How could you help it, rather?" said he. "I was cruel, Grizel; Ispoke like a fool as well as like a dastard. But it was only anxietyfor Elspeth that made me do it. Dear one, be angry with me as often asyou choose, and whether I deserve it or not; but don't go away fromme; never send me from you again. Anything but that. "

It was how she had felt again, and her hold on him tightened withsudden joy. So well he knew what that grip meant! He did not tell herthat he had not loved her fully until now. He would have liked to tellher how true love had been born in him as he saw her stealing back tohim, but it was surely best for her not to know that anytransformation had been needed. "I don't say that I love you more nowthan ever before, " he said carefully, "but one thing I do know: that Inever admired you quite so much. "

She looked up in surprise. 

"I mean your character, " he said determinedly. "I have always knownhow strong and noble it was, but I never quite thought you could doanything so beautiful as this. "

"Beautiful!" She could only echo the word. 

"Many women, even of the best, " he told her, "would have resorted tolittle feminine ways of humbling such a blunderer as I have been: theywould have spurned him for weeks; made him come to them on his knees;perhaps have thought that his brutality of a moment outweighed all hislove. When I saw you coming to meet me half-way--oh, Grizel, tell methat you were doing that?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" she answered eagerly, so that she might not detainhim a moment. 

"When I saw you I realized that you were willing to forgive me; thatyou were coming to say so; that no thought of lowering me first was inyour mind; that yours was a love above the littleness of ordinarypeople: and the adorableness of it filled me with a glorious joy; Isaw in that moment what woman in her highest development is capableof, and that the noblest is the most womanly. "

She said "Womanly?" with a little cry. It had always been such a sweetword to her, and she thought it could never be hers again!

"It is by watching you, " he replied, "that I know the meaning of theword. I thought I knew long ago, but every day you give it a noblermeaning. "

If she could have believed it! For a second or two she tried tobelieve it, and then she shook her head. 

"How dear of you to think that of me!" she answered. She looked up athim with exquisite approval in her eyes. She had always felt that menshould have high ideas about women. 

"But it was not to save you pain that I came back, " she said bravely. There was something pathetic in the way the truth had always to comeout of her. "I did not think you wanted me to come back. I neverexpected you to be looking for me, and when I saw you doing it, myheart nearly stopped for gladness. I thought you were wearied of me, and would be annoyed when you saw me coming back. I said to myself, 'If I go back I shall be a disgrace to womanhood, ' But I came; and nowdo you know what my heart is saying, and always will be saying? It isthat pride and honour and self-respect are gone. And the terriblething is that I don't seem to care; I, who used to value them somuch, am willing to let them go if you don't send me away from you. Oh, if you can't love me any longer, let me still love you! That iswhat I came back to say. "

"Grizel, Grizel!" he cried. It was she who was wielding the knife now. 

"But it is true, " she said. 

"We could so easily pretend that it isn't. " That was not what he said, though it was at his heart. He sat down, saying:

"This is a terrible blow, but better you should tell it to me thanleave me to find it out. " He was determined to save the flag forGrizel, though he had to try all the Tommy ways, one by one. 

"Have I hurt you?" she asked anxiously. She could not bear to hurt himfor a moment. "What did I say?"

"It amounts to this, " he replied huskily: "you love me, but you wishyou did not; that is what it means. "

He expected her to be appalled by this; but she stood still, thinkingit over. There was something pitiful in a Grizel grown undecided. 

"Do I wish I did not?" she said helplessly. "I don't know. Perhapsthat is what I do wish. Ah, but what are wishes! I know now that theydon't matter at all. "

"Yes, they matter, " he assured her, in the voice of one looking upondeath. "If you no longer want to love me, you will cease to do itsoon enough. " His manner changed to bitterness. "So don't be castdown, Grizel, for the day of your deliverance is at hand. "

But again she disappointed him, and as the flag must be saved atwhatever cost, he said. 

"It has come already. I see you no longer love me as you did. " Herarms rose in anguish; but he went on ruthlessly: "You will neverpersuade me that you do; I shall never believe it again. "

I suppose it was a pitiable thing about Grizel--it was something hehad discovered weeks ago and marvelled over--that nothing distressedher so much as the implication that she could love him less. She knewshe could not; but that he should think it possible was the strangestwoe to her. It seemed to her to be love's only tragedy. We have seenhow difficult it was for Grizel to cry. When she said "How could youhurt your Grizel so!" she had not cried, nor when she knew that if shewent back to him her self-respect must remain behind. But a painfultear came to her eyes when he said that she loved him less. It almostunmanned him, but he proceeded, for her good:

"I daresay you still care for me a little, as the rank and file ofpeople love. What right had I, of all people, to expect a love so rareand beautiful as yours to last? It had to burn out, like a great fire, as such love always does. The experience of the world has proved it. "

"Oh!" she cried, and her body was rocking. If he did not stop, shewould weep herself to death. 

"Yes, it seems sad, " Tommy continued; "but if ever man knew that itserved him right, I know it. And they maintain, the wiseacres who haveanalyzed love, that there is much to be said in favour of a calmaffection. The glory has gone, but the material comforts are greater, and in the end--"

She sank upon the ground. He was bleeding for her, was Tommy. He wenton his knees beside her, and it was terrible to him to feel that everypart of her was alive with anguish. He called her many sweet names, and she listened for them between her sobs; but still she sobbed. Hecould bear it no longer; he cried, and called upon God to smite him. She did not look up, but her poor hands pulled him back. "You said Ido not love you the same!" she moaned. 

"Grizel!" he answered, as if in sad reproof; "it was not I who saidthat--it was you. I put into words only what you have been telling mefor the last ten minutes. "

"No, no, " she cried. "Oh, how could I!"

He flung up his arms in despair. "Is this only pity for me, Grizel, "he implored, looking into her face as if to learn his fate, "or is itlove indeed?"

"You know it is love--you know!"

"But what kind of love?" he demanded fiercely. "Is it the same lovethat it was? Quick, tell me. I can't have less. If it is but a littleless, you will kill me. "

The first gleam of sunshine swept across her face (and oh, how he waslooking for it!). "Do you want it to be the same--do you really wantit? Oh, it is, it is!"

"And you would not cease to love me if you could?"

"No, no, no!" She would have come closer to him, but he held her back. 

"One moment, Grizel, " he said in a hard voice that filled her withapprehension. "There must be no second mistake. In saying that love, and love alone, brought you back, you are admitting, are you not, thatyou were talking wildly about loss of pride and honour? You did theloveliest thing you have ever done when you came back. If I were you, my character would be ruined from this hour--I should feel so proud ofmyself. "

She smiled at that, and fondled his hand. "If you think so, " she said, "all is well. "

But he would not leave it thus. "You must think so also, " he insisted;and when she still shook her head, "Then I am proud of your love nolonger, " said he, doggedly. "How proud of it I have been! A mancannot love a woman without reverencing her, without being touched tothe quick a score of times a day by the revelations she gives ofherself--revelations of such beauty and purity that he is abashed inher presence. The unspoken prayers he offers up to God at those timeshe gives to her to carry. And when such a one returns his love, he isproud indeed. To me you are the embodiment of all that is fair inwoman, and it is love that has made you so, that has taken away yourlittle imperfections--love for me. Ah, Grizel, I was so proud to thinkthat somehow I had done it; but even now, in the moment when your lovehas manifested itself most splendidly, you are ashamed of it, and whatI respect and reverence you for most are changes that have come aboutagainst your will. If your love makes you sorrowful, how can I beproud of it? Henceforth it will be my greatest curse. "

She started up, wringing her hands. It was something to have got herto her feet. 

"Surely, " he said, like one puzzled as well as pained by herobtuseness, "you see clearly that it must be so. True love, as Iconceive it, must be something passing all knowledge, irresistible;something not to be resented for its power, but worshipped for it;something not to fight against, but to glory in. And such is yourlove; but you give the proof of it with shame, because your ideal oflove is a humdrum sort of affection. That is all you would like tofeel, Grizel, and because you feel something deeper and nobler you sayyou have lost your self-respect. I am the man who has taken it fromyou. Can I ever be proud of your love again?"

He paused, overcome with emotion. "What it has been to me!" he cried. "I walked among my fellows as if I were a colossus. It inspired me atmy work. I felt that there was nothing great I was not capable of, andall because Grizel loved me. "

She stood trembling with delight at what he said, and withapprehension at what he seemed to threaten. His head being bent, hecould not see her, and amid his grief he wondered a little what shewas doing now. 

"But you spoke"--she said it timidly, as if to refer to the matter atall was cruel of her--"you spoke as if I was disgracing you because Icould not conceal my love. You said it was hard on you. " She pressedher hands together. "Yes, that is what you said. "

This was awkward for Tommy. "She believes I meant that, " he criedhoarsely. "Grizel believes that of me! I have behaved since then as ifthat was what I meant, have I? I meant only that it would be hard onme if Elspeth learned of our love at the very moment when this man istreating her basely. I look as if I had meant something worse, do I? Iknow myself at last! Grizel has shown me what I am. "

He covered his face with his hands. Strong man as he was, he could notconceal his agony. 

"Don't!" she cried. "If I was wrong--"

"If you were wrong!"

"I was wrong! I know I was wrong. Somehow it was a mistake. I don'tknow how it arose. But you love me and you want me to love you still. That is all I know. I thought you did not, but you do. If you wantedme to come back----"

"If I wanted it!"

"I know you wanted it now, and I am no longer ashamed to have come. Iam glad I came, and if you can still be proud of my love and respectme----"

"Oh, Grizel, if!"

"Then I have got back my pride and my self-respect again. I cannotreason about it, but they have come back again. "

It was she who was trying to comfort him by this time, caressing hishair and his hands. But he would not be appeased at once; it was goodfor her to have something to do. 

"You are sure you are happy again, Grizel? You are not pretending inorder to please me?"

"So happy!"

"But your eyes are still wet. "

"That is because I have hurt you so. Oh, how happy I should be if Icould see you smile again!"

"How I would smile if I saw you looking happy!"

"Then smile at once, sir, " she could say presently, "for see how happyI am looking. " And as she beamed on him once more he smiled as well ashe was able to. Grizel loved him so much that she actually knew whenthat face of his was smiling, and soon she was saying gaily to hiseyes: "Oh, silly eyes that won't sparkle, what is the use of you?" andshe pressed her own upon them; and to his mouth she said: "Mouth thatdoes not know how to laugh--poor, tragic mouth!" He let her do nearlyall the talking. She sat there crooning over him as if he were herchild. 

And so the flag was saved. He begged her to let him tell their littleworld of his love for her, and especially was he eager to go straightwith it to the doctor. But she would not have this. "David and Elspethshall know in good time, " she said, very nobly. "I am sure they arefond of each other, and they shall know of our happiness on the daywhen they tell us of their own. " And until that great day came she wasnot to look upon herself as engaged to Tommy, and he must never kissher again until they were engaged. I think it was a pleasure to her toinsist on this. It was her punishment to herself for ever havingdoubted Tommy. 

 * * * * *

PART II

 * * * * *

CHAPTER XVIII

THE GIRL SHE HAD BEEN

As they sat amid the smell of rosin on that summer day, she told him, with a glance that said, "Now you will laugh at me, " what had broughther into Caddam Wood. 

"I came to rub something out. "

He reflected. "A memory?"

"Yes. "

"Of me?"

She nodded. 

"An unhappy memory?"

"Not to me, " she replied, leaning on him. "I have no memory of you Iwould rub out, no, not the unhappiest one, for it was you, and thatmakes it dear. All memories, however sad, of loved ones become sweet, don't they, when we get far enough away from them?"

"But to whom, then, is this memory painful, Grizel?"

Again she cast that glance at him. "To her, " she whispered. 

"'That little girl'!"

"Yes; the child I used to be. You see, she never grew up, and so theyare not distant memories to her. I try to rub them out of her mind bygiving her prettier things to think of. I go to the places where shewas most unhappy, and tell her sweet things about you. I am notmorbid, am I, in thinking of her still as some one apart from myself?You know how it began, in the lonely days when I used to look at herin mamma's mirror, and pity her, and fancy that she was pitying me andentreating me to be careful. Always when I think I see her now, sheseems to be looking anxiously at me and saying, 'Oh, do be careful!'And the sweet things I tell her about you are meant to show her howcareful I have become. Are you laughing at me for this? I sometimeslaugh at it myself. "

"No, it is delicious, " he answered her, speaking more lightly than hefelt. "What a numskull you make, Grizel, of any man who presumes towrite about women! I am at school again, and you are Miss Ailieteaching me the alphabet. But I thought you lost that serious littlegirl on the doleful day when she heard you say that you loved mebest. "

"She came back. She has no one but me. "

"And she still warns you against me?"

Grizel laughed gleefully. "I am too clever for her, " she said. "I doall the talking. I allow her to listen only. And you must not blameher for distrusting you; I have said such things against you to her!Oh, the things I said! On the first day I saw you, for instance, afteryou came back to Thrums. It was in church. Do you remember?"

"I should like to know what you said to her about me that day. "

"Would you?" Grizel asked merrily. "Well, let me see. She was not atchurch--she never went there, you remember; but of course she wascurious to hear about you, and I had no sooner got home than she cameto me and said, 'Was he there?' 'Yes, ' I said. 'Is he much changed?'she asked. 'He has a beard, ' I said. 'You know that is not what Ireally mean, ' she said, and then I said, 'I don't think he is so muchchanged that it is impossible to recognize him again. '"

Tommy interrupted her: "Now what did you mean by that?"

"I meant that I thought you were a little annoyed to find thecongregation looking at Gavinia's baby more than at you!"

"Grizel, you are a wretch, but perhaps you were right. Well, what moredid the little inquisitor want to know?"

"She asked me if I felt any of my old fear of you, and I said No, andthen she clapped her hands with joy. And she asked whether you lookedat me as if you were begging me to say I still thought you a wonder, and I said I thought you did----"

"Grizel!"

"Oh, I told her ever so many dreadful things as soon as I found themout. I told her the whole story of your ankle, sir, for instance. "

"On my word, Grizel, you seem to have omitted nothing!"

"Ah, but I did, " she cried. "I never told her how much I wanted you tobe admirable; I pretended that I despised you merely, and in reality Iwas wringing my hands with woe every time you did not behave like agod. "

"They will be worn away, Grizel, if you go on doing that. "

"I don't think so, " she replied, "nor can she think so if she believeshalf of what I have told her about you since. She knows how you savedthe boy's life. I told her that in the old Lair because she had someharsh memories of you there; and it was at the Cuttle Well that I toldher about the glove. "

"And where, " asked Tommy, severely, "did you tell her that you hadbeen mistaken in thinking me jealous of a baby and anxious to beconsidered a wonder?"

She hid her face for a moment, and then looked up roguishly into his. "I have not told her that yet!" she replied. It was so audacious ofher that he took her by the ears. 

"If I were vain, " Tommy said reflectively, "I would certainly shakeyou now. You show a painful want of tact, Grizel, in implying that Iam not perfect. Nothing annoys men so much. We can stand anythingexcept that. "

His merriness gladdened her. "They are only little things, " she said, "and I have grown to love them. I know they are flaws; but I love thembecause----"

"Say because they are mine. You owe me that. "

"No; but because they are weaknesses I don't have. I have others, butnot those, and it is sweet to me to know that you are weak in somematters in which I am strong. It makes me feel that I can be of use toyou. "

"Are you insinuating that there are more of them?" Tommy demanded, sitting up. 

"You are not very practical, " she responded, "and I am. "

"Go on. "

"And you are--just a little--inclined to be senti----"

"Hush! I don't allow that word; but you may say, if you choose, that Iam sometimes carried away by a too generous impulse. "

"And that it will be my part, " said she, "to seize you by the arm andhold you back. Oh, you will give me a great deal to do! That is one ofthe things I love you for. It was one of the things I loved my dearDr. McQueen for. " She looked up suddenly. "I have told him also aboutyou. "

"Lately, Grizel?"

"Yes, in my parlour. It was his parlour, you know, and I had keptnothing from him while he was alive; that is to say, he always knewwhat I was thinking of, and I like to fancy that he knows still. Inthe evenings he used to sit in the arm-chair by the fire, and I sattalking or knitting at his feet, and if I ceased to do anything exceptsit still, looking straight before me, he knew I was thinking themorbid thoughts that had troubled me in the old days at Double Dykes. Without knowing it I sometimes shuddered at those times, and he wasdistressed. It reminded him of my mamma. "

"I understand, " Tommy said hurriedly. He meant: "Let us avoid painfulsubjects. "

[Illustration: "I sit still by his arm-chair and tell him what ishappening to his Grizel. "]

"It is years, " she went on, "since those thoughts have troubled me, and it was he who drove them away. He was so kind! He thought so muchof my future that I still sit by his arm-chair and tell him what ishappening to his Grizel. I don't speak aloud, of course; I scarcelysay the words to myself even; and yet we seem to have long talkstogether. I told him I had given you his coat. "

"Well, I don't think he was pleased at that, Grizel. I have had afeeling for some time that the coat dislikes me. It scratched my handthe first time I put it on. My hand caught in the hook of the collar, you will say; but no, that is not what I think. In my opinion, thedeed was maliciously done. McQueen always distrusted me, you know, andI expect his coat was saying, 'Hands off my Grizel. '"

She took it as quite a jest. "He does not distrust you now, " she said, smiling. "I have told him what I think of you, and though he wassurprised at first, in the end his opinion was the same as mine. "

"Ah, you saw to that, Grizel!"

"I had nothing to do with it. I merely told him everything, and he hadto agree with me. How could he doubt when he saw that you had made meso happy! Even mamma does not doubt. "

"You have told her! All this is rather eerie, Grizel. "

"You are not sorry, are you?" she asked, looking at him anxiously. "Dr. McQueen wanted me to forget her. He thought that would be bestfor me. It was the only matter on which we differed. I gave upspeaking of her to him. You are the only person I have mentioned herto since I became a woman; but I often think of her. I am sure therewas a time, before I was old enough to understand, when she was veryfond of me. I was her baby, and women can't help being fond of theirbabies, even though they should never have had them. I think she oftenhugged me tight. "

"Need we speak of this, Grizel?"

"For this once, " she entreated. "You must remember that mamma oftenlooked at me with hatred, and said I was the cause of all her woe; butsometimes in her last months she would give me such sad looks that Itrembled, and I felt that she was picturing me growing into the kindof woman she wished so much she had not become herself, and that shelonged to save me. That is why I have told her that a good man lovesme. She is so glad, my poor dear mamma, that I tell her again andagain, and she loves to hear it as much as I to tell it. What sheloves to hear most is that you really do want to marry me. She is sofond of hearing that because it is what my father would never say toher. "

Tommy was so much moved that he could not speak, but in his heart hegave thanks that what Grizel said of him to her mamma was true atlast. 

"It makes her so happy, " Grizel said, "that when I seem to see her nowshe looks as sweet and pure as she must have been in the days when shewas an innocent girl. I think she can enter into my feelings more thanany other person could ever do. Is that because she was my mother? Sheunderstands how I feel just as I can understand how in the end she waswilling to be bad because he wanted it so much. "

"No, no, Grizel, " Tommy cried passionately, "you don't understandthat!"

She rocked her arms. "Yes, I do, " she said; "I do. I could never havecared for such a man; but I can understand how mamma yielded to him, and I have no feeling for her except pity, and I have told her so, andit is what she loves to hear her daughter tell her best of all. "

They put the subject from them, and she told him what it was that shehad come to rub out in Caddam. If you have read of Tommy's boyhood youmay remember the day it ended with his departure for the farm, andthat he and Elspeth walked through Caddam to the cart that was to takehim from her, and how, to comfort her, he swore that he loved her withhis whole heart, and Grizel not at all, and that Grizel was in thewood and heard. And how Elspeth had promised to wave to Tommy in thecart as long as it was visible, but broke down and went home sobbing, and how Grizel took her place and waved, pretending to be Elspeth, sothat he might think she was bearing up bravely. Tommy had not knownwhat Grizel did for him that day, and when he heard it now for thefirst time from her own lips, he realized afresh what a glorious girlshe was and had always been. 

"You may try to rub that memory out of little Grizel's head, " hedeclared, looking very proudly at her, "but you shall never rub it outof mine. "

It was by his wish that they went together to the spot where she hadheard him say that he loved Elspeth only--"if you can find it, " Tommysaid, "after all these years"; and she smiled at his mannishwords--she had found it so often since! There was the very clump ofwhin. 

And here was the boy to match. Oh, who by striving could make himselfa boy again as Tommy could! I tell you he was always irresistiblethen. What is genius? It is the power to be a boy again at will. WhenI think of him flinging off the years and whistling childhood back, not to himself only, but to all who heard, distributing it among themgaily, imperiously calling on them to dance, dance, for they are boysand girls again until they stop--when to recall him in those wildmoods is to myself to grasp for a moment at the dear dead days thatwere so much the best, I cannot wonder that Grizel loved him. I am hisslave myself; I see that all that was wrong with Tommy was that hecould not always be a boy. 

"Hide there again, Grizel, " he cried to her, little Tommy cried toher, Stroke the Jacobite, her captain, cried to the Lady Griselda; andhe disappeared, and presently marched down the path with an imaginaryElspeth by his side. "I love you both, Elspeth, " he was going to say, "and my love for the one does not make me love the other less"; but heglanced at Grizel, and she was leaning forward to catch his words asif this were no play, but life or death, and he knew what she longedto hear him say, and he said it: "I love you very much, Elspeth, buthowever much I love you, it would be idle to pretend that I don't loveGrizel more. "

A stifled cry of joy came from a clump of whin hard by, and they wereman and woman again. 

"Did you not know it, Grizel?"

"No, no; you never told me. "

"I never dreamed it was necessary to tell you. "

"Oh, if you knew how I have longed that it might be so, yes, andsometimes hated Elspeth because I feared it could not be! I have triedso hard to be content with second place. I have thought it all out, and said to myself it was natural that Elspeth should be first. "

"My tragic love, " he said, "I can see you arguing in that way, but Idon't see you convincing yourself. My passionate Grizel is not thegirl to accept second place from anyone. If I know anything of her, Iknow that. "

To his surprise, she answered softly: "You are wrong. I wonder at itmyself, but I had made up my mind to be content with second place, andto be grateful for it. "

"I could not have believed it!" he cried. 

"I could not have believed it myself, " said she. 

"Are you the Grizel----" he began. 

"No, " she said, "I have changed a little, " and she looked patheticallyat him. 

"It stabs me, " he said, "to see you so humble. "

"I am humbler than I was, " she answered huskily, but she was lookingat him with the fondest love. 

"Don't look at me so, Grizel, " he implored. "I am unworthy of it. I amthe man who has made you so humble. "

"Yes, " she answered, and still she looked at him with the fondestlove. A film came over his eyes, and she touched them softly with herhandkerchief. 

"Those eyes that but a little while ago were looking so coldly atyou!" he said. 

"Dear eyes!" said she. 

"Though I were to strike you----" he cried, raising his hand. 

She took the hand in hers and kissed it. 

"Has it come to this!" he said, and as she could not speak, shenodded. He fell upon his knees before her. 

"I am glad you are a little sorry, " she said; "I am a little sorrymyself. "

CHAPTER XIX

OF THE CHANGE IN THOMAS

To find ways of making David propose to Elspeth, of making Elspethwilling to exchange her brother for David--they were heavy tasks, butTommy yoked himself to them gallantly and tugged like an Arab steed inthe plough. It should be almost as pleasant to us as to him to thinkthat love was what made him do it, for he was sure he loved Grizel atlast, and that the one longing of his heart was to marry her; the onemarvel to him was that he had ever longed ardently for anything else. Well, as you know, she longed for it also, but she was firm in herresolve that until Elspeth was engaged Tommy should be a single man. She even made him promise not to kiss her again so long as their lovehad to be kept secret. "It will be so sweet to wait, " she saidbravely. As we shall see presently, his efforts to put Elspeth intothe hands of David were apparently of no avail, but though this wouldhave embittered many men, it drew only to the surface some of Tommy'snoblest attributes; as he suffered in silence he became gentler, moreconsiderate, and acquired a new command over himself. To conquer selffor her sake (this is in the "Letters to a Young Man") is the highesttribute a man can pay to a woman; it is the only real greatness, andTommy had done it now. I could give you a score of proofs. Let us takehis treatment of Aaron Latta. 

One day about this time Tommy found himself alone in the house withAaron, and had he been the old Tommy he would have waited but a momentto let Aaron decide which of them should go elsewhere. It was thusthat these two, ever so uncomfortable in each other's presence, contrived to keep the peace. Now note the change. 

"Aaron, " said Tommy, in the hush that had fallen on that house sincequiet Elspeth left it, "I have never thanked you in words for all thatyou have done for me and Elspeth. "

"Dinna do it now, then, " replied the warper, fidgeting. 

"I must, " Tommy said cheerily, "I must"; and he did, while Aaronscowled. 

"It was never done for you, " Aaron informed him, "nor for the fatheryou are the marrows o'. "

"It was done for my mother, " said Tommy, reverently. 

"I'm none so sure o't, " Aaron rapped out. "I think I brocht you twahere as bairns, that the reminder of my shame should ever stand beforeme. "

But Tommy shook his head, and sat down sympathetically beside thewarper. "You loved her, Aaron, " he said simply. "It was an undyinglove that made you adopt her orphan children. " A charming thought cameto him. "When you brought us here, " he said, with some elation, "Elspeth used to cry at nights because our mother's spirit did notcome to us to comfort us, and I invented boyish explanations toappease her. But I have learned since why we did not see that spirit;for though it hovered round this house, its first thought was not forus, but for him who succoured us. "

He could have made it much better had he been able to revise it, butsurely it was touching, and Aaron need not have said "Damn, " which waswhat he did say. 

One knows how most men would have received so harsh an answer to suchgentle words, and we can conceive how a very holy man, say a monk, would have bowed to it. Even as the monk did Tommy submit, or sayrather with the meekness of a nun. 

"I wish I could help you in any way, Aaron, " he said, with a sigh. 

"You can, " replied Aaron, promptly, "by taking yourself off to London, and leaving Elspeth here wi' me. I never made pretence that I wantedyou, except because she wouldna come without you. Laddie and man, asweel you ken, you were aye a scunner to me. "

"And yet, " said Tommy, looking at him admiringly, "you fed and housedand educated us. Ah, Aaron, do you not see that your dislike gives methe more reason only to esteem you?" Carried away by desire to helpthe old man, he put his hand kindly on his shoulder. "You have neverrespected yourself, " he said, "since the night you and my motherparted at the Cuttle Well, and my heart bleeds to think of it. Many ayear ago, by your kindness to two forlorn children, you expiated thatsin, and it is blotted out from your account. Forget it, Aaron, asevery other person has forgotten it, and let the spirit of Jean Mylessee you tranquil once again. "

He patted Aaron affectionately; he seemed to be the older of the two. 

"Tak' your hand off my shuther, " Aaron cried fiercely. 

Tommy removed his hand, but he continued to look yearningly at thewarper. Another beautiful thought came to him. 

"What are you looking so holy about?" asked Aaron, with misgivings. 

"Aaron, " cried Tommy, suddenly inspired, "you are not always thegloomy man you pass for being. You have glorious moments still. Youwake in the morning, and for a second of time you are in the heyday ofyour youth, and you and Jean Myles are to walk out to-night. As yousit by this fire you think you hear her hand on the latch of the door;as you pass down the street you seem to see her coming towards you. Itis for a moment only, and then you are a gray-haired man again, andshe has been in her grave for many a year; but you have that moment. "

Aaron rose, amazed and wrathful. "The de'il tak' you, " he cried, "howdid you find out that?"

Perhaps Tommy's nose turned up rapturously in reply, for the best ofus cannot command ourselves altogether at great moments, but when hespoke he was modest again. 

"It was sympathy that told me, " he explained; "and, Aaron, if you willonly believe me, it tells me also that a little of the man you werestill clings to you. Come out of the moroseness in which you haveenveloped yourself so long. Think what a joy it would be to Elspeth. "

"It's little she would care. "

"If you want to hurt her, tell her so. "

"I'm no denying but what she's fell fond o' me. "

"Then for her sake, " Tommy pleaded. 

But the warper turned on him with baleful eyes. "She likes me, " hesaid in a grating voice, "and yet I'm as nothing to her; we are all asnothing to her beside you. If there hadna been you I should hae becomethe father to her I craved to be; but you had mesmerized her; she hadeyes for none but you. I sent you to the herding, meaning to breakyour power over her, and all she could think o' was my cruelty insindering you. Syne you ran aff wi' her to London, stealing her fraeme. I was without her while she was growing frae lassie to woman, theyears when maybe she could hae made o' me what she willed. MagerfulTam took the mother frae me, and he lived again in you to tak' thedochter. "

"You really think me masterful--me!" Tommy said, smiling. 

"I suppose you never were!" Aaron replied ironically. 

"Yes, " Tommy admitted frankly, "I was masterful as a boy, ah, and evenquite lately. How we change!" he said musingly. 

"How we dinna change!" retorted Aaron, bitterly. He had learned thetruer philosophy. 

"Man, " he continued, looking Tommy over, "there's times when I seemair o' your mother than your father in you. She was a wonder atmaking believe. The letters about her grandeur that she wrote toThrums when she was starving! Even you couldna hae wrote them better. But she never managed to cheat hersel'. That's whaur you sail awayfrae her. "

"I used to make believe, Aaron, as you say, " Tommy replied sadly. "Ifyou knew how I feel the folly of it now, perhaps even you would wishthat I felt it less. 

"But we must each of us dree his own weird, " he proceeded, withwonderful sweetness, when Aaron did not answer. "And so far, at least, as Elspeth is concerned, surely I have done my duty. I had thebringing up of her from the days when she was learning to speak. "

"She got into the way o' letting you do everything for her, " thewarper responded sourly. "You thought for her, you acted for her, fraethe first; you toomed her, and then filled her up wi' yoursel'. "

"She always needed some one to lean on. "

"Ay, because you had maimed her. She grew up in the notion that youwere all the earth and the wonder o' the world. "

"Could I help that?"

"Help it! Did you try? It was the one thing you were sure o' yoursel';it was the one thing you thought worth anybody's learning. You stoodbefore her crowing the whole day. I said the now I wished you would goand leave her wi' me: but I wouldna dare to keep her; she's helplesswithout you; if you took your arm awa frae her now, she would tumbleto the ground. "

"I fear it is true, Aaron, " Tommy said, with bent head. "Whether sheis so by nature, or whether I have made her so, I cannot tell, but Ifear that what you say is true. "

"It's true, " said Aaron, "and yours is the wite. There's no life forher now except what you mak'; she canna see beyond you. Go on thinkingyoursel' a wonder if you like, but mind this: if you were to cast heroff frae you now, she would die like an amputated hand. "

To Tommy it was like listening to his doom. Ah, Aaron, even you couldnot withhold your pity, did you know how this man is being punishednow for having made Elspeth so dependent on him! Some such thoughtpassed through Tommy's head, but he was too brave to appeal for pity. "If that is so, " he said firmly, "I take the responsibility for it. But I began this talk, Aaron, not to intrude my troubles on you, buthoping to lighten yours. If I could see you smile, Aaron----"

"Drop it!" cried the warper; and then, going closer to him: "You wouldhae seen me smile, ay, and heard me laugh, gin you had been here whenMrs. McLean came yont to read your book to me. She fair insistit onreading the terrible noble bits to me, and she grat they were sosublime; but the sublimer they were, the mair I laughed, for I kenyou, Tommy, my man, I ken you. "

He spoke with much vehemence, and, after all, our hero was notperfect. He withdrew stiffly to the other room. I think it was the useof the word Tommy that enraged him. 

But in a very few minutes he scorned himself, and was possessed by apensive wonder that one so tragically fated as he could resent an oldman's gibe. Aaron misunderstood him. Was that any reason why he shouldnot feel sorry for Aaron? He crossed the hallan to the kitchen door, and stopped there, overcome with pity. The warper was still crouchingby the fire, but his head rested on his chest; he was a weary, desolate figure, and at the other side of the hearth stood an emptychair. The picture was the epitome of his life, or so it seemed to thesympathetic soul at the door, who saw him passing from youth to oldage, staring at the chair that must always be empty. At the samemoment Tommy saw his own future, and in it, too, an empty chair. Yet, hard as was his own case, at least he knew that he was loved; if herchair must be empty, the fault was as little hers as his, whileAaron----

A noble compassion drew him forward, and he put his hand determinedlyon the dear old man's shoulder. 

"Aaron, " he said, in a tremble of pity, "I know what is the realsorrow of your life, and I rejoice because I can put an end to it. Youthink that Jean Myles never cared for you; but you are strangelywrong. I was with my mother to the last, Aaron, and I can tell you, she asked me with her dying breath to say to you that she loved youall the time. "

Aaron tried to rise, but was pushed back into his chair. "Love cannotdie, " cried Tommy, triumphantly, like the fairy in the pantomime;"love is always young----"

He stopped in mid-career at sight of Aaron's disappointing face. "Areyou done?" the warper inquired. "When you and me are alane in thishouse there's no room for the both o' us, and as I'll never hae itsaid that I made Jean Myles's bairn munt, I'll go out mysel'. "

And out he went, and sat on the dyke till Elspeth came home. It didnot turn Tommy sulky. He nodded kindly to Aaron from the window intoken of forgiveness, and next day he spent a valuable hour in makinga cushion for the old man's chair. "He must be left with theimpression that you made it, " Tommy explained to Elspeth, "for hewould not take it from me. "

"Oh, Tommy, how good you are!"

"I am far from it, Elspeth. "

"There is a serenity about you nowadays, " she said, "that I don't seemto have noticed before, " and indeed this was true; it was the serenitythat comes to those who, having a mortal wound, can no more betroubled by the pinpricks. 

"There has been nothing to cause it, has there?" Elspeth askedtimidly. 

"Only the feeling that I have much to be grateful for, " he replied. "Ihave you, Elspeth. "

"And I have you, " she said, "and I want no more. I could never carefor anyone as I care for you, Tommy. "

She was speaking unselfishly; she meant to imply delicately that thedoctor's defection need not make Tommy think her unhappy. "Are youglad?" she asked. 

He said Yes bravely. Elspeth, he was determined, should never have thedistress of knowing that for her sake he was giving up the one greatjoy which life contains. He was a grander character than most. Menhave often in the world's history made a splendid sacrifice for women, but if you turn up the annals you will find that the woman nearlyalways knew of it. 

He told Grizel what Aaron had said and what Elspeth had said. He couldkeep nothing from her now; he was done with the world of make-believefor ever. And it seemed wicked of him to hope, he declared, or to lether hope. "I ought to give you up, Grizel, " he said, with a groan. 

"I won't let you, " she replied adorably. 

"Gemmell has not come near us for a week. I ask him in, but he avoidsthe house. "

"I don't understand it, " Grizel had to admit; "but I think he is fondof her, I do indeed. "

"Even if that were so, I fear she would not accept him. I know Elspethso well that I feel I am deceiving you if I say there is any hope. "

"Nevertheless you must say it, " she answered brightly; "you must sayit and leave me to think it. And I do think it. I believe thatElspeth, despite her timidity and her dependence on you, is like othergirls at heart, and not more difficult to win. 

"And even if it all comes to nothing, " she told him, a little faintly, "I shall not be unhappy. You don't really know me if you think Ishould love to be married so--so much as all that. "

"It is you, Grizel, " he replied, "who don't see that it is myself I ampitying. It is I who want to be married as much as all that. "

Her eyes shone with a soft light, for of course it was what she wantedhim to say. These two seemed to have changed places. That people couldlove each other, and there the end, had been his fond philosophy andher torment. Now, it was she who argued for it and Tommy who shook hishead. 

"They can be very, very happy. "

"No, " he said. 

"But one of them is. "

"Not the other, " he insisted; and of course it was again what shewanted him to say. 

And he was not always despairing. He tried hard to find a way ofbringing David to Elspeth's feet, and once, at least, the apparentlyreluctant suitor almost succumbed. Tommy had met him near Aaron'shouse, and invited him to come in and hear Elspeth singing. "I did notknow she sang, " David said, hesitating. 

"She is so shy about it, " Tommy replied lightly, "that we can hear herby stealth only. Aaron and I listen at the door. Come and listen atthe door. "

And David had yielded and listened at the door, and afterwards gone inand remained like one who could not tear himself away. What was more, he and Elspeth had touched upon the subject of love in theirconversation, Tommy sitting at the window so engrossed in a letter toPym that he seemed to hear nothing, though he could repeat everythingafterwards to Grizel. 

Elspeth had said, in her shrinking way, that if she were a man shecould love only a woman who was strong and courageous andhelpful--such a woman as Grizel, she had said. 

"And yet, " David replied, "women have been loved who had none of thosequalities. "

"In spite of the want of them?" Elspeth asked. 

"Perhaps because of it, " said he. 

"They are noble qualities, " Elspeth maintained a little sadly, and heassented. "And one of them, at least, is essential, " she said. "Awoman has no right to be loved who is not helpful. "

"She is helpful to the man who loves her, " David replied. 

"He would have to do for her, " Elspeth said, "the very things sheshould be doing for him. "

"He may want very much to do them, " said David. 

"Then it is her weakness that appeals to him. Is not that loving herfor the wrong thing?"

"It may be the right thing, " David insisted, "for him. "

"And at that point, " Tommy said, boyishly, to Grizel, "I ceased tohear them, I was so elated; I felt that everything was coming right. Icould not give another thought to their future, I was so busy mappingout my own. I heard a hammering. Do you know what it was? It was ourhouse going up--your house and mine; our home, Grizel! It was nothere, nor in London. It was near the Thames. I wanted it to be uponthe bank, but you said No, you were afraid of floods. I wanted tosuperintend the building, but you conducted me contemptuously to mydesk. You intimated that I did not know how to build--that no one knewexcept yourself. You instructed the architect, and bullied theworkmen, and cried for more store-closets. Grizel, I saw the house goup; I saw you the adoration and terror of your servants; I heard yousinging from room to room. "

He was touched by this; all beautiful thoughts touched him. 

But as a rule, though Tommy tried to be brave for her sake, it wasusually she who was the comforter now, and he the comforted, and thiswas the arrangement that suited Grizel best. Her one thought need nolonger be that she loved him too much, but how much he loved her. Itwas not her self-respect that must be humoured back, but his. If herslagged, what did it matter? What are her own troubles to a woman whenthere is something to do for the man she loves?

"You are too anxious about the future, " she said to him, if he hadgrown gloomy again. "Can we not be happy in the present, and leave thefuture to take care of itself?" How strange to know that it was Grizelwho said this to Tommy, and not Tommy who said it to Grizel!

She delighted in playing the mother to him. "Now you must go back toyour desk, " she would say masterfully. "You have three hours' work todo to-night yet. "

"It can wait. Let me stay a little longer with you, Grizel, " heanswered humbly. Ha! it was Tommy who was humble now. Not so long agohe would not have allowed his work to wait for anyone, and Grizel knewit, and exulted. 

"To work, sir, " she ordered. "And you must put on your old coat beforeyou sit down to write, and pull up your cuffs so that they don'tscrape on the desk. Also, you must not think too much about me. "

She tried to look businesslike, but she could scarce resist rockingher arms with delight when she heard herself saying such things tohim. It was as if she had the old doctor once more in her hands. 

"What more, Grizel? I like you to order me about. "

"Only this. Good afternoon. "

"But I am to walk home with you, " he entreated. 

"No, " she said decisively; but she smiled: once upon a time it hadbeen she who asked for this. 

"If you are good, " she said, "you shall perhaps see me to-morrow. "

"Perhaps only?" He was scared; but she smiled happily again: it hadonce been she who had to beg that there should be no perhaps. 

"If you are good, " she replied, --"and you are not good when you havesuch a long face. Smile, you silly boy; smile when I order you. If youdon't I shall not so much as look out at my window to-morrow. "

He was the man who had caused her so much agony, and she was lookingat him with the eternally forgiving smile of the mother. "Ah, Grizel, "Tommy cried passionately, "how brave and unselfish and noble you are, and what a glorious wife God intended you to be!"

She broke from him with a little cry, but when she turned round againit was to nod and smile to him. 

CHAPTER XX

A LOVE-LETTER

Some beautiful days followed, so beautiful to Grizel that as theypassed away she kissed her hand to them. Do you see her standing ontiptoe to see the last of them? They lit a fire in the chamber of hersoul which is the home of all pure maids, and the fagots that warmedGrizel were every fond look that had been on her lover's face andevery sweet word he had let fall. She counted and fondled them, andpretended that one was lost that she might hug it more than all theothers when it was found. To sit by that fire was almost better thanhaving the days that lit it; sometimes she could scarcely wait for theday to go. 

Tommy's fond looks and sweet words! There was also a letter in thosedays, and, now that I remember, a little garnet ring; and there were afew other fagots, but all so trifling it must seem incredible to youthat they could have made so great a blaze--nothing else in it, on myhonour, except a girl's heart added by herself that the fire mightburn a moment longer. 

And now, what so chilly as the fire that has gone out! Gone out longago, dear Grizel, while you crouched over it. You may put your hand inthe ashes; they will not burn you now. Ah, Grizel, why do you sitthere in the cold?

The day of the letter! It began in dread, but ended so joyfully, doyou think Grizel grudged the dread? It became dear to her; she lovedto return to it and gaze at the joy it glorified, as one sees thesunshine from a murky room. When she heard the postman's knock she wasnot even curious; so few letters came to her, she thought this must beMaggy Ann's monthly one from Aberdeen, and went on placidly dusting. At last she lifted it from the floor, for it had been slipped beneaththe door, and then Grizel was standing in her little lobby, panting asif at the end of a race. The letter lay in both her hands, and theyrose slowly until they were pressed against her breast. 

She uttered some faint cries (it was the only moment in which I haveknown Grizel to be hysterical), and then she ran to her room andlocked herself in--herself and it. Do you know why that look ofelation had come suddenly to her face? It was because he had not evenwritten the address in a disguised hand to deceive the postmistress. So much of the old Grizel was gone that the pathos of her elation overthis was lost to her. 

Several times she almost opened it. Why did she pause? why had thatfrightened look come into her eyes? She put the letter on her tableand drew away from it. If she took a step nearer, her hands wentbehind her back as if saying, "Grizel, don't ask us to open it; we areafraid. "

Perhaps it really did say the dear things that love writes. Perhaps itwas aghast at the way she was treating it. Dear letter! Her mouthsmiled to it, but her hands remained afraid. As she stood irresolute, smiling, and afraid, she was a little like her mother. I have put offas long as possible saying that Grizel was ever like her mother. ThePainted Lady had never got any letters while she was in Thrums, butshe looked wistfully at those of other people. "They are so pretty, "she had said; "but don't open them: when you open them they break yourheart. " Grizel remembered what her mother had said. 

Had the old Grizel feared what might be inside, it would have made heropen the letter more quickly. Two minds to one person were unendurableto her. But she seemed to be a coward now. It was pitiable. 

Perhaps it was quite a common little letter, beginning "Dear Grizel, "and saying nothing more delicious or more terrible than that he wantedher to lend him one of the doctor's books. She thought of a score oftrivialities it might be about; but the letter was still unopened whenDavid Gemmell called to talk over some cases in which he required hercounsel. He found her sitting listlessly, something in her lap whichshe at once concealed. She failed to follow his arguments, and he wentaway puckering his brows, some of the old doctor's sayings about herringing loud in his ears. 

One of them was: "Things will be far wrong with Grizel when she isable to sit idle with her hands in her lap. "

Another: "She is almost pitifully straightforward, man. Everythingthat is in Grizel must out. She can hide nothing. "

Yet how cunningly she had concealed what was in her hands. Cunningapplied to Grizel! David shuddered. He thought of Tommy, and shut hismouth tight. He could do this easily. Tommy could not do it withoutfeeling breathless. They were types of two kinds of men. 

David also remembered a promise he had given McQueen, and wondered, ashe had wondered a good deal of late, whether the time had come to keepit. 

But Grizel sat on with her unopened letter. She was to meet Tommypresently on the croquet lawn of the Dovecot, when Ailie was to playMr. James (the champion), and she decided that she must wait tillthen. She would know what sort of letter it was the moment she saw hisface. And then! She pressed her hands together. 

Oh, how base of her to doubt him! She said it to herself then andoften afterwards. She looked mournfully in her mother's long mirror atthis disloyal Grizel, as if the capacity to doubt him was the saddestof all the changes that had come to her. He had been so trueyesterday; oh, how could she tremble to-day? Beautiful yesterday! butyesterday may seem so long ago. How little a time had passed betweenthe moment when she was greeting him joyously in Caddam Wood and thatcry of the heart, "How could you hurt your Grizel so!" No, she couldnot open her letter. She could kiss it, but she could not open it. 

Foolish fears! for before she had shaken hands with Tommy in Mrs. McLean's garden she knew he loved her still, and that the letterproved it. She was properly punished, yet surely in excess, for whenshe might have been reading her first love-letter, she had to join indiscussions with various ladies about Berlin wool and the like, and toapplaud the prowess of Mr. James with the loathly croquet mallet. Itseemed quite a long time before Tommy could get a private word withher. Then he began about the letter at once. 

"You are not angry with me for writing it?" he asked anxiously. "Ishould not have done it; I had no right: but such a desire to do itcame over me, I had to; it was such a glory to me to say in writingwhat you are to me. "

She smiled happily. Oh, exquisite day! "I have so long wanted to havea letter from you, " she said. "I have almost wished you would go awayfor a little time, so that I might have a letter from you. "

He had guessed this. He had written to give her delight. 

"Did you like the first words of it, Grizel?" he asked eagerly. 

The lover and the artist spoke together. 

Could she admit that the letter was unopened, and why? Oh, the pain tohim! She nodded assent. It was not really an untruth, she toldherself. She did like them--oh, how she liked them, though she did notknow what they were!

"I nearly began 'My beloved, '" he said solemnly. 

Somehow she had expected it to be this. "Why didn't you?" she asked, alittle disappointed. 

"I like the other so much better, " he replied. "To write it was sodelicious to me, I thought you would not mind. "

"I don't mind, " she said hastily. (What could it be?)

"But you would have preferred 'beloved'?"

"It is such a sweet name. "

"Surely not so sweet as the other, Grizel?"

"No, " she said, "no. " (Oh, what could it be!)

"Have you destroyed it?" he asked, and the question was a shock toher. Her hand rose instinctively to defend something that lay near herheart. 

"I could not, " she whispered. 

"Do you mean you wanted to?" he asked dolefully. 

"I thought you wanted it, " she murmured. 

"I!" he cried, aghast, and she was joyous again. 

"Can't you guess where it is?" she said. 

He understood. "Grizel! You carry my letter there!"

She was full of glee; but she puzzled him presently. 

"Do you think I could go now?" she inquired eagerly. 

"And leave me?"

It was dreadful of her, but she nodded. 

"I want to go home. "

"Is it not home, Grizel, when you are with me?"

"I want to go away from home, then. " She said it as if she loved totantalize him. 

"But why?"

"I won't tell you. " She was looking wistfully at the door. "I havesomething to do. "

"It can wait. "

"It has waited too long. " He might have heard an assenting rustle frombeneath her bodice. 

"Do let me go, " she said coaxingly, as if he held her. 

"I can't understand----" he began, and broke off. She was facing himdemurely but exultantly, challenging him, he could see, to read hernow. "Just when I am flattering myself that I know everything aboutyou, Grizel, " he said, with a long face, "I suddenly wonder whether Iknow anything. "

She would have liked to clap her hands. "You must remember that wehave changed places, " she told him. "It is I who understand you now. "

"And I am devoutly glad, " he made answer, with humble thankfulness. "And I must ask you, Grizel, why you want to run away from me. "

"But you think you know, " she retorted smartly. "You think I want toread my letter again!"

Her cleverness staggered him. "But I am right, am I not, Grizel?"

"No, " she said triumphantly, "you are quite wrong. Oh, if you knew howwrong you are!" And having thus again unhorsed him, she made herexcuses to Ailie and slipped away. Dr. Gemmell, who was present andhad been watching her narrowly, misread the flush on her face and herrestless desire to be gone. 

"Is there anything between those two, do you think?" Mrs. McLean hadsaid in a twitter to him while Tommy and Grizel were talking, and hehad answered No almost sharply. 

"People are beginning to think there is, " she said in self-defence. 

"They are mistaken, " he told her curtly, and it was about this timethat Grizel left. David followed her to her home soon afterwards, andMaggy Ann, who answered his summons, did not accompany him upstairs. He was in the house daily, and she left him to find Grizel forhimself. He opened the parlour door almost as he knocked, and she wasthere, but had not heard him. He stopped short, like one who hadblundered unawares on what was not for him. 

She was on her knees on the hearth-rug, with her head buried in whathad been Dr. McQueen's chair. Ragged had been the seat of it on theday when she first went to live with him, but very early on thefollowing morning, or, to be precise, five minutes after daybreak, hehad risen to see if there were burglars in the parlour, and behold, itwas his grateful little maid repadding the old arm-chair. How asituation repeats itself! Without disturbing her, the old doctor hadslipped away with a full heart. It was what the young doctor did now. 

But the situation was not quite the same. She had been bubbling overwith glee then; she was sobbing now. David could not know that it wasa sob of joy; he knew only that he had never seen her crying before, and that it was the letter in her hands that had brought tears at lastto those once tranquil and steadfast eyes. 

In an odd conversation which had once taken place in that room betweenthe two doctors, Gemmell had said: "But the time may come without myknowing it. " And McQueen's reply was: "I don't think so, for she is soopen; but I'll tell you this, David, as a guide. I never saw her eyeswet. It is one of the touching things about her that she has the eyesof a man, to whom it is a shame to cry. If you ever see her greeting, David, I'm sore doubting that the time will have come. "

As David Gemmell let himself softly out of the house, to return to itpresently, he thought the time had come. What he conceived he had todo was a hard thing, but he never thought of not doing it. He had kepthimself in readiness to do it for many days now, and he walked to itas firmly as if he were on his professional rounds. He did not knowthat the skin round his eyes had contracted, giving them the look ofpain which always came there when he was sorry or pitiful orindignant. He was not well acquainted with his eyes, and, had heglanced at them now in a glass, would have presumed that this wastheir usual expression. 

Grizel herself opened the door to him this time, and "Maggy Ann, he isfound!" she cried victoriously. Evidently she had heard of hisprevious visit. "We have searched every room in the house for you, "she said gaily, "and had you disappeared for much longer, Maggy Annwould have had the carpets up. "

He excused himself on the ground that he had forgotten something, andshe chided him merrily for being forgetful. As he sat with her Davidcould have groaned aloud. How vivacious she had become! but she wassparkling in false colours. After what he knew had been her distressof a few minutes ago, it was a painted face to him. She was trying todeceive him. Perhaps she suspected that he had seen her crying, andnow, attired in all a woman's wiles, she was defying him to believehis eyes. 

Grizel garbed in wiles! Alack the day! She was shielding the man, andGemmell could have driven her away roughly to get at him. But she wasalso standing over her own pride, lest anyone should see that it hadfallen; and do you think that David would have made her budge an inch?

Of course she saw that he had something on his mind. She knew thosepuckered eyes so well, and had so often smoothed them for him. 

"What is it, David?" she asked sympathetically. "I see you have comeas a patient to-night. "

"As one of those patients, " he rejoined, "who feel better at meresight of the doctor. "

"Fear of the prescription?" said she. 

"Not if you prescribe yourself, Grizel. "

"David!" she cried. He had been paying compliments!

"I mean it. "

"So I can see by your face. Oh, David, how stern you look!"

"Dr. McQueen and I, " he retorted, "used to hold private meetings afteryou had gone to bed, at which we agreed that you should no longer beallowed to make fun of us. They came to nothing. Do you know why?"

"Because I continued to do it?"

"No; but because we missed it so much if you stopped. "

"You are nice to-night, David, " she said, dropping him a courtesy. 

"We liked all your bullying ways, " he went on. "We were children inyour masterful hands. "

"I was a tyrant, David, " she said, looking properly ashamed. "I wonderyou did not marry, just to get rid of me. "

"Have you ever seriously wondered why I don't marry?" he askedquickly. 

"Oh, David, " she exclaimed, "what else do you think your patients andI talk of when I am trying to nurse them? It has agitated the townever since you first walked up the Marrywellbrae, and we can't get onwith our work for thinking of it. "

"Seriously, Grizel?"

She became grave at once. "If you could find the right woman, " shesaid wistfully. 

"I have found her, " he answered; and then she pressed her handstogether, too excited to speak. 

"If she would only care a little for me, " he said. 

Grizel rocked her arms. "I am sure she does, " she cried. "David, I amso glad!"

He saw what her mistake was, but pretended not to know that she hadmade one. "Are you really glad that I love you, Grizel?" he asked. 

It seemed to daze her for a moment. "Not me, David, " she said softly, as if correcting him. "You don't mean that it is me?" she saidcoaxingly. "David, " she cried, "say it is not me!"

He drooped his head, but not before he had seen all the brightness dieout of her face. "Is it so painful to you even to hear me say it?" heasked gravely. 

Her joy had been selfish as her sorrow was. For nigh a minute she hadbeen thinking of herself alone, it meant so much to her; but now shejumped up and took his hand in hers. 

"Poor David!" she said, making much of his hand as if she had hurt it. But David Gemmell's was too simple a face to oppose to her pityingeyes, and presently she let his hand slip from her and stood regardinghim curiously. He had to look another way, and then she even smiled, alittle forlornly. 

"Do you mind talking it over with me, Grizel?" he asked. "I havealways been well aware that you did not care for me in that way, butnevertheless I believe you might do worse. "

"No woman could do better, " she answered gravely. "I should like youto talk it over, David, if you begin at the beginning"; and she satdown with her hands crossed. 

"I won't say what a good thing it would be for me, " was his beginning;"we may take that for granted. "

"I don't think we can, " she remarked; "but it scarcely matters atpresent. That is not the beginning, David. "

He was very anxious to make it the beginning. 

"I am weary of living in lodgings, " he said. "The practice suffers bymy not being married. Many patients dislike being attended by a singleman. I ought to be in McQueen's house; it has been so long known asthe doctor's house. And you should be a doctor's wife--you who couldalmost be the doctor. It would be a shame, Grizel, if you who are somuch to patients were to marry out of the profession. Don't you followme?"

"I follow you, " she replied; "but what does it matter? You have notbegun at the beginning. " He looked at her inquiringly. "You mustbegin, " she informed him, "by saying why you ask me to marry you whenyou don't love me. " She added, in answer to another look from him:"You know you don't. " There was a little reproach in it. "Oh, David, what made you think I could be so easily taken in!"

He looked so miserable that by and by she smiled, not so tremulouslyas before. 

"How bad at it you are, David!" she said. 

And how good at it she was! he thought gloomily. 

"Shall I help you out?" she asked gently, but speaking with dignity. "You think I am unhappy; you believe I am in the position in which youplaced yourself, of caring for someone who does not care for me. "

"Grizel, I mistrust him. "

She flushed; she was not quite so gentle now. "And so you offer meyour hand to save me! It was a great self-sacrifice, David, but youused not to be fond of doing showy things. "

"I did not mean it to be showy, " he answered. 

She was well aware of that, but--"Oh, David, " she cried, "that youshould believe I needed it! How little you must think of me!"

"Does it look as if I thought little of you?" he said. 

"Little of my strength, David, little of my pride. "

"I think so much of them that how could I stand by silently and watchthem go?"

"You think you have seen that!" She was agitated now. 

He hesitated. "Yes, " he said courageously. 

Her eyes cried, "David, how could you be so cruel!" but they did notdaunt him. 

"Have you not seen it yourself, Grizel?" he said. 

She pressed her hands together. "I was so happy, " she said, "until youcame!"

"Have you not seen it yourself?" he asked again. 

"There may be better things, " she retorted, "than those you rate sohighly. "

"Not for you, " he said. 

"If they are gone, " she told him, with a flush of resentment, "it isnot you who can bring them back. "

"But let me try, Grizel, " said he. 

"David, can I not even make you angry with me?"

"No, Grizel, you can't. I am very sorry that I can make you angry withme. "

"I am not, " she said dispiritedly. "It would be contemptible in me. "And then, eagerly: "But, David, you have made a great mistake, indeedyou have. You--you are a dreadful bungler, sir!" She was trying tomake his face relax, with a tremulous smile from herself to encouragehim; but the effort was not successful. "You see, I can't even bullyyou now!" she said. "Did that capacity go with the others, David?"

"Try a little harder, " he replied. "I think you will find that Isubmit to it still"

"Very well. " She forced some gaiety to her aid. After all, how couldshe let his monstrous stupidity wound a heart protected by such aletter?

"You have been a very foolish and presumptuous boy, " she began. Shewas standing up, smiling, wagging a reproachful but nervous finger athim. "If it were not that I have a weakness for seeing medical menmaking themselves ridiculous so that I may put them right, I should bevery indignant with you, sir. "

"Put me right, Grizel, " he said. He was sure she was trying to blindhim again. 

"Know, then, David, that I am not the poor-spirited, humble creatureyou seem to have come here in search of--"

"But you admitted--"

"How dare you interrupt me, sir! Yes, I admit that I am not quite as Iwas, but I glory in it. I used to be ostentatiously independent; now Iam only independent enough. My pride made me walk on air; now I walkon the earth, where there is less chance of falling. I have stillconfidence in myself; but I begin to see that ways are not necessarilyright because they are my ways. In short, David, I am evidently on theroad to being a model character!"

They were gay words, but she ended somewhat faintly. 

"I was satisfied with you as you were, " was the doctor's comment. 

"I wanted to excel!"

"You explain nothing, Grizel, " he said reproachfully. "Why have youchanged so?"

"Because I am so happy. Do you remember how, in the old days, Isometimes danced for joy? I could do it now. "

"Are you engaged to be married, Grizel?"

She took a quiet breath. "You have no right to question me in thisway, " she said. "I think I have been very good in bearing with you solong. "

But she laid aside her indignation at once; he was so old a friend, the sincerity of him had been so often tried. "If you must know, David, " she said, with a girlish frankness that became her better, "Iam not engaged to be married. And I must tell you nothing more, " sheadded, shutting her mouth decisively. She must be faithful to herpromise. 

"He forbids it?" Gemmell asked mercilessly. 

She stamped her foot, not in rage, but in hopelessness. "How incapableyou are of doing him justice!" she cried. "If you only knew----"

"Tell me. I want to do him justice. "

She sat down again, sighing. "My attempt to regain my old power overyou has not been very successful, has it, David? We must not quarrel, though"--holding out her hand, which he grasped. "And you won'tquestion me any more?" She said it appealingly. 

"Never again, " he answered. "I never wanted to question you, Grizel. Iwanted only to marry you. "

"And that can't be. "

"I don't see it, " he said, so stoutly that she was almost amused. Buthe would not be pushed aside. He had something more to say. 

"Dr. McQueen wished it, " he said; "above all else in the world hewished it. He often told me so. "

"He never said that to me, " Grizel replied quickly. 

"Because he thought that to press you was no way to make you care forme. He hoped that it would come about. "

"It has not come about, David, with either of us, " she said gently. "Iam sure that would have been sufficient answer to him. "

"No, Grizel, it would not, not now. "

He had risen, and his face was whiter than she had ever seen it. 

"I am going to hurt you, Grizel, " he said, and every word was a pangto him. "I see no other way. It has got to be done. Dr. McQueen oftentalked to me about the things that troubled you when you were a littlegirl--the morbid fears you had then, and that had all been swept awayyears before I knew you. But though they had been long gone, you wereso much to him that he tried to think of everything that might happento you in the future, and he foresaw that they might possibly comeback. 'If she were ever to care for some false loon!' he has said tome, and then, Grizel, he could not go on. "

Grizel beat her hands. "If he could not go on, " she said, "it was notbecause he feared what I should do. "

"No, no, " David answered eagerly, "he never feared for that, but foryour happiness. He told me of a boy who used to torment you, oh, allso long ago, and of such little account that he had forgotten hisname. But that boy has come back, and you care for him, and he is afalse loon, Grizel. "

She had risen too, and was flashing fire on David; but he went on. 

"'If the time ever comes, ' he said to me, 'when you see her in torturefrom such a cause, speak to her openly about it. Tell her it is I whoam speaking through you. It will be a hard task to you, but wrestlethrough with it, David, in memory of any little kindness I may havedone you, and the great love I bore my Grizel. '"

She was standing rigid now. "Is there any more, David?" she said in alow voice. 

"Only this. I admired you then as I admire you now. I may not loveyou, Grizel, but of this I am very sure"--he was speaking steadily, hewas forgetting no one--"that you are the noblest and bravest woman Ihave ever known, and I promised--he did not draw the promise from me, I gave it to him--that if I was a free man and could help you in anyway without paining you by telling you these things, I would try thatway first. "

"And this is the way?"

"I could think of no other. Is it of no avail?"

She shook her head. "You have made such a dreadful mistake, " she criedmiserably, "and you won't see it. Oh, how you wrong him! I am thehappiest girl in the world, and it is he who makes me so happy. But Ican't explain. You need not ask me; I promised, and I won't. "

"You used not to be so fond of mystery, Grizel. "

"I am not fond of it now. "

"Ah, it is he, " David said bitterly, and he lifted his hat. "Is therenothing you will let me do for you, Grizel?" he cried. 

"I thought you were to do so much for me when you came into thisroom, " she admitted wistfully, "and said that you were in love. Ithought it was with another woman. "

He remembered that her face had brightened. "How could that havehelped you?" he asked. 

She saw that she had but to tell him, and for her sake he would do itat once. But she could not be so selfish. 

"We need not speak of that now, " she said. 

"We must speak of it, " he answered. "Grizel, it is but fair to me. Itmay be so important to me. "

"You have shown that you don't care for her, David, and that ends it. "

"Who is it?" He was much stirred. 

"If you don't know----"

"Is it Elspeth?"

The question came out of him like a confession, and hope turned Grizelgiddy. 

"Do you love her, David?" she cried. 

But he hesitated. "Is what you have told me true, that it would helpyou?" he asked, looking her full in the eyes. 

"Do you love her?" she implored, but he was determined to have heranswer first. 

"Is it, Grizel?"

"Yes, yes. Do you, David?"

And then he admitted that he did, and she rocked her arms in joy. 

"But oh, David, to say such things to me when you were not a free man!How badly you have treated Elspeth to-day!"

"She does not care for me, " he said. 

"Have you asked her?"--in alarm. 

"No; but could she?"

"How could she help it?" She would not tell him what Tommy thought. Oh, she must do everything to encourage David. 

"And still, " said he, puzzling, "I don't see how it can affect you. "

"And I can't tell you, " she moaned. "Oh, David, do, do find out. Whyare you so blind?" She could have shaken him. "Don't you see that onceElspeth was willing to be taken care of by some other person----I mustnot tell you!"

"Then he would marry you?"

She cried in anxiety: "Have I told you, or did you find out?"

"I found out, " he said. "Is it possible he is so fond of her as that?"

"There never was such a brother, " she answered. She could not helpadding, "But he is still fonder of me. "

The doctor pulled his arm over his eyes and sat down again. Presentlyhe was saying with a long face: "I came here to denounce the cause ofyour unhappiness, and I begin to see it is myself. "

"Of course it is, you stupid David, " she said gleefully. She was verykind to the man who had been willing to do so much for her; but as thedoor closed on him she forgot him. She even ceased to hear the warningvoice he had brought with him from the dead. She was re-reading theletter that began by calling her wife. 

CHAPTER XXI

THE ATTEMPT TO CARRY ELSPETH BY NUMBERS

That was one of Grizel's beautiful days, but there were others tofollow as sweet, if not so exciting; she could travel back through thelong length of them without coming once to a moment when she had heldher breath in sudden fear; and this was so delicious that shesometimes thought these were the best days of all. 

Of course she had little anxieties, but they were nearly all aboutDavid. He was often at Aaron's house now, and what exercised her wasthis--that she could not be certain that he was approaching Elspeth inthe right way. The masterful Grizel seemed to have come to life again, for, evidently, she was convinced that she alone knew the right way. 

"Oh, David, I would not have said that to her!" she told him, when hereported progress; and now she would warn him, "You are too humble, "and again, "You were over-bold. " The doctor, to his bewilderment, frequently discovered, on laying results before her, that what he hadlooked upon as encouraging signs were really bad, and that, on theother hand, he had often left the cottage disconsolately when he oughtto have been strutting. The issue was that he lost all faith in hisown judgment, and if Grizel said that he was getting on well, his facebecame foolishly triumphant, but if she frowned, it cried, "All isover!"

Of the proposal Tommy did not know; it seemed to her that she had noright to tell even him of that; but the rest she did tell him: thatDavid, by his own confession, was in love with Elspeth; and so pleasedwas Tommy that his delight made another day for her to cherish. 

So now everything depended on Elspeth. "Oh, if she only would!" Grizelcried, and for her sake Tommy tried to look bright, but his head shookin spite of him. 

"Do you mean that we should discourage David?" she asked dolefully;but he said No to that. 

"I was afraid, " she confessed, "that as you are so hopeless, you mightthink it your duty to discourage him so as to save him the pain of arefusal. "

"Not at all, " Tommy said, with some hastiness. 

"Then you do really have a tiny bit of hope?"

"While there is life there is hope, " he answered. 

She said: "I have been thinking it over, for it is so important to us, and I see various ways in which you could help David, if you would. "

"What would I not do, Grizel! You have to name them only. "

"Well, for instance, you might show her that you have a very highopinion of him. "

"Agreed. But she knows that already. "

"Then, David is an only child. Don't you think you could say that menwho have never had a sister are peculiarly gentle and considerate towomen?"

"Oh, Grizel! But I think I can say that. "

"And--and that having been so long accustomed to doing everything forthemselves, they don't need managing wives as men brought up amongwomen need them. "

"Yes. But how cunning you are, Grizel! Who would have believed it?"

"And then----" She hesitated. 

"Go on. I see by your manner that this is to be a big one. "

"It would be such a help, " she said eagerly, "if you could be just alittle less attentive to her. I know you do ever so much of thehousework because she is not fond of it; and if she has a headache yousit with her all day; and you beg her to play and sing to you, thoughyou really dislike music. Oh, there are scores of things you do forher, and if you were to do them a little less willingly, in such a wayas to show her that they interrupt your work and are a slight trial toyou, I--I am sure that would help!"

"She would see through me, Grizel. Elspeth is sharper than you thinkher. "

"Not if you did it very skilfully. "

"Then she would believe I had grown cold to her, and it would breakher heart. "

"One of your failings, " replied Grizel, giving him her hand for amoment as recompense for what she was about to say, "is that you thinkwomen's hearts break so easily. If, at the slightest sign that shenotices any change in you, you think her heart is breaking, and seizeher in your arms, crying, 'Elspeth, dear little Elspeth!'--and that iswhat your first impulse would be----"

"How well you know me, Grizel!" groaned Sentimental Tommy. 

"If that would be the result, " she went on, "better not do it at all. But if you were to restrain yourself, then she could not but reflectthat many of the things you did for her with a sigh David did forpleasure, and she would compare him and you--"

"To my disadvantage?" Tommy exclaimed, with sad incredulity. "Do youreally think she could, Grizel?"

"Give her the chance, " Grizel continued, "and if you find it hard, youmust remember that what you are doing is for her good. "

"And for ours, " Tommy cried fervently. 

Every promise he made her at this time he fulfilled, and more; he washopeless, but all a man could do to make Elspeth love David he did. 

The doctor was quite unaware of it. "Fortunately, her brother had aheadache yesterday and was lying down, " he told Grizel, with calmbrutality, "so I saw her alone for a few minutes. "

"The fibs I have to invent, " said Tommy, to the same confidante, "toget myself out of their way!"

"Luckily he does not care for music, " David said, "so when she is atthe piano he sometimes remains in the kitchen talking to Aaron. "

Tommy and Aaron left together! Tommy described those scenes with muchgood humour. "I was amazed at first, " he said to Grizel, "to findAaron determinedly enduring me, but now I understand. He wants what wewant. He says not a word about it, but he is watching those twocourting like a born match-maker. Aaron has several reasons for hopingthat Elspeth will get our friend (as he would express it): one, thatthis would keep her in Thrums; another, that to be the wife of adoctor is second only in worldly grandeur to marrying the manse; andthirdly and lastly, because he is convinced that it would be such astaggerer to me. For he thinks I have not a notion of what is goingon, and that, if I had, I would whisk her away to London. "

He gave Grizel the most graphic, solemn pictures of those evenings inthe cottage. "Conceive the four of us gathered round the kitchenfire--three men and a maid; the three men yearning to know what is inthe maid's mind, and each concealing his anxiety from the others. Elspeth gives the doctor a look which may mean much or nothing, and heglares at me as if I were in the way, and I glance at Aaron, and he ison tenterhooks lest I have noticed anything. Next minute, perhaps, David gives utterance to a plaintive sigh, and Aaron and I pounce uponElspeth (with our eyes) to observe its effect on her, and Elspethwonders why Aaron is staring, and he looks apprehensively at me, and Iam gazing absent-mindedly at the fender. 

"You may smile, Grizel, " Tommy would say, "and now that I think of it, I can smile myself, but we are an eerie quartet at the time. When thestrain becomes unendurable, one of us rises and mends the fire withhis foot, and then I think the rest of us could say 'Thank you. ' Wetalk desperately for a little after that, but soon again the awfulpall creeps down. "

"If I were there, " cried Grizel, "I would not have the parlourstanding empty all this time. "

"We are coming to the parlour, " Tommy replies impressively. "Theparlour, Grizel, now begins to stir. Elspeth has disappeared from thekitchen, we three men know not whither. We did not notice her go; wedon't even observe that she has gone--we are too busy looking at thefire. By and by the tremulous tinkling of an aged piano reaches usfrom an adjoining chamber, and Aaron looks at me through his fingers, and I take a lightning glance at Mr. David, and he uncrosses his legsand rises, and sits down again. Aaron, in the most unconcerned way, proceeds to cut tobacco and rub it between his fingers, and I stretchout my legs and contemplate them with passionate approval. While weare thus occupied David has risen, and he is so thoroughly at his easethat he has begun to hum. He strolls round the kitchen, looking withsudden interest at the mantelpiece ornaments; he reads, for thehundredth time, the sampler on the wall. Next the clock engages hisattention; it is ticking, and that seems to impress him as novel andcurious. By this time he has reached the door; it opens to his touch, and in a fit of abstraction he leaves the room. "

"You don't follow him into the parlour?" asks Grizel, anxiously. 

"Follow whom?" Tommy replies severely. "I don't even know that he hasgone to the parlour; now that I think of it, I have not even noticedthat he has left the kitchen; nor has Aaron noticed it. Aaron and Iare not in a condition to notice such things; we are conscious onlythat at last we have the opportunity for the quiet social chat we somuch enjoy in each other's company. That, at least, is Aaron's way oflooking at it, and he keeps me there with talk of the most varied andabsorbing character; one topic down, another up; when very hard put toit, he even questions me about my next book, as if he would like toread the proof-sheets, and when I seem to be listening, a littlerestively, for sounds from the parlour (the piano has stopped), he hasthe face of one who would bar the door rather than lose my society. Aaron appreciates me at my true value at last, Grizel. I had begun todespair almost of ever bringing him under my charm. "

"I should be very angry with you, " Grizel said warningly, "if Ithought you teased the poor old man. "

"Tease him! The consideration I show that poor old man, Grizel, whileI know all the time that he is plotting to diddle me! You should seeme when it is he who is fidgeting to know why the piano has stopped. He stretches his head to listen, and does something to his ear thatsends it another inch nearer the door; he chuckles and groans on thesly; and I--I notice nothing. Oh, he is becoming quite fond of me; hethinks me an idiot. "

"Why not tell him that you want it as much as he?"

"He would not believe me. Aaron is firmly convinced that I am toojealous of Elspeth's affection to give away a thimbleful of it. Heblames me for preventing her caring much even for him. "

"At any rate, " said Grizel, "he is on our side, and it is because hesees it would be so much the best thing for her. "

"And, at the same time, such a shock to me. That poor old man, Grizel!I have seen him rubbing his hands together with glee and looking quiteleery as he thought of what was coming to me. "

But Grizel could not laugh now. When Tommy saw so well through Aaronand David, through everyone he came in contact with, indeed, what hopecould there be that he was deceived in Elspeth?

"And yet she knows what takes him there; she must know it!" she cried. 

"A woman, " Tommy said, "is never sure that a man is in love with heruntil he proposes. She may fancy--but it is never safe to fancy, as somany have discovered. "

"She has no right, " declared Grizel, "to wait until she is sure, ifshe does not care for him. If she fears that he is falling in lovewith her, she knows how to discourage him; there are surely a hundredeasy, kind ways of doing that. "

"Fears he is falling in love with her!" Tommy repeated. "Is any womanever afraid of that?"

He really bewildered her. "No woman would like it, " Grizel answeredpromptly for them all, because she would not have liked it. "She mustsee that it would result only in pain to him. "

"Still----" said Tommy. 

"Oh, but how dense you are!" she said, in surprise. "Don't youunderstand that she would stop him, though it were for no betterreasons than selfish ones? Consider her shame if, in thinking it overafterwards, she saw that she might have stopped him sooner! Why, " shecried, with a sudden smile, "it is in your book! You say: 'Everymaiden carries secretly in her heart an idea of love so pure andsacred that, if by any act she is once false to that conception, herpunishment is that she never dares to look at it again. ' And this isone of the acts you mean. "

"I had not thought of it, though, " he said humbly. He was neverprouder of Grizel than at that moment. "If Elspeth's outlook, " he wenton, "is different----"

"It can't be different. "

"If it is, the fault is mine; yes, though I wrote the passage that youinterpret so nobly, Grizel. Shall I tell you, " he said gently, "what Ibelieve is Elspeth's outlook exactly, just now? She knows that thedoctor is attracted by her, and it gives her little thrills ofexultation; but that it can be love--she puts that question in such alow voice, as if to prevent herself hearing it. And yet she listens, Grizel, like one who would like to know! Elspeth is pitifullydistrustful of anyone's really loving her, and she will never admit toherself that he does until he tells her. "

"And then?"

Tommy had to droop his head. 

"I see you have still no hope!" she said. 

"It would be so easy to pretend I have, " he replied, with longing, "inorder to cheer you for the moment. Oh, it would even be easy to me todeceive myself; but should I do it?"

"No, no, " she said; "anything but that; I can bear anything but that, "and she shuddered. "But we seem to be treating David cruelly. "

"I don't think so, " he assured her. "Men like to have these things tolook back to. But, if you want it, Grizel, I have to say only a wordto Elspeth to bring it to an end. She is as tender as she is innocent, and--but it would be a hard task to me, " he admitted, his heartsuddenly going out to Elspeth; he had never deprived her of anygratification before. "Still, I am willing to do it. "

"No!" Grizel cried, restraining him with her hand. "I am a coward, Isuppose, but I can't help wanting to hope for a little longer, andDavid won't grudge it to me. "

It was but a very little longer that they had to wait. Tommy, returning home one day from a walk with his old school-friend, GavDishart (now M. A. ), found Aaron suspiciously near the parlour keyhole. 

"There's a better fire in the other end, " Aaron said, luring him intothe kitchen. So desirous was he of keeping Tommy there, fixed down ona stool, that "I'll play you at the dambrod, " he said briskly. 

"Anyone with Elspeth?"

"Some women-folk you dinna like, " replied Aaron. 

Tommy rose. Aaron, with a subdued snarl, got between him and the door. 

"I was wondering, merely, " Tommy said, pointing pleasantly tosomething on the dresser, "why one of them wore the doctor's hat. "

"I forgot; he's there, too, " Aaron said promptly; but he looked atTommy with misgivings. They sat down to their game. 

"You begin, " said Tommy; "you're black. " And Aaron opened with theDouble Corner; but so preoccupied was he that it became a variation ofthe Ayrshire lassie, without his knowing. His suspicions had to findvent in words: "You dinna speir wha the women-folk are?"

"No. "

"Do you think I'm just pretending they're there?" Aaron askedapprehensively. 

"Not at all, " said Tommy, with much politeness, "but I thought youmight be mistaken. " He could have "blown" Aaron immediatelythereafter, but, with great consideration, forbore. The old man was sotroubled that he could not lift a king without its falling in two. Hissleeve got in the way of his fingers. At last he sat back in hischair. "Do you ken what is going on, man?" he demanded, "or do you noken? I can stand this doubt no longer. "

A less soft-hearted person might have affected not to understand, butthat was not Tommy's way. "I know, Aaron, " he admitted. "I have knownall the time. " It was said in the kindliest manner, but its effect onAaron was not soothing. 

"Curse you!" he cried, with extraordinary vehemence, "you have beenplaying wi' me a' the time, ay, and wi' him and wi' her!"

What had Aaron been doing with Tommy? But Tommy did not ask that. 

"I am sorry you think so badly of me, " he said quietly. "I have knownall the time, Aaron, but have I interfered?"

"Because you ken she winna take him. I see it plain enough now. Youken your power over her; the honest man that thinks he could take herfrae you is to you but a divert. "

He took a step nearer Tommy. "Listen, " he said. "When you came back hewas on the point o' speiring her; I saw it in his face as she wasplaying the piano, and she saw it, too, for her hands began to trem'leand the tune wouldna play. I daursay you think I was keeking, but if Iwas I stoppit it when the piano stoppit; it was a hard thing to me todo, and it would hae been an easy thing no to do, but I wouldna spyupon Elspeth in her great hour. "

"I like you for that, Aaron, " Tommy said; but Aaron waved his likesaside. 

"The reason I stood at the door, " he continued, "was to keep you outo' that room. I offered to play you at the dambrod to keep you out. Ay, you ken that without my telling you, but do you ken what makes metell you now? It's to see whether you'll go in and stop him; let's seeyou do that, and I'll hae some hope yet. " He waited eagerly. 

"You do puzzle me now, " Tommy said. 

"Ay, " replied the old man, bitterly, "you're dull in the uptak' whenyou like! I dinna ken, I suppose, and you dinna ken, that if you hadthe least dread o' her taking him you would be into that room fullbend to stop it; but you're so sure o' her, you're so michty sure, that you can sit here and lauch instead. "

"Am I laughing, Aaron? If you but knew, Elspeth's marriage would be afar more joyful thing to me than it could ever be to you. "

The old warper laughed unpleasantly at that. "And I'se uphaud, " hesaid, "you're none sure but what shell tak' him! You're no as sureshe'll refuse him as that there's a sun in the heavens, and I'm abroken man. "

For a moment sympathy nigh compelled Tommy to say a hopeful thing, buthe mastered himself. "It would be weakness, " was what he did say, "topretend that there is any hope. "

Aaron gave him an ugly look, and was about to leave the house; butTommy would not have it. "If one of us must go, Aaron, " he said, withmuch gentleness, "let it be me"; and he went out, passing the parlourdoor softly, so that he might not disturb poor David. The warper saton by the fire, his head sunk miserably in his shoulders. Thevehemence had passed out of him; you would have hesitated to believethat such a listless, shrunken man could have been vehement that sameyear. It is a hardy proof of his faith in Tommy that he did not eventhink it worth while to look up when, by and by, the parlour dooropened and the doctor came in for his hat. Elspeth was with him. 

[Illustration: They told Aaron something. ]

They told Aaron something. 

It lifted him off his feet and bore him out at the door. When he madeup on himself he knew he was searching everywhere for Tommy. A terrorseized him, lest he should not be the first to convey the news. 

Had he been left a fortune? neighbours asked, amazed at this unwontedsight; and he replied, as he ran, "I have, and I want to share it wi'him!"

It was his only joke. People came to their doors to see Aaron Lattalaughing. 

CHAPTER XXII

GRIZEL'S GLORIOUS HOUR

Elspeth was to be his wife! David had carried the wondrous promisestraight to Grizel, and now he was gone and she was alone again. 

Oh, foolish Grizel, are you crying, and I thought it was so hard toyou to cry!

"Me crying! Oh, no!"

Put your hand to your cheeks, Grizel. Are they not wet?

"They are wet, and I did not know it! It is hard to me to cry insorrow, but I can cry for joy. I am crying because it has all comeright, and I was so much afraid that it never would. "

Ah, Grizel, I think you said you wanted nothing else so long as youhad his love!

"But God has let it all come right, just the same, and I am thankingHim. That is why I did not know that I was crying. "

She was by the fireplace, on the stool that had always been herfavourite seat, and of course she sat very straight. When Grizelwalked or stood her strong, round figure took a hundred beautifulposes, but when she sat it had but one. The old doctor, inexperimenting moods, had sometimes compelled her to recline, and thenwatched to see her body spring erect the moment he released his hold. "What a dreadful patient I should make!" she said contritely. "I wouldchloroform you, miss, " said he. 

She sat thus for a long time; she had so much for which to thank God, though not with her lips, for how could they keep pace with her heart?Her heart was very full; chiefly, I think, with the tears that rolleddown unknown to her. 

She thanked God, in the name of the little hunted girl who had notbeen taught how to pray, and so did it standing. "I do so want to begood; oh, how sweet it would be to be good!" she had said in that longago. She had said it out loud when she was alone on the chance of Hishearing, but she had not addressed Him by name because she was notsure that he was really called God. She had not even known that youshould end by saying "Amen, " which Tommy afterwards told her is themost solemn part of it. 

How sweet it would be to be good, but how much sweeter it is to begood! The woman that girl had grown into knew that she was good, andshe thanked God for that. She thanked Him for letting her help. If Hehad said that she had not helped, she would have rocked her arms andreplied almost hotly: "You know I have. " And He did know: He had seenher many times in the grip of inherited passions, and watched herfighting with them and subduing them; He had seen ugly thoughtsstealing upon her, as they crawl towards every child of man; ah, Hehad seen them leap into the heart of the Painted Lady's daughter, asif a nest already made for them must be there, and still she haddriven them away. Grizel had helped. The tears came more quickly now. 

She thanked God that she had never worn the ring. But why had shenever worn it, when she wanted so much to do so, and it was hers? Whyhad she watched herself more carefully than ever of late, and forcedhappiness to her face when it was not in her heart, and deniedherself, at fierce moments, the luxuries of grief and despair, andeven of rebellion? For she had carried about with her the capacity torebel, but she had hidden it, and the reason was that she thought Godwas testing her. If she fell He would not give her the thing shecoveted. Unworthy reason for being good, as she knew, but Godoverlooked it, and she thanked Him for that. 

Her hands pressed each other impulsively, as if at the shock of asudden beautiful thought, and then perhaps she was thanking God formaking her the one woman who could be the right wife for Tommy. Shewas so certain that no other woman could help him as she could; noneknew his virtues as she knew them. Had it not been for her, his showyparts only would have been loved; the dear, quiet ones would neverhave heard how dear they were: the showy ones were open to all theworld, but the quiet ones were her private garden. His faults as wellas his virtues passed before her, and it is strange to know that itwas about this time that Grizel ceased to cry and began to smileinstead. I know why she smiled; it was because sentimentality was oneof the little monsters that came skipping into her view, and Tommy wasso confident that he had got rid at last of it! Grizel knew better!But she could look at it and smile. Perhaps she was not sorry that itwas still there with the others, it had so long led the procession. Idaresay she saw herself taking the leering, distorted thing in handand making something gallant of it. She thought that she was toopractical, too much given to seeing but one side to a question, toolacking in consideration for others, too impatient, too relentlesslyjust, and she humbly thanked God for all these faults, because Tommy'sexcesses were in the opposite direction, and she could thus restorethe balance. She was full of humility while she saw how useful shecould be to him, but her face did not show this; she had forgotten herface, and elation had spread over it without her knowing. Perhaps Godaccepted the elation as part of the thanks. 

She thanked God for giving Tommy what he wanted so much--herself. Ah, she had thanked Him for that before, but she did it again. And thenshe went on her knees by her dear doctor's chair, and prayed that shemight be a good wife to Tommy. 

When she rose the blood was not surging through her veins. Instead ofa passion of joy it was a beautiful calm that possessed her, and onnoticing this she regarded herself with sudden suspicion, as we putour ear to a watch to see if it has stopped. She found that she wasstill going, but no longer either fast or slow, and she saw what hadhappened: her old serene self had come back to her. I think shethanked God for that most of all. 

And then she caught sight of her face--oh, oh! Her first practical actas an engaged woman was to wash her face. 

Engaged! But was she? Grizel laughed. It is not usually a laughingmatter, but she could not help that. Consider her predicament. Shecould be engaged at once, if she liked, even before she wiped thewater from her face, or she might postpone it, to let Tommy share. Thecareful reader will have noticed that this problem presented itself toher at an awkward moment. She laughed, in short, while her face wasstill in the basin, with the very proper result that she had to gropefor the towel with her eyes shut. 

It was still a cold, damp face (Grizel was always in such a hurry)when she opened her most precious drawer and took from it a certainglove which was wrapped in silk paper, but was not perhaps quite soconceited as it had been, for, alas and alack! it was now used as awrapper itself. The ring was inside it. If Grizel wanted to beengaged, absolutely and at once, all she had to do was to slip thatring upon her finger. 

It had been hers for a week or more. Tommy had bought it in a certainScottish town whose merchant princes are so many, and have risensplendidly from such small beginnings, that after you have been therea short time you beg to be introduced to someone who has not got on. When you look at them they slap their trouser pockets. When they lookat you they are wondering if you know how much they are worth. Tommy, one day, roaming their streets (in which he was worth incrediblylittle), and thinking sadly of what could never be, saw the modestlittle garnet ring in a jeweller's window, and attached to it was apathetic story. No other person could have seen the story, but it wasas plain to him as though it had been beautifully written on the tagof paper which really contained the price. With his hand on the doorhe paused, overcome by that horror of entering shops without a lady todo the talking, which all men of genius feel (it is the one suretest), hurried away, came back, went to and fro shyly, until he sawthat he was yielding once more to the indecision he thought he had socompletely mastered, whereupon he entered bravely (though it was oneof those detestable doors that ring a bell as they open), and sternlyordered the jeweller, who could have bought and sold our Tommy withone slap on the trouser leg, to hand the ring over to him. 

He had no intention of giving it to Grizel. That, indeed, was part ofits great tragedy, for this is the story Tommy read into the ring:There was once a sorrowful man of twenty-three, and forty, and sixty. Ah, how gray the beard has grown as we speak! How thin the locks! Butstill we know him for the same by that garnet ring. Since it becamehis no other eye has seen it, and yet it is her engagement ring. Nevercan he give it to her, but must always carry it about with him as thepiteous memory of what had never been. How innocent it looked in hishand, and with an innocence that never wore off, not even when he hadreached his threescore years. As it aged it took on another kind ofinnocence only. It looked pitiable now, for there is but a dishonouredage for a lonely little ring which can never see the finger it wasmade to span. 

A hair-shirt! Such it was to him, and he put it on willingly, knowingit could be nothing else. Every smart it gave him pleased, even whileit pained. If ever his mind roamed again to the world of make-believe, that ring would jerk him back to facts. 

Grizel remembered well her finding of it. She had been in his pockets. She loved to rifle them; to pull out his watch herself, instead ofasking him for the time; to exclaim "Oh!" at the many things she foundthere, when they should have been neatly docketed or in the fire, andfrom his waistcoat pocket she drew the ring. She seemed to understandall about it at once. She was far ahead while he was explaining. Itseemed quite strange to her that there had ever been a time when shedid not know of her garnet ring. 

How her arms rocked! It was delicious to her to remember now with whatagony her arms had rocked. She kissed it; she had not been the firstto kiss it. 

It was "Oh, how I wish I could have saved you this pain!"

"But I love it, " she cried, "and I love the pain. "

It was "Am I not to see it on your finger once?"

"No, no; we must not. "

"Let me, Grizel!"

"Is it right, oh, is it right?"

"Only this once!"

"Very well!"

"I dare not, Grizel, I can't! What are we to do with it now?"

"Give it to me. It is mine. I will keep it, beside my glove. "

"Let me keep it, Grizel. "

"No; it is mine. "

"Shall I fling it away?"

"How can you be so cruel? It is mine. "

"Let me bury it. "

"It is mine. "

And of course she had got her way. Could he resist her in anything?They had never spoken of it since, it was such a sad little ring. Sad!It was not in the least little bit sad. Grizel wondered as she lookedat it now how she could ever have thought it sad. 

The object with which she put on her hat was to go to Aaron's cottage, to congratulate Elspeth. So she said to herself. Oh, Grizel!

But first she opened two drawers. They were in a great press and fullof beautiful linen woven in Thrums, that had come to Dr. McQueen as a"bad debt. " "Your marriage portion, young lady, " he had said toGrizel, then but a slip of a girl, whereupon, without waiting tolengthen her frock, she rushed rapturously at her work-basket. "Not atall, miss, " he cried ferociously; "you are here to look after thishouse, not to be preparing for another, and until you are respectablybespoken by some rash crittur of a man, into the drawers with yourlinen and down with those murderous shears. " And she had obeyed; noscissors, the most relentless things in nature when in Grizel's hand, had ever cleaved their way through that snowy expanse; never a stitchhad she put into her linen except with her eyes, which became horriblylike needles as she looked at it. 

And now at last she could begin! Oh, but she was anxious to begin; itis almost a fact that, as she looked at those drawers, she grudged thetime that must be given to-day to Tommy and his ring. 

Do you see her now, ready to start? She was wearing her brown jacketwith the fur collar, over which she used to look so searchingly atTommy. To think there was a time when that serene face had to looksearchingly at him! It nearly made her sad again. She paused to bringout the ring and take another exultant look at it. It was attached nowto a ribbon round her neck. Sweet ring! She put it to her eyes. Thatwas her way of letting her eyes kiss it Then she rubbed them and it, in case the one had left a tear upon the other. 

And then she went out, joy surging in her heart For this was Grizel'sglorious hour, the end of it. 

CHAPTER XXIII

TOMMY LOSES GRIZEL

It was not Aaron's good fortune to find Tommy. He should have lookedfor him in the Den. 

In that haunt of happier lovers than he, Tommy walked slowly, pondering. He scarce noticed that he had the Den to himself, or that, since he was last here, autumn had slipped away, leaving all hergarments on the ground. By this time, undoubtedly, Elspeth had saidher gentle No; but he was not railing against Fate, not even forstriking the final blow at him through that innocent medium. He hadstill too much to do for that--to help others. There were three ofthem at present, and by some sort of sympathetic jugglery he had anarm for each. 

"Lean on me, Grizel--dear sister Elspeth, you little know the harm youhave done--David, old friend, your hand. "

Thus loaded, he bravely returned at the fitting time to the cottage. His head was not even bent. 

Had you asked Tommy what Elspeth would probably do when she dismissedDavid, he might have replied that she would go up to his room and lockherself into it, so that no one should disturb her for a time. Andthis he discovered, on returning home, was actually what had happened. How well he knew her! How distinctly he heard every beat of her tenderheart, and how easy to him to tell why it was beating! He did not goup; he waited for little Elspeth to come to him, all in her own goodtime. And when she came, looking just as he knew she would look, hehad a brave, bright face for her. 

She was shaking after her excitement, or perhaps she had ceased toshake and begun again as she came down to him. He pretended not tonotice it; he would notice it the moment he was sure she wanted himto, but perhaps that would not be until she was in bed and he had cometo say good-night and put out her light, for, as we know, she oftenkept her great confidences till then, when she discovered that healready knew them. 

"The doctor has been in. "

She began almost at once, and in a quaking voice and from a distance, as if in hope that the bullet might be spent before it reached herbrother. 

"I am sorry I missed him, " he replied cautiously. "What a fine fellowhe is!"

"You always liked him, " said Elspeth, clinging eagerly to that. 

"No one could help liking him, Elspeth, he has such winning ways, "said Tommy, perhaps a little in the voice with which at funerals werefer to the departed. She loved his words, but she knew she had asurprise for him this time, and she tried to blurt it out. 

"He said something to me. He--oh, what a high opinion he has of you!"(She really thought he had. )

"Was that the something?" Tommy asked, with a smile that helped her, as it was meant to do. 

"You understand, don't you?" she said, almost in a whisper. 

"Of course I do, Elspeth, " he answered reassuringly; but somehow shestill thought he didn't. 

"No one could have been more manly and gentle and humble, " she saidbeseechingly. 

"I am sure of it, " said Tommy. 

"He thinks nothing of himself, " she said. 

"We shall always think a great deal of him, " replied Tommy. 

"Yes, but----" Elspeth found the strangest difficulty in continuing, for, though it would have surprised him to be told so, Tommy was nothelping her nearly as much as he imagined. 

"I told him, " she said, shaking, "that no one could be to me what youwere. I told him----" and then timid Elspeth altogether broke down. Tommy drew her to him, as he had so often done since she was thesmallest child, and pressed her head against his breast, and waited. So often he had waited thus upon Elspeth. 

"There is nothing to cry about, dear, " he said tenderly, when the timeto speak came. "You have, instead, the right to be proud that so gooda man loves you. I am very proud of it, Elspeth. "

"If I could be sure of that!" she gasped. 

"Don't you believe me, dear?"

"Yes, but--that is not what makes me cry. Tommy, don't you see?"

"Yes, " he assured her, "I see. You are crying because you feel sosorry for him. But I don't feel sorry for him, Elspeth. If I knowanything at all, it is this: that no man needs pity who sincerelyloves; whether that love be returned or not, he walks in a new andmore beautiful world for evermore. "

She clutched his hand. "I don't understand how you know those things, "she whispered. 

Please God, was Tommy's reflection, she should never know. He saw mostvividly the pathos of his case, but he did not break down under it; ithelped him, rather, to proceed. 

"It will be the test of Gemmell, " he said, "how he bears this. No man, I am very sure, was ever told that his dream could not come true morekindly and tenderly than you told it to him. " He was in the middle ofthe next sentence (a fine one) before her distress stopped him. 

"Tommy, " she cried, "you don't understand. That is not what I told himat all!"

It was one of the few occasions on which the expression on the face ofT. Sandys perceptibly changed. 

"What did you tell him?" he asked, almost sharply. 

"I accepted him, " she said guiltily, backing away from this alarmingface. 

"What!"

"If you only knew how manly and gentle and humble he was, " she criedquickly, as if something dire might happen if Tommy were not assuredof this at once. 

"You--said you would marry him, Elspeth?"

"Yes!"

"And leave me?"

"Oh, oh!" She flung her arms around his neck. 

"Yes, but that is what you are prepared to do!" said he, and he heldher away from him and stared at her, as if he had never seen Elspethbefore. "Were you not afraid?" he exclaimed, in amazement. 

"I am not the least bit afraid, " she answered. "Oh Tommy, if you knewhow manly----" And then she remembered that she had said that already. 

"You did not even say that you would--consult me?"

"Oh, oh!"

"Why didn't you, Elspeth?"

"I--I forgot!" she moaned. "Tommy, you are angry!" She hugged him, andhe let her do it, but all the time he was looking over her headfixedly, with his mouth open. 

"And I was always so sure of you!" were the words that came to him atlast, with a hard little laugh at the end of them. 

"Can you think it makes me love you less, " she sobbed, "because I lovehim, too? Oh, Tommy, I thought you would be so glad!"

He kissed her; he put his hand fondly upon her head. 

"I am glad, " he said, with emotion. "When that which you want has cometo you, Elspeth, how can I but be glad? But it takes me aback, and iffor a moment I felt forlorn, if, when I should have been rejoicingonly in your happiness, the selfish thought passed through my mind, 'What is to become of me?' I hope--I hope--" Then he sat down andburied his face in the table. 

And he might have been telling her about Grizel! Has the shock stunnedyou, Tommy? Elspeth thinks it has been a shock of pain. May we liftyour head to show her your joyous face?

"I am so proud, " she was saying, "that at last, after you have done somuch for me, I can do a little thing for you. For it is something tofree you, Tommy. You have always pretended, for my sake, that we couldnot do without each other, but we both knew all the time that it wasonly I who was unable to do without you. You can't deny it. "

He might deny it, but it was true. Ah, Tommy, you bore with her withinfinite patience, but did it never strike you that she kept you tothe earth? If Elspeth could be happy without you! You were sure shecould not, but if she could!--had that thought never made you flapyour wings?

"I often had a pain at my heart, " she told him, "which I kept fromyou. It was a feeling that your solicitude for me, perhaps, preventedyour caring for any other woman. It seemed terrible and unnatural thatI should be a bar to that. I felt that I was starving you, and not youonly, but an unknown woman as well. "

"So long as I had you, Elspeth, " he said reproachfully, "was not thatenough?"

"It seemed to be enough, " she answered gravely, "but even while Icomforted myself with that, I knew that it should not be enough, andstill I feared that if it was, the blame was mine. Now I am no longerin the way, and I hope, so ardently, that you will fall in love, likeother people. If you never do, I shall always have the fear that I amthe cause, that you lost the capacity in the days when I let youdevote yourself too much to me. "

Oh, blind Elspeth! Now is the time to tell her, Tommy, and fill hercup of happiness to the brim. 

But it is she who is speaking still, almost gaily now, yet with a fullheart. "What a time you have had with me, Tommy! I told David allabout it, and what he has to look forward to, but he says he is notafraid. And when you find someone you can love, " she continuedsweetly, though she had a sigh to stifle, "I hope she will be someonequite unlike me, for oh, my dear, good brother, I know you need achange. "

Not a word said Tommy. 

She said, timidly, that she had begun to hope of late that Grizelmight be the woman, and still he did not speak. He drew Elspeth closerto him, that she might not see his face and the horror of himself thatsurely sat on it. To the very marrow of him he was in such cold miserythat I wonder his arms did not chill her. 

This poor devil of a Sentimental Tommy! He had wakened up in the worldof facts, where he thought he had been dwelling of late, to discoverthat he had not been here for weeks, except at meal-times. Duringthose weeks he had most honestly thought that he was in a passion tobe married. What do you say to pitying instead of cursing him? It is asudden idea of mine, and we must be quick, for joyous Grizel isdrawing near, and this, you know, is the chapter in which her heartbreaks. 

 * * * * *

It was Elspeth who opened the door to Grizel. "Does she know?" saidElspeth to herself, before either of them spoke. 

"Does she know?" It was what Grizel was saying also. 

"Oh, Elspeth, I am so glad! David has told me. "

"She does know, " Elspeth told herself, and she thought it was kind ofGrizel to come so quickly. She said so. 

"She doesn't know!" thought Grizel, and then these two kissed for thefirst time. It was a kiss of thanks from each. 

"But why does she not know?" Grizel wondered a little as they enteredthe parlour, where Tommy was; he had been standing with his teeth knitsince he heard the knock. As if in answer to the question, Elspethsaid: "I have just broken it to Tommy. He has been in a few minutesonly, and he is so surprised he can scarcely speak. "

Grizel laughed happily, for that explained it. Tommy had not had timeto tell her yet. She laughed again at Elspeth, who had thought she hadso much to tell and did not know half the story. 

Elspeth begged Tommy to listen to the beautiful things Grizel wassaying about David, but, truth to tell, Grizel scarcely heard themherself. She had given Tommy a shy, rapturous glance. She waswondering when he would begin. What a delicious opening when he shookhands! Suppose he had kissed her instead! Or, suppose he casuallyaddressed her as darling! He might do it at any moment now! Just foronce she would not mind though he did it in public. Perhaps as soon asthis new remark of Elspeth's was finished, he meant to say: "You arenot the only engaged person in the room, Miss Elspeth; I think I seeanother two!" Grizel laughed as if she had heard him say it. And thenshe ceased laughing suddenly, for some little duty had called Elspethinto the other room, and as she went out she stopped the movement ofthe earth. 

These two were alone with their great joy. 

Elspeth had said that she would be back in two minutes. Was Grizelwasting a moment when she looked only at him, her eyes filmy withlove, the crooked smile upon her face so happy that it could not standstill? Her arms made a slight gesture towards him; her hands wereopen; she was giving herself to him. She could not see. For a fractionof time the space between them seemed to be annihilated. His arms wereclosing round her. Then she knew that neither of them had moved. 

"Grizel!"

He tried to be true to her by deceiving her. It was the only way. "Atlast, Grizel, " he cried, "at last!" and he put joyousness into hisvoice. "It has all come right, dear one!" he cried like an ecstaticlover. Never in his life had he tried so hard to deceive at thesacrifice of himself. But he was fighting something as strong as theinstinct of self-preservation, and his usually expressionless facegave the lie to his joyous words. Loud above his voice his ashen facewas speaking to her, and she cried in terror, "What is wrong?" Eventhen he attempted to deceive her, but suddenly she knew the truth. 

"You don't want to be married!"

I think the room swam round with her. When it was steady again, "Youdid not say that, did you?" she asked. She was sure he had not saidit. She was smiling again tremulously to show him that he had not saidit. 

"I want to be married above all else on earth, " he said imploringly;but his face betrayed him still, and she demanded the truth, and hewas forced to tell it. 

A little shiver passed through her, that was all. 

"Do you mean that you don't love me?" she said. "You must tell me whatyou mean. "

"That is how others would put it, I suppose, " he replied. "I believethey would be wrong. I think I love you in my own way; but I thought Iloved you in their way, and it is the only way that counts in thisworld of theirs. It does not seem to be my world. I was given wings, Ithink, but I am never to know that I have left the earth until I comeflop upon it with an arrow through them. I crawl and wriggle here, andyet"--he laughed harshly--"I believe I am rather a fine fellow when Iam flying!"

She nodded. "You mean you want me to let you off?" she asked. "Youmust tell me what you mean. " And as he did not answer instantly, "Because I think I have some little claim upon you, " she said, with apleasant smile. 

"I am as pitiful a puzzle to myself as I can be to you, " he replied. "All I know is that I don't want to marry anyone. And yet I am sure Icould die for you, Grizel. "

It was quite true. A burning house and Grizel among the flames, and hewould have been the first on the ladder. But there is no such luck foryou, Tommy. 

"You are free, " was what she said. "Don't look so tragic, " she added, again with the pleasant smile. "It must be very distressing to you, but--you will soon fly again. " Her lips twitched tremulously. "I can'tfly, " she said. 

She took the ring from her neck. She took it off its ribbon. 

"I brought it, " she said, "to let you put it on my finger. I thoughtyou would want to do that, " she said. 

"Grizel, " he cried, "can we not be as we have been?"

"No, " she answered. 

"It would all come right, Grizel. I am sure it would. I don't know whyI am as I am; but I shall try to change myself. You have borne with mesince we were children. Won't you bear with me for a little longer?"

She shook her head, but did not trust herself to speak. 

"I have lost you, " he said, and she nodded. 

"Then I am lost indeed!" said he, and he knew it, too; but with agesture of the hand she begged him not to say that. 

"Without your love to help me----" he began. 

"You shall always have that, " she told him with shining eyes, "always, always. " And what could he do but look at her with the wonder and theawe that come to every man who, for one moment in his life, knows awoman well?

"You can love me still, Grizel!" His voice was shaky. 

"Just the same, " she answered, and I suppose he looked uplifted. "Butyou should be sorry, " she said gravely, and it was then that Elspethcame back. She had not much exceeded her two minutes. 

It was always terrible to Tommy not to have the feelings of a hero. Atthat moment he could not endure it. In a splendid burst ofself-sacrifice he suddenly startled both Grizel and himself by crying, "Elspeth, I love Grizel, and I have just asked her to be my wife. "

Yes, the nobility of it amazed himself, but bewitched him, too, and heturned gloriously to Grizel, never doubting but that she would havehim still. 

He need not have spoken so impulsively, nor looked so grand. Sheswayed for an instant and then was erect again. "You must forgive me, Elspeth, " she said, "but I have refused him"; and that was the biggestsurprise Tommy ever got in his life. 

"You don't care for him!" Elspeth blurted out. 

"Not in the way he cares for me, " Grizel replied quietly, and whenElspeth would have said more she begged her to desist. "The only thingfor me to do now, Elspeth, " she said, smiling, "is to run away, but Iwant you first to accept a little wedding-gift from me. I wish you andDavid so much happiness; you won't refuse it, will you?"

Elspeth, still astounded, took the gift. It was a little garnet ring. 

"It will have to be cut, " Grizel said. "It was meant, I think, for alarger finger. I have had it some time, but I never wore it. "

Elspeth said she would always treasure her ring, and that it wasbeautiful. 

"I used to think it--rather sweet, " Grizel admitted, and then she saidgood-bye to them both and went away. 

CHAPTER XXIV

THE MONSTER

Tommy's new character was that of a monster. He always liked the bigparts. 

Concealed, as usual, in the garments that clung so oddly to him, modesty, generosity, indifference to applause and all the noblerimpulses, he could not strip himself of them, try as he would, and sohe found, to his scornful amusement, that he still escaped the publicfury. In the two months that preceded Elspeth's marriage there waspositively scarce a soul in Thrums who did not think rather well ofhim. "If they knew what I really am, " he cried with splendidbitterness, "how they would run from me!"

Even David could no longer withhold the hand of fellowship, for Grizelwould tell him nothing, except that, after all, and for reasonssufficient to herself, she had declined to become Mrs. Sandys. Hesought in vain to discover how Tommy could be to blame. "And now, "Tommy said grimly to Grizel, "our doctor thinks you have used mebadly, and that I am a fine fellow to bear no resentment! Elspeth toldme that he admires the gentle and manly dignity with which I submit tothe blow, and I have no doubt that, as soon as I heard that, I made itmore gentle and manly than ever!

"I have forbidden Elspeth, " he told her, "to upbraid you for notaccepting me, with the result that she thinks me too good to live! Ha, ha! what do you think, Grizel?"

It became known in the town that she had refused him. Everybody was onTommy's side. They said she had treated him badly. Even Aaron wasstaggered at the sight of Tommy accepting his double defeat in suchgood part. "And all the time I am the greatest cur unhung, " saysTommy. "Why don't you laugh, Grizel?"

Never, they said, had there been such a generous brother. The town wasastir about this poor man's gifts to the lucky bride. There wererumours that among the articles was a silver coal-scuttle, but itproved to be a sugar-bowl in that pattern. Three bandboxes came forher to select from; somebody discovered who was on the watch, but mayI be struck dead if more than one went back. Yesterday it was bonnets;to-day she is at Tilliedrum again, trying on her going-away dress. Andshe really was to go away in it, a noticeable thing, for in Thrumssociety, though they usually get a going-away dress, they are toocanny to go away in it The local shops were not ignored, but the bestof the trousseau came from London. "That makes the second box thisweek, as I'm a living sinner, " cries the lady on the watch again. Whenboxes arrived at the station Corp wheeled them up to Elspeth withoutso much as looking at the label. 

Ah, what a brother! They said it openly to their own brothers, and toTommy in the way they looked at him. 

"There has been nothing like it, " he assured Grizel, "since RedRiding-hood and the wolf. Why can't I fling off my disguise and cry, 'The better to eat you with!'"

He always spoke to her now in this vein of magnificent bitterness, butGrizel seldom rewarded him by crying, "Oh, oh!" She might, however, give him a patient, reproachful glance instead, and it had theirritating effect of making him feel that perhaps he was underlife-size, instead of over it. 

"I daresay you are right, " says Tommy, savagely. 

"I said nothing. "

"You don't need to say it. What a grand capacity you have for knockingme off my horse, Grizel!"

"Are you angry with me for that?"

"No; it is delicious to pick one's self out of the mud, especiallywhen you find it is a baby you are picking up, instead of a brute. AmI a baby only, Grizel?"

"I think it is childish of you, " she replied, "to say you are abrute. "

"There is not to be even that satisfaction left to me! You are hard onme, Grizel. "

"I am trying to help you. How can you be angry with me?"

"The instinct of self-preservation, I suppose. I see myself dwindlingso rapidly under your treatment that soon there will be nothing of meleft. "

It was said cruelly, for he knew that the one thing Grizel could notbear now was the implication that she saw his faults only. She alwayswent down under that blow with pitiful surrender, showing the womansuddenly, as if under a physical knouting. 

He apologized contritely. "But, after all, it proves my case, " hesaid, "for I could not hurt you in this way, Grizel, if I were not apretty well-grown specimen of a monster. "

"Don't, " she said; but she did not seek to help him by drawing himaway to other subjects, which would have been his way. "What is theremonstrous, " she asked, "in your being so good to Elspeth? It is verykind of you to give her all these things. "

"Especially when by rights they are yours, Grizel!"

"No, not when you did not want to give them to me. "

He dared say nothing to that; there were some matters on which he mustnot contradict Grizel now. 

"It is nice of you, " she said, "not to complain, though Elspeth isdeserting you. It must have been a blow. "

"You and I only know why, " he answered. "But for her, Grizel, I mightbe whining sentiment to you at this moment. "

"That, " she said, "would be the monstrous thing. "

"And it is not monstrous, I suppose, that I should let Gemmell pressmy hand under the conviction that, after all, I am a trump. "

"You don't pose as one. "

"That makes them think the more highly of me! Nothing monstrous, Grizel, in my standing quietly by while you are showing Elspeth how tofurnish her house--I, who know why you have the subject at yourfinger-tips!"

For Grizel had given all her sweet ideas to Elspeth. Heigh-ho! how shehad guarded them once, confiding them half reluctantly even to Tommy;half reluctantly, that is, at the start, because they were her veryown, but once she was embarked on the subject talking with suchrapture that every minute or two he had to beg her to be calm. She wasthe first person in that part of the world to think that old furnitureneed not be kept in the dark corners, and she knew where there was anoak bedstead that was looked upon as a disgrace, and where to obtainthe dearest cupboards, one of them in use as the retiring-chamber of arabbit-hutch, and stately clocks made in the town a hundred years ago, and quaint old-farrant lamps and cogeys and sand-glasses thatapologized if you looked at them, and yet were as willing to be lovedagain as any old lady in a mutch. You will not buy them easily now, the people will not chuckle at you when you bid for them now. We havebecome so cute in Thrums that when the fender breaks we think it mayhave increased in value, and we preserve any old board lest the wormshave made it artistic. Grizel, however, was in advance of her time. She could lay her hands on all she wanted, and she did, but it was forElspeth's house. 

"And the table-cloths and the towels and the sheets, " said Tommy. "Nothing monstrous in my letting you give Elspeth them?"

The linen, you see, was no longer in Grizel's press. 

"I could not help making them, " she answered, "they were so longing tobe made. I did not mean to give them to her. I think I meant to putthem back in the press, but when they were made it was natural thatthey should want to have something to do. So I gave them to Elspeth. "

"With how many tears on them?"

"Not many. But with some kisses. "

"All which, " says Tommy, "goes to prove that I have nothing with whichto reproach myself!"

"No, I never said that, " she told him. "You have to reproach yourselfwith wanting me to love you. "

She paused a moment to let him say, if he dared, that he had not donethat, when she would have replied instantly, "You know you did. " Hecould have disabused her, but it would have been cruel, and so on thissubject, as ever, he remained silent. 

"But that is not what I have been trying to prove, " she continued. "You know as well as I that the cause of this unhappiness hasbeen--what you call your wings. "

He was about to thank her for her delicacy in avoiding its real name, when she added, "I mean your sentiment, " and he laughed instead. 

"I flatter myself that I no longer fly, at all events, " he said. "Iknow what I am at last, Grizel"

"It is flattery only, " she replied with her old directness. "Thisthing you are regarding with a morbid satisfaction is not you at all. "

He groaned. "Which of them all is me, Grizel?" he asked gloomily. 

"We shall see, " she said, "when we have got the wings off. "

"They will have to come off a feather at a time. "

"That, " she declared, "is what I have been trying to prove. "

"It will be a weary task, Grizel. "

"I won't weary at it, " she said, smiling. 

Her cheerfulness was a continual surprise to him. "You bear upwonderfully well yourself, " he sometimes said to her, almostreproachfully, and she never replied that, perhaps, that was one ofher ways of trying to help him. 

She is not so heartbroken, after all, you may be saying, and I hadpromised to break her heart. But, honestly, I don't know how to do itmore thoroughly, and you must remember that we have not seen her aloneyet. 

She tried to be very little alone. She helped David in his work morethan ever; not a person, for instance, managed to escape the bathbecause Grizel's heart was broken. You could never say that she wasalone when her needle was going, and the linen became sheets and thelike, in what was probably record time. Yet they could have been sewnmore quickly; for at times the needle stopped and she did not know it. Once a bedridden old woman, with whom she had been sitting up, laywatching her instead of sleeping, and finally said: "What makes yousit staring at a cauld fire, and speaking to yourself?" And there wasa strange day when she had been too long in the Den. When she startedfor home she went in the direction of Double Dykes, her old home, instead. 

She could bear everything except doubt. She had told him so, when hewondered at her calmness; she often said it to herself. She couldtread any path, however drearily it stretched before her, so long asshe knew whither it led, but there could be no more doubt. Oh, he mustnever again disturb her mind with hope! How clearly she showed himthat, and yet they had perhaps no more than parted when it seemedimpossible to bear for the next hour the desolation she was sentencedto for life. She lay quivering and tossing on the hearth-rug of theparlour, beating it with her fists, rocking her arms, and calling tohim to give her doubt again, that she might get through the days. 

"Let me doubt again!" Here was Grizel starting to beg it of him. Morethan once she got half-way to Aaron's house before she could turn; butshe always did turn, with the words unspoken; never did Tommy hear hersay them, but always that she was tranquil now. Was it pride thatsupported her in the trying hour? Oh, no, it was not pride. That is anold garment, which once became Grizel well, but she does not wear itnow; she takes it out of the closet, perhaps, at times to look at it. What gave her strength when he was by was her promise to help him. Itwas not by asking for leave to dream herself that she could make himdream the less. All done for you, Tommy! It might have helped you toloosen a few of the feathers. 

Sometimes she thought it might not be Tommy, but herself, who was sounlike other people; that it was not he who was unable to love, butshe who could not be loved. This idea did not agitate her as aterrible thing; she could almost welcome it. But she did not go to himwith it. While it might be but a fancy, that was no way to help a manwho was overfull of them. It was the bare truth only that she wantedhim to see, and so she made elaborate inquiries into herself, todiscover whether she was quite unlovable. I suppose it would have beenquaint, had she not been quite so much in earnest. She examinedherself in the long mirror most conscientiously, and with adeterminedly open mind, to see whether she was too ugly for any man tolove. Our beautiful Grizel really did. 

She had always thought that she was a nice girl, but was she? No onehad ever loved her, except the old doctor, and he began when she wasso young that perhaps he had been inveigled into it, like a father. Even David had not loved her. Was it because he knew her so well? Whatwas it in women that made men love them? She asked it of David in sucha way that he never knew she was putting him to the question. Hemerely thought that he and she were having a pleasant chat aboutElspeth, and, as a result, she decided that he loved Elspeth becauseshe was so helpless. His head sat with uncommon pride on his shoulderswhile he talked of Elspeth's timidity. There was a ring ofboastfulness in his voice as he paraded the large number of usefulthings that Elspeth could not do. And yet David was a sensible andcareful man. 

Was it helplessness that man loved in woman, then? It seemed to beElspeth's helplessness that had made Tommy such a brother, and how ithad always appealed to Aaron! No woman could be less helpless thanherself, Grizel knew. She thought back and back, and she could notcome to a time when she was not managing somebody. Women, shereflected, fall more or less deeply in love with every baby they see, while men, even the best of them, can look calmly at other people'sbabies. But when the helplessness of the child is in the woman, thenother women are unmoved; but the great heart of man is stirred--womanis his baby. She remembered that the language of love is in twosexes--for the woman superlatives, for the man diminutives. The moreshe loves the bigger he grows, but in an ecstasy he could put her inhis pocket. Had not Tommy taught her this? His little one, his child!Perhaps he really had loved her in the days when they both madebelieve that she was infantile; but soon she had shown with fatalclearness that she was not. Instead of needing to be taken care of, she had obviously wanted to take care of him: their positions werereversed. Perhaps, said Grizel to herself, I should have been a man. 

If this was the true explanation, then, though Tommy, who had tried sohard, could not love her, he might be able to love--what is thephrase?--a more womanly woman, or, more popular phrase still, a verywoman. Some other woman might be the right wife for him. She did notshrink from considering this theory, and she considered so long thatI, for one, cannot smile at her for deciding ultimately, as she did, that there was nothing in it. 

The strong like to be leaned upon and the weak to lean, and thisirrespective of sex. This was the solution she woke up with onemorning, and it seemed to explain not only David's and Elspeth's love, but her own, so clearly that in her desire to help she put it beforeTommy. It implied that she cared for him because he was weak, and hedrew a very long face. 

"You don't know how the feathers hurt as they come out, " he explained. 

"But so long as we do get them out!" she said. 

"Every other person who knows me thinks that strength is my greatcharacteristic, " he maintained, rather querulously. 

"But when you know it is not, " said Grizel. "You do know, don't you?"she asked anxiously. "To know the truth about one's self, that is thebeginning of being strong. "

"You seem determined, " he retorted, "to prevent my loving you. "

"Why?" she asked. 

"You are to make me strong in spite of myself, I understand. But, according to your theory, the strong love the weak only. Are you togrow weak, Grizel, as I grow strong?"

She had not thought of that, and she would have liked to rock herarms. But she was able to reply: "I am not trying to help you in orderto make you love me; you know, quite well, that all that is over anddone with. I am trying only to help you to be what a man should be. "

She could say that to him, but to herself? Was she prepared to make aman of him at the cost of his possible love? This faced her when shewas alone with her passionate nature, and she fought it, and with herfists clenched she cried: "Yes, yes, yes!"

Do we know all that Grizel had to fight? There were times when Tommy'smind wandered to excuses for himself; he knew what men were, and heshuddered to think of the might have been, had a girl who could loveas Grizel did loved such a man as her father. He thanked his Maker, did Tommy, that he, who was made as those other men, had avoidedraising passions in her. I wonder how he was so sure. Do we know allthat Grizel had to fight?

 * * * * *

They spoke much during those days of the coming parting, and shealways said that she could bear it if she saw him go away more of aman than he had come. 

"Then anything I have suffered or may suffer, " she told him, "willhave been done to help you, and perhaps in time that will make meproud of my poor little love-story. It would be rather pitiful, wouldit not, if I have gone through so much for no end at all?"

She spoke, he said, almost reproachfully, as if she thought he mightgo away on his wings, after all. 

"We can't be sure, " she murmured, she was so eager to make himwatchful. 

"Yes, " he said, humbly but firmly, "I may be a scoundrel, Grizel, I ama scoundrel, but one thing you may be sure of, I am done withsentiment. " But even as he said it, even as he felt that he could tearhimself asunder for being untrue to Grizel, a bird was singing at hisheart because he was free again, free to go out into the world andplay as if it were but a larger den. Ah, if only Tommy could alwayshave remained a boy!

Elspeth's marriage day came round, and I should like to linger in it, and show you Elspeth in her wedding-gown, and Tommy standing behind tocatch her if she fainted, and Ailie weeping, and Aaron Latta rubbinghis gleeful hands, and a smiling bridesmaid who had once thought shemight be a bride. But that was a day in Elspeth's story, not inTommy's and Grizel's. Only one incident in their story crept into thathappy day. There were speeches at the feast, and the Rev. Mr. Dishartreferred to Tommy in the kindliest way, called him "my young friend, "quoted (inaccurately) from his book, and expressed an opinion, formed, he might say, when Mr. Sandys was a lad at school (cheers), that hehad a career before him. Tommy bore it well, all except the quotation, which he was burning to correct, but sighed to find that it had setthe dominies on his left talking about precocity. "To produce such agraybeard of a book at two and twenty, Mr. Sandys, " said Cathro, "isamazing. It partakes, sir, of the nature of the miraculous; it'sonchancey, by which we mean a deviation from the normal. " And so on. To escape this kind of flattery (he had so often heard it said byladies, who could say it so much better), Tommy turned to hisneighbours on the right. 

Oddly enough, they also were discussing deviations from the normal. Onthe table was a plant in full flower, and Ailie, who had lent it, wasexpressing surprise that it should bloom so late in the season. 

"So early in its life, I should rather say, " the doctor remarked afterexamining it. "It is a young plant, and in the ordinary course wouldnot have come to flower before next year. But it is afraid that itwill never see next year. It is one of those poor little plants thatbloom prematurely because they are diseased. "

Tommy was a little startled. He had often marvelled over his ownprecocity, but never guessed that this might be the explanation why hewas in flower at twenty-two. "Is that a scientific fact?" he asked. 

"It is a law of nature, " the doctor replied gravely, and if anythingmore was said on the subject our Tommy did not hear it. What did hehear? He was a child again, in miserable lodgings, and it was sometimein the long middle of the night, and what he heard from his bed washis mother coughing away her life in hers. There was an angry knock, knock, knock, from somewhere near, and he crept out of bed to tell hismother that the people through the wall were complaining because shewould not die more quietly; but when he reached her bed it was not hismother he saw lying there, but himself, aged twenty-four orthereabouts. For Tommy had inherited his mother's cough; he had knownit every winter, but he remembered it as if for the first time now. 

Did he hear anything else? I think he heard his wings slipping to thefloor. 

He asked Ailie to give him the plant, and he kept it in his room verylovingly, though he forgot to water it. He sat for long periodslooking at it, and his thoughts were very deep, but all he actuallysaid aloud was, "There are two of us. " Aaron sometimes saw themtogether, and thought they were an odd pair, and perhaps they were. 

Tommy did not tell Grizel of the tragedy that was hanging over him. Hewas determined to save her that pain. He knew that most men in hisposition would have told her, and was glad to find that he could keepit so gallantly to himself. She was brave; perhaps some day she woulddiscover that he had been brave also. When she talked of wings now, what he seemed to see was a green grave. His eyes were moist, but heheld his head high. All this helped him. 

Ah, well, but the world must jog along though you and I be damned. Elspeth was happily married, and there came the day when Tommy andGrizel must say good-bye. He was returning to London. His luggage wasalready in Corp's barrow, all but the insignificant part of it, whichyet made a bulky package in its author's pocket, for it was his newmanuscript, for which he would have fought a regiment, yes, and beatenthem. Little cared Tommy what became of the rest of his luggage solong as that palpitating package was safe. 

"And little you care, " Grizel said, in a moment of sudden bitterness, "whom you leave behind, so long as you take it with you. "

He forgave her with a sad smile. She did not know, you see, that thismanuscript might be his last. 

And it was the only bitter thing she said. Even when he looked verysorry for her, she took advantage of his emotion to help him only. "Don't be too sorry for me, " she said calmly; "remember, rather, thatthere is one episode in a woman's life to which she must always clingin memory, whether it was a pride to her or a shame, and that it restswith you to make mine proud or shameful. "

In other words, he was to get rid of his wings. How she harped onthat!

He wanted to kiss her on the brow, but she would not have it. He wasabout to do it, not to gratify any selfish desire, but of a beautifulimpulse that if anything happened she would have this to remember asthe last of him. But she drew back almost angrily. Positively, she wasputting it down to sentiment, and he forgave her even that. 

But she kissed the manuscript. "Wish it luck, " he had begged of her;"you were always so fond of babies, and this is my baby. " So Grizelkissed Tommy's baby, and then she turned away her face. 

CHAPTER XXV

MR. T. SANDYS HAS RETURNED TO TOWN

It is disquieting to reflect that we have devoted so much paper (thisis the third shilling's worth) to telling what a real biographer wouldalmost certainly have summed up in a few pages. "Caring nothing forglory, engrossed in his work alone, Mr. Sandys, soon after thepublication of the 'Letters, ' sought the peace of his mother's nativevillage, and there, alike undisturbing and undisturbed, he gave hislife, as ever, to laborious days and quiet contemplation. The onevital fact in these six months of lofty endeavour is that he wasmaking progress with the new book. Fishing and other distractions wereoccasionally indulged in, but merely that he might rise fresher nextmorning to a book which absorbed, " etc. 

One can see exactly how it should be done, it has been done so oftenbefore. And there is a deal to be said for this method. His book waswhat he had been at during nearly the whole of that time;comparatively speaking, the fishing and "other distractions" (a neatphrase) had got an occasional hour only. But while we admire, we can'tdo it in that way. We seem fated to go on taking it for granted thatyou know the "vital facts" about Tommy, and devoting our attention tothe things that the real biographer leaves out. 

Tommy arrived in London with little more than ten pounds in hispockets. All the rest he had spent on Elspeth. 

He looked for furnished chambers in a fashionable quarter, and theywere much too expensive. But the young lady who showed them to himasked if it was _the_ Mr. Sandys, and he at once took the rooms. Hermother subsequently said that she understood he wrote books, and wouldhe deposit five pounds?

Such are the ups and downs of the literary calling. 

The book, of course, was "Unrequited Love, " and the true story of howit was not given to the world by his first publishers has never beentold. They had the chance, but they weighed the manuscript in theirhands as if it were butter, and said it was very small. 

"If you knew how much time I have spent in making it smaller, " repliedTommy, haughtily. 

The madmen asked if he could not add a few chapters, whereupon, with ashudder, he tucked baby under his wing and flew away. That is howGoldie & Goldie got the book. 

For one who had left London a glittering star, it was wonderful howlittle he brightened it by returning. At the club they did not knowthat he had been away. In society they seemed to have forgotten toexpect him back. 

He had an eye for them--with a touch of red in it; but he bided histime. It was one of the terrible things about Tommy that he could bidehis time. Pym was the only person he called upon. He took Pym out todinner and conducted him home again. His kindness to Pym, the delicacywith which he pretended not to see that poor old Pym was degraded anddone for--they would have been pretty even in a woman, and we treatTommy unfairly in passing them by with a bow. 

Pym had the manuscript to read, and you may be as sure he kept soberthat night as that Tommy lay awake. For when literature had to bejudged, who could be so grim a critic as this usually lenient toper?He could forgive much, could Pym. You had run away without paying yourrent, was it? Well, well, come in and have a drink. Broken your wife'sheart, have you? Poor chap, but you will soon get over it. But if itwas a split infinitive, "Go to the devil, sir. "

"Into a cocked hat, " was the verdict of Pym, meaning thereby that thusdid Tommy's second work beat his first. Tommy broke down and wept. 

Presently Pym waxed sentimental and confided to Tommy that he, too, had once loved in vain. The sad case of those who love in vain, youremember, is the subject of the book. The saddest of autobiographies, it has been called. 

An odd thing, this, I think. Tearing home (for the more he wasengrossed in mind the quicker he walked), Tommy was not revelling inPym's praise; he was neither blanching nor smiling at the thought thathe of all people had written as one who was unloved; he was notwondering what Grizel would say to it; he had even forgotten to sighover his own coming dissolution (indeed, about this time theflower-pot began to fade from his memory). What made him cut his wayso excitedly through the streets was this: Pym had questioned his useof the word "untimely" in chapter eight. And Tommy had always beenuneasy about that word. 

He glared at every person he passed, and ran into perambulators. Herushed past his chambers like one who no longer had a home. He was inthe park now, and did not even notice that the Row was empty, thatmighty round a deserted circus; management, riders, clowns, all theperformers gone on their provincial tour, or nearly all, for a lady onhorseback sees him, remembers to some extent who he is, and giveschase. It is our dear Mrs. Jerry. 

"You wretch, " she said, "to compel me to pursue you! Nothing couldhave induced me to do anything so unwomanly except that you are theonly man in town. "

She shook her whip so prettily at him that it was as seductive as asmile. It was also a way of gaining time while she tried to rememberwhat it was he was famous for. 

"I believe you don't know me!" she said, with a little shriek, forTommy had looked bewildered. "That would be too mortifying. Pleasepretend you do!"

Her look of appeal, the way in which she put her plump little handstogether, as if about to say her prayers, brought it all back toTommy. The one thing he was not certain of was whether he had proposedto her. 

It was the one thing of which she was certain. 

"You think I can forget so soon, " he replied reproachfully, butcarefully. 

"Then tell me my name, " said she; she thought it might lead to hismentioning his own. 

"I don't know what it is now. It was Mrs. Jerry once. "

"It is Mrs. Jerry still. "

"Then you did not marry him, after all?"

No wild joy had surged to his face, but when she answered yes, henodded his head with gentle melancholy three times. He had not thesmallest desire to deceive the lady; he was simply an actor who hadgot his cue and liked his part. 

[Illustration: "But my friends still call me Mrs. Jerry, " she saidsoftly. ]

"But my friends still call me Mrs. Jerry, " she said softly. "I supposeit suits me somehow. "

"You will always be Mrs. Jerry to me, " he replied huskily. Ah, thosemeetings with old loves!

"If you minded so much, " Mrs. Jerry said, a little tremulously (shehad the softest heart, though her memory was a trifle defective), "youmight have discovered whether I had married him or not. "

"Was there no reason why I should not seek to discover it?" Tommyasked with tremendous irony, but not knowing in the least what hemeant. 

It confused Mrs. Jerry. They always confused her when they werefierce, and yet she liked them to be fierce when she re-met them, sofew of them were. 

But she said the proper thing. "I am glad you have got over it. "

Tommy maintained a masterly silence. No wonder he was a power withwomen. 

"I say I am glad you have got over it, " murmured Mrs. Jerry again. Hasit ever been noticed that the proper remark does not always gain inpropriety with repetition?

It is splendid to know that right feeling still kept Tommy silent. 

Yet she went on briskly as if he had told her something: "Am Idetaining you? You were walking so quickly that I thought you were inpursuit of someone. "

It brought Tommy back to earth, and he could accept her now as an oldfriend he was glad to meet again. "You could not guess what I was inpursuit of, Mrs. Jerry, " he assured her, and with confidence, forwords are not usually chased down the Row. 

But, though he made the sound of laughter, that terrible face whichMrs. Jerry remembered so well, but could not give a name to, took nopart in the revelry; he was as puzzling to her as those irritatingauthors who print their jokes without a note of exclamation at the endof them. Poor Mrs. Jerry thought it must be a laugh of horridbitterness, and that he was referring to his dead self or somethingdreadful of that sort, for which she was responsible. 

"Please don't tell me, " she said, in such obvious alarm that again helaughed that awful laugh. He promised, with a profound sigh, to carryhis secret unspoken to the grave, also to come to her "At Home" if shesent him a card. 

He told her his address, but not his name, and she could not send thecard to "Occupier. "

"Now tell me about yourself, " said Mrs. Jerry, with charming cunning. "Did you go away?"

"I came back a few days ago only. "

"Had you any shooting?" (They nearly always threatened to make for adistant land where there was big game. )

Tommy smiled. He had never "had any shooting" except once in hisboyhood, when he and Corp acted as beaters, and he had weptpassionately over the first bird killed, and harangued the murderer. 

"No, " he replied; "I was at work all the time. "

This, at least, told her that his work was of a kind which could bedone out of London. An inventor?

"When are we to see the result?" asked artful Mrs. Jerry. 

"Very soon. Everything comes out about this time. It is our season, you know. "

Mrs. Jerry pondered while she said: "How too entrancing!" What didcome out this month? Oh, plays! And whose season was it? The actor's, of course! He could not be an actor with that beard, but--ah, sheremembered now!

"Are they really clever this time?" she asked roguishly--"for you mustadmit that they are usually sticks. "

Tommy blinked at this. "I really believe, Mrs. Jerry, " he said slowly, "it is you who don't know who I am!"

"You prepare the aristocracy for the stage, don't you?" she saidplaintively. 

"I!" he thundered. 

"He had a beard, " she said, in self-defence. 

"Who?"

"Oh, I don't know! Please forgive me! I do remember, of course, whoyou are--I remember too well!" said Mrs. Jerry, generously. 

"What is my name?" Tommy demanded. 

She put her hands together again, beseechingly. "Please, please!" shesaid. "I have such a dreadful memory for names, but--oh, please!"

"What am I?" he insisted. 

"You are the--the man who invents those delightful thingumbobs, " shecried with an inspiration. 

"I never invented anything, except two books, " said Tommy, looking ather reproachfully. 

"I know them by heart, " she cried. 

"One of them is not published yet, " he informed her. 

"I am looking forward to it so excitedly, " she said at once. 

"And my name is Sandys, " said he. 

"Thomas Sandys, " she said, correcting him triumphantly. "How is thatdear, darling little Agnes--Elspeth?"

"You have me at last, " he admitted. 

"'Sandys on Woman!'" exclaimed Mrs. Jerry, all rippling smiles oncemore. "Can I ever forget it!"

"I shall never pretend to know anything about women again, " Tommyanswered dolefully, but with a creditable absence of vindictiveness. 

"Please, please!" said the little hands again. 

"It is a nasty jar, Mrs. Jerry. "

"Please!"

"Oh that I could forget so quickly!"

"Please!"

"I forgive you, if that is what you want. "

She waved her whip. "And you will come and see me?"

"When I have got over this. It needs--a little time. " He really saidthis to please her. 

"You shall talk to me of the new book, " she said, confident that thiswould fetch him, for he was not her first author. "By the way, what isit about?"

"Can you ask, Mrs. Jerry?" replied Tommy, passionately. "Oh, woman, woman, can you ask?"

This puzzled her at the time, but she understood what he had meantwhen the book came out, dedicated to Pym. "Goodness gracious!" shesaid to herself as she went from chapter to chapter, and she was veryself-conscious when she heard the book discussed in society, which wasnot quite as soon as it came out, for at first the ladies seemed tohave forgotten their Tommy. 

But the journals made ample amends. He had invented, they said, something new in literature, a story that was yet not a story, told inthe form of essays which were no mere essays. There was no charactermentioned by name, there was not a line of dialogue, essays only, theymight say, were the net result, yet a human heart was laid bare, andsurely that was fiction in its highest form. Fiction founded on fact, no doubt (for it would be ostrich-like to deny that such a work mustbe the outcome of a painful personal experience), but in those wiseand penetrating pages Mr. Sandys called no one's attention to himself;his subject was an experience common to humanity, to be borne this wayor that; and without vainglory he showed how it should be borne, sothat those looking into the deep waters of the book (made clear by hispellucid style) might see, not the author, but themselves. 

A few of the critics said that if the book added nothing to hisreputation, it detracted nothing from it, but probably their pen addedthis mechanically when they were away. What annoyed him more was thetwo or three who stated that, much as they liked "Unrequited Love, "they liked the "Letters" still better. He could not endure hearing agood word said for the "Letters" now. 

The great public, I believe, always preferred the "Letters, " but amongimportant sections of it the new book was a delight, and for variousreasons. For instance, it was no mere story. That got the thoughtfulpublic. Its style, again, got the public which knows it is the onlypublic that counts. 

Society still held aloof (there was an African traveller on view thatyear), but otherwise everything was going on well, when the bolt came, as ever, from the quarter whence it was least expected. It came in aletter from Grizel, so direct as to be almost as direct as this: "Ithink it is a horrid book. The more beautifully it is written the morehorrid it seems. No one was ever loved more truly than you. You canknow nothing about unrequited love. Then why do you pretend to know? Isee why you always avoided telling me anything about the book, evenits title. It was because you knew what I should say. It is nothingbut sentiment. You were on your wings all the time you were writingit. That is why you could treat me as you did. Even to the last momentyou deceived me. I suppose you deceived yourself also. Had I knownwhat was in the manuscript I would not have kissed it, I would haveasked you to burn it. Had you not had the strength, and you would not, I should have burned it for you. It would have been a proof of mylove. I have ceased to care whether you are a famous man or not. Iwant you to be a real man. But you will not let me help you. I havecried all day. GRIZEL. "

Fury. Dejection. The heroic. They came in that order. 

"This is too much!" he cried at first, "I can stand a good deal, Grizel, but there was once a worm that turned at last, you know. Takecare, madam, take care. Oh, but you are a charming lady; you candecide everything for everybody, can't you! What delicious letters youwrite, something unexpected in everyone of them! There are poor dogsof men, Grizel, who open their letters from their loves knowingexactly what will be inside--words of cheer, words of love, ofconfidence, of admiration, which help them as they sit into the nightat their work, fighting for fame that they may lay it at their lovedone's feet. Discouragement, obloquy, scorn, they get in plenty fromothers, but they are always sure of her, --do you hear, my originalGrizel?--those other dogs are always sure of her. Hurrah! Grizel, Iwas happy, I was actually honoured, it was helping me to do better andbetter, when you quickly put an end to all that. Hurrah, hurrah!"

I feel rather sorry for him. If he had not told her about his book itwas because she did not and never could understand what compels a manto write one book instead of another. "I had no say in the matter; thething demanded of me that I should do it, and I had to do it. Somemust write from their own experience, they can make nothing ofanything else; but it is to me like a chariot that won't budge; I haveto assume a character, Grizel, and then away we go. I don't attempt toexplain how I write, I hate to discuss it; all I know is that thosewho know how it should be done can never do it. London is overrun withsuch, and everyone of them is as cock-sure as you. You have takeneverything else, Grizel; surely you might leave me my books. "

Yes, everything else, or nearly so. He put upon the table all thefeathers he had extracted since his return to London, and they didmake some little show, if less than it seemed to him. That littleadventure in the park; well, if it started wrongly, it but helped toshow the change in him, for he had determinedly kept away from Mrs. Jerry's house. He had met her once since the book came out, and shehad blushed exquisitely when referring to it, and said: "How you havesuffered! I blame myself dreadfully. " Yes, and there was an unoccupiedsofa near by, and he had not sat down on it with her and continued theconversation. Was not that a feather? And there were other ladies, and, without going into particulars, they were several feathersbetween them. How doggedly, to punish himself, he had stuck to thecompany of men, a sex that never interested him!

"But all that is nothing. I am beyond the pale, I did so monstrous athing that I must die for it. What was this dreadful thing? When I sawyou with that glove I knew you loved me, and that you thought I lovedyou, and I had not the heart to dash your joy. You don't know it, butthat was the crime for which I must be exterminated, fiend that I am!"

Gusts of fury came at intervals all the morning. He wrote herappalling letters and destroyed them. He shook his fist and snappedhis fingers at her, and went out for drink (having none in the house), and called a hansom to take him to Mrs. Jerry's, and tore round thepark again and glared at everybody. He rushed on and on. "But the onething you shall never do, Grizel, is to interfere with my work; Iswear it, do you hear? In all else I am yours to mangle at your will, but touch it, and I am a beast at bay. "

And still saying such things, he drew near the publishing offices ofGoldie & Goldie, and circled round them, less like a beast at bay thana bird that is taking a long way to its nest. And about four of theafternoon what does this odd beast or bird or fish do but stalk intoGoldie & Goldie's and order "Unrequited Love" to be withdrawn fromcirculation. 

"Madam, I have carried out your wishes, and the man is hanged. "

Not thus, but in words to that effect, did Tommy announce his deed toGrizel. 

"I think you have done the right thing, " she wrote back, "and I admireyou for it. " But he thought she did not admire him sufficiently forit, and he did not answer her letter, so it was the last that passedbetween them. 

Such is the true explanation (now first published) of an affair thatat the time created no small stir. "Why withdraw the book?" Goldie &Goldie asked of Tommy, but he would give no reason. "Why?" the publicasked of Goldie & Goldie, and they had to invent several. The publicinvented the others. The silliest were those you could know only bybelonging to a club. 

I swear that Tommy had not foreseen the result. Quite unwittingly thefavoured of the gods had found a way again. The talk about hisincomprehensible action was the turning-point in the fortunes of thebook. There were already a few thousand copies in circulation, and nowmany thousand people wanted them. Sandys, Sandys, Sandys! where hadthe ladies heard that name before? Society woke up, Sandys was againits hero; the traveller had to go lecturing in the provinces. 

The ladies! Yes, and their friends, the men. There was a Tommy societyin Mayfair that winter, nearly all of the members eminent orbeautiful, and they held each other's hands. Both sexes were eligible, married or single, and the one rule was something about sympathy. Itafterwards became the Souls, but those in the know still call them theTommies. 

They blackballed Mrs. Jerry (she was rather plump), but her marriedstepdaughter, Lady Pippinworth (who had been a Miss Ridge-Fulton), wasone of them. Indeed, the Ridge-Fultons are among the thinnest familiesin the country. 

T. Sandys was invited to join the society, but declined, and thusnever quite knew what they did, nor can any outsider know, there beinga regulation among the Tommies against telling. I believe, however, that they were a brotherhood, with sisters. You had to pass anexamination in unrequited love, showing how you had suffered, andafter that either the men or the women (I forget which) dressed inwhite to the throat, and then each got some other's old love's hand tohold, and you all sat on the floor and thought hard. There may havebeen even more in it than this, for one got to know Tommies at sightby a sort of careworn halo round the brow, and it is said that theHouse of Commons was several times nearly counted out because so manyof its middle-aged members were holding the floor in another place. 

Of course there were also the Anti-Tommies, who called themselves(rather vulgarly) the Tummies. Many of them were that shape. They heldthat, though you had loved in vain, it was no such mighty matter toboast of; but they were poor in argument, and their only really strongcard was that Mr. Sandys was stoutish himself. 

Their organs in the press said that he was a man of true genius, andslightly inclined to _embonpoint_. 

This maddened him, but on the whole his return was a triumph, anddespite thoughts of Grizel he was very, very happy, for he was at playagain. He was a boy, and all the ladies were girls. Perhaps the ladyhe saw most frequently was Mrs. Jerry's stepdaughter. Lady Pippinworthwas a friend of Lady Rintoul, and had several times visited her at theSpittal, but that was not the sole reason why Tommy so frequentlydrank tea with her. They had met first at a country house, where, onenight after the ladies had retired to rest, Lady Pippinworth camestealing into the smoking-room with the tidings that there wereburglars in the house. As she approached her room she had heardwhispers, and then, her door being ajar, she had peeped upon themiscreants. She had also seen a pile of her jewellery on the table, and a pistol keeping guard on top of it. There were several men in thehouse, but that pistol cowed all of them save Tommy. "If we could lockthem in!" someone suggested, but the key was on the wrong side of thedoor. "I shall put it on the right side, " Tommy said pluckily, "if youothers will prevent their escaping by the window"; and withcharacteristic courage he set off for her Ladyship's room. Hisintention was to insert his hand, whip out the key, and lock the dooron the outside, a sufficiently hazardous enterprise; but what does hedo instead? Locks the door on the inside, and goes for the burglarswith his fists! A happy recollection of Corp's famous one from theshoulder disposed at once of the man who had seized the pistol; withthe other gentleman Tommy had a stand-up fight in which both of themtook and gave, but when support arrived, one burglar was senseless onthe floor and T. Sandys was sitting on the other. Courageous of Tommy, was it not? But observe the end. He was left in the dining-room totake charge of his captives until morning, and by and by he wasexhorting them in such noble language to mend their ways that theytook the measure of him, and so touching were their family historiesthat Tommy wept and untied their cords and showed them out at thefront door and gave them ten shillings each, and the one who beggedfor the honour of shaking hands with him also took his watch. Thus didTommy and Lady Pippinworth become friends, but it was not this thatsent him so often to her house to tea. She was a beautiful woman, witha reputation for having broken many hearts without damaging her own. He thought it an interesting case. 

CHAPTER XXVI

GRIZEL ALL ALONE

It was Tommy who was the favoured of the gods, you remember, notGrizel. 

Elspeth wondered to see her, after the publication of that book, looking much as usual. "You know how he loved you now, " she said, perhaps a little reproachfully. 

"Yes, " Grizel answered, "I know; I knew before the book came out. "

"You must be sorry for him?"

Grizel nodded. 

"But proud of him also, " Elspeth said. "You have a right to be proud. "

"I am as proud, " Grizel replied, "as I have a right to be. "

Something in her voice touched Elspeth, who was so happy that shewanted everyone to be happy. "I want you to know, Grizel, " she saidwarmly, "that I don't blame you for not being able to love him; wecan't help those things. Nor need you blame yourself too much, for Ihave often heard him say that artists must suffer in order to producebeautiful things. "

"But I cannot remember, " Elspeth had to admit, with a sigh, to David, "that she made any answer to that, except 'Thank you. '"

Grizel was nearly as reticent to David himself. Once only did shebreak down for a moment in his presence. It was when he was tellingher that the issue of the book had been stopped. 

"But I see you know already, " he said. "Perhaps you even knowwhy--though he has not given any sufficient reason to Elspeth. "

David had given his promise, she reminded him, not to ask her anyquestions about Tommy. 

"But I don't see why I should keep it, " he said bluntly. 

"Because you dislike him, " she replied. 

"Grizel, " he declared, "I have tried hard to like him. I have thoughtand thought about it, and I can't see that he has given me any justcause to dislike him. "

"And that, " said Grizel, "makes you dislike him more than ever. "

"I know that you cared for him once, " David persisted, "and I knowthat he wanted to marry you--"

But she would not let him go on. "David, " she said, "I want to give upmy house, and I want you to take it. It is the real doctor's house ofThrums, and people in need of you still keep ringing me up of nights. The only door to your surgery is through my passage; it is I whoshould be in lodgings now. "

"Do you really think I would, Grizel!" he cried indignantly. 

"Rather than see the dear house go into another's hands, " she answeredsteadily; "for I am determined to leave it. Dr. McQueen won't feelstrange when he looks down, David, if it is only you he sees movingabout the old rooms, instead of me. "

"You are doing this for me, Grizel, and I won't have it. "

"I give you my word, " she told him, "that I am doing it for myselfalone. I am tired of keeping a house, and of all its worries. Mendon't know what they are. "

She was smiling, but his brows wrinkled in pain. "Oh, Grizel!" hesaid, and stopped. And then he cried, "Since when has Grizel ceased tocare for housekeeping?"

She did not say since when. I don't know whether she knew; but it wassince she and Tommy had ceased to correspond. David's words showed hertoo suddenly how she had changed, and it was then that she broke downbefore him--because she had ceased to care for housekeeping. 

But she had her way, and early in the new year David and his wife wereestablished in their new home, with all Grizel's furniture, exceptsuch as was needed for the two rooms rented by her from Gavinia. Shewould have liked to take away the old doctor's chair, because it wasthe bit of him left behind when he died, and then for that very reasonshe did not. She no longer wanted him to see her always. "I am not sonice as I used to be, and I want to keep it from you, " she said to thechair when she kissed it good-bye. 

Was Grizel not as nice as she used to be? How can I answer, who loveher the more only? There is one at least, Grizel, who will neverdesert you. 

Ah, but was she?

I seem again to hear the warning voice of Grizel, and this time she iscrying: "You know I was not. "

She knew it so well that she could say it to herself quite calmly. Sheknew that, with whatever repugnance she drove those passions away, they would come back--yes, and for a space be welcomed back. Why doesshe leave Gavinia's blue hearth this evening, and seek the solitaryDen? She has gone to summon them, and she knows it. They come thick inthe Den, for they know the place. It was there that her mother waswont to walk with them. Have they been waiting for you in the Den, Grizel, all this time? Have you found your mother's legacy at last?

Don't think that she sought them often. It was never when she seemedto have anything to live for. Tommy would not write to her, and so didnot want her to write to him; but if that bowed her head, it nevermade her rebel. She still had her many duties. Whatever she suffered, so long as she could say, "I am helping him, " she was in heart andsoul the Grizel of old. In his fits of remorse, which were many, hetried to produce work that would please her. Thus, in a heroic attemptto be practical, he wrote a political article in one of the reviews, quite in the ordinary style, but so much worse than the average ofsuch things that they would never have printed it without his name. Healso contributed to a magazine a short tale, --he who could never writetales, --and he struck all the beautiful reflections out of it, andnever referred to himself once, and the result was so imbecile thatkindly people said there must be another writer of the same name. "Show them to Grizel, " Tommy wrote to Elspeth, inclosing also some ofthe animadversions of the press, and he meant Grizel to see that hecould write in his own way only. But she read those two efforts withdelight, and said to Elspeth, "Tell him I am so proud of them. "

Elspeth thought it very nice of Grizel to defend the despised in thisway (even Elspeth had fallen asleep over the political paper). She didnot understand that Grizel loved them because they showed Tommy tryingto do without his wings. 

Then another trifle by him appeared, shorter even than the others; butno man in England could have written it except T. Sandys. It has notbeen reprinted, and I forget everything about it except that itssubject was love. "Will not the friends of the man who can producesuch a little masterpiece as this, " the journals said, "save him fromwasting his time on lumber for the reviews, and drivelling tales?" AndTommy suggested to Elspeth that she might show Grizel this exhortationalso. 

Grizel saw she was not helping him at all. If he would not fight, whyshould she? Oh, let her fall and fall, it would not take her fartherfrom him! These were the thoughts that sent her into solitude, to meetwith worse ones. She could not face the morrow. "What shall I doto-morrow?" She never shrank from to-day--it had its duties; it couldbe got through: but to-morrow was a never-ending road. Oh, how couldshe get through to-morrow?

Her great friend at this time was Corp; because he still retained hisfaith in Tommy. She could always talk of Tommy to Corp. 

How loyal Corp was! He still referred to Tommy as "him. " Gavinia, muchdistressed, read aloud to Corp a newspaper attack on the politicalarticle, and all he said was, "He'll find a wy. "

"He's found it, " he went upstairs to announce to Grizel, when thepraises of the "little masterpiece" arrived. 

"Yes, I know, Corp, " she answered quietly. She was sitting by thewindow where the plant was. Tommy had asked her to take care of it, without telling her why. 

Something in her appearance troubled the hulking, blundering man. Hecould not have told what it was. I think it was simply this--thatGrizel no longer sat erect in her chair. 

"I'm nain easy in my mind about Grizel, " he said that evening toGavinia. "There's something queery about her, though I canna bottom't. "

"Yea?" said Gavinia, with mild contempt. 

He continued pulling at his pipe, grunting as if in pleasant pain, which was the way Corp smoked. 

"I could see she's no pleased, though he has found a wy, " he said. 

"What pleasure should she be able to sook out o' his keepingding-ding-danging on about that woman?" retorted Gavinia. 

"What woman?"

"The London besom that gae him the go-by. "

"Was there sic a woman!" Corp cried. 

"Of course there was, and it's her that he's aye writing about. "

"Havers, Gavinia! It's Grizel he's aye writing about, and it wasGrizel that gae him the go-by. It's town talk. "

But whatever the town might say, Gavinia stuck to her opinion. "Grizel's no near so neat in her dressing as she was, " she informedCorp, "and her hair is no aye tidy, and that bonnet she was inyesterday didna set her. "

"I've noticed it, " cried Corp. "I've noticed it this while back, though I didna ken I had noticed it, Gavinia. I wonder what can be thereason?"

"It's because nobody cares, " Gavinia replied sadly. Trust one woman toknow another!

"We a' care, " said Corp, stoutly. 

"We're a' as nothing, Corp, when he doesna care. She's fond o' him, man. "

"Of course she is, in a wy. Whaur's the woman that could help it?"

"There's many a woman that could help it, " said Gavinia, tartly, forthe honour of her sex, "but she's no are o' them. " To be candid, Gavinia was not one of them herself. "I'm thinking she's terrible fondo' him, " she said, "and I'm nain sure that he has treated her weel. "

"Woman, take care; say a word agin him and I'll mittle you!" Corpthundered, and she desisted in fear. 

But he made her re-read the little essay to him in instalments, and atthe end he said victoriously, "You blethering crittur, there's no sicwoman. It's just another o' his ploys!"

He marched upstairs to Grizel with the news, and she listened kindly. "I am sure you are right, " she said; "you understand him better thanany of them, Corp, " and it was true. 

He thought he had settled the whole matter. He was burning to bedownstairs to tell Gavinia that these things needed only a man. "Andso you'll be yoursel' again, Grizel, " he said, with great relief. 

She had not seen that he was aiming at her until now, and it touchedher. "Am I so different, Corp?"

Not at all, he assured her delicately, but she was maybe no quite soneatly dressed as she used to be, and her hair wasna braided back sosmooth, and he didna think that bonnet quite set her. 

"Gavinia has been saying that to you!"

"I noticed it mysel', Grizel; I'm a terrible noticher. "

"Perhaps you are right, " she said, reflecting, after looking atherself for the first time for some days. "But to think of yourcaring, Corp!"

"I care most michty, " he replied, with terrific earnestness. 

"I must try to satisfy you, then, " she said, smiling. "But, Corp, please don't discuss me with Gavinia. "

This request embarrassed him, for soon again he did not know how toact. There was Grizel's strange behaviour with the child, forinstance. "No, I won't come down to see him to-day, Corp, " she hadsaid; "somehow children weary me. "

Such words from Grizel! His mouth would not shut and he could saynothing. "Forgive me, Corp!" she cried remorsefully, and randownstairs, and with many a passionate caress asked forgiveness of thechild. 

Corp followed her, and for the moment he thought he must have beendreaming upstairs. "I wish I saw you wi' bairns o' your ain, Grizel, "he said, looking on entranced; but she gave him such a pitiful smilethat he could not get it out of his head. Deprived of Gavinia'scounsel, and afraid to hurt Elspeth, he sought out the doctor and saidbluntly to him, "How is it he never writes to Grizel? She misses himterrible. "

"So, " David thought, "Grizel's dejection is becoming common talk. ""Damn him!" he said, in a gust of fury. 

But this was too much for loyal Corp. "Damn you!" he roared. 

But in his heart he knew that the doctor was a just man, andhenceforth, when he was meaning to comfort Grizel, he was oftenseeking comfort for himself. 

He did it all with elaborate cunning, to prevent her guessing that hewas disturbed about her: asked permission to sit with her, forinstance, because he was dull downstairs; mentioned as a ludicrousthing that there were people who believed Tommy could treat a womanbadly, and waited anxiously for the reply. Oh, he was transparent, wasCorp, but you may be sure Grizel never let him know that she sawthrough him. Tommy could not be blamed, she pointed out, though he didnot care for some woman who perhaps cared for him. 

"Exac'ly, " said Corp. 

And if he seemed, Grizel went on, with momentary bitterness, to treather badly, it could be only because she had made herself cheap. 

"That's it, " said Corp, cheerfully. Then he added hurriedly, "No, that's no it ava. She's the last to mak' hersel' cheap. " Then he sawthat this might put Grizel on the scent. "Of course there's no sicwoman, " he said artfully, "but if there was, he would mak' it a'right. She mightna see how it was to be done, but kennin' what acrittur he is, she maun be sure he would find a wy. She would neverlose hope, Grizel. "

And then, if Grizel did not appease him instantly, he would sayappealingly, "I canna think less o' him, Grizel; no, it would mak' mejust terrible low. Grizel, " he would cry sternly, "dinna tell me tothink less o' that laddie. "

Then, when she had reassured him, he would recall the many instancesin which Tommy as a boy had found a way. "Did we ever ken he wasfinding it, Grizel, till he did find it? Many a time I says to mysel', says I, 'All is over, ' and syne next minute that holy look comes owerhis face, and he stretches out his legs like as if he was riding on ahorse, and all that kens him says, 'He has found a wy. ' If I was thewoman (no that there is sic a woman) I would say to mysel', 'He wasnever beat, ' I would say, 'when he was a laddie, and it's no likelyhe'll be beat when he's a man'; and I wouldna sit looking at the firewi' my hands fauded, nor would I forget to keep my hair neat, and Iwould wear the frock that set me best, and I would play in my auldbonny wy wi' bairns, for says I to mysel', 'I'm sure to hae bairns o'my ain some day, and--"'

But Grizel cried, "Don't, Corp, don't!"

"I winna, " he answered miserably, "no, I winna. Forgive me, Grizel; Ithink I'll be stepping"; and then when he got as far as the door hewould say, "I canna do 't, Grizel; I'm just terrible wae for the woman(if sic a woman there be), but I canna think ill o' him; you maunaspeir it o' me. "

He was much brightened by a reflection that came to him one day inchurch. "Here have I been near blaming him for no finding a wy, andvery like he doesna ken we want him to find a wy!"

How to inform Tommy without letting Grizel know? She had tried twicelong ago to teach him to write, but he found it harder on the wriststhan the heaviest luggage. It was not safe for him even to think ofthe extra twirl that turned an _n_ into an _m_, without first removingany knick-knacks that might be about. Nevertheless, he now proposed athird set-to, and Grizel acquiesced, though she thought it but anotherof his inventions to keep her from brooding. 

The number of words in the English tongue excited him, and he oftenlost all by not confining the chase to one, like a dog after rabbits. Fortunately, he knew which words he wanted to bag. 

"Change at Tilliedrum!" "Tickets! show your tickets!" and the like, hemuch enjoyed meeting in the flesh, so to speak. 

"Let's see 'Find a wy, ' Grizel, " he would say. "Ay, ay, and is thatthe crittur!" and soon the sly fellow could write it, or at least drawit. 

He affected an ambition to write a letter to his son on thatgentleman's first birthday, and so "Let's see what 'I send you thesefew scrapes' is like, Grizel. " She assured him that this is notessential in correspondence, but all the letters he had ever heardread aloud began thus, and he got his way. 

Anon Master Shiach was surprised and gratified to receive thefollowing epistle: "My dear sir, I send you these few scrapes to tellyou as you have found a way to be a year of age the morn. All ticketsready in which Gavinia joins so no more at present I am, sir, yourobed't father Corp Shiach. "

The fame of this letter went abroad, but not a soul knew of the next. It said: "My dear Sir, I send you these few scrapes to tell you asGrizel needs cheering up. Kindly oblidge by finding a way so no moreat present. I am sir your obed't Serv't Corp Shiach. "

To his bewilderment, this produced no effect, though only becauseTommy never got it, and he wrote again, more sternly, requesting hishero to find a way immediately. He was waiting restlessly for theanswer at a time when Elspeth called on Grizel to tell her ofsomething beautiful that Tommy had done. He had been very ill fornearly a fortnight, it appeared, but had kept it from her to save heranxiety. "Just think, Grizel; all the time he was in bed withbronchitis he was writing me cheerful letters every other daypretending there was nothing the matter with him. He is better now. Ihave heard about it from a Mrs. Jerry, a lady whom I knew in London, and who has nursed him in the kindest way. " (But this same Mrs. Jerryhad opened Corp's letters and destroyed them as of no importance. ) "Hewould never have mentioned it himself. How like him, Grizel! Youremember, I made him promise before he went back to London that if hewas ill he would let me know at once so that I could go to him, but heis so considerate he would not give me pain. He wrote those letters, Grizel, when he was gasping for breath. "

"But she seemed quite unmoved, " Elspeth said sadly to her husbandafterwards. 

Unmoved! Yes; Grizel remained apparently unmoved until Elspeth hadgone, but then--the torture she endured! "Oh, cruel, cruel!" shecried, and she could neither stand nor sit; she flung herself downbefore the fire and rocked this way and that, in a paroxysm of woe. "Oh, cruel, cruel!"

It was Tommy who was cruel. To be ill, near to dying, apparently, andnot to send her word! She could never, never have let him go had henot made that promise to Elspeth; and he kept it thus. Oh, wicked, wicked!

"You would have gone to him at once, Elspeth! You! Who are you, thattalks of going to him as your right? He is not yours, I tell you; heis mine! He is mine alone; it is I who would go to him. Who is thiswoman that dares take my place by his side when he is ill!"

She rose to go to him, to drive away all others. I am sure that waswhat gave her strength to rise; but she sank to the floor again, andher passion lasted for hours. And through the night she was crying toGod that she would be brave no more. In her despair she hoped he heardher. 

Her mood had not changed when David came to see her next morning, toadmit, too, that Tommy seemed to have done an unselfish thing inconcealing his illness from them. Grizel nodded, but he thought shewas looking strangely reckless. He had a message from Elspeth. Tommyhad asked her to let him know whether the plant was flourishing. 

"So you and he don't correspond now?" David said, with his old, puzzled look. 

"No, " was all her answer to that. The plant, she thought, was dead;she had not, indeed, paid much attention to it of late; but she showedit to David, and he said it would revive if more carefully tended. Healso told her its rather pathetic history, which was new to Grizel, and of the talk at the wedding which had led to Tommy's taking pity onit. "Fellow-feeling, I suppose, " he said lightly; "you see, they bothblossomed prematurely. "

The words were forgotten by him as soon as spoken; but Grizel sat onwith them, for they were like a friend--or was it an enemy?--who hadcome to tell her strange things. Yes, the doctor was right. Now sheknew why Tommy had loved this plant. Of the way in which he would sitlooking wistfully at it, almost nursing it, she had been told byAaron; he had himself begged her to tend it lovingly. Fellow-feeling!The doctor was shrewder than he thought. 

Well, what did it matter to her? All that day she would do nothing forthe plant, but in the middle of the night she rose and ran to it andhugged it, and for a time she was afraid to look at it by lamplight, lest Tommy was dead. Whether she had never been asleep that night, orhad awakened from a dream, she never knew, but she ran to the plant, thinking it and Tommy were as one, and that they must die together. Nosuch thought had ever crossed his mind, but it seemed to her that shehad been told it by him, and she lit her fire to give the plantwarmth, and often desisted, to press it to her bosom, the heat seemedto come so reluctantly from the fire. This idea that his fate wasbound up with that of the plant took strange possession of the oncepractical Grizel; it was as if some of Tommy's nature had passed intoher to help her break the terrible monotony of the days. 

And from that time there was no ailing child more passionately tendedthan the plant, and as spring advanced it began once more to put forthnew leaves. 

And Grizel also seemed glorified again. She was her old self. Darkshapes still lingered for her in the Den, but she avoided them, and ifthey tried to enter into her, she struggled with them and cast themout. As she saw herself able to fight and win once more, her pridereturned to her, and one day she could ask David, joyously, to giveher a present of the old doctor's chair. And she could kneel by itsside and say to it, "You can watch me always; I am just as I used tobe. "

Seeing her once more the incarnation of vigor and content, singinggaily to his child, and as eager to be at her duties betimes as amorning in May, Corp grunted with delight, and was a hero for nottelling her that it was he who had passed Tommy the word. For, ofcourse, Tommy had done it all. 

"Somebody has found a wy, Grizel!" he would say, chuckling, and shesmiled an agreement. 

"And yet, " says he, puzzled, "I've watched, and you hinna haen aletter frae him. It defies the face o' clay to find out how he hasmanaged it. Oh, the crittur! Ay, I suppose you dinna want to tell mewhat it is that has lichted you up again?"

She could not tell him, for it was a compact she had made with one whodid not sign it. "I shall cease to be bitter and despairing andwicked, and try every moment of my life to be good and do good, solong as my plant flourishes; but if it withers, then I shall go tohim--I don't care what happens; I shall go to him. "

It was the middle of June when she first noticed that the plant wasbeginning to droop. 

CHAPTER XXVII

GRIZEL'S JOURNEY

Nothing could have been less expected. In the beginning of May itsleaves had lost something of their greenness. The plant seemed to behesitating, but she coaxed it over the hill, and since then it hadscarcely needed her hand; almost light-headedly it hurried into itssummer clothes, and new buds broke out on it, like smiles, at thefascinating thought that there was to be a to-morrow. Grizel's planthad never been so brave in its little life when suddenly it turnedback. 

That was the day on which Elspeth and David were leaving for afortnight's holiday with his relatives by the sea; for Elspeth neededand was getting special devotion just now, and Grizel knew why. Shewas glad they were going; it was well that they should not be there toask questions if she also must set forth on a journey. 

For more than a week she waited, and everything she could do for herplant she did. She watched it so carefully that she might havedeceived herself into believing that it was standing still only, hadthere been no night-time. She thought she had not perhaps beensufficiently good, and she tried to be more ostentatiously satisfiedwith her lot. Never had she forced herself to work quite so hard forothers as in those few days, and then when she came home it haddrooped a little more. 

When she was quite sure that it was dying, she told Corp she was goingto London by that night's train. "He is ill, Corp, and I must go tohim. "

Ill! But how had he let her know?

"He has found a way, " she said, with a tremulous smile. He wanted herto telegraph; but no, she would place no faith in telegrams. 

At least she could telegraph to Elspeth and the doctor. One of themwould go. 

"It is I who am going, " she said quietly. "I can't wait any longer. Itwas a promise, Corp. He loves me. " They were the only words she saidwhich suggest that there was anything strange about Grizel at thistime. 

Corp saw how determined she was when she revealed, incidentally, thatshe had drawn a sum of money out of the bank a week ago, "to beready. "

"What will folk say!" he cried. 

"You can tell Gavinia the truth when I am gone, " she told him. "Shewill know better than you what to say to other people. " And that wassome comfort to him, for it put the burden of invention upon his wife. So it was Corp who saw Grizel off. He was in great distress himselfabout Tommy, but he kept a courageous face for her, and his last wordsflung in at the carriage window were, "Now dinna be down-hearted; I'mnain down-hearted mysel', for we're very sure he'll find a wy. " AndGrizel smiled and nodded, and the train turned the bend that shuts outthe little town of Thrums. The town vanishes quickly, but the quarrywe howked it out of stands grim and red, watching the train for many amile. 

Of Grizel's journey to London there are no particulars to tell. Shewas wearing her brown jacket and fur cap because Tommy had liked them, and she sat straight and stiff all the way. She had never been in atrain since she was a baby, except two or three times to Tilliedrum, and she thought this was the right way to sit. Always, when the trainstopped, which was at long intervals, she put her head out at thewindow and asked if this was the train to London. Every station atrain stops at in the middle of the night is the infernal regions, andshe shuddered to hear lost souls clanking their chains, which is whata milk-can becomes on its way to the van; but still she asked if thiswas the train to London. When fellow-passengers addressed her, she wasvery modest and cautious in her replies. Sometimes a look ofextraordinary happiness, of radiance, passed over her face, and mayhave puzzled them. It was part of the thought that, however ill hemight be, she was to see him now. 

She did not see him as soon as she expected, for at the door ofTommy's lodgings they told her that he had departed suddenly for theContinent about a week ago. He was to send an address by and by towhich letters could be forwarded. Was he quite well when he went away?Grizel asked, shaking. 

The landlady and her daughter thought he was rather peakish, but hehad not complained. 

He went away for his health, Grizel informed them, and he was very illnow. Oh, could they not tell her where he was? All she knew was thathe was very ill. "I am engaged to be married to him, " she said withdignity. Without this strange certainty that Tommy loved her at last, she could not have trod the road which faced her now. Even when shehad left the house, where at their suggestion she was to callto-morrow, she found herself wondering at once what he would like herto do now, and she went straight to a hotel, and had her box sent toit from the station, and she remained there all day because shethought that this was what he would like her to do. She sat boltupright on a cane chair in her bedroom, praying to God with her eyesopen; she was begging Him to let Tommy tell her where he was, andpromising to return home at once if he did not need her. 

Next morning they showed her, at his lodgings, two lines in anewspaper, which said that he was ill with bronchitis at the HotelKrone, Bad-Platten, in Switzerland. 

It may have been an answer to her prayer, as she thought, but we knownow how the paragraph got into print. On the previous evening thelandlady had met Mr. Pym on the ladder of an omnibus, and told him, before they could be plucked apart, of the lady who knew that Mr. Sandys was ill. It must be bronchitis again. Pym was much troubled; heknew that the Krone at Bad-Platten had been Tommy's destination. Hetalked that day, and one of the company was a reporter, which accountsfor the paragraph. 

Grizel found out how she could get to Bad-Platten. She left her boxbehind her at the cloakroom of the railway station, where I suppose itwas sold years afterwards. From Dover she sent a telegram to Tommy, saying: "I am coming. GRIZEL. "

On entering the train at Calais she had a railway journey of somethirty hours, broken by two changes only. She could speak a littleFrench, but all the use she made of it was to ask repeatedly if shewas in the right train. An English lady who travelled with her formany hours woke up now and again to notice that this quiet, prim-looking girl was always sitting erect, with her hand on herumbrella, as if ready to leave the train at any moment. The ladypointed out some of the beauties of the scenery to her, and Grizeltried to listen. "I am afraid you are unhappy, " her companion said atlast. 

"That is not why I am crying, " Grizel said; "I think I am cryingbecause I am so hungry. "

The stranger gave her sandwiches and claret as cold as the rivers thatraced the train; and Grizel told her, quite frankly, why she was goingto Bad-Platten. She did not tell his name, only that he was ill, andthat she was engaged to him, and he had sent for her. She believed itall. The lady was very sympathetic, and gave her information about thediligence by which the last part of Grizel's journey must be made, andalso said: "You must not neglect your meals, if only for his sake; forhow can you nurse him back to health if you arrive at Bad-Platten illyourself? Consider his distress if he were to be told that you were inthe inn, but not able to go to him. "

"Oh!" Grizel cried, rocking her arms for the first time since she knewher plant was drooping. She promised to be very practical henceforth, so as to have strength to take her place by his side at once. It wasstrange that she who was so good a nurse had forgotten these things, so strange that it alarmed her, as if she feared that, without beingable to check herself, she was turning into some other person. 

The station where she alighted was in a hubbub of life; everyoneseemed to leave the train here, and to resent the presence of all theothers. They were mostly English. The men hung back, as if, now thatthere was business to be done in some foolish tongue, they had betterleave the ladies to do it. Many of them seemed prepared, if there wasdissension, to disown their womankind and run for it. They lookedhaughty and nervous. Such of them as had tried to shave in the trainwere boasting of it and holding handkerchiefs to their chins. Theladies were moving about in a masterful way, carrying bunches of keys. When they had done everything, the men went and stood by their sidesagain. 

Outside the station buses and carriages were innumerable, andeverybody was shouting; but Grizel saw that nearly all herfellow-passengers were hurrying by foot or conveyance to one spot, alldesirous of being there first, and she thought it must be the placewhere the diligence started from, and pressed on with them. It provedto be a hotel where they all wanted the best bedroom, and many of themhad telegraphed for it, and they gathered round a man in uniform anddemanded that room of him; but he treated them as if they were littledogs and he was not the platter, and soon they were begging for a roomon the fourth floor at the back, and swelling with triumph if they gotit. The scrimmage was still going on when Grizel slipped out of thehotel, having learned that the diligence would not start until thefollowing morning. It was still early in the afternoon. How could shewait until to-morrow?

Bad-Platten was forty miles away. The road was pointed out to her. Itbegan to climb at once. She was to discover that for more than thirtymiles it never ceased to climb. She sat down, hesitating, on a littlebridge that spanned a horrible rushing white stream. Poets have sungthe glories of that stream, but it sent a shiver through her. On allsides she was caged in by a ring of splendid mountains, but she didnot give them one admiring glance (there is a special spot where theguide-books advise you to stop for a moment to do it); her onepassionate desire was to fling out her arms and knock them over. 

She had often walked twenty miles in a day, in a hill country too, without feeling tired, and there seemed no reason why she should notset off now. There were many inns on the way, she was told, where shecould pass the night. There she could get the diligence next day. Thiswould not bring her any sooner to him than if she waited here untilto-morrow; but how could she sit still till to-morrow? She must bemoving; she seemed to have been sitting still for an eternity. "I mustnot do anything rash, " she told herself, carefully. "I must arrive atBad-Platten able to sit down beside him the moment I have taken off myjacket--oh, without waiting to take off my jacket. " She went into thehotel and ate some food, just to show herself how careful she hadbecome. About three o'clock she set off. She had a fierce desire toget away from that heartless white stream and the crack of whips andthe doleful pine woods, and at first she walked very quickly; but shenever got away from them, for they marched with her. It was not thatday, but the next, that Grizel thought anything was marching with her. That day her head was quite clear, and she kept her promise toherself, and as soon as she felt tired she stopped for the night at avillage inn. But when she awoke very early next morning she seemed tohave forgotten that she was to travel the rest of the way bydiligence; for, after a slight meal, she started off again on foot, and she was walking all day. 

She passed through many villages so like each other that in time shethought they might be the same. There was always a monster inn whenceone carriage was departing as another drove up, and there was a greatstone water-tank in which women drew their washing back and forward, and there was always a big yellow dog that barked fiercely and thengiggled, and at the doors of painted houses children stood. You knewthey were children by their size only. The one person she spoke tothat day was a child who offered her a bunch of wild flowers. No onewas looking, and Grizel kissed her and then hurried on. 

The carriage passed and repassed her. There must have been a hundredof them, but in time they became one. No sooner had it disappeared indust in front of her than she heard the crack of its whip behind. 

It was a glorious day of sweltering sun; but she was bewildered now, and did not open the umbrella with which she had shielded her headyesterday. In the foreground was always the same white road, on bothsides the same pine wood laughing with wild flowers, the same roaringwhite stream. From somewhere near came the tinkle of cow-bells. Faraway on heights, if she looked up, were villages made of match-boxes. She saw what were surely the same villages if she looked down; or theone was the reflection of the other, in the sky above or in the valleybelow. They stood out so vividly that they might have been withinarm's reach. They were so small that she felt she could extinguishthem with her umbrella. Near them was the detestably picturesquecastle perched upon a bracket. Everywhere was that loathly waterfall. Here and there were squares of cultivated land that looked likedoor-mats flung out upon the hillsides. The huge mountains raisedtheir jagged heads through the snow, and were so sharp-edged that theymight have been clipped out of cardboard. The sky was blue, without aflaw; but lost clouds crawled like snakes between heaven and earth. All day the sun scorched her, but the night was nipping cold. 

From early morn till evening she climbed to get away from them, butthey all marched with her. They waited while she slept. She woke up inan inn, and could have cried with delight because she saw nothing butbare walls. But as soon as she reached the door, there they all were, ready for her. An hour after she set off, she again reached that door;and she stopped at it to ask if this was the inn where she had passedthe night. Everything had turned with her. Two squalls of sudden raindrenched her that day, and she forced her way through the first, butsought a covering from the second. 

It was then afternoon, and she was passing through a village by alake. Since Grizel's time monster hotels have trampled the village todeath, and the shuddering lake reflects all day the most hideous ofcaravansaries flung together as with a giant shovel in one of theloveliest spots on earth. Even then some of the hotels had found itout. Grizel drew near to two of them, and saw wet halls full of openumbrellas which covered the floor and looked like great beetles. Thesebuildings were too formidable, and she dragged herself past them. Shecame to a garden of hops and evergreens. Wet chairs were standing inthe deserted walks, and here and there was a little arbour. She wentinto one of these arbours and sat down, and soon slid to the floor. 

The place was St. Gian, some miles from Bad-Platten; but one of theumbrellas she had seen was Tommy's. Others belonged to Mrs. Jerry andLady Pippinworth. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

TWO OF THEM

When Tommy started impulsively on what proved to be his onlyContinental trip he had expected to join Mrs. Jerry and herstepdaughter at Bad-Platten. They had been there for a fortnight, and"the place is a dream, " Mrs. Jerry had said in the letter pressing himto come; but it was at St. Gian that she met the diligence and toldhim to descend. Bad-Platten, she explained, was a horror. 

Her fuller explanation was that she was becoming known there as theround lady. 

"Now, am I as round as all that?" she said plaintively to Tommy. 

"Mrs. Jerry, " he replied, with emotion, "you must not ask me what Ithink of you. " He always treated her with extraordinary respect andchivalry now, and it awed her. 

She had looked too, too round because she was in the company of LadyPippinworth. Everyone seemed to be too round or too large by the sideof that gifted lady, who somehow never looked too thin. She knew herpower. When there were women in the room whom she disliked she merelywent and stood beside them. In the gyrations of the dance the onlookerwould momentarily lose sight of her; she came and went like a blinkingcandle. Men could not dance with her without its being said that theywere getting stout. There is nothing they dislike so much, yet theydid dance with her. Tommy, having some slight reason, was particularlysensitive about references to his figure, yet it was Lady Pippinworthwho had drawn him to Switzerland. What was her strange attraction?

Calmly considered, she was preposterously thin, but men, at least, could not think merely of her thinness, unless, when walking with her, they became fascinated by its shadow on the ground. She was tall, andhad a very clear, pale complexion and light-brown hair. Light brown, too, were her heavy eyelashes, which were famous for beingblack-tipped, as if a brush had touched them, though it had not. Shemade play with her eyelashes as with a fan, and sometimes the upperand lower seemed to entangle for a moment and be in difficulties, fromwhich you wanted to extricate them in the tenderest manner. And themore you wanted to help her the more disdainfully she looked at you. Yet though she looked disdainful she also looked helpless. Now we havethe secret of her charm. 

This helpless disdain was the natural expression of her face, and I amsure she fell asleep with a curl of the lip. Her scorn of men somaddened them that they could not keep away from her. "Damn!" theysaid under their breath, and rushed to her. If rumour is to bebelieved, Sir Harry Pippinworth proposed to her in a fury brought onby the sneer with which she had surveyed his family portraits. I knownothing more of Sir Harry, except that she called him Pips, whichseems to settle him. 

"They will be calling me the round gentleman, " Tommy said ruefully toher that evening, as he strolled with her towards the lake, and indeedhe was looking stout. Mrs. Jerry did not accompany them; she wanted tobe seen with her trying stepdaughter as little as possible, andTommy's had been the happy proposal that he should attend themalternately--"fling away my own figure to save yours, " he had saidgallantly to Mrs. Jerry. 

"Do you mind?" Lady Pippinworth asked. 

"I mind nothing, " he replied, "so long as I am with you. "

He had not meant to begin so near the point where they had last leftoff; he had meant to begin much farther back: but an irresistibledesire came over him to make sure that she really did permit him tosay this sort of thing. 

Her only reply was a flutter of the little fans and a mostcontemptuous glance. 

"Alice, " said Tommy, in the old way. 

"Well?"

"You don't understand what it is to me to say Alice again. "

"Many people call me Alice. "

"But they have a right to. "

"I supposed you thought you had a right to also. "

"No, " said Tommy. "That is why I do it. "

She strolled on, more scornful and helpless than ever. Apparently itdid not matter what one said to Lady Pippinworth; her pout kept itwithin the proprieties. 

There was a magnificent sunset that evening, which dyed a snow-toppedmountain pink. "That is what I came all the way from London to see, "Tommy remarked, after they had gazed at it. 

"I hope you feel repaid, " she said, a little tartly. 

"You mistake my meaning, " he replied. "I had heard of these wonderfulsunsets, and an intense desire came over me to see you lookingdisdainfully at them. Yes, I feel amply repaid. Did you notice, Alice, or was it but a fancy of my own, that when he had seen the expressionon your face the sun quite slunk away?"

"I wonder you don't do so also, " she retorted. She had no sense ofhumour, and was rather stupid; so it is no wonder that the men ranafter her. 

"I am more gallant than the sun, " said he. "If I had been up there inits place, Alice, and you had been looking at me, I could never haveset. "

She pouted contemptuously, which meant, I think, that she was wellpleased. Yet, though he seemed to be complimenting her, she was notsure of him. She had never been sure of Tommy, nor, indeed, he of her, which was probably why they were so interested in each other still. 

"Do you know, " Tommy said, "what I have told you is really at leasthalf the truth? If I did not come here to see you disdaining the sun, I think I did come to see you disdaining me. Odd, is it not, if true, that a man should travel so far to see a lip curl up?"

"You don't seem to know what brought you, " she said. 

"It seems so monstrous, " he replied, musing. "Oh, yes, I am quitecertain that the curl of the lip is responsible for my being here; itkept sending me constant telegrams; but what I want to know is, do Icome for the pleasure of the thing or for the pain? Do I like yourdisdain, Alice, or does it make me writhe? Am I here to beg you to doit again, or to defy it?"

"Which are you doing now?" she inquired. 

"I had hoped, " he said with a sigh, "that you could tell me that. "

On another occasion they reached the same point in this discussion, and went a little beyond it. It was on a wet afternoon, too, whenTommy had vowed to himself to mend his ways. "That disdainful look isyou, " he told her, "and I admire it more than anything in nature; andyet, Alice, and yet----"

"Well?" she answered coldly, but not moving, though he had comesuddenly too near her. They were on a private veranda of the hotel, and she was lolling in a wicker chair. 

"And yet, " he said intensely, "I am not certain that I would not givethe world to have the power to drive that look from your face. That, Ibegin to think, is what brought me here. "

"But you are not sure, " she said, with a shrug of the shoulder. 

It stung him into venturing further than he had ever gone with herbefore. Not too gently, he took her head in both his hands and forcedher to look up at him. She submitted without a protest. She wasdisdainful, but helpless. 

"Well?" she said again. 

He withdrew his hands, and she smiled mockingly. 

"If I thought----" he cried with sudden passion, and stopped. 

"You think a great deal, don't you?" she said. She was going now. 

"If I thought there was any blood in your veins, you icy woman----"

"Or in your own, " said she. But she said it a little fiercely, and henoticed that. 

"Alice, " he cried, "I know now. It is to drive that look from yourface that I am here. "

She courtesied from the door. She was quite herself again. 

But for that moment she had been moved. He was convinced of it, andhis first feeling was of exultation as in an achievement. I don't knowwhat you are doing just now, Lady Pippinworth, but my compliments toyou, and T. Sandys is swelling. 

There followed on this exultation another feeling as sincere--devoutthankfulness that he had gone no further. He drew deep breaths ofrelief over his escape, but knew that he had not himself to thank. Hisfriends, the little sprites, had done it, in return for the amusementhe seemed to give them. They had stayed him in the nick of time, butnot earlier; it was quite as if they wanted Tommy to have his funfirst. So often they had saved him from being spitted, how could heguess that the great catastrophe was fixed for to-night, and thathenceforth they were to sit round him counting his wriggles, as ifthis new treatment of him tickled them even more than the other?

But he was too clever not to know that they might be fattening him forsome very special feast, and his thanks took the form of a vow to needtheir help no more. To-morrow he would begin to climb the mountainsaround St. Gian; if he danced attendance on her dangerous Ladyshipagain, Mrs. Jerry should be there also, and he would walkcircumspectly between them, like a man with gyves upon his wrists. Hewas in the midst of all the details of these reforms, when suddenly helooked at himself thus occupied, and laughed bitterly; he had so oftencome upon Tommy making grand resolves!

He stopped operations and sat down beside them. No one could havewished more heartily to be anybody else, or have had less hope. He hadnot even the excuse of being passionately drawn to this woman; heremembered that she had never interested him until he heard of hereffect upon other men. Her reputation as a duellist, whose defencenone of his sex could pass, had led to his wondering what they saw inher, and he had dressed himself in their sentiments and so approachedher. There were times in her company when he forgot that he waswearing borrowed garments, when he went on flame, but he always knew, as now, upon reflection. Nothing seemed easier at this moment than tofling them aside; with one jerk they were on the floor. Obviously itwas only vanity that had inspired him, and vanity was satisfied: theeasier, therefore, to stop. Would you like to make the woman unhappy, Tommy? You know you would not; you have somewhere about you one of thesoftest hearts in the world. Then desist; be satisfied that you didthaw her once, and grateful that she so quickly froze again. "I am;indeed I am, " he responds. "No one could have himself better in handfor the time being than I, and if a competition in morals were nowgoing on, I should certainly take the medal. But I cannot speak formyself an hour in advance. I make a vow, as I have done so oftenbefore, but it does not help me to know what I may be at before thenight is out. "

When his disgust with himself was at its height he suddenly felt likea little god. His new book had come into view. He flicked a finger athis reflection in a mirror. "That for you!" he said defiantly; "atleast I can write; I can write at last!"

The manuscript lay almost finished at the bottom of his trunk. Itcould not easily have been stolen for one hour without his knowing. Just when he was about to start on a walk with one of the ladies, hewould run upstairs to make sure that it was still there; he made sureby feeling, and would turn again at the door to make sure by looking. Miser never listened to the crispness of bank-notes with more avidity;woman never spent more time in shutting and opening her jewel-box. 

"I can write at last!" He knew that, comparatively speaking, he hadnever been able to write before. He remembered the fuss that had beenmade about his former books. "Pooh!" he said, addressing themcontemptuously. 

Once more he drew his beloved manuscript from its hiding-place. He didnot mean to read, only to fondle; but his eye chancing to fall on aspecial passage--two hours afterwards he was interrupted by thedinner-gong. He returned the pages to the box and wiped his eyes. While dressing hurriedly he remembered with languid interest that LadyPippinworth was staying in the same hotel. 

There were a hundred or more at dinner, and they were all saying thesame thing: "Where have you been to-day?" "Really! but the lower pathis shadier. " "Is this your first visit?" "The glacier is very nice. ""Were you caught in the rain?" "The view from the top is very nice. ""After all, the rain lays the dust. " "They give you two sweets atBad-Platten and an ice on Sunday. " "The sunset is very nice. " "Thepoulet is very nice. " The hotel is open during the summer months only, but probably the chairs in the dining-room and the knives and forks intheir basket make these remarks to each other every evening throughoutthe winter. 

Being a newcomer, Tommy had not been placed beside either of hisfriends, who sat apart "because, " Mrs. Jerry said, "she calls memamma, and I am not going to stand that. " For some time he gavethought to neither of them; he was engrossed in what he had beenreading, and it turned him into a fine and magnanimous character. Whengradually her Ladyship began to flit among his reflections, it was notto disturb them, but because she harmonized. He wanted to apologize toher. The apology grew in grace as the dinner progressed; it was socharmingly composed that he was profoundly stirred by it. 

The opportunity came presently in the hall, where it is customaryafter dinner to lounge or stroll if you are afraid of the night air. Or if you do not care for music, you can go into the drawing-room andlisten to the piano. 

"I am sure mamma is looking for you everywhere, " Lady Pippinworthsaid, when Tommy took a chair beside her. "It is her evening, youknow. "

"Surely you would not drive me away, " he replied with a languishingair, and then smiled at himself, for he was done with this sort ofthing. "Lady Pippinworth, " said he, firmly--it needs firmness when oflate you have been saying "Alice. "

"Well?"

"I have been thinking----" Tommy began. 

"I am sure you have, " she said. 

"I have been thinking, " he went on determinedly, "that I played a poorpart this afternoon. I had no right to say what I said to you. "

"As far as I can remember, " she answered, "you did not say very much. "

"It is like your generosity, Lady Pippinworth, " he said, "to makelight of it; but let us be frank: I made love to you. "

Anyone looking at his expressionless face and her lazy disdain (andthere were many in the hall) would have guessed that their talk was ofwhere were you to-day? and what should I do to-morrow?

"You don't really mean that?" her Ladyship said incredulously. "Think, Mr. Sandys, before you tell me anything more. Are you sure you are notconfusing me with mamma?"

"I did it, " said Tommy, remorsefully. 

"In my absence?" she asked. 

"When you were with me on the veranda. "

Her eyes opened to their widest, so surprised that the lashes had notime for their usual play. 

"Was that what you call making love, Mr. Sandys?" she inquired. 

"I call a spade a spade. "

"And now you are apologizing to me, I understand?"

"If you can in the goodness of your heart forgive me, LadyPippinworth--"

"Oh, I do, " she said heartily, "I do. But how stupid you must havethought me not even to know! I feel that it is I who ought toapologize. What a number of ways there seem to be of making love, andyours is such an odd way!"

Now to apologize for playing a poor part is one thing, and to put upwith the charge of playing a part poorly is quite another. Nevertheless, he kept his temper. 

"You have discovered an excellent way of punishing me, " he saidmanfully, "and I submit. Indeed, I admire you the more. So I am payingyou a compliment when I whisper that I know you knew. "

But she would not have it. "You are so strangely dense to-night, " shesaid. "Surely, if I had known, I would have stopped you. You forgetthat I am a married woman, " she added, remembering Pips rather late inthe day. 

"There might be other reasons why you did not stop me, " he repliedimpulsively. 

"Such as?"

"Well, you--you might have wanted me to go on. "

He blurted it out. 

"So, " said she slowly, "you are apologizing to me for not going on?"

"I implore you, Lady Pippinworth, " Tommy said, in much distress, "notto think me capable of that. If I moved you for a moment, I am farfrom boasting of it; it makes me only the more anxious to do what isbest for you. "

This was not the way it had shaped during dinner, and Tommy would haveacted wisely had he now gone out to cool his head. "If you moved me?"she repeated interrogatively; but, with the best intentions, hecontinued to flounder. 

"Believe me, " he implored her, "had I known it could be done, I shouldhave checked myself. But they always insist that you are an iceberg, and am I so much to blame if that look of hauteur deceived me with therest? Oh, dear Lady Disdain, " he said warmly, in answer to one of hermost freezing glances, "it deceives me no longer. From that moment Iknew you had a heart, and I was shamed--as noble a heart as ever beatin woman, " he added. He always tended to add generous bits when hefound it coming out well. 

"Does the man think I am in love with him?" was Lady Disdain'sinadequate reply. 

"No, no, indeed!" he assured her earnestly. "I am not so vain as tothink that, nor so selfish as to wish it; but if for a moment you weremoved----"

"But I was not, " said she, stamping her shoe. 

His dander began to rise, as they say in the north; but he kept gripof politeness. 

"If you were moved for a moment, Lady Pippinworth, " he went on, in aslightly more determined voice, --"I am far from saying that it was so;but if----"

"But as I was not----" she said. 

It was no use putting things prettily to her when she snapped you upin this way. 

"You know you were, " he said reproachfully. 

"I assure you, " said she, "I don't know what you are talking about, but apparently it is something dreadful; so perhaps one of us ought togo away. "

As he did not take this hint, she opened a tattered Tauchnitz whichwas lying at her elbow. They are always lying at your elbow in a Swisshotel, with the first pages missing. 

Tommy watched her gloomily. "This is unworthy of you, " he said. 

"What is?"

He was not quite sure, but as he sat there misgivings entered his mindand began to gnaw. Was it all a mistake of his? Undeniably he didthink too much. After all, had she not been moved? 'Sdeath!

His restlessness made her look up. "It must be a great load off yourmind, " she said, with gentle laughter, "to know that your apology wasunnecessary. "

"It is, " Tommy said; "it is. " ('Sdeath!)

She resumed her book. 

So this was how one was rewarded for a generous impulse! He felt verybitter. "So, so, " he said inwardly; also, "Very well, ve-ry well. "Then he turned upon himself. "Serve you right, " he said brutally. "Better stick to your books, Thomas, for you know nothing aboutwomen. " To think for one moment that he had moved her! That streak ofmarble moved! He fell to watching her again, as if she were sometroublesome sentence that needed licking into shape. As she bentimpertinently over her book, she was an insult to man. All Tommy'sinterest in her revived. She infuriated him. 

"Alice, " he whispered. 

"Do keep quiet till I finish this chapter, " she begged lazily. 

It brought him at once to the boiling-point. 

"Alice!" he said fervently. 

She had noticed the change in his voice. "People are looking, " shesaid, without moving a muscle. 

There was some subtle flattery to him in the warning, but he could notask for more, for just then Mrs. Jerry came in. She was cloaked forthe garden, and he had to go with her, sulkily. At the door sheobserved that the ground was still wet. 

"Are you wearing your goloshes?" said he, brightening. "You must getthem, Mrs. Jerry; I insist. "

She hesitated. (Her room was on the third floor. ) "It is very good ofyou to be so thoughtful of me, " she said, "but----"

"But I have no right to try to take care of you, " he interposed in amelancholy voice. "It is true. Let us go. "

"I sha'n't be two minutes, " said Mrs. Jerry, in a flutter, and wentoff hastily for her goloshes, while he looked fondly after her. At theturn of the stair she glanced back, and his eyes were still beggingher to hurry. It was a gracious memory to her in the after years, forshe never saw him again. 

As soon as she was gone he returned to the hall, and taking from a pega cloak with a Mother Goose hood, brought it to Lady Pippinworth, whohad watched her mamma trip upstairs. 

"Did I say I was going out?" she asked. 

"Yes, " said Tommy, and she rose to let him put the elegant thing roundher. She was one of those dangerous women who look their best when youare helping them to put on their cloaks. 

"Now, " he instructed her, "pull the hood over your head. "

"Is it so cold as that?" she said, obeying. 

"I want you to wear it, " he answered. What he meant was that she neverlooked quite so impudent as in her hood, and his vanity insisted thatshe should be armed to the teeth before they resumed hostilities. Thered light was in his eyes as he drew her into the garden where Grizellay. 

CHAPTER XXIX

THE RED LIGHT

It was an evening without stars, but fair, sufficient wind to make herLadyship cling haughtily to his arm as they turned corners. Many ofthe visitors were in the garden, some grouped round a quartet of gailyattired minstrels, but more sitting in little arbours or prowling insearch of an arbour to sit in; the night was so dark that when our twopassed beyond the light of the hotel windows they could scarce see theshrubs they brushed against; cigars without faces behind themsauntered past; several times they thought they had found anunoccupied arbour at last, when they heard the clink of coffee-cups. 

"I believe the castle dates from the fifteenth century, " Tommy wouldthen say suddenly, though it was not of castles he had been talking. 

With a certain satisfaction he noticed that she permitted him, withoutcomment, to bring in the castle thus and to drop it the moment theemergency had passed. But he had little other encouragement. Even whenshe pressed his arm it was only as an intimation that the castle wasneeded. 

"I can't even make her angry, " he said wrathfully to himself. 

"You answer not a word, " he said in great dejection to her. 

"I am afraid to speak, " she admitted. "I don't know who may hear. "

"Alice, " he said eagerly, "what would you say if you were not afraidto speak?"

They had stopped, and he thought she trembled a little on his arm, buthe could not be sure. He thought--but he was thinking too much again;at least, Lady Pippinworth seemed to come to that conclusion, for witha galling little laugh she moved on. He saw with amazing clearnessthat he had thought sufficiently for one day. 

On coming into the garden with her, and for some time afterwards, hehad been studying her so coolly, watching symptoms rather than words, that there is nothing to compare the man to but a doctor who, while heis chatting, has his finger on your pulse. But he was not so calm now. Whether or not he had stirred the woman, he was rapidly firinghimself. 

When next he saw her face by the light of a window, she at the sameinstant turned her eyes on him; it was as if each wanted to knowcorrectly how the other had been looking in the darkness, and theeffect was a challenge. 

Like one retreating a step, she lowered her eyes. "I am tired, " shesaid. "I shall go in. "

"Let us stroll round once more. "

"No, I am going in. "

"If you are afraid----" he said, with a slight smile. 

She took his arm again. "Though it is too bad of me to keep you out, "she said, as they went on, "for you are shivering. Is it the night airthat makes you shiver?" she asked mockingly. 

But she shivered a little herself, as if with a presentiment that shemight be less defiant if he were less thoughtful. For a month or moreshe had burned to teach him a lesson, but there was a time before thatwhen, had she been sure he was in earnest, she would have preferred tobe the pupil. 

Two ladies came out of an arbour where they had been drinking coffee, and sauntered towards the hotel. It was a tiny building, halfconcealed in hops and reached by three steps, and Tommy and hiscompanion took possession. He groped in the darkness for a chair forher, and invited her tenderly to sit down. She said she preferred tostand. She was by the open window, her fingers drumming on the sill. Though he could not see her face, he knew exactly how she was looking. 

"Sit down, " he said, rather masterfully. 

"I prefer to stand, " she repeated languidly. 

He had a passionate desire to take her by the shoulders, but put hishand on hers instead, and she permitted it, like one disdainful buthelpless. She said something unimportant about the stillness. 

"Is it so still?" he said in a low voice. "I seem to hear a greatnoise. I think it must be the beating of my heart. "

"I fancy that is what it is, " she drawled. 

"Do you hear it?"

"No. "

"Did you ever hear your own heart beat, Alice?"

"No. "

He had both her hands now. "Would you like to hear it?"

She pulled away her hands sharply. "Yes, " she replied with defiance. 

"But you pulled away your hands first, " said he. 

He heard her breathe heavily for a moment, but she said nothing. "Yes, " he said, as if she had spoken, "it is true. "

"What is true?"

"What you are saying to yourself just now--that you hate me. "

She beat the floor with her foot. 

"How you hate me, Alice!"

"Oh, no. "

"Yes, indeed you do. "

"I wonder why, " she said, and she trembled a little. 

"I know why. " He had come close to her again. "Shall I tell you why?"

She said "No, " hurriedly. 

"I am so glad you say No. " He spoke passionately, and yet there wasbanter in his voice, or so it seemed to her. "It is because you fearto be told; it is because you had hoped that I did not know. "

"Tell me why I hate you!" she cried. 

"Tell me first that you do. "

"Oh, I do, I do indeed!" She said the words in a white heat of hatred. 

Before she could prevent him he had raised her hand to his lips. 

"Dear Alice!" he said. 

"Why is it?" she demanded. 

"Listen!" he said. "Listen to your heart, Alice; it is beating now. Itis telling you why. Does it need an interpreter? It is saying you hateme because you think I don't love you. "

"Don't you?" she asked fiercely. 

"No, " Tommy said. 

Her hands were tearing each other, and she could not trust herself tospeak. She sat down deadly pale in the chair he had offered her. 

"No man ever loved you, " he said, leaning over her with his hand onthe back of the chair. "You are smiling at that, I know; but it istrue, Lady Disdain. They may have vowed to blow their brains out, andseldom did it; they may have let you walk over them, and they may havebecome your fetch-and-carry, for you were always able to drive themcrazy; but love does not bring men so low. They tried hard to loveyou, and it was not that they could not love; it was that you wereunlovable. That is a terrible thing to a woman. You think you let themtry to love you, that you might make them your slaves when theysucceeded; but you made them your slaves because they failed. It is apower given to your cold and selfish nature in place of the capacityfor being able to be loved, with which women not a hundredth part asbeautiful as you are dowered, and you have a raging desire, Alice, toexercise it over me as over the others; but you can't. "

Had he seen her face then, it might have warned him to take care; buthe heard her words only, and they were not at all in keeping with herface. 

"I see I can't, " was what she cried, almost in a whisper. 

"It is all true, Alice, is it not?"

"I suppose so. I don't know; I don't care. " She swung round in herchair and caught his sleeve. Her hands clung to it. "Say you love menow, " she said. "I cannot live without your love after this. Whatshall I do to make you love me? Tell me, and I will do it. "

He could not stop himself, for he mistrusted her still. 

"I will not be your slave, " he said, through his teeth. "You shall bemine. "

"Yes, yes. "

"You shall submit to me in everything. If I say 'come, ' you shall cometo wheresoever it may be; and if I say 'stay, ' and leave you for ever, you shall stay. "

"Very well, " she said eagerly. She would have her revenge when he washer slave. 

"You can continue to be the haughty Lady Disdain to others, but youshall be only obedient little Alice to me. "

"Very well. " She drew his arm towards her and pressed her lips uponit. "And for that you will love me a little, won't you? You will loveme at last, won't you?" she entreated. 

He was a masterful man up to a certain point only. Her humility nowtapped him in a new place, and before he knew what he was about hebegan to run pity. 

"To humiliate you so, Alice! I am a dastard. I am not such a dastardas you think me. I wanted to know that you would be willing to do allthese things, but I would never have let you do them. "

"I am willing to do them. "

"No, no. " It was he who had her hands now. "It was brutal, but I didit for you, Alice--for you. Don't you see I was doing it only to makea woman of you? You were always adorable, but in a coat of mail thatwould let love neither in nor out. I have been hammering at it tobreak it only and free my glorious Alice. We had to fight, and one ofus had to give in. You would have flung me away if I had yielded--Ihad to win to save you. "

"Now I am lost indeed, " he was saying to himself, even as it camerushing out of him, and what appalled him most was that worse hadprobably still to come. He was astride two horses, and both were atthe gallop. He flung out his arms as if seeking for something to checkhim. 

As he did so she had started to her feet, listening. It seemed to herthat there was someone near them. 

He flung out his arms for help, and they fell upon Lady Pippinworthand went round her. He drew her to him. She could hear no breathingnow but his. 

"Alice, I love you, for you are love itself; it is you I have beenchasing since first love rose like a bird at my feet; I never had apassing fancy for any other woman; I always knew that somewhere in theworld there must be you, and sometime this starless night and you forme. You were hidden behind walls of ice; no man had passed them; Ibroke them down and love leaped to love, and you lie here, mybeautiful, love in the arms of its lover. "

He was in a frenzy of passion now; he meant every word of it; and herintention was to turn upon him presently and mock him, this man withwhom she had been playing. Oh, the jeering things she had to say! Butshe could not say them yet; she would give her fool another moment--soshe thought, but she was giving it to herself; and as she delayed shewas in danger of melting in his arms. 

"What does the world look like to you, my darling? You are in it forthe first time. You were born but a moment ago. It is dark, that youmay not be blinded before you have used your eyes. These are youreyes, dear eyes that do not yet know their purpose; they are forlooking at me, little Alice, and mine are for looking into yours. Icannot see you; I have never seen the face of my love--oh, my love, come into the light that I may see your face. "

They did not move. Her head had fallen on his shoulder. She was togive it but a moment, and then----But the moment had passed and stillher hair pressed his cheek. Her eyes were closed. He seemed to havefound the way to woo her. Neither of them spoke. Suddenly they jumpedapart. Lady Pippinworth stole to the door. They held their breath andlistened. 

It was not so loud now, but it was distinctly heard. It had been heavybreathing, and now she was trying to check it and half succeeding--butat the cost of little cries. They both knew it was a woman, and thatshe was in the arbour, on the other side of the little table. She musthave been there when they came in. 

"Who is that?"

There was no answer to him save the checked breathing and anotherbroken cry. She moved, and it helped him to see vaguely the outlinesof a girl who seemed to be drawing back from him in terror. He thoughtshe was crouching now in the farthest corner. 

"Come away, " he said. But Lady Pippinworth would not let him go. Theymust know who this woman was. He remembered that a match-stand usuallylay on the tables of those arbours, and groped until he found one. 

"Who are you?"

He struck a match. They were those French matches that play aninfernal interlude before beginning to burn. While he waited he knewthat she was begging him, with her hands and with cries that were toolittle to be words, not to turn its light on her. But he did. 

Then she ceased to cower. The girlish dignity that had been hers solong came running back to her. As she faced him there was even acrooked smile upon her face. 

[Illustration: "I woke up, " she said. ]

"I woke up, " she said, as if the words had no meaning to herself, butmight have some to him. 

The match burned out before he spoke, but his face was terrible. "Grizel!" he said, appalled; and then, as if the discovery was asawful to her as to him, she uttered a cry of horror and sped out intothe night. He called her name again, and sprang after her; but thehand of another woman detained him. 

"Who is this girl?" Lady Pippinworth demanded fiercely; but he did notanswer. He recoiled from her with a shudder that she was not likely toforget, and hurried on. All that night he searched for Grizel in vain. 

CHAPTER XXX

THE LITTLE GODS DESERT HIM

And all next day he searched like a man whose eyes would never closeagain. She had not passed the night in any inn or village house of St. Gian; of that he made certain by inquiries from door to door. None ofthe guides had seen her, though they are astir so late and so early, patiently waiting at the hotel doors to be hired, that there seems tobe no night for them--darkness only, that blots them out for a time asthey stand waiting. At all hours there is in St. Gian the tinkle ofbells, the clatter of hoofs, the crack of a whip, dust in retreat; butno coachman brought him news. The streets were thronged with othercoachmen on foot looking into every face in quest of some person whowanted to return to the lowlands, but none had looked into her face. 

Within five minutes of the hotel she might have been on any of half adozen roads. He wandered or rushed along them all for a space, andcame back. One of them was short and ended in the lake. All throughthat long and beautiful day this miserable man found himself comingback to the road that ended in the lake. 

There were moments when he cried to himself that it was an apparitionhe had seen and heard. He had avoided his friends all day; of theEnglish-speaking people in St. Gian one only knew why he wasdistraught, and she was the last he wished to speak to; but more thanonce he nearly sought her to say, "Partner in my shame, what did yousee? what did you hear?" In the afternoon he had a letter from Elspethtelling him how she was enjoying her holiday by the sea, andmentioning that David was at that moment writing to Grizel in Thrums. But was it, then, all a dream? he cried, nearly convinced for thefirst time, and he went into the arbour saying determinedly that itwas a dream; and in the arbour, standing primly in a corner, wasGrizel's umbrella. He knew that umbrella so well! He remembered oncebeing by while she replaced one of its ribs so deftly that he seemedto be looking on at a surgical operation. The old doctor had given itto her, and that was why she would not let it grow old before she wasold herself. Tommy opened it now with trembling hands and looked atthe little bits of Grizel on it: the beautiful stitching with whichshe had coaxed the slits to close again; the one patch, so artful thatshe had clapped her hands over it. And he fell on his knees and kissedthese little bits of Grizel, and called her "beloved, " and cried tohis gods to give him one more chance. 

"I woke up. " It was all that she had said. It was Grizel's excuse forinconveniencing him. She had said it apologetically and as if she didnot quite know how she came to be there herself. There was no look ofreproach on her face while the match burned; there had been a pitifulsmile, as if she was begging him not to be very angry with her; andthen when he said her name she gave that little cry as if she hadrecognized herself, and stole away. He lived that moment over and overagain, and she never seemed to be horror-stricken until he cried"Grizel!" when her recognition of herself made her scream. It was asif she had wakened up, dazed by the terrible things that were beingsaid, and then, by the light of that one word "Grizel, " suddenly knewwho had been listening to them. 

Did he know anything more? He pressed his hands harshly on his templesand thought. He knew that she was soaking wet, that she had probablysought the arbour for protection from the rain, and that, if so, shehad been there for at least four hours. She had wakened up. She musthave fallen asleep, knocked down by fatigue. What fatigue it must havebeen to make Grizel lie there for hours he could guess, and he beathis brow in anguish. But why she had come he could not guess. "Oh, miserable man, to seek for reasons, " he cried passionately to himself, "when it is Grizel--Grizel herself--you should be seeking for!"

He walked and ran the round of the lake, and it was not on the bankthat his staring eyes were fixed. 

At last he came for a moment upon her track. The people of an inn sixmiles from St. Gian remembered being asked yesterday by an Englishmiss, walking alone, how far she was from Bad-Platten. She was wearingsomething brown, and her boots were white with dust, and these peoplehad never seen a lady look so tired before; when she stood still shehad to lean against the wall. They said she had red-hot eyes. 

Tommy was in an einspänner now, the merry conveyance of the countryand more intoxicating than its wines, and he drove back through St. Gian to Bad-Platten, where again he heard from Grizel, though he didnot find her. What he found was her telegram from London: "I amcoming. GRIZEL. " Why had she come? why had she sent that telegram?what had taken her to London? He was not losing time when he askedhimself distractedly these questions, for he was again in his gaycarriage and driving back to the wayside inn. He spent the nightthere, afraid to go farther lest he should pass her in the darkness;for he had decided that, if alive, she was on this road. That she hadwalked all those forty miles uphill seemed certain, and apparently thebest he could hope was that she was walking back. She had probably nomoney to enable her to take the diligence. Perhaps she had no moneywith which to buy food. It might be that while he lay tossing in bedshe was somewhere near, dying for want of a franc. 

He was off by morning light, and several times that day he heard ofher, twice from people who had seen her pass both going and coming, and he knew it must be she when they said she rocked her arms as shewalked. Oh, he knew why she rocked her arms! Once he thought he hadfound her. He heard of an English lady who was lying ill in the houseof a sawmiller, whose dog (we know the dogs of these regions, but notthe people) had found her prostrate in the wood, some distance fromthe highroad. Leaving his einspänner in a village, Tommy climbed downthe mountain-side to this little house, which he was long indiscovering. It was by the side of a roaring river, and he arrivedonly an hour too late. The lady had certainly been Grizel; but she wasgone. The sawyer's wife described to him how her husband had broughther in, and how she seemed so tired and bewildered that she fellasleep while they were questioning her. She held her hands over herears to shut out the noise of the river, which seemed to terrify her. So far as they could understand, she told them that she was runningaway from the river. She had been sleeping there for three hours, andwas still asleep when the good woman went off to meet her husband; butwhen they returned she was gone. 

He searched the wood for miles around, crying her name. The sawyer andsome of his fellow-workers left the trees they were stripping of barkto help him, and for hours the wood rang with "Grizel, Grizel!" Allthe mountains round took up the cry; but there never came an answer. This long delay prevented his reaching the railway terminus until noonof the following day, and there he was again too late. But she hadbeen here. He traced her to that hotel whence we saw her settingforth, and the portier had got a ticket for her for London. He hadtalked with her for some little time, and advised her, as she seemedso tired, to remain there for the night. But she said she must go homeat once. She seemed to be passionately desirous to go home, and hadlooked at him suspiciously, as if fearing he might try to hold herback. He had been called away, and on returning had seen herdisappearing over the bridge. He had called to her, and then she ranas if afraid he was pursuing her. But he had observed her afterwardsin the train. 

So she was not without money, and she was on her way home! The reliefit brought him came to the surface in great breaths, and at firstevery one of them was a prayer of thankfulness. Yet in time they weretriumphant breaths. Translated into words, they said that he had gotoff cheaply for the hundredth time. His little gods had saved himagain, as they had saved him in the arbour by sending Grizel to him. He could do as he liked, for they were always there to succour him;they would never desert him--never. In a moment of fierce elation heraised his hat to them, then seemed to see Grizel crying "I woke up, "and in horror of himself clapped it on again. It was but a momentaryaberration, and is recorded only to show that, however remorseful hefelt afterwards, there was life in our Tommy still. 

The train by which he was to follow her did not leave until evening, and through those long hours he was picturing, with horrible vividnessand pain, the progress of Grizel up and down that terrible pass. Oftenhis shoulders shook in agony over what he saw, and he shuddered to theteeth. He would have walked round the world on his knees to save herthis long anguish! And then again it was less something he saw thansomething he was writing, and he altered it to make it more dramatic. "I woke up. " How awful that was! but in this new scene she uttered nowords. Lady Pippinworth was in his arms when they heard a little cry, so faint that a violin string makes as much moan when it snaps. In adread silence he lit a match, and as it flared the figure of a girlwas seen upon the floor. She was dead; and even as he knew that shewas dead he recognized her. "Grizel!" he cried. The other woman whohad lured him from his true love uttered a piercing scream and rantowards the hotel. When she returned with men and lanterns there wasno one in the arbour, but there were what had been a man and a girl. They lay side by side. The startled onlookers unbared their heads. Asolemn voice said, "In death not divided. "

He was not the only occupant of the hotel reading-room as he saw allthis, and when his head fell forward and he groaned, the others lookedup from their papers. A lady asked if he was unwell. 

"I have had a great shock, " he replied in a daze, pulling his handacross his forehead. 

"Something you have seen in your paper?" inquired a clergyman who hadbeen complaining that there was no news. 

"People I knew, " said Tommy, not yet certain which world he was in. 

"Dead?" the lady asked sympathetically. 

"I knew them well, " he said, and staggered into the fresh air. 

Poor dog of a Tommy! He had been a total abstainer from sentiment, asone may say, for sixty hours, and this was his only glass. It was thenobler Tommy, sternly facing facts, who by and by stepped into thetrain. He even knew why he was going to Thrums. He was going to saycertain things to her; and he said them to himself again and again inthe train, and heard her answer. The words might vary, but they werealways to the same effect. 

"Grizel, I have come back!"

He saw himself say these words, as he opened her door in Gavinia'slittle house. And when he had said them he bowed his head. 

At his sudden appearance she started up; then she stood pale and firm. 

"Why have you come back?"

"Not to ask your forgiveness, " he replied hoarsely; "not to attempt toexcuse myself; not with any hope that there remains one drop of thelove you once gave me so abundantly. I want only, Grizel, to put mylife into your hands. I have made a sorry mess of it myself. Will youtake charge of what may be left of it? You always said you were readyto help me. I have come back, Grizel, for your help. What you wereonce willing to do for love, will you do for pity now?"

She turned away her head, and he went nearer her. "There was alwayssomething of the mother in your love, Grizel; but for that you wouldnever have borne with me so long. A mother, they say, can never quiteforget her boy--oh, Grizel, is it true? I am the prodigal come back. Grizel, beloved, I have sinned and I am unworthy, but I am still yourboy, and I have come back. Am I to be sent away?"

At the word "beloved" her arms rocked impulsively. "You must not callme that, " she said. 

"Then I am to go, " he answered with a shudder, "for I must always callyou that; whether I am with you or away, you shall always be belovedto me. "

"You don't love me!" she cried. "Oh, do you love me at last!" And atthat he fell upon his knees. 

"Grizel, my love, my love!"

"But you don't want to be married, " she said. 

"Beloved, I have come back to ask you on my knees to be my wife. "

"That woman--"

"She was a married woman, Grizel. "

"Oh, oh, oh!"

"And now you know the worst of me. It is the whole truth at last. Idon't know why you took that terrible journey, dear Grizel, but I doknow that you were sent there to save me. Oh, my love, you have doneso much, will you do no more?"

And so on, till there came a time when his head was on her lap and herhand caressing it, and she was whispering to her boy to look up andsee her crooked smile again. 

He passed on to the wedding. All the time between seemed to be spentin his fond entreaties to hasten the longed-for day. How radiant shelooked in her bridal gown! "Oh, beautiful one, are you really mine?Oh, world, pause for a moment and look at the woman who has givenherself to me!"

"My wife--this is my wife!" They were in London now; he was showingher to London. How he swaggered! There was a perpetual apology on herface; it begged people to excuse him for looking so proudly at her. Itwas a crooked apology, and he hurried her into dark places and kissedit. 

Do you see that Tommy was doing all this for Grizel and pretending toher that it was for himself? He was passionately desirous of makingamends, and he was to do it in the most generous way. Perhaps hebelieved when he seemed to enter her room saying, "Grizel, I have comeback, " that she loved him still; perhaps he knew that he did not lovein the way he said; perhaps he saw a remorseful man making splendidatonement: but never should she know these things; tenderly as he hadbegun he would go on to the end. Here at last is a Tommy worth lookingat, and he looked. 

Yet as he drew near Thrums, after almost exactly two days ofcontinuous travel, many a shiver went down his back, for he could notbe sure that he should find Grizel here; he sometimes seemed to seeher lying ill at some wayside station in Switzerland, in France;everything that could have happened to her he conceived, and he movedrestlessly in the carriage. His mouth went dry. 

"Has she come back?"

The train had stopped for the taking of tickets, and his tremulousquestion checked the joy of Corp at sight of him. 

"She's back, " Corp answered in an excited whisper; and oh, the reliefto Tommy! "She came back by the afternoon train; but I had scarce aword wi' her, she was so awid to be hame. 'I am going home, ' shecried, and hurried away up the brae. Ay, and there's one queer thing. "

"What?"

"Her luggage wasna in the van. "

Tommy could smile at that. "But what sent her, " he asked eagerly, "onthat journey?"

Corp told him the little he knew. "But nobody kens except me andGavinia, " he said. We pretend she gaed to London to see her father. Wesaid he had wrote to her, wanting her to go to him. Gavinia said itwould never do to let folk ken she had gaen to see you, and evenElspeth doesna ken. "

"Is Elspeth back?"

"They came back yesterday. "

Did David know the truth from Grizel? was what Tommy was askinghimself now as he strode up the brae. But again he was in luck, forwhen he had explained away his abrupt return to Elspeth, and beenjoyfully welcomed by her, she told him that her husband had been inone of the glens all day. "He does not know that Grizel has comeback, " she said. "Oh, " she exclaimed, "but you don't even know thatshe has been away! Grizel has been in London. "

"Corp told me, " said Tommy. 

"And did he tell you why she had gone?"

"Yes. "

"She came back an hour or two ago. Maggy Ann saw her go past. Fancyher seeing her father at last! It must have been an ordeal for her. Iwonder what took place. "

"I think I had better go and ask her, " Tommy said. He was mightilyrelieved for Grizel's sake. No one need ever know now what had calledher away except Corp and Gavinia, and even they thought she had merelybeen to London. How well the little gods were managing the wholeaffair! As he walked to Grizel's lodgings to say what he had beensaying in the train, the thought came to him for a moment that as noone need ever know where she had been there was less reason why heshould do this generous thing. But he put it from him with loftydisdain. Any effect it had was to make him walk more firmly to hissacrifice, as if to show all ignoble impulses that they could find nohome in that swelling breast He was pleased with himself, was Tommy. 

"Grizel, I have come back. " He said it to the night, and bowed hishead. He said it with head accompaniment to Grizel's lighted window. He said it to himself as he reached the door. He never said it again. 

For Gavinia's first words were: "It's you, Mr. Sandys! Wherever isshe? For mercy's sake, dinna say you've come without her!" And when heblinked at this, she took him roughly by the arm and cried, "Wherever's Grizel?"

"She is here, Gavinia. "

"She's no here. "

"I saw her light. "

"You saw my light. "

"Gavinia, you are torturing me. She came back to-day. "

"What makes you say that? You're dreaming. She hasna come back. "

"Corp saw her come in by the afternoon train. He spoke to her. "

Gavinia shook her head incredulously. "You're just imagining that, "she said. 

"He told me. Gavinia, I must see for myself, " She stared after him ashe went up the stairs. "You are very cruel, Gavinia, " he said, when hecame down. "Tell me where she is. "

"May I be struck, Mr. Sandys, if I've seen or heard o' her since sheleft this house eight days syne. " He knew she was speaking the truth. He had to lean against the door for support. "It canna be so bad asyou think, " she cried in pity. "If you're sure Corp said he saw her, she maun hae gone to the doctor's house. "

"She is not there. But Elspeth knew she had come back. Others haveseen her besides Corp. My God, Gavinia! what can have happened?"

In little more than an hour he knew what had happened. Many besideshimself, David among them towards the end, were engaged in the search. And strange stories began to fly about like night-birds; you will notsearch for a missing woman without rousing them. Why had she gone offto London without telling anyone? Had Corp concocted that story abouther father to blind them? Had she really been as far as London? Haveyou seen Sandys?--he's back. It's said Corp telegraphed to him toSwitzerland that she had disappeared. It's weel kent Corp telegraphed. Sandys came at once. He is in a terrible state. Look how white he isaneath that lamp. What garred them telegraph for him? How is it he isin sic a state? Fond o' her, was he? Yea, yea, even after she gave himthe go-by. Then it's a weary Sabbath for him, if half they say betrue. What do they say? They say she was queer when she came back. Corp doesna say that. Maybe no; but Francie Crabb does. He says he mether on the station brae and spoke to her, and she said never a word, but put up her hands like as if she feared he was to strike her. TheDundas lassies saw her frae their window, and her hands were at herears as if she was trying to drown the sound o' something. Do you mindo' her mother? They say she was looking terrible like her mother. 

It was only between the station and Gavinia's house that she had beenseen, but they searched far afield. Tommy, accompanied by Corp, evensought for her in the Den. Do you remember the long, lonely pathbetween two ragged little dykes that led from the Den to the house ofthe Painted Lady? It was there that Grizel had lived with her mamma. The two men went down that path, which is oppressed with trees. Elsewhere the night was not dark, but, as they had known so well whenthey were boys, it is always dark after evenfall in the Double Dykes. That is the legacy of the Painted Lady. Presently they saw thehouse--scarcely the house, but a lighted window. Tommy remembered thenight when as a boy, Elspeth crouching beside him, he had peered infearfully at that corner window on Grizel and her mamma, and theshuddersome things he had seen. He shuddered at them again. 

"Who lives there now?" he asked. 

"Nobody. It's toom. "

"There is a light. "

"Some going-about body. They often tak' bilbie in toom houses, andthat door is without a lock; it's keepit close wi' slipping a stickaneath it. Do you mind how feared we used to be at that house?"

"She was never afraid of it. "

"It was her hame. "

He meant no more than he said, but suddenly they both stopped dead. 

"It's no possible, " Corp said, as if in answer to a question. "It's nopossible, " he repeated beseechingly. 

"Wait for me here, Corp. "

"I would rather come wi' you. "

"Wait here!" Tommy said almost fiercely, and he went on alone to thatlittle window. It had needed an effort to make him look in when he washere before, and it needed a bigger effort now. But he looked. 

What light there was came from the fire, and whether she had gatheredthe logs or found them in the room no one ever knew. A vagrant statedafterwards that he had been in the house some days before and left hismatch-box in it. 

By this fire Grizel was crouching. She was comparatively tidy and neatagain; the dust was gone from her boots, even. How she had managed todo it no one knows, but you remember how she loved to be neat. Herhands were extended to the blaze, and she was busy talking to herself. 

His hand struck the window heavily, and she looked up and saw him. Shenodded, and put her finger to her lips as a sign that he must becautious. She had often, in the long ago, seen her mother signing thusto an imaginary face at the window--the face of the man who nevercame. 

Tommy went into the house, and she was so pleased to see him that shequite simpered. He put his arms round her, and she lay there with alittle giggle of contentment. She was in a plot of heat. 

"Grizel! Oh, my God!" he said, "why do you look at me in that way?"

She passed her hand across her eyes, like one trying to think. 

"I woke up, " she said at last. Corp appeared at the window now, andshe pointed to him in terror. Thus had she seen her mother point, inthe long ago, at faces that came there to frighten her. 

"Grizel, " Tommy entreated her, "you know who I am, don't you?"

She said his name at once, but her eyes were on the window. "They wantto take me away, " she whispered. 

"But you must come away, Grizel. You must come home. "

"This is home, " she said. "It is sweet. "

After much coaxing, he prevailed upon her to leave. With his arm roundher, and a terrible woe on his face, he took her to the doctor'shouse. She had her hands over her ears all the way. She thought thewhite river and the mountains and the villages and the crack of whipswere marching with her still. 

CHAPTER XXXI

"THE MAN WITH THE GREETIN' EYES"

For many days she lay in a fever at the doctor's house, seemingsometimes to know where she was, but more often not, and night afternight a man with a drawn face sat watching her. They entreated, theyforced him to let them take his place; but from his room he heard hermoan or speak, or he thought he heard her, or he heard a terriblestillness, and he stole back to listen; they might send him away, butwhen they opened the door he was there, with his drawn face. And oftenthey were glad to see him, for there were times when he alone couldinterpret her wild demands and soothe those staring eyes. 

Once a scream startled the house. Someone had struck a match in thedarkened chamber, and she thought she was in an arbour in St. Gian. They had to hold her in her bed by force at times; she had such a longway to walk before night, she said. 

She would struggle into a sitting posture and put her hands over herears. 

Her great desire was not to sleep. "I should wake up, " she explainedfearfully. 

She took a dislike to Elspeth, and called her "Alice. "

These ravings, they said to each other, must have reference to whathappened to her when she was away, and as they thought he knew no moreof her wanderings than they, everyone marvelled at the intuition withwhich he read her thoughts. It was he who guessed that the striking ofmatches somehow terrified her; he who discovered that it was a horridroaring river she thought she heard, and he pretended he heard it too, and persuaded her that if she lay very still it would run past. Nothing she said or did puzzled him. He read the raving of her mind, they declared admiringly, as if he held the cipher to it. 

"And the cipher is his love, " Mrs. McLean said, with wet eyes. In theexcitement of those days Elspeth talked much to her of Tommy's lovefor Grizel, and how she had refused him, and it went round the townwith embellishments. It was generally believed now that she really hadgone to London to see her father, and that his heartless behaviour hadunhinged her mind. 

By David's advice, Corp and Gavinia did not contradict this story. Itwas as good as another, he told them, and better than the truth. 

But what was the truth? they asked greedily. 

"Oh, that he is a noble fellow, " David replied grimly. 

They knew that, but--

He would tell them no more, however, though he knew all. Tommy hadmade full confession to the doctor, even made himself out worse thanhe was, as had to be his way when he was not making himself outbetter. 

"And I am willing to proclaim it all from the market-place, " he saidhoarsely, "if that is your wish. "

"I daresay you would almost enjoy doing that, " said David, rathercruelly. 

"I daresay I should, " Tommy said, with a gulp, and went back toGrizel's side. It was not, you may be sure, to screen him that Davidkept the secret; it was because he knew what many would say of Grizelif the nature of her journey were revealed. He dared not tell Elspeth, even; for think of the woe to her if she learned that it was herwonderful brother who had brought Grizel to this pass! The Elspeths ofthis world always have some man to devote himself to them. If theTommies pass away, the Davids spring up. For my own part, I thinkElspeth would have found some excuse for Tommy. He said so himself tothe doctor, for he wanted her to be told. 

"Or you would find the excuse for her in time, " David responded. 

"Very likely, " Tommy said. He was humble enough now, you see. Davidcould say one thing only which would rouse him, namely, that Grizelwas not to die in this fever; and for long it seemed impossible to saythat. 

"Would you have her live if her mind remains affected?" he asked; andTommy said firmly, "Yes. "

"You think, I suppose, that then you would have less for which toblame yourself!"

"I suppose that is it. But don't waste time on me, Gemmell, when youhave her life to save, if you can. "

Well, her life was saved, and Tommy's nursing had more to do with itthan David's skill. David admitted it; the town talked of it. "I ayekent he would find a wy, " Corp said, though he had been among the mostanxious. He and Aaron Latta were the first admitted to see her, whenshe was able once more to sit in a chair. They had been told to askher no questions. She chatted pleasantly to them, and they thought shewas quite her old self. They wondered to see Tommy still so sad-eyed. To Ailie she spoke freely of her illness, though not of what hadoccasioned it, and told her almost gleefully that David had promisedto let her sew a little next week. There was one thing only thatsurprised Ailie. Grizel had said that as soon as she was a littlestronger she was going home. 

"Does she mean to her father's house?" Ailie asked. 

This was what started the report that, touched no doubt by herillness, Grizel's unknown father had, after all, offered her a home. They discovered, however, what Grizel meant by home when, oneafternoon, she escaped, unseen, from the doctor's house, and was foundagain at Double Dykes, very indignant because someone had stolen thefurniture. 

She seemed to know all her old friends except Elspeth, who was stillAlice to her. Seldom now did she put her hands over her ears, or seehorrible mountains marching with her. She no longer remembered, saveonce or twice when she woke up, that she had ever been out of Thrums. To those who saw her casually she was Grizel--gone thin and pale andweak intellectually, but still the Grizel of old, except for the fixedidea that Double Dykes was her home. 

"You must not humour her in that delusion, " David said sternly toTommy; "when we cease to fight it we have abandoned hope. "

So the weapon he always had his hand on was taken from Tommy, for hewould not abandon hope. He fought gallantly. It was always he whobrought her back from Double Dykes. She would not leave it with anyother person, but she came away with him. 

"It's because she's so fond o' him, " Corp said. 

But it was not. It was because she feared him, as all knew who sawthem together. They were seen together a great deal when she was ableto go out. Driving seemed to bring back the mountains to her eyes, soshe walked, and it was always with the help of Tommy's arm. "It's amost pitiful sight, " the people said. They pitied him even more thanher, for though she might be talking gaily to him and leaning heavilyon him, they could see that she mistrusted him. At the end of a sweetsmile she would give him an ugly, furtive look. 

"She's like a cat you've forced into your lap, " they said, "and itlies quiet there, ready to jump the moment you let go your grip. "

They wondered would he never weary. He never wearied. Day after day hewas saying the same things to her, and the end was always as thebeginning. They came back to her entreaty that she should be allowedto go home as certainly as they came back to the doctor's house. 

"It is a long time, you know, Grizel, since you lived at DoubleDykes--not since you were a child. "

"Not since I was a child, " she said as if she quite understood. 

"Then you went to live with your dear, kind doctor, you remember. Whatwas his name?"

"Dr. McQueen. I love him. "

"But he died, and he left you his house to live in. It is your home, Grizel. He would be so grieved if he thought you did not make it yourhome. "

"It is my home, " she said proudly; but when they returned to it shewas loath to go in. "I want to go home!" she begged. 

One day he took her to her rooms in Corp's house, thinking her oldfurniture would please her; and that was the day when she rocked herarms joyously again. But it was not the furniture that made her sohappy; it was Corp's baby. 

"Oh, oh!" she cried in rapture, and held out her arms; and he ran intothem, for there was still one person in Thrums who had no fear ofGrizel. 

"It will be a damned shame, " Corp said huskily, "if that woman neverhas no bairns o' her ain. "

They watched her crooning over the child, playing with him for a longtime. You could not have believed that she required to be watched. Shetold him with hugs that she had come back to him at last; it was herfirst admission that she knew she had been away and a wild hope cameto Tommy that along the road he could not take her she might be drawnby this little child. 

She discovered a rent in the child's pinafore and must mend it atonce. She ran upstairs, as a matter of course, to her work-box, andbrought down a needle and thread. It was quite as if she was at homeat last. 

"But you don't live here now, Grizel, " Tommy said, when she drew backat his proposal that they should go away; "you live at the doctor'shouse. "

"Do I, Gavinia?" she said beseechingly. 

"Is it here you want to bide?" Corp asked, and she nodded her headseveral times. 

"It would be so much more convenient, " she said, looking at the child. 

"Would you take her back, Gavinia, " Tommy asked humbly, "if shecontinues to want it?"

Gavinia did not answer. 

"Woman!" cried Corp. 

"I'm mortal wae for her, " Gavinia said slowly, "but she needs to bewaited on hand and foot. "

"I would come and do the waiting on her hand and foot, Gavinia, " Tommysaid. 

And so it came about that a week afterwards Grizel was reinstalled inher old rooms. Every morning when Tommy came to see her she asked him, icily how Alice was. She seemed to think that Alice, as she calledher, was his wife. He always replied, "You mean Elspeth, " and sheassented, but only, it was obvious, because she feared to contradicthim. To Corp and Gavinia she would still say passionately, "I want togo home!" and probably add fearfully, "Don't tell him. "

Yet though this was not home to her, she seemed to be less unhappyhere than in the doctor's house, and she found a great deal to do. Allher old skill in needlework came back to her, and she sewed for thechild such exquisite garments that she clapped her hands over them. 

One day Tommy came with a white face and asked Gavinia if she knewwhether a small brown parcel had been among the things brought byGrizel from the doctor's house. 

"It was in the box sent after me from Switzerland, " he told her, "andcontained papers. "

Gavinia had seen no such package. 

"She may have hidden it, " he said, and they searched, but fruitlessly. He questioned Grizel gently, but questions alarmed her, and hedesisted. 

"It does not matter, Gavinia, " he said, with a ghastly smile; but onthe following Sunday, when Corp called at the doctor's house, thethought "Have they found it?" leaped in front of all thought ofGrizel. This was only for the time it takes to ask a question with theeyes, however, for Corp was looking very miserable. 

"I'm sweer to say it, " he announced to Tommy and David, "but it has tobe said. We canna keep her. "

Evidently something had happened, and Tommy rose to go to Grizelwithout even asking what it was. "Wait, " David said, wrinkling hiseyebrows, "till Corp tells us what he means by that. I knew it mightcome, Corp. Go on. "

"If it hadna been for the bairn, " said Corp, "we would hae tholed wi'her, however queer she was; but wi' the bairn I tell you it's no mous. You'll hae to tak' her awa'. "

"Whatever she has been to others, " Tommy said, "she is always an angelwith the child. His own mother could not be fonder of him. "

"That's it, " Corp replied emphatically. "She's no the mother o' him, but there's whiles when she thinks she is. We kept it frae you as longas we could. "

"As long as she is so good to him----" David began. 

"But at thae times she's not, " said Corp. "She begins to shiver mostterrible, as if she saw fearsome things in her mind, and syne we seeher looking at him like as if she wanted to do him a mischief. Shesays he's her brat; she thinks he's hers, and that he hasna been wellcome by. "

Tommy's hands rose in agony, and then he covered his face with them. 

"Go on, Corp, " David said hoarsely; "we must have it all. "

"Sometimes, " Corp went on painfully, "she canna help being fond o'him, though she thinks she shouldna hae had him. I've heard hersaying, 'My brat!' and syne birsing him closer to her, as though hershame just made him mair to her. Women are so queer about thae things. I've seen her sitting by his cradle, moaning to hersel', 'I did sowant to be good! It would be sweet to be good! and never stoppingrocking the cradle, and a' the time the tears were rolling down. "

Tommy cried, "If there is any more to tell, Corp, be quick. "

"There's what I come here to tell you. It was no langer syne thanjimply an hour. We thocht the bairn was playing at the gavle-end, andthat Grizel was up the stair. But they werena, and I gaed straight toDouble Dykes. She wasna there, but the bairn was, lying greetin' onthe floor. We found her in the Den, sitting by the burn-side, and shesaid we should never see him again, for she had drowned him. We'resweer, but you'll need to tak' her awa'. "

"We shall take her away, " David said, and when he and Tommy were lefttogether he asked: "Do you see what it means?"

"It means that the horrors of her early days have come back to her, and that she is confusing her mother with herself. "

David's hands were clenched. "That is not what I am thinking of. Wehave to take her away; they have done far more than we had any rightto ask of them. Sandys, where are we to take her to?"

"Do even you grow tired of her?" Tommy cried. 

David said between his teeth: "We hope there will soon be a child inthis house, also. God forgive me, but I cannot bring her back here. "

"She cannot be in a house where there is a child!" said Tommy, with abitter laugh. "Gemmell, it is Grizel we are speaking of! Do youremember what she was?"

"I remember. "

"Well, where are we to send her?"

David turned his pained eyes full on Tommy. 

"No!" Tommy cried vehemently. 

"Sandys, " said David, firmly, "that is what it has come to. They willtake good care of her. " He sat down with a groan. "Have done withheroics, " he said savagely, when Tommy would have spoken. "I have beenprepared for this; there is no other way. "

"I have been prepared for it, too, " Tommy said, controlling himself;"but there is another way: I can marry her, and I am going to do it. "

"I don't know that I can countenance that, " David said, after a pause. "It seems an infernal shame. "

"Don't trouble about me, " replied Tommy, hoarsely; "I shall do itwillingly. "

And then it was the doctor's turn to laugh. "You!" he said with aterrible scorn as he looked Tommy up and down. "I was not thinking ofyou. All my thoughts were of her. I was thinking how cruel to her ifsome day she came to her right mind and found herself tied for life tothe man who had brought her to this pass. "

Tommy winced and walked up and down. 

"Desire to marry her gone?" asked David, savagely. 

"No, " Tommy said. He sat down. "You have the key to me, Gemmell, " hewent on quietly. "I gave it to you. You know I am a man of sentimentonly; but you are without a scrap of it yourself, and so you willnever quite know what it is. It has its good points. We are a kindlypeople. I was perhaps pluming myself on having made an heroicproposal, and though you have made me see it just now as you see it, as you see it I shall probably soon be putting on the same grand airsagain. Lately I discovered that the children who see me with Grizelcall me 'the Man with the Greetin' Eyes. ' If I have greetin' eyes itwas real grief that gave them to me; but when I heard what I wascalled it made me self-conscious, and I have tried to look still morelugubrious ever since. It seems monstrous to you, but that, I believe, is the kind of thing I shall always be doing. But it does not meanthat I feel no real remorse. They were greetin' eyes before I knew it, and though I may pose grotesquely as a fine fellow for finding Grizela home where there is no child and can never be a child, I shall notcease, night nor day, from tending her. It will be a grim business, Gemmell, as you know, and if I am Sentimental Tommy through it all, why grudge me my comic little strut?"

David said, "You can't take her to London. "

"I shall take her to wherever she wants to go. "

"There is one place only she wants to go to, and that is DoubleDykes. "

"I am prepared to take her there. "

"And your work?"

"It must take second place now. I must write; it is the only thing Ican do. If I could make a living at anything else I would give upwriting altogether. "

"Why?"

"She would be pleased if she could understand, and writing is the joyof my life--two reasons. "

But the doctor smiled. 

"You are right, " said Tommy. "I see I was really thinking what a finepicture of self-sacrifice I should make sitting in Double Dykes at aloom!"

They talked of ways and means, and he had to admit that he had littlemoney. But the new book would bring in a good deal, David supposed. 

"The manuscript is lost, " Tommy replied, crushing down his agitation. 

"Lost! When? Where?"

"I don't know. It was in the bag I left behind at St. Gian, and Isupposed it was still in it when the bag was forwarded to me here. Idid not look for more than a month. I took credit to myself forneglecting my manuscript, and when at last I looked it was not there. I telegraphed and wrote to the innkeeper at St. Gian, and he repliedthat my things had been packed at his request in presence of myfriends there, the two ladies you know of. I wrote to them, and theyreplied that this was so, and said they thought they remembered seeingin the bottom of the bag some such parcel in brown paper as Idescribed. But it is not there now, and I have given up all hope ofever seeing it again. No, I have no other copy. Every page was writtenhalf a dozen times, but I kept the final copy only. "

"It is scarcely a thing anyone would steal. "

"No; I suppose they took it out of the bag at St. Gian, and forgot topack it again. It was probably flung away as of no account. "

"Could it have been taken out on the way here?"

"The key was tied to the handle so that the custom officials might beable to open the bag. Perhaps they are fonder of English manuscriptsthan one would expect, or more careless of them. "

"You can think of no other way in which it might have disappeared?"

"None, " Tommy said; and then the doctor faced him squarely. 

"Are you trying to screen Grizel?" he asked. "Is it true, what peopleare saying?"

"What are they saying?"

"That she destroyed it. I heard that yesterday, and told them yourmanuscript was in my house, as I thought it was. Was it she?"

"No, no. Gavinia must have started that story. I did look for thepackage among Grizel's things. "

"What made you think of that?"

"I had seen her looking into my bag one day. And she used to say Iloved my manuscripts too much ever to love her. But I am sure she didnot do it. "

"Be truthful, Sandys. You know how she always loved the truth. "

"Well, then, I suppose it was she. "

After a pause the doctor said: "It must be about as bad as having alimb lopped off. "

"If only I had been offered that alternative!" Tommy replied. 

"And yet, " David mused, better pleased with him, "you have not criedout. "

"Have I not! I have rolled about in agony, and invoked the gods, andcursed and whimpered; only I take care that no one shall see me. "

"And that no one should know poor Grizel had done this thing. I admireyou for that, Sandys. "

"But it has leaked out, you see, " Tommy said; "and they will all beadmiring me for it at the wedding, and no doubt I shall be cocking mygreetin' eyes at them to note how much they are admiring. "

But when the wedding-day came he was not doing that. While he andGrizel stood up before Mr. Dishart, in the doctor's parlour, he wasthinking of her only. His eyes never left her, not even when he had toreply "I do. " His hand pressed hers all the time. He kept giving herreassuring little nods and smiles, and it was thus that he helpedGrizel through. 

Had Mr. Dishart understood what was in her mind he would not havemarried them. To her it was no real marriage; she thought they weretricking the minister, so that she should be able to go home. They hadrehearsed the ceremony together many times, and oh, she was eager tomake no mistake. 

"If they were to find out!" she would say apprehensively, and thenperhaps giggle at the slyness of it all. Tommy had to make merry withher, as if it was one of his boyish plays. If he was overcome with thepain of it, she sobbed at once and wrung her hands. 

She was married in gray silk. She had made the dress herself, asbeautifully as all her things were made. Tommy remembered how once, long ago, she had told him, as a most exquisite secret, that she haddecided on gray silk. 

Corp and Gavinia and Ailie and Aaron Latta were the only persons askedto the wedding, and when it was over, they said they never saw anyonestand up by a woman's side looking so anxious to be her man; and I amsure that in this they did Tommy no more than justice. 

It was a sad day to Elspeth. Could she be expected to smile while hernoble brother did this great deed of sacrifice? But she bore upbravely, partly for his sake, partly for the sake of one unborn. 

The ring was no plain hoop of gold; it was garnets all the way round. She had seen it on Elspeth's finger, and craved it so greedily that itbecame her wedding-ring. And from the moment she had it she ceased todislike Elspeth, and pitied her very much, as if she thought happinesswent with the ring. "Poor Alice!" she said when she saw Elspeth cryingat the wedding, and having started to go away with Tommy, she cameback to say again, "Poor, poor Alice!"

Corp flung an old shoe after them. 

CHAPTER XXXII

TOMMY'S BEST WORK

And thus was begun a year and a half of as great devotion asremorseful man ever gave to woman. When she was asleep and he couldnot write, his mind would sometimes roam after abandoned things; itsought them in the night as a savage beast steals forth for water toslake the thirst of many days. But if she stirred in her sleep theywere all dispelled; there was not a moment in that eighteen monthswhen he was twenty yards from Grizel's side. 

He would not let himself lose hope. All the others lost it. "The onlything you can do is to humour her, " even David was reduced in time tosaying; but Tommy replied cheerily, "Not a bit of it. " Every morninghe had to begin at the same place as on the previous morning, and hewas always as ready to do it, and as patient, as if this were thefirst time. 

"I think she is a little more herself to-day, " he would saydeterminedly, till David wondered to hear him. 

"She makes no progress, Sandys. "

"I can at least keep her from slipping back. "

And he did, and there is no doubt that this was what saved Grizel inthe end. How he strove to prevent her slipping back! The morning wasthe time when she was least troubled, and had he humoured her thenthey would often have been easy hours for him. But it was the timewhen he tried most doggedly, with a gentleness she could not ruffle, to teach her the alphabet of who she was. She coaxed him to let heroff those mental struggles; she turned petulant and sulky; she waswilling to be good and sweet if he would permit her to sew or to singto herself instead, or to sit staring at the fire: but he would notyield; he promised those things as the reward, and in the end shestood before him like a child at lessons. 

"What is your name?" The catechism always began thus. 

"Grizel, " she said obediently, if it was a day when she wanted toplease him. 

"And my name?"

"Tommy. " Once, to his great delight, she said, "Sentimental Tommy. " Hequite bragged about this to David. 

"Where is your home?"

"Here. " She was never in doubt about this, and it was always apleasure to her to say it. 

"Did you live here long ago?"

She nodded. 

"And then did you live for a long time somewhere else?"

"Yes. "

"Where was it?"

"Here. "

"No, it was with the old doctor. You were his little housekeeper;don't you remember? Try to remember, Grizel; he loved you so much. "

She tried to think. Her face was very painful when she tried to think. "It hurts, " she said. 

"Do you remember him, Grizel?"

"Please let me sing, " she begged, "such a sweet song!"

"Do you remember the old doctor who called you his little housekeeper?He used to sit in that chair. "

The old chair was among Grizel's many possessions that had beenbrought to Double Dykes, and her face lit up with recollection. Sheran to the chair and kissed it. 

"What was his name, Grizel?"

"I should love to know his name, " she said wistfully. 

He told her the name many times, and she repeated it docilely. 

Or perhaps she remembered her dear doctor quite well to-day, andthought Tommy was some one in need of his services. 

"He has gone into the country, " she said, as she had so often said toanxious people at the door; "but he won't be long, and I shall givehim your message the moment he comes in. "

But Tommy would not pass that. He explained to her again and againthat the doctor was dead, and perhaps she would remember, or perhaps, without remembering, she said she was glad he was dead. 

"Why are you glad, Grizel?"

She whispered, as if frightened she might be overheard: "I don't wanthim to see me like this. " It was one of the pathetic things about herthat she seemed at times to have some vague understanding of hercondition, and then she would sob. Her tears were anguish to him, butit was at those times that she clung to him as if she knew he wastrying to do something for her, and that encouraged him to go on. Hewent over, step by step, the time when she lived alone in the doctor'shouse, the time of his own coming back, her love for him and histreatment of her, the story of the garnet ring, her coming toSwitzerland, her terrible walk, her return; he would miss out nothing, for he was fighting for her. Day after day, month by month, it wenton, and to-morrow, perhaps, she would insist that the old doctor andthis man who asked her so many questions were one. And Tommy arguedwith her until he had driven that notion out, to make way for another, and then he fought it, and so on and on all round the circle of herdelusions, day by day and month by month. 

She knew that he sometimes wrote while she was asleep, for she mightstart up from her bed or from the sofa, and there he was, laying downhis pen to come to her. Her eyes were never open for any largefraction of a minute without his knowing, and immediately he went toher, nodding and smiling lest she had wakened with some fear upon her. Perhaps she refused to sleep again unless he promised to put awaythose horrid papers for the night, and however intoxicating a point hehad reached in his labours, he always promised, and kept his word. Hewas most scrupulous in keeping any promise he made her, and one greatresult was that she trusted him implicitly. Whatever others promised, she doubted them. 

There were times when she seemed to be casting about in her mind forsomething to do that would please him, and then she would bring piecesof paper to him, and pen and ink, and tell him to write. She thoughtthis very clever of her, and expected to be praised for it. 

But she might also bring him writing materials at times when she hatedhim very much. Then there would be sly smiles, even pretendedaffection, on her face, unless she thought he was not looking, whenshe cast him ugly glances. Her intention was to trick him intoforgetting her so that she might talk to herself or slip out of theroom to the Den, just as her mother had done in the days when it wasGrizel who had to be tricked. He would not let her talk to herselfuntil he had tried endless ways of exorcising that demon byinteresting her in some sort of work, by going out with her, bytalking of one thing and another till at last a subject was lit uponthat made her forget to brood. 

But sometimes it seemed best to let her go to the Den, she was in sucha quiver of desire to go. She hurried to it, so that he had to strideto keep up with her; and he said little until they got there, for shewas too excited to listen. She was very like her mother again; but itwas not the man who never came that she went in search of--it was alost child. I have not the heart to tell of the pitiful scenes in theDen while Grizel searched for her child. They always ended in thosetwo walking silently home, and for a day or two Grizel would be ill, and Tommy tended her, so that she was soon able to hasten to the Denagain, holding out her arms as she ran. 

"She makes no progress, " David said. 

"I can keep her from slipping back, " Tommy still replied. The doctormarvelled, but even he did not know the half of all her husband didfor Grizel. None could know half who was not there by night. Here, atleast, was one day ending placidly, they might say when she was in atractable mood, --so tractable that she seemed to be one ofthemselves, --and Tommy assented brightly, though he knew, and healone, that you could never be sure the long day had ended till thenext began. 

Often the happiest beginning had the most painful ending. The greatestpleasure he could give her was to take her to see Elspeth's baby girl, or that sturdy rogue, young Shiach, who could now count with ease upto seven, but swayed at eight, and toppled over on his way to ten; ortheir mothers brought them to her, and Grizel understood quite wellwho her visitors were, sometimes even called Elspeth by her rightname, and did the honours of her house irreproachably, and presided atthe tea-table, and was rapture personified when she held the baby Jean(called after Tommy's mother), and sat gaily on the floor, ready tocatch little Corp when he would not stop at seven. But Tommy, whomnothing escaped, knew with what depression she might pay for her joywhen they had gone. Despite all his efforts, she might sit talking toherself, at first of pleasant things and then of things less pleasant. Or she stared at her reflection in the long mirror and said: "Isn'tshe sweet!" or "She is not really sweet, and she did so want to begood!" Or instead of that she would suddenly go upon her knees andsay, with clasped hands, the childish prayer, "Save me from masterfulmen, " which Jean Myles had told Tommy to teach Elspeth. No one couldhave looked less masterful at those times than Tommy, but Grizel didnot seem to think so. And probably they had that night once more tosearch the Den. 

"The children do her harm; she must not see them again, " he decided. 

"They give her pleasure at the time, " David said. "It lightens yourtask now and then. "

"It is the future I am thinking of, Gemmell. If she cannot progress, she shall not fall back. As for me, never mind me. "

"Elspeth is in a sad state about you, though! And you can get throughso little work. "

"Enough for all our wants. " (He was writing magazine papers only. )

"The public will forget you. "

"They have forgotten me. "

David was openly sorry for him now. "If only your manuscript had beensaved!"

"Yes; I never thought the little gods would treat me so scurvily asthat. "

"Who?"

"Did I never tell you of my little gods? I so often emerged triumphantfrom my troubles, and so undeservedly, that I thought I was especiallylooked after by certain tricky spirits in return for the entertainmentI gave them. My little gods, I called them, and we had quite a bowingacquaintance. But you see at the critical moment they flew awaylaughing. "

He always knew that the lost manuscript was his great work. "Myseventh wave, " he called it; "and though all the conditions werefavourable, " he said, "I know that I could run to nothing more thanlittle waves at present. As for rewriting that book, I can't; I havetried. "

Yet he was not asking for commiseration. "Tell Elspeth not to worryabout me. If I have no big ideas just now, I have some very passablelittle ones, and one in particular that--" He drew a great breath. "Ifonly Grizel were better, " that breath said, "I think Tommy Sandyscould find a way of making the public remember him again. "

So David interpreted it, and though he had been about to say, "Howchanged you are!" he did not say it. 

And Tommy, who had been keeping an eye on her all this time, returnedto Grizel. As she had been through that long year, so she was duringthe first half of the next; and day by day and night by night hetended her, and still the same scenes were enacted in infinitevariety, and still he would not give in. Everything seemed to changewith the seasons, except Grizel, and Tommy's devotion to her. 

Yet you know that she recovered, ever afterwards to be herself again;and though it seemed to come in the end as suddenly as the sight maybe restored by the removal of a bandage, I suppose it had been goingon all the time, and that her reason was given back to her on the dayshe had strength to make use of it. Tommy was the instrument of herrecovery. He had fought against her slipping backward so that shecould not do it; it was as if he had built a wall behind her, and intime her mind accepted that wall as impregnable and took a forwardmovement. And with every step she took he pushed the wall after her, so that still if she moved it must be forward. Thus Grizel progressedimperceptibly as along a dark corridor towards the door that shut outthe light, and on a day in early spring the door fell. 

Many of them had cried for a shock as her only chance. But it camemost quietly. She had lain down on the sofa that afternoon to rest, and when she woke she was Grizel again. At first she was not surprisedto find herself in that room, nor to see that man nodding and smilingreassuringly; they had come out of the long dream with her, to makethe awakening less abrupt. 

He did not know what had happened. When he knew, a terror that thiscould not last seized him. He was concealing it while he answered herpuzzled questions. All the time he was telling her how they came to bethere, he was watching in agony for the change. 

She remembered everything up to her return to Thrums; then she walkedinto a mist. 

"The truth, " she begged of him, when he would have led her off bypretending that she had been ill only. Surely it was the real Grizelwho begged for the truth. She took his hand and held it when he toldher of their marriage. She cried softly, because she feared that shemight again become as she had been; but he said that was impossible, and smiled confidently, and all the time he was watching in agony forthe change. 

"Do you forgive me, Grizel? I have always had a dread that when yourecovered you would cease to care for me. " He knew that this wouldplease her if she was the real Grizel, and he was so anxious to makeher happy for evermore. 

She put his hand to her lips and smiled at him through her tears. Herswas a love that could never change. Suddenly she sat up. "Whose babywas it?" she asked. 

"I don't know what you mean, Grizel, " he said uneasily. 

"I remember vaguely, " she told him, "a baby in white whom I seemed tochase, but I could never catch her. Was it a dream only?"

"You are thinking of Elspeth's little girl, perhaps. She was oftenbrought to see you. "

"Has Elspeth a baby?" She rose to go exultantly to Elspeth. 

"But too small a baby, Grizel, to run from you, even if she wantedto. "

"What is she like?"

"She is always laughing. "

"The sweet!" Grizel rocked her arms in rapture and smiled her crookedsmile at the thought of a child who was always laughing. "But I don'tremember her, " she said. "It was a sad little baby I seemed to see. "

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE LITTLE GODS RETURN WITH A LADY

Grizel's clear, searching eyes, that were always asking for the truth, came back to her, and I seem to see them on me now, watching lest Ishirk the end. 

Thus I can make no pretence (to please you) that it was a new Tommy atlast. We have seen how he gave his life to her during those eighteenmonths, but he could not make himself anew. They say we can do it, soI suppose he did not try hard enough; but God knows how hard he tried. 

He went on trying. In those first days she sometimes asked him, "Didyou do it out of love, or was it pity only?" And he always said it waslove. He said it adoringly. He told her all that love meant to him, and it meant everything that he thought Grizel would like it to mean. When she ceased to ask this question he thought it was because he hadconvinced her. 

They had a honeymoon by the sea. He insisted upon it with boyisheagerness, and as they walked on the links or sat in their room hewould exclaim ecstatically: "How happy I am! I wonder if there wereever two people quite so happy as you and I!"

And if he waited for an answer, as he usually did, she might smilelightly and say: "Few people have gone through so much. "

"Is there any woman in the world, Grizel, with whom you would changeplaces?"

"No, none, " she said at once; and when he was sure of it, but neveruntil he was sure, he would give his mind a little holiday; and then, perhaps, those candid eyes would rest searchingly upon him, but alwayswith a brave smile ready should he chance to look up. 

And it was just the same when they returned to Double Dykes, whichthey added to and turned into a comfortable home--Tommy trying tobecome a lover by taking thought, and Grizel not letting on that itcould not be done in that way. She thought it was very sweet of him totry so hard--sweeter of him than if he really had loved her, thoughnot, of course, quite so sweet to her. He was a boy only. She knewthat, despite all he had gone through, he was still a boy. And boyscannot love. Oh, who would be so cruel as to ask a boy to love?

That Grizel's honeymoon should never end was his grand ambition, andhe took elaborate precautions against becoming a matter-of-facthusband. Every morning he ordered himself to gaze at her with rapture, as if he had wakened to the glorious thought that she was his wife. 

"I can't help it, Grizel; it comes to me every morning with the sameshock of delight, and I begin the day with a song of joy. You make theworld as fresh and interesting to me as if I had just broken like achicken through the egg shell. " He rose at the earliest hours. "Sothat I can have the longer day with you, " he said gaily. 

If when sitting at his work he forgot her for an hour or two hereproached himself for it afterwards, and next day he was morecareful. "Grizel, " he would cry, suddenly flinging down his pen, "youare my wife! Do you hear me, madam? You hear, and yet you can sitthere calmly darning socks! Excuse me, " he would say to his work, "while I do a dance. "

He rose impulsively and brought his papers nearer her. With a tablebetween them she was several feet away from him, which was more, hesaid, than he could endure. 

"Sit down for a moment, Grizel, and let me look at you. I want towrite something most splendiferous to-day, and I am sure to find it inyour face. I have ceased to be an original writer; all the purplepatches are cribbed from you. "

He made a point of taking her head in his hands and looking long ather with thoughts too deep for utterance; then he would fall on hisknees and kiss the hem of her dress, and so back to his book again. 

And in time it was all sweet to Grizel. She could not be deceived, butshe loved to see him playing so kind a part, and after some sadness towhich she could not help giving way, she put all vain longings aside. She folded them up and put them away like the beautiful linen, so thatshe might see more clearly what was left to her and how best to turnit to account. 

He did not love her. "Not as I love him, " she said to herself, --"notas married people ought to love; but in the other way he loves medearly. " By the "other way" she meant that he loved her as he lovedElspeth, and loved them both just as he had loved them when all threeplayed in the Den. 

"He would love me if he could. " She was certain of that. She decidedthat love does not come to all people, as is the common notion; thatthere are some who cannot fall in love, and that he was one of them. He was complete in himself, she decided. 

"Is it a pity for him that he married me? It would be a pity if hecould love some other woman, but I am sure he could never do that. Ifhe could love anyone it would be me, we both want it so much. He doesnot need a wife, but he needs someone to take care of him--all menneed that; and I can do it much better than any other person. Had henot married me he never would have married; but he may fall ill, andthen how useful I shall be to him! He will grow old, and perhaps itwon't be quite so lonely to him when I am there. It would have been apity for him to marry me if I had been a foolish woman who asked formore love than he can give; but I shall never do that, so I think itis not a pity. 

"Is it a pity for me? Oh, no, no, no!

"Is he sorry he did it? At times, is he just a weeny bit sorry?" Shewatched him, and decided rightly that he was not sorry the weeniestbit. It was a sweet consolation to her. "Is he really happy? Yes, ofcourse he is happy when he is writing; but is he quite contented atother times? I do honestly think he is. And if he is happy now, howmuch happier I shall be able to make him when I have put away all myselfish thoughts and think only of him. "

"The most exquisite thing in human life is to be married to one wholoves you as you love him. " There could be no doubt of that. But shesaw also that the next best thing was the kind of love this boy gaveto her, and she would always be grateful for the second best. In herprayers she thanked God for giving it to her, and promised Him to tryto merit it; and all day and every day she kept her promise. Therecould not have been a brighter or more energetic wife than Grizel. Theamount of work she found to do in that small house which his devotionhad made so dear to her that she could not leave it! Her gaiety! Hermasterful airs when he wanted something that was not good for him! Theartfulness with which she sought to help him in various matterswithout his knowing! Her satisfaction when he caught her at it, asclever Tommy was constantly doing! "What a success it has turned out!"David would say delightedly to himself; and Grizel was almost asjubilant because it was so far from being a failure. It was onlysometimes in the night that she lay very still, with little wells ofwater on her eyes, and through them saw one--the dream of woman--whomshe feared could never be hers. That boy Tommy never knew why she didnot want to have a child. He thought that for the present she wasafraid; but the reason was that she believed it would be wicked whenhe did not love her as she loved him. She could not be sure--she hadto think it all out for herself. With little wells of sadness on hereyes, she prayed in the still night to God to tell her; but she couldnever hear His answer. 

She no longer sought to teach Tommy how he should write. That quaintdesire was abandoned from the day when she learned that she haddestroyed his greatest work. She had not destroyed it, as we shallsee; but she presumed she had, as Tommy thought so. He had tried toconceal this from her to save her pain, but she had found it out, andit seemed to Grizel, grown distrustful of herself, that the man whocould bear such a loss as he had borne it was best left to write as hechose. 

"It was not that I did not love your books, " she said, "but that Iloved you more, and I thought they did you harm. "

"In the days when I had wings, " he answered, and she smiled. "Anyfeathers left, do you think, Grizel?" he asked jocularly, and turnedhis shoulders to her for examination. 

"A great many, sir, " she said, "and I am glad. I used to want to pullthem all out, but now I like to know that they are still there, for itmeans that you remain among the facts not because you can't fly, butbecause you won't. "

"I still have my little fights with myself, " he blurted out boyishly, though it was a thing he had never meant to tell her, and Grizelpressed his hand for telling her what she already knew so well. 

The new book, of course, was "The Wandering Child. " I wonder whetherany of you read it now? Your fathers and mothers thought a great dealof that slim volume, but it would make little stir in an age in whichall the authors are trying who can say "damn" loudest. It is but areverie about a child who is lost, and his parents' search for him interror of what may have befallen. But they find him in a wood singingjoyfully to himself because he is free; and he fears to be cagedagain, so runs farther from them into the wood, and is running still, singing to himself because he is free, free, free. That is really all, but T. Sandys knew how to tell it. The moment he conceived the idea(we have seen him speaking of it to the doctor), he knew that it wasthe idea for him. He forgot at once that he did not really care forchildren. He said reverently to himself, "I can pull it off, " and, aswas always the way with him, the better he pulled it off the more heseemed to love them. 

"It is myself who is writing at last, Grizel, " he said, as he read itto her. 

She thought (and you can guess whether she was right) that it was thebook he loved rather than the children. She thought (and you can guessagain) that it was not his ideas about children that had got into thebook, but hers. But she did not say so; she said it was the sweetestof his books to her. 

I have heard of another reading he gave. This was after thepublication of the book. He had gone into Corp's house one Sunday, andGavinia was there reading the work to her lord and master, whilelittle Corp disported on the floor. She read as if all the words meantthe same thing, and it was more than Tommy could endure. He read forher, and his eyes grew moist as he read, for it was the most exquisiteof his chapters about the lost child. You would have said that no oneloved children quite so much as T. Sandys. But little Corp would notkeep quiet, and suddenly Tommy jumped up and boxed his ears. He thenproceeded with the reading, while Gavinia glowered and Corp seniorscratched his head. 

On the way home he saw what had happened, and laughed at the humour ofit, then grew depressed, then laughed recklessly. "Is it SentimentalTommy still?" he said to himself, with a groan. Seldom a week passedwithout his being reminded in some such sudden way that it wasSentimental Tommy still. "But she shall never know!" he vowed, and hecontinued to be half a hero. 

His name was once more in many mouths. "Come back and be made of morethan ever!" cried that society which he had once enlivened. "Come andhear the pretty things we are saying about you. Come and make theprettier replies that are already on the tip of your tongue; for oh, Tommy, you know they are! Bring her with you if you must; but don'tyou think that the nice, quiet country with the thingumbobs all inbloom would suit her best? It is essential that you should run up tosee your publisher, is it not? The men have dinners for you if youwant them, but we know you don't. Your yearning eyes are on theladies, Tommy; we are making up theatre-parties of the old entrancingkind; you should see our new gowns; please come back and help us toput on our cloaks, Tommy; there is a dance on Monday--come and sit itout with us. Do you remember the garden-party where you said--Well, the laurel walk is still there; the beauties of two years ago arestill here, and there are new beauties, and their noses are slightlytilted, but no man can move them; ha, do you pull yourself together atthat? We were always the reward for your labours, Tommy; your booksare move one in the game of making love to us; don't be afraid that weshall forget it is a game; we know it is, and that is why we suit you. Come and play in London as you used to play in the Den. It is all youneed of women; come and have your fill, and we shall send you backrefreshed. We are not asking you to be disloyal to her, only to leaveher happy and contented and take a holiday. "

[Illustration: He heard their seductive voices, they danced around himin numbers. ]

He heard their seductive voices. They danced around him in numbers, for they knew that the more there were of them the better he would bepleased; they whispered in his ear and then ran away looking overtheir shoulders. But he would not budge. 

There was one more dangerous than the rest. Her he saw before theothers came and after they had gone. She was a tall, incredibly slightwoman, with eyelashes that needed help, and a most disdainful mouthand nose, and she seemed to look scornfully at Tommy and then standwaiting. He was in two minds about what she was waiting for, and oftenhe had a fierce desire to go to London to find out. But he never went. He played the lover to Grizel as before--not to intoxicate himself, but always to make life sunnier to her; if she stayed longer withElspeth than the promised time, he became anxious and went in searchof her. "I have not been away an hour!" she said, laughing at him, holding little Jean up to laugh at him. "But I cannot do without youfor an hour, " he answered ardently. He still laid down his pen to gazewith rapture at her and cry, "My wife!"

She wanted him to go to London for a change, and without her, and hisheart leaped into his mouth to prevent his saying No; yet he said it, though in the Tommy way. 

"Without you!" he exclaimed. "Oh, Grizel, do you think I could findhappiness apart from you for a day? And could you let me go?" And helooked with agonized reproach at her, and sat down, clutching hishead. 

"It would be very hard to me, " she said softly; "but if the change didyou good----"

"A change from you! Oh, Grizel, Grizel!"

"Or I could go with you?"

"When you don't want to go!" he cried huskily. "You think I could askit of you!"

He quite broke down, and she had to comfort him. She was smilingdivinely at him all the time, as if sympathy had brought her to loveeven the Tommy way of saying things. "I thought it would be sweet toyou to see how great my faith in you is now, " she said. 

This was the true reason why generous Grizel had proposed to him togo. She knew he was more afraid than she of Sentimental Tommy, and shethought her faith would be a helping hand to him, as it was. 

He had no regard for Lady Pippinworth. Of all the women he had dalliedwith, she was the one he liked the least, for he never liked where hecould not esteem. Perhaps she had some good in her, but the good inher had never appealed to him, and he knew it, and refused to harbourher in his thoughts now; he cast her out determinedly when she seemedto enter them unbidden. But still he was vain. She came disdainfullyand stood waiting. We have seen him wondering what she waited for; butthough he could not be sure, and so was drawn to her, he took it asacknowledgment of his prowess and so was helped to run away. 

To walk away would be the more exact term, for his favourite method ofexorcising this lady was to rise from his chair and take a long walkwith Grizel. Occasionally if she was occupied (and a number of dutiesour busy Grizel found to hand!) he walked alone, and he would not lethimself brood. Someone had once walked from Thrums to the top of theLaw and back in three hours, and Tommy made several gamesome attemptsto beat the record, setting out to escape that willowy woman, soonwalking her down and returning in a glow of animal spirits. It was onone of these occasions, when there was nothing in his head butambition to do the fifth mile within the eleven minutes, that hesuddenly met her Ladyship face to face. 

We have now come to the last fortnight of Tommy's life. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

A WAY IS FOUND FOR TOMMY

The moment for which he had tried to prepare himself was come, andTommy gulped down his courage, which had risen suddenly to his mouth, leaving his chest in a panic. Outwardly he seemed unmoved, but withinhe was beating to arms. "This is the test of us!" all that was good inhim cried as it answered his summons. 

They began by shaking hands, as is always the custom in the ring. Then, without any preliminary sparring, Lady Pippinworth immediatelyknocked him down; that is to say, she remarked, with a little laugh:"How very stout you are getting!"

I swear by all the gods that it was untrue. He had not got very stout, though undeniably he had got stouter. "How well you are looking!"would have been a very ladylike way of saying it, but his girth wasbest not referred to at all. Those who liked him had learned this longago, and Grizel always shifted the buttons without comment. 

Her malicious Ladyship had found his one weak spot at once. He had areply ready for every other opening in the English tongue, but now hecould writhe only. 

Who would have expected to meet her here? he said at last feebly. Sheexplained, and he had guessed it already, that she was again stayingwith the Rintouls; the castle, indeed, was not half a mile from wherethey stood. 

"But I think I really came to see you, " she informed him, withengaging frankness. 

It was very good of her, he intimated stiffly; but the stiffness waschiefly because she was still looking in an irritating way at hiswaist. 

Suddenly she looked up. To Tommy it was as if she had raised thesiege. "Why aren't you nice to me?" she asked prettily. 

"I want to be, " he replied. 

She showed him a way. "When I saw you steaming towards the castle soswiftly, " she said, dropping badinage, "the hope entered my head thatyou had heard of my arrival. "

She had come a step nearer, and it was like an invitation to return tothe arbour. "This is the test of us!" all that was good in Tommy criedonce more to him. 

"No, I had not heard, " he replied, bravely if baldly. "I was taking asmart walk only. "

"Why so smart as that?"

He hesitated, and her eyes left his face and travelled downward. 

"Were you trying to walk it off?" she asked sympathetically. 

He was stung, and replied in words that were regretted as soon asspoken: "I was trying to walk you off. "

A smile of satisfaction crossed her impudent face. 

"I succeeded, " he added sharply. 

"How cruel of you to say so, when you had made me so very happy! Doyou often take smart walks, Mr. Sandys?"

"Often. "

"And always with me?"

"I leave you behind. "

"With Mrs. Sandys?"

Had she seemed to be in the least affected by their meeting it wouldhave been easy to him to be a contrite man at once; any sign of shameon her part would have filled him with desire to take all the blameupon himself. Had she cut him dead, he would have begun to respecther. But she smiled disdainfully only, and stood waking. She wasstill, as ever, a cold passion, inviting his warm ones to leap at it. He shuddered a little, but controlled himself and did not answer her. 

"I suppose she is the lady of the arbour?" Lady Pippinworth inquired, with mild interest. 

"She is the lady of my heart, " Tommy replied valiantly. 

"Alas!" said Lady Pippinworth, putting her hand over her own. 

But he felt himself more secure now, and could even smile at the womanfor thinking she was able to provoke him. 

"Look upon me, " she requested, "as a deputation sent north to discoverwhy you have gone into hiding. "

"I suppose a country life does seem exile to you, " he replied calmly, and suddenly his bosom rose with pride in what was coming. Tommyalways heard his finest things coming a moment before they came. "If Ihave retired, " he went on windily, "from the insincerities and glitterof life in town, "--but it was not his face she was looking at, it washis waist, --"the reason is obvious, " he rapped out. 

She nodded assent without raising her eyes. 

Yet he still controlled himself. His waist, like some fair torturedlady of romance, was calling to his knighthood for defence, but withthe truer courage he affected not to hear. "I am in hiding, as youcall it, " he said doggedly, "because my life here is such a round ofhappiness as I never hoped to find on earth, and I owe it all to mywife. If you don't believe me, ask Lord or Lady Rintoul, or any otherperson in this countryside who knows her. "

But her Ladyship had already asked, and been annoyed by the answer. 

She assured Tommy that she believed he was happy. "I have oftenheard, " she said musingly, "that the stout people are the happiest. "

"I am not so stout, " he barked. 

"Now I call that brave of you, " said she, admiringly. "That is so muchthe wisest way to take it. And I am sure you are right not to returnto town after what you were; it would be a pity. Somehow it"--andagain her eyes were on the wrong place--"it does not seem to go withthe books. And yet, " she said philosophically, "I daresay you feeljust the same?"

"I feel very much the same, " he replied warningly. 

"That is the tragedy of it, " said she. 

She told him that the new book had brought the Tommy Society to lifeagain. "And it could not hold its meetings with the old enthusiasm, could it, " she asked sweetly, "if you came back? Oh, I think you actmost judiciously. Fancy how melancholy if they had to announce thatthe society had been wound up, owing to the stoutness of the Master. "

Tommy's mouth opened twice before any words could come out. "Takecare!" he cried. 

"Of what?" said she, curling her lip. 

He begged her pardon. "You don't like me, Lady Pippinworth, " he said, watching himself, "and I don't wonder at it; and you have discovered away of hurting me of which you make rather unmerciful use. Well, Idon't wonder at that, either. If I am--stoutish, I have at least thesatisfaction of knowing that it gives you entertainment, and I owe youthat amend and more. " He was really in a fury, and burning to goon--"For I did have the whip-hand of you once, madam, " etc. , etc. ; butby a fine effort he held his rage a prisoner, and the admiration ofhimself that this engendered lifted him into the sublime. 

"For I so far forgot myself, " said Tommy, in a glow, "as to try tomake you love me. You were beautiful and cold; no man had ever stirredyou; my one excuse is that to be loved by such as you was no smallambition; my fitting punishment is that I failed. " He knew he had notfailed, and so could be magnanimous. "I failed utterly, " he said, withgrandeur. "You were laughing at me all the time; if proof of it wereneeded, you have given it now by coming here to mock me. I thought Iwas stronger than you, but I was ludicrously mistaken, and you taughtme a lesson I richly deserved; you did me good, and I thank you forit. Believe me, Lady Pippinworth, when I say that I admit mydiscomfiture, and remain your very humble and humbled servant. "

Now was not that good of Tommy? You would think it still better were Ito tell you what part of his person she was looking at while he saidit. 

He held out his hand generously (there was no noble act he could nothave performed for her just now), but, whatever her Ladyship wanted, it was not to say good-bye. "Do you mean that you never cared for me?"she asked, with the tremor that always made Tommy kind. 

"Never cared for you!" he exclaimed fervently. "What were you not tome in those golden days!" It was really a magnanimous cry, meant tohelp her self-respect, nothing more; but it alarmed the good in him, and he said sternly: "But of course that is all over now. It is only asweet memory, " he added, to make these two remarks mix. 

The sentiment of this was so agreeable to him that he was halfthinking of raising her hand chivalrously to his lips when LadyPippinworth said:

"But if it is all over now, why have you still to walk me off?"

"Have you never had to walk me off?" said Tommy, forgetting himself, and, to his surprise, she answered, "Yes. "

"But this meeting has cured me, " she said, with dangerousgraciousness. 

"Dear Lady Pippinworth, " replied Tommy, ardently, thinking that hisgenerosity had touched her, "if anything I have said----"

"It is not so much what you have said, " she answered, and again shelooked at the wrong part of him. 

He gave way in the waist, and then drew himself up. "If so little athing as that helps you----" he began haughtily. 

"Little!" she cried reproachfully. 

He tried to go away. He turned. "There was a time, " he thundered. 

"It is over, " said she. 

"When you were at my feet, " said Tommy. 

"It is over, " she said. 

"It could come again!"

She laughed a contemptuous No. 

"Yes!" Tommy cried. 

"Too stout, " said she, with a drawl. 

He went closer to her. She stood waiting disdainfully, and his armsfell. 

"Too stout, " she repeated. 

"Let us put it in that way, since it pleases you, " said Tommy, heavily. "I am too stout. " He could not help adding, "And be thankful, Lady Pippinworth, let us both be thankful, that there is some reasonto prevent my trying. "

She bowed mockingly as he raised his hat. "I wish you well, " he said, "and these are my last words to you"; and he retired, not withoutdistinction. He retired, shall we say, as conscious of his waist as ifit were some poor soldier he was supporting from a stricken field. Hesaid many things to himself on the way home, and he was many Tommies, but all with the same waist. It intruded on his noblest reflections, and kept ringing up the worst in him like some devil at the telephone. 

No one could have been more thankful that on the whole he had kept hispassions in check. It made a strong man of him. It turned him into ajoyous boy, and he tingled with hurrahs. Then suddenly he would hearthat jeering bell clanging, "Too stout, too stout. " "Take care!" heroared. Oh, the vanity of Tommy!

He did not tell Grizel that he had met her Ladyship. All she knew wasthat he came back to her more tender and kind, if that were possible, than he had gone away. His eyes followed her about the room until shemade merry over it, and still they dwelt upon her. "How much morebeautiful you are than any other woman I ever saw, Grizel!" he said. And it was not only true, but he knew it was true. What was LadyPippinworth beside this glorious woman? what was her damnable coldnesscompared to the love of Grizel? Was he unforgivable, or was it someflaw in the making of him for which he was not responsible? Withclenched hands he asked himself these questions. This love that allhis books were about--what was it? Was it a compromise betweenaffection and passion countenanced by God for the continuance of therace, made beautiful by Him where the ingredients are in rightproportion, a flower springing from a soil that is not all divine? Oh, so exquisite a flower! he cried, for he knew his Grizel. But he couldnot love her. He gave her all his affection, but his passion, like anoutlaw, had ever to hunt alone. 

Was it that? And if it was, did there remain in him enough of humanityto give him the right to ask a little sympathy of those who can love?So Tommy in his despairing moods, and the question ought to find someplace in his epitaph, which, by the way, it is almost time to write. 

On the day following his meeting with Lady Pippinworth came a notefrom Lady Rintoul inviting Grizel and him to lunch. They had been toRintoul once or twice before, but this time Tommy said decisively, "Wesha'n't go. " He guessed who had prompted the invitation, though hername was not mentioned in it. 

"Why not?" Grizel asked. She was always afraid that she kept Tommy toomuch to herself. 

"Because I object to being disturbed during the honeymoon, " he repliedlightly. Their honeymoon, you know, was never to end. "They wouldseparate us for hours, Grizel. Think of it! But, pooh! the thing isnot to be thought of. Tell her Ladyship courteously that she must bemad. "

But though he could speak thus to Grizel, there came to himtempestuous desires to be by the side of the woman who could mock himand then stand waiting. 

Had she shown any fear of him all would have been well with Tommy; hecould have kept away from her complacently. But she had flung down theglove, and laughed to see him edge away from it. He knew exactly whatwas in her mind. He was too clever not to know that her one desire wasto make him a miserable man; to remember how he had subdued and lefther would be gall to Lady Pippinworth until she achieved the sametriumph over him. How confident she was that he could never prove thestronger of the two again! What were all her mockings but a beckoningto him to come on? "Take care!" said Tommy between his teeth. 

And then again horror of himself would come to his rescue. The man hehad been a moment ago was vile to him, and all his thoughts were nowheroic. You may remember that he had once taken Grizel to a seasideplace; they went there again. It was Tommy's proposal, but he did notgo to flee from temptation; however his worse nature had been stirredand his vanity pricked, he was too determinedly Grizel's to fear thatin any fierce hour he might rush into danger. He wanted Grizel to comeaway from the place where she always found so much to do for him, sothat there might be the more for him to do for her. And that week wasas the time they had spent there before. All that devotion which hadto be planned could do for woman he did. Grizel saw him planning itand never admitted that she saw. In the after years it was sweet toher to recall that week and the hundred laboriously lover-like thingsTommy had done in it. She knew by this time that Tommy had never triedto make her love him, and that it was only when her love for himrevealed itself in the Den that desire to save her pride made himpretend to be in love with her. This knowledge would have been a greatpain to her once, but now it had more of pleasure in it, for it showedthat even in those days he had struggled a little for her. 

We must hasten to the end. Those of you who took in the newspapers aquarter of a century ago know what it was, but none of you know why heclimbed the wall. 

They returned to Thrums in a week. They had meant to stay longer, butsuddenly Tommy wanted to go back. Yes, it was Lady Pippinworth whorecalled him, but don't think too meanly of Tommy. It was not that heyielded to one of those fierce desires to lift the gauntlet; he hadgot rid of them in fair fight when her letter reached him, forwardedfrom Thrums. "Did you really think your manuscript was lost?" it said. That was what took Tommy back. Grizel did not know the reason; he gaveher another. He thought very little about her that day. He thoughtstill less about Lady Pippinworth. How could he think of anything butit? She had it, evidently she had it; she must have stolen it from hisbag. He could not even spare time to denounce her. It was alive--hismanuscript was alive, and every moment brought him nearer to it. Hewas a miser, and soon his hands would be deep among the gold. He was amother whose son, mourned for dead, is knocking at the door. He was aswain, and his beloved's arms were outstretched to him. Who said thatTommy could not love?

The ecstasies that came over him and would not let him sit still madeGrizel wonder. "Is it a book?" she asked; and he said it was abook--such a book, Grizel! When he started for the castle nextmorning, she thought he wanted to be alone to think of the book. "Ofit and you, " he said; and having started, he came back to kiss heragain; he never forgot to have an impulse to do that. But all the wayto the Spittal it was of his book he thought, it was his book he waskissing. His heart sang within him, and the songs were sonnets to hisbeloved. To be worthy of his beautiful manuscript--he prayed for thatas lovers do; that his love should be his, his alone, was as wondrousto him as to any of them. 

But we are not noticing what proved to be the chief thing. Thoughthere was some sun, the air was shrewd, and he was wearing the olddoctor's coat. Should you have taken it with you, Tommy? It lovedGrizel, for it was a bit of him; and what, think you, would the olddoctor have cared for your manuscript had he known that you were goneout to meet that woman? It was cruel, no, not cruel, but thoughtless, to wear the old doctor's coat. 

He found no one at the Spittal. The men were out shooting, and theladies had followed to lunch with them on the moors. He came uponthem, a gay party, in the hollow of a hill where was a spring suddenlyconverted into a wine-cellar; and soon the men, if not the ladies, were surprised to find that Tommy could be the gayest of them all. Hewas in hilarious spirits, and had a gallantly forgiving glance for theonly one of them who knew why his spirits were hilarious. But he wouldnot consent to remain to dinner. "The wretch is so hopelessly in lovewith his wife, " Lady Rintoul said, flinging a twig of heather at him. It was one of the many trivial things said on that occasion and longremembered; the only person who afterwards professed her inability toremember what Tommy said to her that day, and she to him, was LadyPippinworth. "And yet you walked back to the castle with him, " theyreminded her. 

"If I had known that anything was to happen, " she replied indolently, "I should have taken more note of what was said. But as it was, Ithink we talked of our chance of finding white heather. We werelooking for it, and that is why we fell behind you. "

That was not why Tommy and her Ladyship fell behind the others, and itwas not of white heather that they talked. "You know why I am here, Alice, " he said, as soon as there was no one but her to hear him. 

She was in as great tension at that moment as he, but more anxious notto show it. "Why do you call me that?" she replied, with a littlelaugh. 

"Because I want you to know at once, " he said, and it was the truth, "that I have no vindictive feelings. You have kept my manuscript fromme all this time, but, severe though the punishment has been, Ideserved it, yes, every day of it. "

Lady Pippinworth smiled. 

"You took it from my bag, did you not?" said Tommy. 

"Yes. "

"Where is it, Alice? Have you got it here?"

"No. "

"But you know where it is?"

"Oh, yes, " she said graciously, and then it seemed that nothing couldever disturb him again. She enjoyed his boyish glee; she walked by hisside listening airily to it. 

"Had there been a fire in the room that day I should have burned thething, " she said without emotion. 

"It would have been no more than my deserts, " Tommy repliedcheerfully. 

"I did burn it three months afterwards, " said she, calmly. 

He stopped, but she walked on. He sprang after her. "You don't meanthat, Alice!"

"I do mean it. "

With a gesture fierce and yet imploring, he compelled her to stop. "Before God, is this true?" he cried. 

"Yes, " she said, "it is true"; and, indeed, it was the truth about hismanuscript at last. 

"But you had a copy of it made first. Say you had!"

"I had not. "

She seemed to have no fear of him, though his face was ratherterrible. "I meant to destroy it from the first, " she said coldly, "but I was afraid to. I took it back with me to London. One day I readin a paper that your wife was supposed to have burned it while she wasinsane. She was insane, was she not? Ah, well, that is not my affair;but I burned it for her that afternoon. "

They were moving on again. He stopped her once more. 

"Why have you told me this?" he cried. "Was it not enough for you thatI should think she did it?"

"No, " Lady Pippinworth answered, "that was not enough for me. I alwayswanted you to know that I had done it. "

"And you wrote that letter, you filled me with joy, so that you shouldgloat over my disappointment?"

"Horrid of me, was it not!" said she. 

"Why did you not tell me when we met the other day?"

"I bided my time, as the tragedians say. "

"You would not have told me, " Tommy said, staring into her face, "ifyou had thought I cared for you. Had you thought I cared for you alittle jot--"

"I should have waited, " she confessed, "until you cared for me a greatdeal, and then I should have told you. That, I admit, was myintention. "

She had returned his gaze smilingly, and as she strolled on she gavehim another smile over her shoulder; it became a protesting poutalmost when she saw that he was not accompanying her. Tommy stoodstill for some minutes, his hands, his teeth, every bit of him thatcould close, tight clenched. When he made up on her, the devil was inhim. She had been gathering a nosegay of wild flowers. "Pretty, arethey not?" she said to him. He took hold of her harshly by bothwrists. She let him do it, and stood waiting disdainfully; but she wasless unprepared for a blow than for what came. 

"How you love me, Alice!" he said in a voice shaking with passion. 

"How I have proved it!" she replied promptly. 

"Love or hate, " he went on in a torrent of words, "they are the samething with you. I don't care what you call it; it has made you comeback to me. You tried hard to stay away. How you fought, Alice! butyou had to come. I knew you would come. All this time you have beenlonging for me to go to you. You have stamped your pretty feet becauseI did not go. You have cried, 'He shall come!' You have vowed youwould not go one step of the way to meet me. I saw you, I heard you, and I wanted you as much as you wanted me; but I was always thestronger, and I could resist. It is I who have not gone a step towardsyou, and it is my proud little Alice who has come all the way. Proudlittle Alice!--but she is to be my obedient little Alice now. "

His passion hurled him along, and it had its effect on her. She mightcurl her mouth as she chose, but her bosom rose and fell. 

"Obedient?" she cried, with a laugh. 

"Obedient!" said Tommy, quivering with his intensity. "Obedient, notbecause I want it, for I prefer you as you are, but because you arelonging for it, my lady--because it is what you came here for. Youhave been a virago only because you feared you were not to get it. Whyhave you grown so quiet, Alice? Where are the words you want totorment me with? Say them! I love to hear them from your lips. I lovethe demon in you--the demon that burned my book. I love you the morefor that. It was your love that made you do it. Why don't you scratchand struggle for the last time? I am half sorry that little Alice isto scratch and struggle no more. "

"Go on, " said little Alice; "you talk beautifully. " But though hertongue could mock him, all the rest of her was enchained. 

"Whether I shall love you when you are tamed, " he went on withvehemence, "I don't know. You must take the risk of that. But I loveyou now. We were made for one another, you and I, and I love you, Alice--I love you and you love me. You love me, my peerless Alice, don't you? Say you love me. Your melting eyes are saying it. How youtremble, sweet Alice! Is that your way of saying it? I want to hearyou say it. You have been longing to say it for two years. Come, love, say it now!"

It was not within this woman's power to resist him. She tried to drawaway from him, but could not. She was breathing quickly. The mockinglight quivered on her face only because it had been there so long. Ifit went out she would be helpless. He put his hands on her shoulders, and she was helpless. It brought her mouth nearer his. She wasoffering him her mouth. 

"No, " said Tommy, masterfully. "I won't kiss you until you say it. "

If there had not been a look of triumph in his eyes, she would havesaid it. As it was, she broke from him, panting. She laughed nextminute, and with that laugh his power fell among the heather. 

"Really, " said Lady Pippinworth, "you are much too stout for this kindof thing. " She looked him up and down with a comic sigh. "You talk aswell as ever, " she said condolingly, "but heigh-ho, you don't look thesame. I have done the best I could for you for the sake of old times, but I forgot to shut my eyes. Shall we go on?"

And they went on silently, one of them very white. "I believe you areblaming me, " her Ladyship said, making a face, just before theyovertook the others, "when you know it was your own fault for"--shesuddenly rippled--"for not waiting until it was too dark for me to seeyou!"

They strolled with some others of the party to the flower-garden, which was some distance from the house, and surrounded by a high wallstudded with iron spikes and glass. Lady Rintoul cut him some flowersfor Grizel, but he left them on a garden-seat--accidentally, everyonethought afterwards in the drawing-room when they were missed; but hehad laid them down, because how could those degraded hands of hiscarry flowers again to Grizel? There was great remorse in him, butthere was a shrieking vanity also, and though the one told him to begone, the other kept him lagging on. They had torn him a dozen timesfrom each other's arms before he was man enough to go. 

It was gloaming when he set off, waving his hat to those who had cometo the door with him. Lady Pippinworth was not among them; he had notseen her to bid her good-bye, nor wanted to, for the better side ofhim had prevailed--so he thought. It was a man shame-stricken anddetermined to kill the devil in him that went down that longavenue--so he thought. 

A tall, thin woman was standing some twenty yards off, among someholly-trees. She kissed her hand mockingly to him, and beckoned andlaughed when he stood irresolute. He thought he heard her cry, "Toostout!" He took some fierce steps towards her. She ran on, lookingover her shoulder, and he forgot all else and followed her. She dartedinto the flower-garden, pulling the gate to after her. It was a gatethat locked when it closed, and the key was gone. Lady Pippinworthclapped her hands because he could not reach her. When she saw that hewas climbing the wall she ran farther into the garden. 

He climbed the wall, but, as he was descending, one of the iron spikeson the top of it pierced his coat, which was buttoned to the throat, and he hung there by the neck. He struggled as he choked, but he couldnot help himself. He was unable to cry out. The collar of the olddoctor's coat held him fast. 

They say that in such a moment a man reviews all his past life. Idon't know whether Tommy did that; but his last reflection before hepassed into unconsciousness was "Serves me right!" Perhaps it was onlya little bit of sentiment for the end. 

Lady Disdain came back to the gate, by and by, to see why he had notfollowed her. She screamed and then hid in the recesses of the garden. He had been dead for some time when they found him. They left the gatecreaking in the evening wind. After a long time a terrified womanstole out by it. 

CHAPTER XXXV

THE PERFECT LOVER

Tommy has not lasted. More than once since it became known that I waswriting his life I have been asked whether there ever really was sucha person, and I am afraid to inquire for his books at the library lestthey are no longer there. A recent project to bring out a new edition, with introductions by some other Tommy, received so little supportthat it fell to the ground. It must be admitted that, so far as thegreat public is concerned, Thomas Sandys is done for. 

They have even forgotten the manner of his death, though probably noyoung writer with an eye on posterity ever had a better send-off. Wereally thought at the time that Tommy had found a way. 

The surmise at Rintoul, immediately accepted by the world as a fact, was that he had been climbing the wall to obtain for Grizel theflowers accidentally left in the garden, and it at once tipped thetragedy with gold. The newspapers, which were in the middle of thedull season, thanked their gods for Tommy, and enthusiastically set towork on him. Great minds wrote criticisms of what they called hislife-work. The many persons who had been the first to discover himsaid so again. His friends were in demand for the most trivialreminiscences. Unhappy Pym cleared £ll 10s. 

Shall we quote? It is nearly always done at this stage of thebiography, so now for the testimonials to prove that our hero waswithout a flaw. A few specimens will suffice if we select some thatare very like many of the others. It keeps Grizel waiting, but Tommy, as you have seen, was always the great one; she existed only that hemight show how great he was. "Busy among us of late, " says one, "hasbeen the grim visitor who knocks with equal confidence at the doors ofthe gifted and the ungifted, the pauper and the prince, and twice inone short month has he taken from us men of an eminence greaterperhaps than that of Mr. Sandys; but of them it could be said theirwork was finished, while his sun sinks tragically when it is yet day. Not by what his riper years might have achieved can this pure, spiritnow be judged, and to us, we confess, there is something infinitelypathetic in that thought. We would fain shut our eyes, and open themagain at twenty years hence, with Mr. Sandys in the fulness of hispowers. It is not to be. What he might have become is hidden from us;what he was we know. He was little more than a stripling when he'burst upon the town' to be its marvel--and to die; a 'marvellous boy'indeed; yet how unlike in character and in the nobility of his shortlife, as in the mournful yet lovely circumstances of his death, tothat other Might-Have-Been who 'perished in his pride. ' Our young menof letters have travelled far since the days of Chatterton. Time waswhen a riotous life was considered part of their calling--when theyshunned the domestic ties and actually held that the consummate artistis able to love nothing but the creations of his fancy. It is such menas Thomas Sandys who have exploded that pernicious fallacy. .. . 

"Whether his name will march down the ages is not for us, hiscontemporaries, to determine. He had the most modest opinion of hisown work, and was humbled rather than elated when he heard it praised. No one ever loved praise less; to be pointed at as a man ofdistinction was abhorrent to his shrinking nature; he seldom, indeed, knew that he was being pointed at, for his eyes were ever on theground. He set no great store by the remarkable popularity of hisworks. 'Nothing, ' he has been heard to say to one of those gushingladies who were his aversion, 'nothing will so certainly perish as thetalk of the town. ' It may be so, but if so, the greater the pity thathe has gone from among us before he had time to put the coping-stoneupon his work. There is a beautiful passage in one of his own books inwhich he sees the spirits of gallant youth who died too young forimmortality haunting the portals of the Elysian Fields, and the greatshades come to the portal and talk with them. We venture to say thathe is at least one of these. "

What was the individuality behind the work? They discussed it inleading articles and in the correspondence columns, and the man provedto be greater than his books. His distaste for admiration is again andagain insisted on and illustrated by many characteristic anecdotes. Heowed much to his parents, though he had the misfortune to lose themwhen he was but a child. "Little is known of his father, but weunderstand that he was a retired military officer in easycircumstances. The mother was a canny Scotchwoman of lowly birth, conspicuous for her devoutness even in a land where it is everyone'sbirthright, and on their marriage, which was a singularly happy one, they settled in London, going little into society, the worldforgetting, by the world forgot, and devoting themselves to each otherand to their two children. Of these Thomas was the elder, and as thetwig was early bent so did the tree incline. From his earliest yearshe was noted for the modesty which those who remember his boyhood inScotland (whither the children went to an uncle on the death of theirparents) still speak of with glistening eyes. In another column willbe found some interesting recollections of Mr. Sandys by his oldschoolmaster, Mr. David Cathro, M. A. , who testifies with natural prideto the industry and amiability of his famous pupil. 'To know him, 'says Mr. Cathro, 'was to love him. '"

According to another authority, T. Sandys got his early modesty fromhis father, who was of a very sweet disposition, and some instances ofthis modesty are given. They are all things that Elspeth did, butTommy is now represented as the person who had done them. "On theother hand, his strong will, singleness of purpose, and enviablecapacity for knowing what he wanted to be at were a heritage from hispractical and sagacious mother. " "I think he was a little proud of hisstrength of will, " writes the R. A. Who painted his portrait (now inAmerica), "for I remember his anxiety that it should be suggested inthe picture. " But another acquaintance (a lady) replies: "He was notproud of his strong will, but he liked to hear it spoken of, and heonce told me the reason. This strength of will was not, as isgenerally supposed, inherited by him; he was born without it, andacquired it by a tremendous effort. I believe I am the only person towhom he confided this, for he shrank from talk about himself, lookingupon it as a form of that sentimentality which his soul abhorred. "

He seems often to have warned ladies against this essentially womanishtendency to the sentimental. "It is an odious onion, dear lady, " hewould say, holding both her hands in his. If men in his presencetalked sentimentally to ladies he was so irritated that he soon founda pretext for leaving the room. "Yet let it not be thought, " says OneWho Knew Him Well, "that because he was so sternly practical himselfhe was intolerant of the outpourings of the sentimental. The man, inshort, reflected the views on this subject which are so admirablyphrased in his books, works that seem to me to found one of theirchief claims to distinction on this, that at last we have a writer whocan treat intimately of human love without leaving one smear of theonion upon his pages. "

On the whole, it may be noticed, comparatively few ladies contributeto the obituary reflections, "for the simple reason, " says a simpleman, "that he went but little into female society. He who could writeso eloquently about women never seemed to know what to say to them. Ordinary tittle-tattle from them disappointed him. I should say thatto him there was so much of the divine in women that he was depressedwhen they hid their wings. " This view is supported by Clubman, whonotes that Tommy would never join in the somewhat free talk about theother sex in which many men indulge. "I remember, " he says, "a man'sdinner at which two of those present, both persons of eminence, started a theory that every man who is blessed or cursed with theartistic instinct has at some period of his life wanted to marry abarmaid. Mr. Sandys gave them such a look that they at onceapologized. Trivial, perhaps, but significant. On another occasion Iwas in a club smoking-room when the talk was of a similar kind. Mr. Sandys was not present. A member said, with a laugh, 'I wonder for howlong men can be together without talking gamesomely of women?' Beforeany answer could be given Mr. Sandys strolled in, and immediately theatmosphere cleared, as if someone had opened the windows. When he hadgone the member addressed turned to him who had propounded the problemand said, 'There is your answer--as long as Sandys is in the room. '"

"A fitting epitaph, this, for Thomas Sandys, " says the paper thatquotes it, "if we could not find a better. Mr. Sandys was from firstto last a man of character, but why when others falter was he alwaysso sure-footed? It is in the answer to this question that we find thekey to the books, and to the man who was greater than the books. Hewas the Perfect Lover. As he died seeking flowers for her who had thehigh honour to be his wife, so he had always lived. He gave hisaffection to her, as our correspondent Miss (or Mrs. ) Ailie McLeanshows, in his earliest boyhood, and from this, his one romance, henever swerved. To the moment of his death all his beautiful thoughtswere flowers plucked for her; his books were bunches of them gatheredto place at her feet. No harm now in reading between the lines of hisbooks and culling what is the common knowledge of his friends in thenorth, that he had to serve a long apprenticeship before he won her. For long his attachment was unreciprocated, though she was ever hisloyal friend, and the volume called 'Unrequited Love' belongs to theperiod when he thought his life must be lived alone. The circumstancesof their marriage are at once too beautiful and too painful to bedwelt on here. Enough to say that, should the particulars ever begiven to the world, with the simple story of his life, a finermemorial will have been raised to him than anything in stone, such aswe see a committee is already being formed to erect. We venture topropose as a title for his biography, 'The Story of the PerfectLover. '"

Yes, that memorial committee was formed; but so soon do people forgetthe hero of yesterday's paper that only the secretary attended thefirst meeting, and he never called another. But here, five and twentyyears later, is the biography, with the title changed. You may wonderthat I had the heart to write it. I do it, I have sometimes pretendedto myself, that we may all laugh at the stripling of a rogue, but thatwas never my reason. Have I been too cunning, or have you seen throughme all the time? Have you discovered that I was really pitying the boywho was so fond of boyhood that he could not with years become a man, telling nothing about him that was not true, but doing it withunnecessary scorn in the hope that I might goad you into crying:"Come, come, you are too hard on him!"

Perhaps the manner in which he went to his death deprives him of thesewords. Had the castle gone on fire that day while he was at tea, andhe perished in the flames in a splendid attempt to save the life ofhis enemy (a very probable thing), then you might have felt a littleliking for him. Yet he would have been precisely the same person. Idon't blame you, but you are a Tommy. 

Grizel knew how he died. She found Lady Pippinworth's letter to him, and understood who the woman was; but it was only in hopes ofobtaining the lost manuscript that she went to see her. Then LadyPippinworth told her all. Are you sorry that Grizel knew? I am notsorry--I am glad. As a child, as a girl, and as a wife, the truth hadbeen all she wanted, and she wanted it just the same when she was awidow. We have a right to know the truth; no right to ask anythingelse from God, but the right to ask that. 

And to her latest breath she went on loving Tommy just the same. Shethought everything out calmly for herself; she saw that there is nogreat man on this earth except the man who conquers self, and that insome the accursed thing which is in all of us may be so strong that tobattle with it and be beaten is not altogether to fail. It is foolishto demand complete success of those we want to love. We should rejoicewhen they rise for a moment above themselves, and sympathize with themwhen they fall. In their heyday young lovers think each other perfect;but a nobler love comes when they see the failings also, and thishigher love is so much more worth attaining to that they need not cryout though it has to be beaten into them with rods. So they learnhumanity's limitations, and that the accursed thing to me is not theaccursed thing to you; but all have it, and from this comes pity forthose who have sinned, and the desire to help each other springs, forknowledge is sympathy, and sympathy is love, and to learn it the Sonof God became a man. 

And Grizel also thought anxiously about herself, and how from the timewhen she was the smallest girl she had longed to be a good woman andfeared that perhaps she never should. And as she looked back at theroad she had travelled, there came along it the little girl to judgeher. She came trembling, but determined to know the truth, and shelooked at Grizel until she saw into her soul, and then she smiled, well pleased. 

Grizel lived on at Double Dykes, helping David in the old way. She wastoo strong and fine a nature to succumb. Even her brightness came backto her. They sometimes wondered at the serenity of her face. Somestill thought her a little stand-offish, for, though the pride hadgone from her walk, a distinction of manner grew upon her and made herseem a finer lady than before. There was no other noticeable change, except that with the years she lost her beautiful contours and becamea little angular--the old maid's figure, I believe it is sometimescalled. 

No one would have dared to smile at Grizel become an old maid beforesome of the young men of Thrums. They were people who would havesuffered much for her, and all because she had the courage to talk tothem of some things before their marriage-day came round. And fortheir young wives who had tidings to whisper to her about the unbornshe had the pretty idea that they should live with beautiful thoughts, so that these might become part of the child. 

When Gavinia told this to Corp, he gulped and said, "I wonder Godcould hae haen the heart. "

"Life's a queerer thing, " Gavinia replied, sadly enough, "than we usedto think it when we was bairns in the Den. "

He spoke of it to Grizel. She let Corp speak of anything to herbecause he was so loyal to Tommy. 

"You've given away a' your bonny things, Grizel, " he said, "one byone, and this notion is the bonniest o' them a'. I'm thinking thatwhen it cam' into your head you meant it for yoursel'. "

Grizel smiled at him. 

"I mind, " Corp went on, "how when you was little you couldna see abairn without rocking your arms in a waeful kind o' a way, and wecould never thole the meaning o't. It just comes over me this minuteas it meant that when you was a woman you would like terrible to haebairns o' your ain, and you doubted you never should. "

She raised her hand to stop him. "You see, I was not meant to havethem, Corp, " she said. "I think that when women are too fond of otherpeople's babies they never have any of their own. "

But Corp shook his head. "I dinna understand it, " he told her, "butI'm sure you was meant to hae them. Something's gane wrang. "

She was still smiling at him, but her eyes were wet now, and she drewhim on to talk of the days when Tommy was a boy. It was sweet toGrizel to listen while Elspeth and David told her of the thousandthings Tommy had done for her when she was ill, but she loved best totalk with Corp of the time when they were all children in the Den. Thedays of childhood are the best. 

She lived so long after Tommy that she was almost a middle-aged womanwhen she died. 

And so the Painted Lady's daughter has found a way of making Tommy'slife the story of a perfect lover, after all. The little girl she hadbeen comes stealing back into the book and rocks her arms joyfully, and we see Grizel's crooked smile for the last time.