CHAPTER IV


Long before the harvest was home, preparations were made at Towers
Cottage to receive another visitor. The Rev. George Lind was coming.
Lord Carbury drove in the wagonet to the railway station, and met him on
the platform.

"How are you, my dear fellow?" cried the clergyman, shaking the earl's
hand. "Why did you trouble to meet me? I could have taken a fly. Most
kind of you, I am sure. How is your dear mother? And Constance: how is
_she_?"

"All quite well, thank you. Just show my fellow your traps; he will see
to them."

"Oh, there is no need to trouble him. I myself or a porter--oh, thank
you, I am sure; the brown one with G.L. on it--and that small green
metal box too, if you will be so good. Thank you very much. And how are
you, Jasper, if I may call you so? Studious still, eh? I hope he will be
careful of the box. No, not a word to him, I beg: it does not matter at
all. What a charming little trap! What air! Happy man, Jasper! These
fields are better than the close alleys and garrets to which my
profession leads me."

"Jump in."

"Thank you. And how is Marian?"

"Quite well, thank you. _Everybody_ is quite well. The girls are at a
tennis party, or they would have come to meet you. Constance desired me
particularly to apologize."

"Oh, needless, most needless. Why should they not enjoy themselves?
What a landscape! The smiling beauty of nature in the country is like
a--like a message to us. This is indeed a delightful drive."

"Yes, she is a capital trotter, this mare of mine. What do you think of
her?"

"A noble animal, Jasper. Although I never studied horseflesh much, even
in my university days, I can admire a spirited nag on occasion. But I
have to content myself with humbler means of locomotion in my own
calling. A poor parson cannot entertain his friends as a magnate like
you can. Have you any one at the hall now, besides the girls?"

"No. The place will be rather dull for you, I am afraid."

"Not at all, my dear fellow, not at all. I shall be satisfied and
thankful under all circumstances."

"We have led a humdrum life for the past month. Marian and Elinor have
begun to potter about in my laboratory. They come there every day for an
hour to work and study, as they call it."

"Indeed! I have no doubt Marian will find the study of nature most
improving. It is very generous of you to allow her to trespass on you."

"I occupy myself chiefly with Nelly McQuinch. Marian is my assistant's
pupil, and he has made a very expert workwoman of her already. With a
little direction, she can put a machine together as well as I can."

"I am delighted to hear it. And dear Nelly?"

"Oh, dear Nelly treats the subject in her usual way. But she is very
amusing."

"Ah, Jasper! Ah! An unstable nature there, an unstable nature! Elinor
has not been firmly trained. She needs to be tried by adversity."

"No doubt she will be. Most of us are."

"And dear Constance? Does she study?"

"No."

"Ahem! A--have you----? That is St. Mildred's yonder, is it not?"

"It is. They have put a new clock in the tower, worth about sixty
pounds. I believe they collected a hundred and fifty for the purpose.
But you were going to say something else."

"No. At least, I intended to ask you about Marmaduke. He is coming down,
I understand."

"I dont know what he is doing. Last week he wrote to us that he had just
returned from Paris; but I happened to know that he had then been back
for some time. He has arranged to come twice, but on each occasion, at
the last moment, he has made excuses. He can do as he likes now. I wish
he would say definitely that he doesnt intend to come, instead of
shilly-shallying from week to week. Hallo, Prentice, have the ladies
returned yet?" This was addressed to the keeper of the gate-lodge, at
which they had now arrived. He replied that the ladies were still
absent.

"Then," said Lord Carbury, "we had better get down and stroll across the
lawn. Perhaps you are tired, though?"

"Not at all. I should prefer it. What a lovely avenue! What greenery!
How--"

"We were talking about Marmaduke. Do you know what he is doing at
present? He talks of being busy, and of not having a moment to spare. I
can understand a fellow not having a moment to spare in June or July,
but what Marmaduke has to do in London in September is more than I can
imagine."

"I do not care to enquire into these things too closely. I had intended
to speak to you on the subject. Marmaduke, as I suppose you know, has
taken a house at West Kensington."

"A house at West Kensington! No, I did not know it. What has he done
that for?"

"I fear he has been somewhat disingenuous with me on the subject. I
think he tried to prevent the matter coming to my ears; and when I asked
him about it, he certainly implied--in fact, I grieve to say he left me
under the impression that he had taken the house with a view to marrying
dear Constance, and settling down. I expressed some surprise at his
going so far out of town; but he did not volunteer any further
explanation, and so the matter dropped." The Rev. George paused, and
then continued in a lower tone, "Not long afterward I met him at a very
late hour. He had perhaps exceeded a little in his cups; for he spoke to
me with the most shocking cynicism, inviting me to supper at this house
of his, and actually accusing me of knowing perfectly well the terrible
truth about his occupation of it. He assured me that she--meaning, I
presume, the unhappy person with whom he lives there--was exceptionally
attractive; and I have since discovered that she is connected with the
theatre, and of great notoriety. I need not tell you how dreadful all
this is to me, Jasper; but to the best of my judgment, which I have
fortified by earnest prayers for guidance, it is my imperative duty to
tell you of it."

"The vagabond! It is exactly as I have always said: Constance is too
tame for him. He does not care a d----"

"Jasper, my dear fellow, gently," said the clergyman, pressing his arm.

"Pshaw!" said the Earl, "I dont care. I think Constance is well out of
it. Let us drop the subject for the present. I hear the carriage."

"Yes, here it is. Dear Lady Carbury has recognized me, and is waving her
hand." The Rev. George stood on tiptoe as he spoke, and flourished his
low-crowned soft felt hat.

During the ensuing greetings Carbury stood silent, looking at the horses
with an expression that made the coachman uneasy. At dinner he ate
sedulously, and left the task of entertaining the visitor to his mother
and the girls. The clergyman was at no loss for conversation. He was
delighted with the dinner, delighted with the house, delighted to see
the Countess looking so well, and delighted to hear that the tennis
party that day had been a pleasant one. The Earl listened with
impatience, and was glad when his mother rose. Before she quitted the
dining-room he made a sign to her, and she soon returned, leaving
Marian, Constance, and Elinor in the drawing-room.

"You will not mind my staying, I hope, George," she said, as she resumed
her seat.

"A delightful precedent, and from a distinguished source," said the Rev.
George. "Allow me to pass the bottle. Ha! ha!"

"Thank you, no," said the Countess. "I never take wine." Her tone was
inconclusive, as if she intended to take something else.

"Will you take brandy-and-soda?" said her son, rather brusquely.

Lady Carbury lowered her eyelids in protest. Then she said: "A very
little, if you please, Jasper. I dare not touch wine," she continued to
the clergyman. "I am the slave of my medical man in all matters relating
to my unfortunate digestion."

"Mother," said Jasper, "George has brought us a nice piece of news
concerning your pet Marmaduke."

The clergyman became solemn and looked steadily at his glass.

"I do not know that it is fair to describe him as my pet exactly," said
the Countess, a little troubled. "I trust there is nothing unpleasant
the matter."

"Oh, nothing! He has settled down domestically in a mansion at West
Kensington, that is all."

"What! Married!"

"Unhappily," said the Rev. George, "no, not married."

"Oh!" said the Countess slowly, as an expression of relief. "It is very
shocking, of course; very wrong indeed. Young men _will_ do these
things. It is especially foolish in Marmaduke's case, for he really
cannot afford to make any settlement such as this kind of complication
usually involves when the time comes for getting rid of it. Pray do not
let it come to Constance's ears. It is not a proper subject for a girl."

"Quite as proper a subject as marriage with a fellow like Marmaduke,"
said Jasper, rising coolly and lighting a cigaret. "However, it will be
time enough to trouble about that when there is any sign of his having
the slightest serious intentions toward Constance. For my part I dont
believe, and I never did believe, that there was anything real in the
business. This last move of his proves it--to my satisfaction, at any
rate."

Lady Carbury, with a slight but impressive bridling, and yet with an
evident sense of discomfiture, proceeded to assert herself before the
clergyman. "I beg you will control yourself, Jasper," she said. "I do
not like to be spoken to in that tone. In discharging the very great
responsibility which rests with a mother, I am compelled to take the
world as I find it, and to acknowledge that certain very deplorable
tendencies must be allowed for in society. You, in the solitude of your
laboratory, contemplate an ideal state of things that we all, I am sure,
long for, but which unhappily does not exist. I have never enquired into
Marmaduke's private life, and I think you ought not to have done so. I
could not disguise from myself the possibility of his having entered
into some such relations as those you have alluded to."

Jasper, without the slightest appearance of having heard this speech,
strolled casually out of the room. The Countess, baffled, turned to her
sympathetic guest.

"I am sure that you, George, must feel that it is absolutely necessary
for us to keep this matter to ourselves."

The Rev. George said, gravely, "I do not indeed see what blessing can
rest on our interference in such an inexpressibly shocking business. It
is for Marmaduke to wrestle with his own conscience."

"Quite so," said the Countess, shrugging her shoulders as if to invite
her absent son's attention to this confirmation of her judgment. "Is it
not absurd of Jasper to snatch at such an excuse for breaking off the
match?"

"I can sympathize with Jasper's feeling, I trust. It is natural for a
candid nature to recoil from duplicity. But all our actions need
charitable construction; and, remembering that, we should take heed to
prevent our forebearance toward others from wavering. Who knows that the
alliance with your pure and lovely daughter may not be the means
specially ordained to rescue him from his present condition."

"I think it very possible," drawled the Countess, looking at him,
nevertheless, with a certain contempt for what she privately considered
his priggish, underbred cant. "Besides, such things are recognized,
though of course they are not spoken of. No lady could with common
decency pretend to know that such connexions are possible, much less
assign one of them as a reason for breaking off an engagement."

"Pardon me," said the Rev. George; "but can these worldly considerations
add anything to the approval of our consciences? I think not. We will
keep our own counsel in this matter in the sight of Heaven. Then,
whatever the world may think, all will surely come right in the end."

"Oh, it is sure to come right in the end: these wretched businesses
always do. I cannot imagine men having such low tastes--as if there were
anything in these women more than in anybody else! Come into the
drawing-room, George."

They went into the drawing-room and found it deserted. The ladies were
in the veranda. The Countess took up the paper and composed herself for
a nap. George went into the porch, where the girls, having seen the sun
go down, were now watching the deepening gloom among the trees that
skirted the lawn. Marian proposed that they should walk through the
plantation whilst there was still a little light left, and the clergyman
readily assented. He rather repented of this when they got into the deep
gloom under the trees, and Elinor began to tell stories about adders,
wild cats, poachers, and anything else that could possibly make a
nervous man uncomfortable under such circumstances. He was quite
relieved when they saw the spark of a cigaret ahead of them and heard
the voices of Jasper and Conolly coming toward them through the
darkness.

"Oh, I believe I have had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Conolly," said the
Rev. George, formally, when they met. "I am glad to see you."

"Thank you," said Conolly. "If you ladies have thin shoes on as usual,
we had better come out of this."

"As we ladies happen to have our boots on," said Marian, "we shall stay
as long as we like."

Nevertheless, they soon turned homeward, and as the path was narrow,
they walked in pairs. The clergyman, with Constance, led the way. Lord
Jasper followed with Elinor. Conolly and Marian came last.

"Does that young man--Mr. Conolly--live at the Hall?" was the Rev.
George's first remark to Constance.

"No. He has rooms in Rose Cottage, that little place on Quilter's farm."

"Ha! Then he is very well off here."

"A great deal too well off. Jasper allows him to speak to him as though
he were an equal. However, I suppose Jasper knows his own business
best."

"I have observed that he is rather disposed to presume upon any
encouragement he receives. It is a bad sign in a young man, and one, I
fear, that will greatly interfere with his prospects."

"He is an American, and I suppose thinks it a fine thing to be
republican. But it is Jasper's fault. He spoils him. He once wanted to
have him in the drawing-room in the evenings to play accompaniments; but
mamma positively refused to allow it. Jasper is excessively obstinate,
and though he did not make a fuss, he got quite a habit of going over
to Rose Cottage and spending his evenings there singing and playing.
Everybody about the place used to notice it. Mamma was greatly
disgusted."

"Do you find him unpleasant--personally, I mean?"

"I! Oh dear, no! I should never dream of speaking to him. His presence
is unpleasant, because he exercises a bad influence on Jasper; so I
wish, on that account alone, that he would go."

"I trust Marian is careful to limit her intercourse with him as much as
possible."

"Well, Marian learns electricity from him; and of course that makes a
difference. I do not care about such things; and I never go into the
laboratory when he is there; so I do not know whether Marian lets him be
familiar with her or not. She is rather easygoing; and he is
insufferably conceited. However, if she wants to learn electricity, I
suppose she must put up with him. He is no worse, after all, than the
rest of the people one has to learn things from. They are all
impossible."

"It is a strange fancy of the girls, to study science."

"I am sure I dont know why they do it. It is great nonsense for Jasper
to do it, either. He will never keep up his position properly until he
shuts up that stupid workshop. He ought to hunt and shoot and entertain
a great deal more than he does. It is very hard on us, for we are
altogether in Jasper's hands for such matters. I think he is very
foolish."

"Not foolish. Dont say that. Excuse my giving you a little lecture; but
it is not right to speak, even without thought, of your brother as a
fool. No doubt he is a little injudicious; but all men are not called to
the same pursuits."

"If people have a certain position, they ought to make up their minds
to the duties of their position, whether they are called to them or
not."

The Rev. George, missing the deference with which ladies not related to
him usually received his admonitions, changed the subject.

Meanwhile, Conolly and Marian, walking more slowly than the rest, had
fallen far behind. They had been silent at first. She seemed to be in
trouble. At last, after some wistful glances at him, she said:

"Have you resolved to go to London to-morrow; or will you wait until
Friday?"

"To-morrow, Miss Lind. Can I do anything for you in town?"

Marian hesitated painfully.

"Do not mind giving me plenty of bother," he said. "I am so accustomed
to superintend the transit of machines as cumbersome as trunks and as
fragile as bonnet boxes, that the care of a houseful of ordinary luggage
would be a mere amusement for me."

"Thank you; but it is not that. I was only thinking--Are you likely to
see my cousin, Mr. Marmaduke Lind, whilst you are in London?"

"N--no. Unless I call upon him, which I have no excuse for doing."

"Oh! I thought you knew him."

"I met him at that concert."

"But I thought you were in the habit of going about with him. At least,
I understood him one day to say that you had been to the theatre
together."

"So we were; but only once. We went there after the concert, and I have
never seen him since."

"Oh, indeed! I quite mistook."

"If you have any particular reason for wishing me to see him, I will.
It will be all right if I have a message from you. Shall I call on him?
It will be no trouble to me."

"No, oh no. I wanted--it was something that could only be told to him
indirectly by an intimate friend--by some one with influence over him.
More a hint than anything else. But it does not matter. At least, it
cannot be helped."

Conolly did not speak until they had gone some thirty yards or so in
silence. Then he said: "If the matter is of serious importance to you,
Miss Lind, I think I can manage to have a message conveyed to him by a
person who has influence over him. I am not absolutely certain that I
can; but probably I shall succeed without any great difficulty."

Marian looked at him in some surprise. "I hardly know what I ought to
do," she said, doubtfully.

"Then do nothing," said Conolly bluntly. "Or, if you want anything said
to this gentleman, write to him yourself."

"But I dont know his address, and my brother says I ought not to write
to him. I dont think I ought, either; but I want him to be told
something that may prevent a great deal of unhappiness. It seems so
unfeeling to sit down quietly and say, 'It is not my business to
interfere,' when the mischief might so easily be prevented."

"I advise you to be very cautious, Miss Lind. Taking care of other
people's happiness is thankless and dangerous. You dont know your
cousin's address, you say?"

"No. I thought you did."

Conolly shook his head. "Who does know it?" he said.

"My brother George does; but he refused to tell me. I shall not ask him
again."

"Of course not. I can find it out for you. But of what use will that be,
since you think you ought not to write to him?"

"I assure you, Mr. Conolly, that if it only concerned myself, I would
not hesitate to tell you the whole story, and ask your advice. I feel
sure you would shew me what was right. But this is a matter which
concerns other people only."

"Then you have my advice without telling me. Dont meddle in it."

"But--"

"But what?"

"After all, what I wish to do could not possibly bring about mischief.
If Marmaduke could be given a hint to come down here at once--he has
been invited, and is putting off his visit from week to week--it would
be sufficient. He will get into trouble if he makes any more excuses.
And he can set everything right by coming down now."

"Are you sure you dont mean only that he can smooth matters over for the
present?"

"No, you mistake. It is not so much to smooth matters over as to rescue
him from a bad influence that is ruining him. There is a person in
London from whom he must he got away at all hazards. If you only knew--I
_wish_ you knew."

"Perhaps I know more than you suppose. Come, Miss Lind, let us
understand one another. Your family want your cousin to marry Lady
Constance. I know that. She does not object. I know that too. He does."

"Oh!" exclaimed Marian, "you are wrong. He does not."

"Anyhow," continued Conolly, "he acts with a certain degree of
indifference toward her--keeps away at present, for instance. I infer
that the bad influence you have mentioned is the cause of his
remissness."

"Yes, you are right; only, looking at it all from without as you do, you
are mistaken as to Marmaduke's character. He is easily led away, and
very careless about the little attentions that weigh so much with women;
but he is thoroughly honorable, and incapable of trifling with Lady
Constance. Unfortunately, he is easily imposed on, and impatient of
company in which he cannot be a little uproarious. I fear that somebody
has taken advantage of this part of his character to establish a great
ascendency over him. I"--here Marian became nervous, and controlled her
voice with difficulty--"I saw this person once in a theatre; and I can
imagine how she would fascinate Marmaduke. She was so clever, so
handsome, and--and so utterly abominable. I was angry with Duke for
bringing us to the place; and I remember now that he was angry with me
because I said she made me shudder."

"Utterly abominable is a strong thing for one woman to say of another,"
said Conolly, with a certain sternness. "However, I can understand your
having that feeling about her. I know her; and it is through her that I
hope to find out his address for you."

"But her address is his address now, Mr. Conolly. I think it is
somewhere in West Kensington."

Conolly stopped, and turned upon her so suddenly that she recoiled a
step, frightened.

"Since when, pray?"

"Very lately, I think. I do not know."

They neither moved nor spoke for some moments: she earnestly regretting
that she had lingered so far behind her companions in the terrible
darkness. He walked on at last faster than before. No more words passed
between them until they came out into the moonlight close to the
veranda. Then he stopped again, and took off his hat.

"Permit me to leave you now," he said, with an artificial politeness
worthy of Douglas himself. "Good-night."

"Good-night," faltered Marian.

He walked gravely away. Marian hurried into the veranda, where she found
Jasper and Elinor. The other couple had gone into the drawing-room.

"Hallo!" said Jasper, "where is Conolly? I want to say a word to him
before he goes."

"He has just gone," said Marian, pointing across the lawn. Jasper
immediately ran out in the direction indicated, and left the two cousins
alone together.

"Well, Marian," said Elinor, "do you know that you have taken more than
quarter of an hour longer to come from the plantation than we did, and
that you look quite scared? Our sweet Constance, as the parson calls
her, has been making some kind remarks about it."

"Do I look disturbed? I hope Auntie wont notice it. I wish I could go
straight to bed without seeing anybody."

"Why? What is the matter?"

"I will tell you to-night when you come in to me. I am disgusted with
myself; and I think Conolly is mad."

"Mad!"

"On my word, I think Conolly has gone mad," said Lord Jasper, returning
at this moment out of breath and laughing.

Elinor, startled, glanced at Marian.

"He was walking quite soberly toward the fence of the yellow field when
I caught sight of him. Just as I was about to hail him, he started off
and cleared the fence at a running jump. He walked away at a furious
rate, swinging his arms about, and laughing as if he was enjoying some
uncommonly good joke. I am not sure that I did not see him dance a
hornpipe; but as it is so dark I wont swear to that."

"You had better not," said Elinor, sceptically. "Let us go in; and pray
do not encourage George to talk. I have a headache, and want to go to
bed."

"You have been in very good spirits, considering your headache," he
replied, in the same incredulous tone. "It has come on rather suddenly,
has it not?"

When they went into the drawing-room they found that Constance had
awakened her mother, and had already given her an account of their walk.
Jasper added a description of what he had just witnessed. "I have not
laughed so much for a long time," he said, in conclusion. "He is usually
such a steady sort of fellow."

"I see nothing very amusing in the antics of a drunken workman," said
the Countess. "How you could have left Marian in his care even for a
moment I am at a loss to conceive."

"He was not drunk, indeed," said Marian.

"Certainly not," said Jasper, rather indignantly. "I was walking with
him for some time before we met the girls. You are very pale, Marian.
Have you also a headache?"

"I have been playing tennis all day; and I am quite tired out."

Soon afterward, when Marian was in bed, and Miss McQuinch, according to
a nightly custom of theirs, was seated on the coverlet with her knees
doubled up to her chin inside her bedgown, they discussed the adventure
very earnestly.

"Dont understand him at all, I confess," said Elinor, when Marian had
related what had passed in the plantation. "Wasnt it rather rash to make
a confidant of him in such a delicate matter?"

"That is what makes me feel so utterly ashamed. He might have known that
I only wanted to do good. I thought he was so entirely above false
delicacy."

"I dont mean that. How do you know that the story is true? You only have
it from Mrs. Leith Fairfax's letter; and she is perhaps the greatest
liar in the world."

"Oh, Nelly, you ought not to talk so strongly about people. She would
never venture to tell me a made-up tale about Marmaduke."

"In my opinion, she would tell anybody anything for the sake of using
her tongue or pen."

"It is so hard to know what to do. There was nobody whom I could trust,
was there? Jasper has always been against Marmaduke; and Constance, of
course, was out of the question. There was Auntie, but I did not like to
tell her."

"Because she is an evil-minded old Jezebel, whom no nice woman would
talk to on such a subject," said Elinor, giving the bed a kick with her
heel.

"Hush, Nelly. I am always in terror lest you should say something like
that before other people, out of sheer habit."

"Never fear. Well, you have done the best you could. No use regretting
what cannot be recalled. You cannot have the security of conventionality
along with the self-respect of sincerity. By the bye, do you remember
that Jasper and his fond mamma and George had a family council after
dinner? You may be sure that George has told them everything."

"What! Then my wretched attempt to have Marmaduke warned was useless.
Oh, Nelly, this is too bad. Do you really think so? When I told him
before dinner what Mrs. Leith Fairfax wrote, he only said he feared it
was true, and refused to give me the address."

"And so threw you back on Conolly. I am glad the responsibility rests
with George. He knew very well that it was true; for he had only just
been telling Jasper. Jasper told me as much in the plantation. Master
Georgy has no right to be your brother. He is worse than a dissenter.
Dissenters try to be gentlemen; but George has no misgivings about
himself on that score; so he gives his undivided energy to his efforts
to be parsonic. He is an arrant hypocrite."

"I dont think he is a hypocrite. I think he sincerely believes that his
duty to the Church requires him to behave as he does."

"Then he is a donkey, which is worse."

"I wish he were more natural in his manner."

"He is natural enough. It is always the same with parsons: 'it is their
nature to.' Good-night. Men are all the same, my dear, all the same."

"How do you mean?"

"Never mind. Good-night."




CHAPTER V


A little removed from a pretty road in West Kensington, and
communicating with it by a shrubbery and an iron gate, there stood at
this time a detached villa called Laurel Grove. On the opposite side
were pairs of recently built houses, many of them still unlet. These,
without depriving the neighbourhood of its suburban quietude, forbade
any feeling of rustic seclusion, and so made it agreeable to Susanna
Conolly, who lived at Laurel Grove with Marmaduke Lind.

One morning in September they were at breakfast together. Beside each
was a pile of letters. Marmaduke deferred opening his until his hunger
was satisfied; but Susanna, after pouring out tea for him, seized the
uppermost envelope, thrust her little finger under the flap, and burst
it open.

"Hm," she said. "First rehearsal next Monday. Here he is at me again to
make the engagement renewable after Christmas. What an old fool he must
be not to guess why I dont want to be engaged next spring! Just look at
the _Times_, Bob, and see if the piece is advertized yet."

"I should think so, by Jupiter," said Marmaduke, patiently interrupting
his meal to open the newspaper.

"Here is a separate advertisement for everybody. 'The latest Parisian
success. _La petite Maison du Roi._ Music by M. de Jongleur. Mr.
Faulkner has the honor to announce that an adaptation by Mr. Cribbs of
M. de Jongleur's opera bouffe _La petite Maison du Roi_, entitled King
Lewis on the lewis'--what the deuce does that mean?"

"On the loose, of course."

"But it is spelt l-e-w----oh! its a pun. What an infernal piece of
idiocy! Then it goes on as usual, except that each name in the cast has
a separate line of large print. Here you are: 'Lalage Virtue as Madame
Dubarry'----"

"Is that at the top?"

"Yes."

"Before Rose Stella?"

"Yes. Why!--I didnt notice it before--you are down fifteen times!
Every alternate space has your name over again. 'Lalage Virtue as Madame
Dubarry. Fred Smith as Louis XV. Lalage Virtue as the Dubarry. Felix
Sumner as the Due de Richelieu. Lalage Virtue as _la belle Jeanneton_.'
By the way, that is all rot. Cardinal Richelieu died four or five
hundred years before Madame Dubarry was born."

"Let me see the paper. I see they have given Rose Stella the last line
with a big AND before it. No matter. She is down only once; and I am
down fifteen times."

"I wonder what all these letters of mine are about! This is a bill, of
course. The West Kensington Wine Company. Whew! We are getting through
the champagne at the rate of about thirty pounds a month, not counting
what we pay for when we dine in town."

"Well, what matter! Champagne does nobody any harm; and I get awfully
low without it."

"All right, my dear. So long as you please yourself, and dont injure
your health, I dont care. Here's a letter of yours put among mine by
mistake. It has been forwarded from your old diggings at Lambeth."

"It's from Ned," said Susanna, turning pale. "He must be coming home,
or he would not write. Yes, he is. What shall I do?"

"What does he say?" said Marmaduke, taking the letter from her. "'_Back
at 6 on Wednesday evening. Have high tea. N.C._' Short and sweet! Well,
he will not turn up til to-morrow, at all events, even if he knows the
address, which of course he doesnt."

"He knows nothing. His note shews that. What _will_ he do when he finds
me gone? He may get the address at the post-office, where I told them to
send on my letters. The landlady has most likely found out for her own
information. There is no mistake about it," said Susanna, rising and
walking to the window: "I am in a regular funk about him. I have half a
mind to go back to Lambeth and meet him. I could let the murder out
gradually, or, perhaps, get him off to the country again before he
discovers anything."

"Go back! oh no, nonsense! The worst he can do is to cut you--and a good
job too."

"I wish he would. It would be a relief to me at present to know for
certain that he would."

"He cant be so very thin-skinned as you fancy, considering the time you
have been on the stage."

"There's nothing wrong in being on the stage. There's nothing wrong in
being here either, in spite of Society. After all, what do I care about
Ned, or anybody else? He always went his own way when it suited him; and
he has no right to complain if I go mine. Let him come if he likes: he
will not get much satisfaction from me." Susanna sat down again, and
drank some tea, partly defiant, partly disconsolate.

"Dont think any more about it," said Marmaduke. "He wont come."

"Oh, let him, if he likes," said Susanna, impatiently. Marmaduke did not
quite sympathize with her sudden recklessness. He hoped that Conolly
would have the good sense to keep away.

"Look here, Bob," said she, when they had finished breakfast. "Let us go
somewhere to-day. I feel awfully low. Let us have a turn up the river."

"All right," said Marmaduke, with alacrity. "Whatever you please. How
shall we go?"

"Anyhow. Let us go to Hampton by train. When we get there we can settle
what to do afterward. Can you come now?"

"Yes, whenever you are ready."

"Then I will run upstairs and dress. Go out and amuse yourself with
that blessed old lawn-mower until I come."

"Yes, I think I will," said Marmaduke, seriously. "That plot near the
gate wants a trimming badly."

"What a silly old chap you are, Bob!" she said, stopping to kiss him on
each cheek as she left the room.

Marmaduke had become attached to the pursuit of gardening since his
domestication. He put on his hat; went out; and set to work on the plot
near the gate. The sun was shining brightly; and when he had taken a few
turns with the machine he stopped, raising his face to the breeze, and
saw Conolly standing so close to him that he started backward, and made
a vague movement as if to ward off a blow. Conolly, who seemed amused by
the mowing, said quietly: "That machine wants oiling: the clatter
prevented you from hearing me come. I have just returned from Carbury
Towers. Miss Lind is staying there; and she has asked me to give you a
message."

This speech perplexed Marmaduke. He inferred from it that Conolly was
ignorant of Susanna's proceedings, but he had not sufficient effrontery
to welcome him unconcernedly at once. So he stood still and stared at
him.

"I am afraid I have startled you," Conolly went on, politely. "I found
the gate unlocked, and thought it would be an unnecessary waste of time
to ring the bell. You have a charming little place here."

"Yes, it's a pretty little place, isnt it?" said Marmaduke. "A--wont you
come in and have a--excuse my bringing you round this way, will you? My
snuggery is at the back of the house."

"Thank you; but I had rather not go in. I have a great deal of business
to do in town to-day; so I shall just discharge my commission and go."

"At any rate, come into the shade," said Marmaduke, glancing uneasily
toward the windows of the house. "This open place is enough to give us
sunstroke."

Conolly followed him to a secluded part of the shrubbery, where they sat
down on a bench.

"Is there anything up?" said Marmaduke, much oppressed.

"Will you excuse my speaking without ceremony?"

"Oh, certainly. Fire away!"

"Thank you. I must then tell you that the relations between you and Lady
Constance are a source of anxiety to her brother. You know the way men
feel bound to look after their sisters. You have, I believe, sisters of
your own?"

Marmaduke nodded, and stole a doubtful glance at Conolly's face.

"It appears that Lord Carbury has all along considered your courtship
too cool to be genuine. In this view he was quite unsupported, the
Countess being strongly in your favor, and the young lady devoted to
you."

"Well, I knew all that. At least, I suspected it. What is up now?"

"This. The fact of your having taken a villa here has reached the ears
of the family at Carbury. They are, not unnaturally, curious to know
what use a bachelor can have for such an establishment."

"But I have my rooms in Clarges Street still. This is not my house. It
was taken for another person."

"Precisely what they seem to think. But, to be brief with you, Miss Lind
thinks that unless you wish to break with the Earl, and quarrel with
your family, you should go down to Towers Cottage at once."

"But I cant go away just now. There are reasons."

"Miss Lind is fully acquainted with your reasons. They are her reasons
for wishing you to leave London immediately. And now, having executed my
commission, I must ask you to excuse me. My time is much occupied."

"Well, I am greatly obliged to you for coming all this way out of town
to give me the straight tip," said Marmaduke, relieved at the prospect
of getting rid of his visitor without alluding to Susanna. "It is very
good of you; and I am very glad to see you. Jolly place, Carbury Park
is, isnt it? How will the shooting be?"

"First rate, I am told. I do not know much about it myself." They had
risen, and were strolling along the path leading to the gate.

"Shall I see you down there--if I go?"

"Possibly. I shall have to go down for a day at least, to get my
luggage, in case I decide not to renew my engagement with Lord Jasper."

"I hope so," said Marmaduke. Then, as they reached the gate, he
proffered his hand, in spite of an inward shrinking, and said heartily,
"Good-bye, old fellow. Youre looking as well as possible."

Conolly took his hand, and retained it whilst he said: "Good-bye, Mr.
Lind. I am quite well, thank you. If I may ask--how is Susanna?"

Marmaduke was prevented by a spasm of the throat from replying. Before
he recovered, Susanna herself, attired for her proposed trip to Hampton,
emerged from the shrubbery and stood before them, confounded. Conolly,
still wearing the cordial expression with which he had shaken
Marmaduke's hand, looked at her, then at her protector, and then at her
again.

"I have been admiring the villa, Susanna," said he, after an emphatic
silence. "It is better than our place at Lambeth. You wont mind my
hurrying away: I have a great deal to do in town. Good-bye. Good-bye,
Mr. Lind."

Susanna murmured something. Marmaduke, after making an effort to bid his
guest good-bye genially, opened the gate, and stood for a minute
watching him as he strode away.

"What does _he_ care what becomes of me, the selfish brute!" cried
Susanna, passionately.

"He didnt complain: he has nothing to complain of," said Marmaduke.
"Anyhow, why didnt he stay at home and look after you? By George,
Susanna, he is the coolest card I ever came across."

"What brought him here?" she demanded, vehemently.

"That reminds me. I am afraid I must go down to Carbury for a few
days."

"And what am I to do here alone? Are _you_ going to leave me too?"

"Well, I cannot be in two places at the same time. I suppose you can
manage to get on without me for a few days."

"I will go home. I can get on without you altogether. I will go home."

"Come, Susanna! what is the use of kicking up a row? I cant afford to
quarrel with all my people because you choose to be unreasonable."

"What do I care about your people, or about you either?"

"Very well, then," said Marmaduke, offended, "you can go home if you
like. Perhaps your brother appreciates this sort of thing. I dont."

"Ah, you coward! You taunt me because you think I have no home. Do you
flatter yourself that I am dependent on you?"

"Hold your tongue," said Marmaduke, fiercely. "Dont you turn on me in
that fashion. Keep your temper if you want me to keep mine."

"You have ruined me," said Susanna, sitting down on the grass, and
beginning to cry.

"Oh, upon my soul, this is too much," said Marmaduke, with disgust. "Get
up out of that and dont make a fool of yourself. Ruined indeed! Will you
get up?"

"No!" screamed Susanna.

"Then stay where you are and be damned," retorted Marmaduke, turning on
his heel and walking toward the house. In the hall he met a maid
carrying an empty champagne bottle and goblet.

"Missis is looking for you, sir," said the maid.

"All right," said Marmaduke, "I have seen her. Listen to me. I am going
to the country. My man Mason will come here to-day to pack up my traps,
and bring them after me. You had better take a note of my address from
the card in the strap of my valise."

"Yes, sir," said the maid. "Any message for missis?"

"No," said Marmaduke. He then changed his coat and hat, and went out
again. As he approached the gate he met Susanna, who had risen and was
walking toward the house.

"I am going to Carbury," he said. "I dont know when I shall be back."

She passed on disdainfully, as if she had not heard him.




CHAPTER VI


Three days later Lord Carbury came to luncheon with a letter in his
hand. Marian had not yet come in; and the Rev. George was absent, his
place being filled by Marmaduke.

"Good news for you and Constance, mother."

"Indeed?" said the Countess, smiling.

"Yes. Conolly is coming down this afternoon to collect his traps and
leave you forever."

"Really, Jasper, you exaggerate Mr. Conolly's importance. Intelligence
of his movements can hardly be news--good or bad--either to me or to
Constance."

"I am glad he is going," said Constance, "for Jasper's sake."

"Thank you," replied Jasper. "I thought you would be. He will be a great
loss to me."

"Nonsense!" said the Countess. "If another workman is needed, another
can easily be had."

"If I can be of any assistance to you, old man," said Marmaduke, "make
what use of me you like. I picked up something about the business
yesterday."

"Yes," said Elinor. "While you were away, Jasper, he went to the
laboratory with Constance, and fired off a brass cannon with your new
pile until he had used up all the gunpowder and spoiled the panels of
the door. That is what he calls picking up something about the
business."

"Nothing like experiment for convincing you of the power of
electricity," said Marmaduke. "Is there, Conny?"

"It's very wonderful; but I hate shots."

"Where is Marian?" said Lady Carbury.

"I left her in the summer-house in the fruit garden," said Elinor. "She
was reading."

"She must have forgotten the hour," said the Countess. "She has been
moping, I think, for the last few days. I hope she is not unwell. But
she would never stay away from luncheon intentionally. I shall send for
her."

"I'll go," said Marmaduke, eagerly.

"No, no, Duke. You must not leave the table. I will send a servant."

"I will fetch her here in half the time that any servant will. Poor
Marian, why shouldnt she have her lunch? I shall be back in a jiffy."

"What a restless, extraordinary creature he is!" said Lady Carbury,
displeased, as Marmaduke hastily left the room. "The idea of a man
leaving the table in that way!"

"I suspect he has his reasons," said Elinor.

"I think it is a perfectly natural thing for him to do," said Constance,
pettishly. "I see nothing extraordinary in it."

Marmaduke found Marian reading in the summer-house in the fruit garden.
She looked at him in lazy surprise as he seated himself opposite to her
at the table.

"This is the first chance I've had of talking to you privately since I
came down," he said. "I believe you have been keeping out of my way on
purpose."

"Well, I concluded that you wanted as many chances as possible of
talking to some one else in private; so I gave you as many as I could."

"Yes, you and the rest have been uncommonly considerate in that respect:
thank you all awfully. But I mean to have it out with you, Miss Marian,
now that I have caught you alone."

"With me! Oh, dear! What have I done?"

"What have you done? I'll tell you what youve done. Why did you send
Conolly, of all men in the world, to tell me that I was in disgrace
here?"

"There was no one else, Marmaduke."

"Well, suppose there wasn't! Suppose there had been no one else alive on
the earth except you, and I, and he, and Constance, and Su--and
Constance! how could you have offered him such a job?"

"Why not? Was there any special reason--"

"Any special reason! Didnt your common sense tell you that a meeting
between him and me must be particularly awkward for both of us?"

"No. At least I--. Marmaduke: I think you must fancy that I told him
more than I did. I did not know where you were; and as he was going to
London, and I thought you knew him well, and I had no other means of
warning you, I had to make use of him. Jasper will tell you how
thoroughly trustworthy he is. But all I said--and I really could not say
less--was that I was afraid you were in bad company, or under bad
influence, or something like that; and that I only wanted you to come
down here at once."

"Oh! Indeed! That was _all_, was it? Merely that I was in bad company."

"I think I said under bad influence. I was told so; and I believed it at
the time. I hope it's not true, Marmaduke. If it is not, I beg your
pardon with all my heart."

Marmaduke stared very hard at her for a while, and then said, with the
emphasis of a man baffled by utter unreason: "Well, I _am_ damned!" at
which breach of good manners she winced. "Hang me if I understand you,
Marian," he continued, more mildly. "Of course it's not true. Bad
influence is all bosh. But it was a queer thing to say to his face. He
knew very well you meant his sister. Hallo! what's the matter? Are you
going to faint?"

"No, I--Never mind me."

"Never mind you!" said Marmaduke. "What are you looking like that for?"

"Because--it is nothing: I only blushed. Dont be stupid, Duke."

"Blushed! Why dont you blush red, like other people, and not green?
Shall I get you something?"

"No, no. Oh, Duke, why did you not tell me? How could you be so
heartless as to leave us all in the dark when we were talking about you
before him every day! Oh, are you in earnest, Duke? Pray dont jest about
it. What do you mean by his sister? I never knew he had one. Who is she?
What happened? I mean when you saw him?"

"Nothing happened. I was mowing in the garden. He just walked in; bade
me good morning; admired the place; and told me he came with a message
from you that things were getting hot here. Then he went off, as cool as
you please. He didnt seem to mind."

"And he warned you, in spite of all."

"More for your sake than for mine, I suspect. He's rather sweet on you,
isnt he?"

"Oh, Duke, Duke, are you not ashamed of yourself?"

"Deuce a bit. But I'm in trouble; and I want you to stand by me. Look
here, Marian, you have no nonsense about you, I know. I may tell you
frankly how I am situated, maynt I?"

Marian looked at him apprehensively, and said nothing.

"You see you will only mix up matters worse than before unless you know
the truth. Besides, I offered to marry her: upon my soul I did; but she
refused. Her real name is Susanna Conolly: his sister, worse luck."

"Dont tell me any more of this, Duke. It is not right."

"I suppose it's not right, as you say. But what am I to do? I must tell
you; or you will go on making mischief with Constance."

"As if I would tell her! I promise that she shall never know from me. Is
that enough?"

"No: its too much. The plain truth is that I dont care whether she finds
me out or not. I want her to understand thoroughly, once and for ever,
that I wont marry her."

"Marmaduke!"

"Not if I were fifty Marmadukes!"

"Then you will break her heart."

"Never fear! Her heart is pretty tough, if she has one. Whether or no, I
am not going to have her forced on me by the Countess or any one else.
The truth is, Marian, they have all tried to bully me into this match.
Constance can't complain."

"No, not aloud."

"Neither aloud or alow. I never proposed to her."

"Very well, Marmaduke: there is no use now in blaming Auntie or excusing
yourself. If you have made up your mind, there is an end."

"But you cant make out that I am acting meanly, Marian. Why, I have
everything to lose by giving her up. There is her money, and I suppose I
must prepare for a row with the family; unless the match could be
dropped quietly. Eh?"

"And is that what you want me to manage for you?"

"Well--. Come, Marian! dont be savage. I have been badly used in this
affair. They forced it on me. I did all I could to keep out of it. She
was thrown at my head. Besides, I once really used to think I could
settle down with her comfortably some day. I only found out what an
insipid little fool she was when I had a woman of sense to compare her
with."

"Dont say hard things about her. I think you might have a little
forbearance towards her under the circumstances."

"Hm! I dont feel very forbearing. She has been sticking to me for the
last few days like a barnacle. Our respectable young ladies think a lot
of themselves, but--except you and Nelly--I dont know a woman in society
who has as much brains in her whole body as Susanna Conolly has in her
little finger nail. I cant imagine how the deuce you all have the cheek
to expect men to talk to you, much less marry you."

"Perhaps there is something that honest men value more than brains."

"I should like to know what it is. If it is something that ladies have
and Susanna hasnt, it is not either good looks or good sense. If it's
respectability, that depends on what you consider respectable. If
Conny's respectable and Susanna isnt, then I prefer disrepu--"

"Hush, Duke, you know you have no right to speak to me like this. Let
us think of poor Constance. How is she to be told the truth?"

"Let her find it out. I shall go back to London as soon as I can; and
the affair will drop somehow or another. She will forget all about me."

"Happy-go-lucky Marmaduke. I think if neglect and absence could make her
forget you, you would have been forgotten before this."

"Yes. You see you must admit that I gave her no reason to suppose I
meant anything."

"I am afraid you have consulted your own humor both in your neglect and
your attentions, Duke. The more you try to excuse yourself, the more
inexcusable your conduct appears. I do not know how to advise you. If
Constance is told, you may some day forget all about your present
infatuation; and then a mass of mischief and misery will have been made
for nothing. If she is not told, you will be keeping up a cruel
deception and wasting her chances of----but she will never care for
anybody else."

"Better do as I say. Leave matters alone for the present. But mind! no
speculating on my changing my intentions. I wont marry her."

"I wish you hadnt told me about it."

"Well, Marian, I couldnt help it. I know, of course, that you only
wanted to make us all happy; but you nursed this match and kept it in
Constance's mind as much as you could. Besides--though it was not your
fault--that mistake about Conolly was too serious not to explain. Dont
be downcast: I am not blaming you a bit."