A Lady of Quality ................................................................................................................................................1

Francis H. Burnett ....................................................................................................................................1

CHAPTER IVLord Twemlow's chaplain visits his patron's kinsman, and Mistress Clorinda shines on

CHAPTER V"Not I," said she. "There thou mayst trust me. I would not be found out."

CHAPTER VIIITwo meet in the deserted rose garden, and the old Earl of Dunstanwolde is made a

CHAPTER XIIWhich treats of the obsequies of my Lord of Dunstanwolde, of his lady's widowhood,

CHAPTER XIVContaining the history of the breaking of the horse Devil, and relates the returning of

CHAPTER XXIII"In One who will do justice, and demands that it shall be done to each thing He has

Were Nature just to Man from his first hour, he need not ask for Mercy; then 'tis for usthe toys of

Natureto be both just and merciful, for so only can the wrongs she does be undone.

On a wintry morning at the close of 1690, the sun shining faint and red through a light fog, there was a great

noise of baying dogs, loud voices, and trampling of horses in the courtyard at Wildairs Hall; Sir Jeoffry

being about to go forth ahunting, and being a man with a choleric temper and big, loud voice, and given to

oaths and noise even when in goodhumour, his riding forth with his friends at any time was attended with

boisterous commotion. This morning it was more so than usual, for he had guests with him who had come to

his house the day before, and had supped late and drunk deeply, whereby the day found them, some with

headaches, some with a nausea at their stomachs, and some only in an evil humour which made them curse at

their horses when they were restless, and break into loud surly laughs when a coarse joke was made. There

were many such jokes, Sir Jeoffry and his boon companions being renowned throughout the county for the

freedom of their conversation as for the scandal of their pastimes, and this day 'twas well indeed, as their

loud voiced, oathbesprinkled jests rang out on the cold air, that there were no ladies about to ride forth

'Twas Sir Jeoffry who was louder than any other, he having drunk even deeper than the rest, and though 'twas

his boast that he could carry a bottle more than any man, and see all his guests under the table, his last night's

bout had left him in illhumour and boisterous. He strode about, casting oaths at the dogs and rating the

servants, and when he mounted his big black horse 'twas amid such a clamour of voices and baying hounds

He was a large man of florid good looks, black eyes, and full habit of body, and had been much renowned in

his youth for his great strength, which was indeed almost that of a giant, and for his deeds of prowess in the

saddle and at the table when the bottle went round. There were many evil stories of his roysterings, but it was

not his way to think of them as evil, but rather to his credit as a man of the world, for, when he heard that

they were gossiped about, he greeted the information with a loud triumphant laugh. He had married, when

she was fifteen, the blooming toast of the county, for whom his passion had long died out, having indeed

departed with the honeymoon, which had been of the briefest, and afterwards he having borne her a grudge

for what he chose to consider her undutiful conduct. This grudge was founded on the fact that, though she had

presented him each year since their marriage with a child, after nine years had passed none had yet been sons,

and, as he was bitterly at odds with his next of kin, he considered each of his offspring an ill turn done him.

He spent but little time in her society, for she was a poor, gentle creature of no spirit, who found little

happiness in her lot, since her lord treated her with scant civility, and her children one after another sickened

and died in their infancy until but two were left. He scarce remembered her existence when he did not see her

face, and he was certainly not thinking of her this morning, having other things in view, and yet it so fell out

that, while a groom was shortening a stirrup and being sworn at for his awkwardness, he by accident cast his

eye upward to a chamber window peering out of the thick ivy on the stone. Doing so he saw an old woman

draw back the curtain and look down upon him as if searching for him with a purpose.

The curtain fell and the woman disappeared, but in a few minutes more an unheardof thing

happenedamong the servants in the hall, the same old woman appeared making her way with a hurried

fretfulness, and she descended haltingly the stone steps and came to his side where he sat on his black horse.

"The Devil!" he exclaimed"what are you here for? 'Tis not time for another wench upstairs, surely?"

"'Tis not time," answered the old nurse acidly, taking her tone from his own. "But there is one, but an hour

"Be damned to her!" quoth Sir Jeoffry savagely. "A ninth oneand 'tis nine too many. 'Tis more than man

"'Tis ill treatment for a gentleman who wants an heir," the old woman answered, as disrespectful of his

spouse as he was, being a timeserving crone, and knowing that it paid but poorly to coddle women who did

not as their husbands would have them in the way of offspring. "It should have been a fine boy, but it is not,

"Damn her puling tricks!" said Sir Jeoffry again, pulling at his horse's bit until the beast reared.

"She would not let me rest until I came to you," said the nurse resentfully. "She would have you told that she

"I cannot come, and am not in the mood for it if I could," was his answer. "What folly does she give way to?

This is the ninth time she hath felt strangely, and I have felt as squeamish as shebut nine is more than I

"She is lightheaded, mayhap," said the nurse. "She lieth huddled in a heap, staring and muttering, and she

would leave me no peace till I promised to say to you, 'For the sake of poor little Daphne, whom you will

"She was fifteen then, and had not given me nine yellowfaced wenches," he said. "Tell her I had gone

ahunting and you were too late;" and he struck his big black beast with the whip, and it bounded away with

him, hounds and huntsmen and fellowroysterers galloping after, his guests, who had caught at the reason of

In a huge chamber hung with tattered tapestries and barely set forth with cumbersome pieces of furnishing,

my lady lay in a gloomy, canopied bed, with her newborn child at her side, but not looking at or touching it,

seeming rather to have withdrawn herself from the pillow on which it lay in its swaddlingclothes.

She was but a little lady, and now, as she lay in the large bed, her face and form shrunken and drawn with

suffering, she looked scarce bigger than a child. In the brief days of her happiness those who toasted her had

called her Titania for her fairy slightness and delicate beauty, but then her fair wavy locks had been of a

length that touched the ground when her woman unbound them, and she had had the colour of a wild rose and

the eyes of a tender little fawn. Sir Jeoffry for a month or so had paid tempestuous court to her, and had so

won her heart with his dashing way of lovemaking and the daringness of his reputation, that she had thought

herselfbeing child enough to think sothe luckiest young lady in the world that his black eye should have

fallen upon her with favour. Each year since, with the bearing of each child, she had lost some of her beauty.

With each one her lovely hair fell out still more, her wildrose colour faded, and her shape was spoiled. She

grew thin and yellow, only a scant covering of the fair hair was left her, and her eyes were big and sunken.

Her marriage having displeased her family, and Sir Jeoffry having a distaste for the ceremonies of visiting

and entertainment, save where his own cronies were concerned, she had no friends, and grew lonelier and

lonelier as the sad years went by. She being so without hope and her life so dreary, her children were neither

strong nor beautiful, and died quickly, each one bringing her only the anguish of birth and death. This wintry

morning her ninth lay slumbering by her side; the noise of baying dogs and boisterous men had died away

with the last sound of the horses' hoofs; the little light which came into the room through the ivied window

was a faint yellowish red; she was cold, because the fire in the chimney was but a scant, failing one; she was

aloneand she knew that the time had come for her death. This she knew full well.

She was alone, because, being so disrespected and deserted by her lord, and being of a timid and gentle

nature, she could not command her insufficient retinue of servants, and none served her as was their duty.

The old woman Sir Jeoffry had dubbed Mother Posset had been her sole attendant at such times as these for

the past five years, because she would come to her for a less fee than a better woman, and Sir Jeoffry had

sworn he would not pay for wenches being brought into the world. She was a slovenly, guzzling old crone,

who drank caudle from morning till night, and demanded good living as a support during the performance of

her trying duties; but these last she contrived to make wondrous light, knowing that there was none to reprove

"A fine night I have had," she had grumbled when she brought back Sir Jeoffry's answer to her lady's

message. "My old bones are like to break, and my back will not straighten itself. I will go to the kitchen to get

victuals and somewhat to warm me; your ladyship's own woman shall sit with you."

Her ladyship's "own woman" was also the sole attendant of the two little girls, Barbara and Anne, whose

nursery was in another wing of the house, and my lady knew full well she would not come if she were told,

She knew, too, that the fire was going out, but, though she shivered under the bedclothes, she was too weak to

So she lay alone, poor lady, and there was no sound about her, and her thin little mouth began to feebly

quiver, and her great eyes, which stared at the hangings, to fill with slow cold tears, for in sooth they were not

warm, but seemed to chill her poor cheeks as they rolled slowly down them, leaving a wet streak behind them

which she was too far gone in weakness to attempt to lift her hand to wipe away.

"Nine times like this," she panted faintly, "and 'tis for naught but oaths and hard words that blame me. I was

but a child myself and he loved me. When 'twas 'My Daphne,' and 'My beauteous little Daphne,' he loved me

in his own man's way. But now" she faintly rolled her head from side to side. "Women are poor things"a

chill salt tear sliding past her lips so that she tasted its bitterness"only to be kissed for an hour, and then

"I was but a child," she whispered"a childasas this will be if she lives fifteen years."

Despite her weakness, and it was great and woefully increasing with each panting breath, she slowly laboured

to turn herself towards the pillow on which her offspring lay, and, this done, she lay staring at the child and

gasping, her thin chest rising and falling convulsively. Ah, how she panted, and how she stared, the glaze of

death stealing slowly over her wideopened eyes; and yet, dimming as they were, they saw in the sleeping

infant a strange and troublous thingthough it was but a few hours old 'twas not as red and crumple visaged

as newborn infants usually are, its little head was covered with thick black silk, and its small features were

"She looks not like the others," she said. "They had no beautyand are safe. Sheshe will be

"If she isbeautiful, and has but her father, and no mother!" she whispered, the words dragged forth slowly,

"only evil can come to her. From her first hourshe will know naught else, poor heart, poor heart!"

There was a rattling in her throat as she breathed, but in her glazing eyes a gleam like passion leaped, and

"'Tis not fair," she cried. "If Iif I could lay my hand upon thy mouthand stop thy breathingthou poor

She gathered all her dying will and brought her hand up to the infant's mouth. A wild look was on her poor,

small face, she panted and fell forward on its breast, the rattle in her throat growing louder. The child

awakened, opening great black eyes, and with her dying weakness its newborn life struggled. Her cold hand

lay upon I its mouth, and her head upon its body, for she was too far gone to move if she had willed to do so.

But the tiny creature's strength was marvellous. It gasped, it fought, its little limbs struggled beneath her, it

writhed until the cold hand fell away, and then, its baby mouth set free, it fell ashrieking. Its cries were not

like those of a newborn thing, but fierce and shrill, and even held the sound of infant passion. 'Twas not a

Its lusty screaming pierced her ear perhapsshe drew a long, slow breath, and then another, and another

stillthe last one trembled and stopped short, and the last cinder fell dead from the fire.

When the nurse came bustling and fretting back, the chamber was cold as the grave's selfthere were only

dead embers on the hearth, the newborn child's cries filled all the desolate air, and my lady was lying stone

dead, her poor head resting on her offspring's feet, the while her open glazed eyes seemed to stare at it as if in

In a remote wing of the house, in barren, illkept rooms, the poor infants of the dead lady had struggled

through their brief lives, and given them up, one after the other. Sir Jeoffry had not wished to see them, nor

had he done so, but upon the rarest occasions, and then nearly always by some untoward accident. The six

who had died, even their mother had scarcely wept for; her weeping had been that they should have been

fated to come into the world, and when they went out of it she knew she need not mourn their going as

untimely. The two who had not perished, she had regarded sadly day by day, seeing they had no beauty and

that their faces promised none. Naught but great beauty would have excused their existence in their father's

eyes, as beauty might have helped them to good matches which would have rid him of them. But 'twas the

sad ill fortune of the children Anne and Barbara to have been treated by Nature in a way but niggardly. They

were pale young misses, with insignificant faces and snub noses, resembling an aunt who died a spinster, as

they themselves seemed most likely to. Sir Jeoffry could not bear the sight of them, and they fled at the sound

of his footsteps, if it so happened that by chance they heard it, huddling together in corners, and slinking

behind doors or anything big enough to hide them. They had no playthings and no companions and no

After their mother's death a youth desolate and strange indeed lay before them. A spinster who was a poor

relation was the only person of respectable breeding who ever came near them. To save herself from genteel

starvation, she had offered herself for the place of governess to them, though she was fitted for the position

neither by education nor character. Mistress Margery Wimpole was a poor, dull creature, having no wilful

harm in her, but endowed with neither dignity nor wit. She lived in fear of Sir Jeoffry, and in fear of the

servants, who knew full well that she was an humble dependant, and treated her as one. She hid away with

her pupils' in the bare schoolroom in the west wing, and taught them to spell and write and work samplers.

The child who had cost her mother her life had no happier prospect than her sisters. Her father felt her more

an intruder than they had been, he being of the mind that to house and feed and clothe, howsoever poorly,

these three burdens on him was a drain scarcely to be borne. His wife had been a toast and not a fortune, and

his estate not being great, he possessed no more than his drinking, roystering, and gambling made full

The child was baptized Clorinda, and bred, so to speak, from her first hour, in the garret and the servants'

hall. Once only did her father behold her during her infancy, which event was a mere accident, as he had

expressed no wish to see her, and only came upon her in the nurse's arms some weeks after her mother's

death. 'Twas quite by chance. The woman, who was young and buxom, had begun an intrigue with a groom,

and having a mind to see him, was crossing the stableyard, carrying her charge with her, when Sir Jeoffry

The woman came plump upon him, entering a stable as he came out of it; she gave a frightened start, and

almost let the child drop, at which it set up a strong, shrill cry, and thus Sir Jeoffry saw it, and seeing it, was

thrown at once into a passion which expressed itself after the manner of all his emotion, and left the nurse

"Thunder and damnation!" he exclaimed, as he strode away after the encounter; "'tis the ugliest yet. A

yellowfaced girl brat, with eyes like an owl's in an ivybush, and with a voice like a very peacocks. Another

He did not see her again for six years. But little wit was needed to learn that 'twas best to keep her out of his

sight, as her sisters were kept, and this was done without difficulty, as he avoided the wing of the house

But the child Clorinda, it seemed, was of lustier stock than her older sisters, and this those about her soon

found out to their grievous disturbance. When Mother Posset had drawn her from under her dead mother's

body she had not left shrieking for an hour, but had kept up her fierce cries until the roof rang with them, and

the old woman had jogged her about and beat her back in the hopes of stifling her, until she was exhausted

and dismayed. For the child would not be stilled, and seemed to have such strength and persistence in her as

"Never saw I such a brat among all I have brought into the world," old Posset quavered. "She hath the voice

of a sixmonths boy. It cracks my very ears. Hush thee, then, thou little wild cat."

This was but the beginning. From the first she grew apace, and in a few months was a bouncing infant, with a

strong back, and a power to make herself heard such as had not before appeared in the family. When she

desired a thing, she yelled and roared with such a vigour as left no peace for any creature about her until she

was humoured, and this being the case, rather than have their conversation and lovemaking put a stop to, the

servants gave her her way. In this they but followed the example of their betters, of whom we know that it is

not to the most virtuous they submit or to the most learned, but to those who, being crossed, can conduct

themselves in a manner so disagreeable, shrewish or violent, that life is a burden until they have their will.

This the child Clorinda had the infant wit to discover early, and having once discovered it, she never ceased

to take advantage of her knowledge. Having found in the days when her one desire was pap, that she had but

to roar lustily enough to find it beside her in her porringer, she tried the game upon all other occasions. When

she had reached but a twelvemonth, she stood stoutly upon her little feet, and beat her sisters to gain their

playthings, and her nurse for wanting to change her smock. She was so easily thrown into furies, and so raged

and stamped in her baby way that she was a sight to behold, and the menservants found amusement in

badgering her. To set Mistress Clorinda in their midst on a winter's night when they were dull, and to torment

her until her little face grew scarlet with the blood which flew up into it, and she ran from one to the other

beating them and screaming like a young spitfire, was among them a favourite entertainment.

"Ifackens!" said the butler one night, "but she is as like Sir Jeoffry in her temper as one pea is like another.

Ay, but she grows blood red just as he does, and curses in her little way as he does in man's words among his

"And she will be of his build, too," said the housekeeper. "What mishap changed her to a maid instead of a

boy, I know not. She would have made a strapping heir. She has the thigh and shoulders of a handsome

"Sir Jeoffry missed his mark when he called her an ugly brat," said the woman who had nursed her. "She will

be a handsome womanthough large in build, it may be. She will be a brown beauty, but she will have a

colour in her cheeks and lips like the red of Christmas holly, and her owl's eyes are as black as sloes, and

have fringes on them like the curtains of a window. See how her hair grows thick on her little head, and how

it curls in great rings. My lady, her poor mother, was once a beauty, but she was no such beauty as this one

will be, for she has her father's long limbs and fine shoulders, and the will to make every man look her way."

"Yes," said the housekeeper, who was an elderly woman, "there will be doingsthere will be doings when

she is a ripe young maid. She will take her way, and God grant she mayn't be TOO like her father and follow

It was true that she had no resemblance to her plain sisters, and bore no likeness to them in character. The two

elder children, Anne and Barbara, were too meekspirited to be troublesome; but during Clorinda's infancy

Mistress Margery Wimpole watched her rapid growth with fear and qualms. She dare not reprove the servants

who were ruining her by their treatment, and whose manners were forming her own. Sir Jeoffry's servants

were no more moral than their master, and being brought up as she was among them, their young mistress

became strangely familiar with many sights and sounds it is not the fortune of most young misses of breeding

to see and hear. The cooks and kitchenwenches were flighty with the grooms and menservants, and little

Mistress Clorinda, having a passion for horses and dogs, spent many an hour in the stables with the women

who, for reasons of their own, were pleased enough to take her there as an excuse for seeking amusement for

themselves. She played in the kennels and among the horses' heels, and learned to use oaths as roundly as any

Giles or Tom whose work was to wield the curry comb. It was indeed a curious thing to hear her red baby

mouth pour forth curses and unseemly words as she would at any one who crossed her. Her temper and

hotheadedness carried all before them, and the grooms and stableboys found great sport in the language

my young lady used in her innocent furies. But balk her in a whim, and she would pour forth the eloquence of

a fishwife or a lady of easy virtue in a pothouse quarrel. There was no human creature near her who had

mind or heart enough to see the awfulness of her condition, or to strive to teach her to check her passions; and

in the midst of these perilous surroundings the little virago grew handsomer and of finer carriage every hour,

There came a day at last when she had reached six years old, when by a trick of chance a turn was given to

She had not reached three when a groom first set her on a horse's back and led her about the stableyard, and

she had so delighted in her exalted position, and had so shouted for pleasure and clutched her steed's rein and

clucked at him, that her audience had looked on with roars of laughter. From that time she would be put up

every day, and as time went on showed such unchildish courage and spirit that she furnished to her servant

companions a new pastime. Soon she would not be held on, but riding astride like a boy, would sit up as

straight as a man and swear at her horse, beating him with her heels and little fists if his pace did not suit her.

She knew no fear, and would have used a whip so readily that the men did not dare to trust her with one, and

knew they must not mount her on a steed too mettlesome. By the time she passed her sixth birthday she could

ride as well as a grown man, and was as familiar with her father's horses as he himself, though he knew

nothing of the matter, it being always contrived that she should be out of sight when he visited his hunters.

It so chanced that the horse he rode the oftenest was her favourite, and many were the tempests of rage she

fell into when she went to the stable to play with the animal and did not find him in his stall, because his

master had ordered him out. At such times she would storm at the men in the stableyard and call them ill

names for their impudence in letting the beast go, which would cause them great merriment, as she knew

nothing of who the man was who had balked her, since she was, in truth, not so much as conscious of her

father's existence, never having seen or even heard more of him than his name, which she in no manner

"Could Sir Jeoffry himself but once see and hear her when she storms at us and him, because he dares to ride

his own beast," one of the older men said once, in the midst of their laughter, "I swear he would burst forth

laughing and be taken with her impudent spirit, her temper is so like his own. She is his own flesh and blood,

Upon this morning which proved eventful to her, she had gone to the stables, as was her daily custom, and

going into the stall where the big black horse was wont to stand, she found it empty. Her spirit rose hot within

her in the moment. She clenched her fists, and began to stamp and swear in such a manner as it would be

"Where is he now?" she cried. "He is my own horse, and shall not be ridden. Who is the man who takes him?

"'Tis a fellow who hath no manners," said the man she stormed at, grinning and thrusting his tongue in his

cheek. "He says 'tis his beast, and not yours, and he will have him when he chooses."

"'Tis not his'tis mine!" shrieked Miss, her little face inflamed with passion. "I will kill him! 'Tis my horse.

For a while the men tormented her, to hear her rave and see her passion, for, in truth, the greater tempest she

was in, the better she was worth beholding, having a colour so rich, and eyes so great and black and flaming.

At such times there was naught of the feminine in her, and indeed always she looked more like a handsome

boy than a girl, her growth being for her age extraordinary. At length a lad who was a helper said to mock her

"The man hath him at the door before the great steps now. I saw him stand there waiting but a moment ago.

She turned and ran to find him. The front part of the house she barely knew the outside of, as she was kept

safely in the west wing and below stairs, and when taken out for the air was always led privately by a side

waynever passing through the great hall, where her father might chance to encounter her.

She knew best this sideentrance, and made her way to it, meaning to search until she found the front. She

got into the house, and her spirit being roused, marched boldly through corridors and into rooms she had

never seen before, and being so mere a child, notwithstanding her strange wilfulness and daring, the novelty

of the things she saw so far distracted her mind from the cause of her anger that she stopped more than once

to stare up at a portrait on a wall, or to take in her hand something she was curious concerning.

When she at last reached the entrancehall, coming into it through a door she pushed open, using all her

childish strength, she stood in the midst of it and gazed about her with a new curiosity and pleasure. It was a

fine place, with antlers, and arms, and foxes' brushes hung upon the walls, and with carved panels of black

oak, and oaken floor and furnishings. All in it was disorderly and showed rough usage; but once it had been a

notable feature of the house, and well worth better care than had been bestowed upon it. She discovered on

the walls many trophies that attracted her, but these she could not reach, and could only gaze and wonder at;

but on an old oaken settle she found some things she could lay hands on, and forthwith seized and sat down

upon the floor to play with them. One of them was a huntingcrop, which she brandished grandly, until she

was more taken with a powderflask which it so happened her father, Sir Jeoffry, had lain down but a few

minutes before, in passing through. He was going forth coursing, and had stepped into the dininghall to toss

When he had helped himself from the buffet, and came back in haste, the first thing he clapped eyes on was

his offspring pouring forth the powder from his flask upon the oaken floor. He had never seen her since that

first occasion after the unfortunate incident of her birth, and beholding a child wasting his good powder at the

moment he most wanted it and had no time to spare, and also not having had it recalled to his mind for years

that he was a parent, except when he found himself forced reluctantly to pay for some small need, he beheld

in the young offender only some impudent servant's brat, who had strayed into his domain and applied itself

He sprang upon her, and seizing her by the arm, whirled her to her feet with no little violence, snatching the

"Blood and damnation on thee, thou impudent little baggage!" he shouted. "I'll break thy neck for thee, little

But he had reckoned falsely on what he dealt with. Miss uttered a shriek of rage which rang through the roof

like a clarion. She snatched the crop from the floor, rushed at him, and fell upon him like a thousand little

devils, beating his big legs with all the strength of her passion, and pouring forth oaths such as would have

"Damn THEE!damn THEE!"she roared and screamed, flogging him. "I'll tear thy eyes out! I'll cut thy

And this choice volley was with such spirit and fury poured forth, that Sir Jeoffry let his hand drop from the

bell, fell into a great burst of laughter, and stood thus roaring while she beat him and shrieked and stormed.

The servants, hearing the jangled bell, attracted by the tumult, and of a sudden missing Mistress Clorinda, ran

in consternation to the hall, and there beheld this truly pretty sightMiss beating her father's legs, and

tearing at him tooth and nail, while he stood shouting with laughter as if he would split his sides.

"Who is the little cockatrice?" he cried, the tears streaming down his florid cheeks. "Who is the young

For a second or so the servants stared at each other aghast, not knowing what to say, or venturing to utter a

word; and then the nurse, who had come up panting, dared to gasp forth the truth.

"'Tis Mistress Clorinda, Sir Jeoffry," she stammered"my lady's last infantthe one of whom she died in

His big laugh broke in two, as one might say. He looked down at the young fury and stared. She was out of

breath with beating him, and had ceased and fallen back apace, and was staring up at him also, breathing

defiance and hatred. Her big black eyes were flames, her head was thrown up and back, her cheeks were

blood scarlet, and her great crop of crowblack hair stood out about her beauteous, wicked little virago face,

"Clorinda do they call thee, wench?" he said. "Jeoffry thou shouldst have been but for thy mother's folly. A

And he seized her from where she stood, and held her at his big arms' length, gazing at her uncanny beauty

Her beauty of face, her fine body, her strength of limb, and great growth for her age, would have pleased him

if she had possessed no other attraction, but the daring of her fury and her stableboy breeding so amused

him and suited his roystering tastes that he took to her as the finest plaything in the world.

He set her on the floor, forgetting his coursing, and would have made friends with her, but at first she would

have none of him, and scowled at him in spite of all he did. The brandy by this time had mounted to his head

and put him in the mood for frolic, liquor oftenest making him gamesome. He felt as if he were playing with

a young dog or marking the spirit of a little fighting cock. He ordered the servants back to their kitchen, who

stole away, the women amazed, and the men concealing grins which burst forth into guffaws of laughter

"'Tis as we said," they chuckled. "He had but to see her beauty and find her a bigger devil than he, and 'twas

done. The mettle of her damning and flogging him! Never was there a finer sight! She feared him no more

than if he had been a spanieland he roaring and laughing till he was like to burst."

"Dost know who I am?" Sir Jeoffry was asking the child, grinning himself as he stood before her where she

"No," quoth little Mistress, her black brows drawn down, her handsome owl's eyes verily seeming to look

him through and through in search of somewhat; for, in sooth, her rage abating before his jovial humour, the

big burly laugher attracted her attention, though she was not disposed to show him that she leaned towards

"I am thy Dad," he said. "'Twas thy Dad thou gavest such a trouncing. And thou hast an arm, too. Let's cast

He shouted with laughter again. He had seen that the little arm was as white and hard as marble, and had such

"By Gad!" he said, elated. "What a wench of six years old. Wilt have my crop and trounce thy Dad again!"

He picked up the crop from the place where she had thrown it, and forthwith gave it in her hand. She took it,

but was no more in the humour to beat him, and as she looked still frowning from him to the whip, the latter

"Where is my horse?" she said, and 'twas in the tone of an imperial demand. "Where is he?"

"Rake is my horse," she answered"the big black one. The man took him again;" and she ripped out a few

more oaths and unchaste expressions, threatening what she would do for the man in question; the which

delighted him more than ever. "Rake is my horse," she ended. "None else shall ride him."

"Where is he?" she demanded. And the next instant hearing the beast's restless feet grinding into the gravel

outside as he fretted at having been kept waiting so long, she remembered what the stable boy had said of

having seen her favourite standing before the door, and struggling and dropping from the settle, she ran to

"He is here!" she said. "I see him;" and went pellmell down the stone steps to his side.

Sir Jeoffry followed her in haste. 'Twould not have been to his humour now to have her brains kicked out.

But she had run to the big beast's head with another shout, and caught him round his foreleg, laughing, and

Rake bent his head down and nosed her in a fumbling caress, on which, the bridle coming within her reach,

she seized it and held his head that she might pat him, to which familiarity the beast was plainly well

"He is my horse," quoth she grandly when her father reached her. "He will not let Giles play so."

"Would have said 'twas a lie if I had not seen it," he said to himself. "'Tis no girl this, I swear. I thought 'twas

"Hast rid him before?" Sir Jeoffry asked, with some lingering misgiving. "Tell thy Dad if thou hast rid him."

She gave him a look askance under her long fringed lidsa surly yet halfslyly relenting look, because she

wanted to get her way of him, and had the cunning wit and shrewdness of a child witch.

He was not a man of quick mind, his brain having been too many years bemuddled with drink, but he had a

rough instinct which showed him all the wondrous shrewdness of her casting that last word at him to wheedle

him, even though she looked sullen in the saying it. It made him roar again for very exultation.

He lifted her, she springing as he set his hands beneath her arms, and flinging her legs over astride across the

saddle when she reached it. She was all fire and excitement, and caught the reins like an old huntsman, and

with such a grasp as was amazing. She sat up with a straight, strong back, her whole face glowing and

sparkling with exultant joy. Rake seemed to answer to her excited little laugh almost as much as to her hand.

It seemed to wake his spirit and put him in goodhumour. He started off with her down the avenue at a light,

spirited trot, while she, clinging with her little legs and sitting firm and fearless, made him change into canter

and gallop, having actually learned all his paces like a lesson, and knowing his mouth as did his groom, who

was her familiar and slave. Had she been of the build ordinary with children of her age, she could not have

stayed upon his back; but she sat him like a child jockey, and Sir Jeoffry, watching and following her,

"Lord, Lord!" he said. "There's not a man in the shire has such another little deviland Rake, 'her horse,'"

She made him play with her and with Rake for a good hour, and then took him back to the stables, and there

ordered him about finely among the dogs and horses, perceiving that somehow this great man she had got

When they returned to the house, he had her to eat her midday meal with him, when she called for ale, and

drank it, and did good trencher duty, making him the while roar with laughter at her impudent childtalk.

"Never have I so split my sides since I was twenty," he said. "It makes me young again to roar so. She shall

not leave my sight, since by chance I have found her. 'Tis too good a joke to lose, when times are dull, as they

"In the west wing, where are the nurseries, and where Mistress Wimpole abides with Mistress Barbara and

"Henceforth she shall live in this part of the house where I do," he said. "Make ready the chambers that were

From that hour the child's fate was sealed. He made himself her playfellow, and romped with and indulged

her until she became fonder of him than of any groom or stableboy she had been companions with before.

But, indeed, she had never been given to bestowing much affection on those around her, seeming to feel

herself too high a personage to show softness. The ones she showed most favour to were those who served

her best; and even to them it was always FAVOUR she showed, not tenderness. Certain dogs and horses she

was fond of, Rake coming nearest to her heart, and the place her father won in her affections was somewhat

like to Rake's. She made him her servant and tyrannised over him, but at the same time followed and imitated

him as if she had been a young spaniel he was training. The life the child led, it would have broken a

motherly woman's heart to hear about; but there was no good woman near her, her mother's relatives, and

even Sir Jeoffry's own, having cut themselves off early from themWildairs Hall and its master being no

great credit to those having the misfortune to be connected with them. The neighbouring gentry had gradually

ceased to visit the family some time before her ladyship's death, and since then the only guests who

frequented the place were a circle of hunting, drinking, and guzzling boon companions of Sir Jeoffry's own,

To these he announced his discovery of his daughter with tumultuous delight. He told them, amid storms of

laughter, of his first encounter with her; of her flogging him with his own crop, and cursing him like a

trooper; of her claiming Rake as her own horse, and swearing at the man who had dared to take him from the

stable to ride; and of her sitting him like an infant jockey, and seeming, by some strange power, to have

mastered him as no other had been able heretofore to do. Then he had her brought into the diningroom,

where they sat over their bottles drinking deep, and setting her on the table, he exhibited her to them, boasting

of her beauty, showing them her splendid arm and leg and thigh, measuring her height, and exciting her to

"Saw you ever a wench like her?" he cried, as they all shouted with laughter and made jokes not too polite,

but such as were of the sole kind they were given to. "Has any man among you begot a boy as big and

handsome? Hang me! if she would not knock down any lad of ten if she were in a fury."

"We wild dogs are out of favour with the women," cried one of the best pleased among them, a certain Lord

Eldershawe, whose seat was a few miles from Wildairs Hall"women like nincompoops and chaplains. Let

us take this one for our toast, and bring her up as girls should be brought up to be companions for men. I give

you, Mistress Clorinda WildairsMistress Clorinda, the enslaver of six years old bumpers,

And they set her in the very midst of the big table and drank her health, standing, bursting into a jovial, ribald

song; and the child, excited by the noise and laughter, actually broke forth and joined them in a high, strong

treble, the song being one she was quite familiar with, having heard it often enough in the stable to have

Two weeks after his meeting with her, Sir Jeoffry was seized with the whim to go up to London and set her

forth with finery. 'Twas but rarely he went up to town, having neither money to waste, nor finding great

attraction in the more civilised quarters of the world. He brought her back such clothes as for richness and

odd, unsuitable fashion child never wore before. There were brocades that stood alone with splendour of

fabric, there was rich lace, fine linen, ribbands, farthingales, swansdown tippets, and little slippers with high

red heels. He had a wardrobe made for her such as the finest lady of fashion could scarcely boast, and the tiny

creature was decked out in it, and on great occasions even strung with her dead mother's jewels.

Among these strange things, he had the fantastical notion to have made for her several suits of boy's clothes:

pink and blue satin coats, little white, or amber, or blue satin breeches, ruffles of lace, and waistcoats

embroidered with colours and silver or gold. There was also a small scarletcoated hunting costume and all

the paraphernalia of the chase. It was Sir Jeoffry's finest joke to bid her woman dress her as a boy, and then

he would have her brought to the table where he and his fellows were dining together, and she would toss off

her little bumper with the best of them, and rip out childish oaths, and sing them, to their delight, songs she

had learned from the stableboys. She cared more for dogs and horses than for finery, and when she was not

in the humour to be made a puppet of, neither tirewoman nor devil could put her into her brocades; but she

liked the excitement of the diningroom, and, as time went on, would be dressed in her flowered petticoats in

a passion of eagerness to go and show herself, and coquet in her lace and gewgaws with men old enough to

be her father, and loose enough to find her premature airs and graces a fine joke indeed. She ruled them all

with her temper and her shrewish will. She would have her way in all things, or there should be no sport with

her, and she would sing no songs for them, but would flout them bitterly, and sit in a great chair with her

black brows drawn down, and her whole small person breathing rancour and disdain.

Sir Jeoffry, who had bullied his wife, had now the pleasurable experience of being henpecked by his

daughter; for so, indeed, he was. Miss ruled him with a rod of iron, and wielded her weapon with such skill

that before a year had elapsed he obeyed her as the servants below stairs had done in her infancy. She had no

fear of his great oaths, for she possessed a strangely varied stock of her own upon which she could always

draw, and her voice being more shrill than his, if not of such bigness, her earpiercing shrieks and

indomitable perseverance always proved too much for him in the end. It must be admitted likewise that her

violence of temper and power of will were somewhat beyond his own, notwithstanding her tender years and

his reputation. In fact, he found himself obliged to observe this, and finally made something of a merit and

"There is no managing of the little shrew," he would say. "Neither man nor devil can bend or break her. If I

smashed every bone in her carcass, she would die shrieking hell at me and defiance."

If one admits the truth, it must be owned that if she had not had bestowed upon her by nature gifts of beauty

and vivacity so extraordinary, and had been cursed with a thousandth part of the vixenishness she displayed

every day of her life, he would have broken every bone in her carcass without a scruple or a qualm. But her

beauty seemed but to grow with every hour that passed, and it was by exceeding good fortune exactly the

fashion of beauty which he admired the most. When she attained her tenth year she was as tall as a fine boy

of twelve, and of such a shape and carriage as young Diana herself might have envied. Her limbs were long,

and most divinely moulded, and of a strength that caused admiration and amazement in all beholders. Her

father taught her to follow him in the huntingfield, and when she appeared upon her horse, clad in her little

breeches and topboots and scarlet coat, child though she was, she set the field on fire. She learned full early

how to coquet and roll her fine eyes; but it is also true that she was not much of a languisher, as all her ogling

was of a destructive or proudlyattacking kind. It was her habit to leave others to languish, and herself to lead

them with disdainful vivacity to doing so. She was the talk, and, it must be admitted, the scandal, of the

county by the day she was fifteen. The part wherein she lived was a boisterous hunting shire where there

were wide ditches and high hedges to leap, and rough hills and moors to gallop over, and within the region

neither polite life nor polite education were much thought of; but even in the worst portions of it there were

occasional virtuous matrons who shook their heads with much gravity and wonder over the beautiful Mistress

CHAPTER IVLord Twemlow's chaplain visits his patron's kinsman, and Mistress Clorinda shines on

Uncivilised and almost savage as her girlish life was, and unregulated by any outward training as was her

mind, there were none who came in contact with her who could be blind to a certain strong, clear wit, and

unconquerableness of purpose, for which she was remarkable. She ever knew full well what she desired to

gain or to avoid, and once having fixed her mind upon any object, she showed an adroitness and brilliancy of

resource, a control of herself and others, the which there was no circumventing. She never made a blunder

because she could not control the expression of her emotions; and when she gave way to a passion, 'twas

because she chose to do so, having naught to lose, and in the midst of all their riotous jesting with her the

"Had she a secret to keep, child though she is," said Eldershawe, "there is noneman or womanwho

could scare or surprise it from her; and 'tis a strange quality to note so early in a female creature."

She spent her days with her father and his dissolute friends, treated half like a boy, half a fantastical queen,

until she was fourteen. She hunted and coursed, shot birds, leaped hedges and ditches, reigned at the riotous

feastings, and coquetted with these mature, and in some cases elderly, men, as if she looked forward to doing

But one day, after she had gone out hunting with her father, riding Rake, who had been given to her, and

wearing her scarlet coat, breeches, and topboots, one of the few remaining members of her mother's family

sent his chaplain to remonstrate and advise her father to command her to forbear from appearing in such

There was, indeed, a stirring scene when this message was delivered by its bearer. The chaplain was an

awkward, timid creature, who had heard stories enough of Wildairs Hall and its master to undertake his

mission with a quaking soul. To have refused to obey any behest of his patron would have cost him his living,

and knowing this beyond a doubt, he was forced to gird up his loins and gather together all the little courage

The first thing he beheld on entering the big hall was a beautiful tall youth wearing his own rich black hair,

and dressed in scarlet coat for hunting. He was playing with a dog, making it leap over his crop, and both

laughing and swearing at its clumsiness. He glanced at the chaplain with a laughing, brilliant eye, returning

the poor man's humble bow with a slight nod as he plainly hearkened to what he said as he explained his

"I come from my Lord Twemlow, who is your master's kinsman," the chaplain faltered; "I am bidden to see

and speak to him if it be possible, and his lordship much desires that Sir Jeoffry will allow it to be so. My

The beautiful youth left his playing with the dog and came forward with all the air of the young master of the

"My Lord Twemlow sends you?" he said. "'Tis long since his lordship favoured us with messages. Where is

"In the dininghall," answered the servant. "He went there but a moment past, Mistress."

The chaplain gave such a start as made him drop his shovel hat. "Mistress!" And this was shethis fine

young creature who was tall and grandly enough built and knit to seem a radiant being even when clad in

masculine attire. He picked up his hat and bowed so low that it almost swept the floor in his obeisance. He

was not used to female beauty which deigned to cast great smiling eyes upon him, for at my Lord Twemlow's

This beauty looked at him as if she was amused at the thought of something in her own mind. He wondered

tremblingly if she guessed what he came for and knew how her father would receive it.

"Come with me," she said; "I will take you to him. He would not see you if I did not. He does not love his

She led the way, holding her head jauntily and high, while he cast down his eyes lest his gaze should be led to

wander in a way unseemly in one of his cloth. Such a foot and such! He felt it more becoming and safer to

lift his eyes to the ceiling and keep them there, which gave him somewhat the aspect of one praying.

Sir Jeoffry stood at the buffet with a flagon of ale in his hand, taking his stirrup cup. At the sight of a stranger

Mistress Clorinda went to the buffet and filled a tankard for herself and carried it back to the table, on the

"Time thou wilt have to take, Dad," she said, with an arch grin, showing two rows of gleaming pearls. "This

gentleman is my Lord Twemlow's chaplain, whom he sends to exhort you, requesting you to have the civility

"Exhort be damned, and Twemlow be damned too!" cried Sir Jeoffry, who had a great quarrel with his

"Sir," faltered the poor messagebearer, "his lordship hathhath been concernedhaving heard"

The handsome creature balanced against the table took the tankard from her lips and laughed.

"Having heard thy daughter rides to field in breeches, and is an unseemlybehaving wench," she cried, "his

lordship sends his chaplain to deliver a discourse thereonnot choosing to come himself. Is not that thy

The chaplain, poor man, turned pale, having caught, as she spoke, a glimpse of Sir Jeoffry's reddening visage.

"Madam," he faltered, bowing"Madam, I ask pardon of you most humbly! If it were your pleasure to deign

She set the tankard on the table with a rollicking smack, and thrust her hands in her breechespockets,

swaying with laughter; and, indeed, 'twas ringing music, her rich great laugh, which, when she grew of riper

"If 'twere my pleasure to go away and allow you to speak, free from the awkwardness of a young lady's

presence," she said. "But 'tis not, as it happens, and if I stay here, I shall be a protection."

In truth, he required one. Sir Jeoffry broke into a torrent of blasphemy. He damned both kinsman and

chaplain, and raged at the impudence of both in daring to approach him, swearing to horsewhip my lord if

they ever met, and to have the chaplain kicked out of the house, and beyond the park gates themselves. But

Mistress Clorinda chose to make it her whim to take it in better humour, and as a joke with a fine point to it.

She laughed at her father's storming, and while the chaplain quailed before it with pallid countenance and

fairly hangdog look, she seemed to find it but a cause for outbursts of merriment.

"Hold thy tongue a bit, Dad," she cried, when he had reached his loudest, "and let his reverence tell us what

"Want not to hear it!" shouted Sir Jeoffry. "Dost think I'll stand his impudence? Not I!"

"What was your message?" demanded the young lady of the chaplain. "You cannot return without delivering

The chaplain clutched and fumbled with his hat, pale, and dropping his eyes upon the floor, for very fear.

"Your pardon, Madam'twas this," the chaplain faltered. "My lord commanded me to warn your honoured

"No gentleman," he went on, going more lamely at each word "notwithstanding your great beautyno

"For if youif a young lady be permitted to bear herself in such a manner as will cause her to be held

lightly, she can make no match that will not be a dishonour to her familyandand"

Sir Jeoffry's rage was such as made him like to burst; but she restrained him when he would have flung his

tankard at the chaplain's head, and amid his storm of curses bundled the poor man out of the room, picking up

his hat which in his hurry and fright he let fall, and thrusting it into his hand.

"Tell his lordship," she said, laughing still as she spoke the final words, "that I say he is rightand I will see

"Forsooth, Dad," she said, returning, "perhaps the old son of a" something unmannerly"is not so

great a fool. As for me, I mean to make a fine marriage and be a great lady, and I know of none hereabouts to

suit me but the old Earl of Dunstanwolde, and 'tis said he rates at all but modest women, and, in faith, he

She did not, though once or twice when she was in a wild mood, and her father entertained at dinner those of

his companions whom she was the most inclined to, she swaggered in among them in her daintiest suits of

male attire, and caused their wineshot eyes to gloat over her boyishmaiden charms and jaunty airs and

On the night of her fifteenth birthday Sir Jeoffry gave a great dinner to his boon companions and hers. She

had herself commanded that there should be no ladies at the feast; for she chose to announce that she should

appear at no more such, having the wit to see that she was too tall a young lady for childish follies, and that

"I shall have women enough henceforth to be dull with," she said. "Thou art but a poor matchmaker, Dad, or

wouldst have thought of it for me. But not once has it come into thy pate that I have no mother to angle in my

cause and teach me how to cast sheep's eyes at bachelors. Longtailed petticoats from this time for me, and

hoops and patches, and ogling over fansuntil at last, if I play my cards well, some great lord will look my

"With thy shape, Clo, God knows every man will," laughed Sir Jeoffry, "but I fear me not with thy manners.

"They are what I was born with," answered Mistress Clorinda. "They came from him that begot me, and he

has not since improved them. But now"making a great sweeping curtsey, her impudent bright beauty

almost dazzling his eyes"now, after my birthnight, they will be bettered; but this one night I will have my

When the men trooped into the black oak wainscotted dininghall on the eventful night, they found their

audacious young hostess awaiting them in greater and more daring beauty than they had ever before beheld.

She wore kneebreeches of white satin, a pink satin coat embroidered with silver roses, white silk stockings,

and shoes with great buckles of brilliants, revealing a leg so round and strong and delicately moulded, and a

foot so arched and slender, as surely never before, they swore one and all, woman had had to display. She

met them standing jauntily astride upon the hearth, her back to the fire, and she greeted each one as he came

with some pretty impudence. Her hair was tied back and powdered, her black eyes were like lodestars,

drawing all men, and her colour was that of a ripe pomegranate. She had a fine, haughty little Roman nose, a

mouth like a scarlet bow, a wonderful long throat, and round cleft chin. A dazzling mien indeed she

possessed, and ready enough she was to shine before them. Sir Jeoffry was now elderly, having been a man

of forty when united to his conjugal companion. Most of his friends were of his own age, so that it had not

been with unripe youth Mistress Clorinda had been in the habit of consorting. But upon this night a

newcomer was among the guests. He was a young relation of one of the older men, and having come to his

kinsman's house upon a visit, and having proved himself, in spite of his youth, to be a young fellow of

humour, high courage in the hunting field, and by no means averse either to entering upon or discussing

intrigue and gallant adventure, had made himself something of a favourite. His youthful beauty for a man

almost equalled that of Mistress Clorinda herself. He had an elegant, fine shape, of great strength and vigour,

his countenance was delicately ruddy and handsomely featured, his curling fair hair flowed loose upon his

shoulders, and, though masculine in mould, his ankle was as slender and his buckled shoe as arched as her

He was, it is true, twentyfour years of age and a man, while she was but fifteen and a woman, but being so

tall and built with such unusual vigour of symmetry, she was a beauteous match for him, and both being

attired in fashionable masculine habit, these two pretty young fellows standing smiling saucily at each other

This young man was already well known in the modish world of town for his beauty and adventurous spirit.

He was indeed already a beau and conqueror of female hearts. It was suspected that he cherished a private

ambition to set the modes in beauties and embroidered waistcoats himself in time, and be as renowned abroad

and as much the town talk as certain other celebrated beaux had been before him. The art of ogling tenderly

and of uttering soft nothings he had learned during his first season in town, and as he had a great melting blue

eye, the figure of an Adonis, and a white and shapely hand for a ring, he was well equipped for conquest. He

had darted many an inflaming glance at Mistress Clorinda before the first meats were removed. Even in

London he had heard a vague rumour of this handsome young woman, bred among her father's dogs, horses,

and boon companions, and ripening into a beauty likely to make town faces pale. He had almost fallen into

the spleen on hearing that she had left her boy's clothes and vowed she would wear them no more, as above

all things he had desired to see how she carried them and what charms they revealed. On hearing from his

host and kinsman that she had said that on her birthnight she would bid them farewell for ever by donning

them for the last time, he was consumed with eagerness to obtain an invitation. This his kinsman besought for

him, and, behold! the first glance the beauty shot at him pierced his inflammable bosom like a dart. Never

before had it been his fortune to behold female charms so dazzling and eyes of such lustre and young

majesty. The lovely baggage had a saucy way of standing with her white jewelled hands in her pockets like a

pretty fop, and throwing up her little head like a modish beauty who was of royal blood; and these two tricks

alone, he felt, might have set on fire the heart of a man years older and colder than himself.

If she had been of the order of softnatured charmers, they would have fallen into each other's eyes before the

wine was changed; but this Mistress Clorinda was not. She did not fear to meet the full battery of his

enamoured glances, but she did not choose to return them. She played her part of the pretty young fellow who

was a highspirited beauty, with more of wit and fire than she had ever played it before. The rollicking

huntingsquires, who had been her playfellows so long, devoured her with their delighted glances and

roared with laughter at her sallies. Their jokes and flatteries were not of the most seemly, but she had not

been bred to seemliness and modesty, and was no more ignorant than if she had been, in sooth, some gay

young springald of a lad. To her it was part of the entertainment that upon this last night they conducted

themselves as beseemed her boyish masquerading. Though countrybred, she had lived among companions

who were men of the world and lived without restraints, and she had so far learned from them that at fifteen

years old she was as worldly and as familiar with the devices of intrigue as she would be at forty. So far she

had not been pushed to practising them, her singular life having thrown her among few of her own age, and

But the young gallant introduced tonight into the world she lived in was no bumpkin, and was a dandy of

the town. His name was Sir John Oxon, and he had just come into his title and a pretty property. His hands

were as white and bejewelled as her own, his habit was of the latest fashionable cut, and his fair flowing

But though she observed all these attractions and found them powerful, young Sir John remarked, with a

slight sinking qualm, that her great eye did not fall before his amorous glances, but met them with high

smiling readiness, and her colour never blanched or heightened a whit for all their masterly skilfulness. But

he had sworn to himself that he would approach close enough to her to fire off some fine speech before the

night was ended, and he endeavoured to bear himself with at least an outward air of patience until he beheld

When the last dish was removed and bottles and bumpers stood upon the board, she sprang up on her chair

and stood before them all, smiling down the long table with eyes like flashing jewels. Her hands were thrust

in her pocketswith her pretty young fop's air, and she drew herself to her full comely height, her beauteous

lithe limbs and slender feet set smartly together. Twenty pairs of masculine eyes were turned upon her

"Look your last on my fine shape," she proclaimed in her high, rich voice. "You will see but little of the

lower part of it when it is hid in farthingales and petticoats. Look your last before I go to don my fine lady's

And when they filled their glasses and lifted them and shouted admiring jests to her, she broke into one of her

No man among them was used to showing her the courtesies of polite breeding. She had been too long a boy

to them for that to have entered any mind, and when she finished her song, sprang down, and made for the

door, Sir John beheld his longlookedfor chance, and was there before her to open it with a great bow, made

"You rob us of the rapture of beholding great beauties, Madam," he said in a low, impassioned voice. "But

there should be indeed but ONE happy man whose bliss it is to gaze upon such perfections."

"I am fifteen years old tonight," she answered; "and as yet I have not set eyes upon him."

"Forsooth, I do not know," she retorted. "He may be here this very night among this company; and as it might

And she bestowed on him a parting shot in the shape of one of her prettiest young fop waves of the hand, and

When the door closed behind her and Sir John Oxon returned to the table, for a while a sort of dulness fell

upon the party. Not being of quick minds or sentiments, these country roisterers failed to understand the

heavy cloud of spleen and lack of spirit they experienced, and as they filled their glasses and tossed off one

bumper after another to cure it, they soon began again to laugh and fell into boisterous joking.

They talked mostly, indeed, of their young playfellow, of whom they felt, in some indistinct manner, they

were to be bereft; they rallied Sir Jeoffry, told stories of her childhood and made pictures of her budding

"She will sail among them like a royal frigate," said one; "and they will pale before her lustre as a tallow dip

The clock struck twelve before she returned to them. Just as the last stroke sounded the door was thrown

open, and there she stood, a woman on each side of her, holding a large silver candelabra bright with wax

She was attired in rich brocade of crimson and silver, and wore a great hooped petticoat, which showed off

her grandeur, her waist of no more bigness than a man's hands could clasp, set in its midst like the stem of a

flower; her black hair was rolled high and circled with jewels, her fair long throat blazed with a collar of

diamonds, and the majesty of her eye and lip and brow made up a mien so dazzling that every man sprang to

She made a sweeping obeisance and then stood up before them, her head thrown back and her lips curving in

the triumphant mocking smile of a great beauty looking upon them all as vassals.

"Down upon your knees," she cried, "and drink to me kneeling. From this night all men must bend soall

CHAPTER V"Not I," said she. "There thou mayst trust me. I would not be found out."

She went no more ahunting in boy's clothes, but from this time forward wore brocades and paduasoys, fine

lawn and lace. Her tirewoman was kept so busily engaged upon making rich habits, fragrant waters and

essences, and so running at her bidding to change her gown or dress her head in some new fashion, that her

life was made to her a weighty burden to bear, and also a painful one. Her place had before been an easy one

but for her mistress's choleric temper, but it was so no more. Never had young lady been so exacting and so

tempestuous when not pleased with the adorning of her face and shape. In the presence of polite strangers,

whether ladies or gentlemen, Mistress Clorinda in these days chose to chasten her language and give less rein

to her fantastical passions, but alone in her closet with her woman, if a riband did but not suit her fancy, or a

hoop not please, she did not fear to be as scurrilous as she chose. In this discreet retirement she rapped out

oaths and boxed her woman's ears with a vigorous hand, tore off her gowns and stamped them beneath her

feet, or flung pots of pomade at the poor woman's head. She took these freedoms with such a readiness and

spirit that she was served with a despatch and humbleness scarcely to be equalled, and, it is certain, never

The high courage and undaunted will which had been the engines she had used to gain her will from her

infant years aided her in these days to carry out what her keen mind and woman's wit had designed, which

was to take the county by storm with her beauty, and reign toast and enslaver until such time as she won the

It was soon bruited abroad, to the amazement of the county, that Mistress Clorinda Wildairs had changed her

strange and unseemly habits of life, and had become as much a young lady of fashion and breeding as her

birth and charm demanded. This was first made known by her appearing one Sunday morning at church,

accompaniedas though attended with a retinue of servitorsby Mistress Wimpole and her two sisters,

whose plain faces, awkward shape, and still more awkward attire were such a foil to her glowing loveliness

as set it in high relief. It was seldom that the coach from Wildairs Hall drew up before the lychgate, but

upon rare Sunday mornings Mistress Wimpole and her two charges contrived, if Sir Jeoffry was not in an

illhumour and the coachman was complaisant, to be driven to service. Usually, however, they trudged afoot,

and, if the day chanced to be sultry, arrived with their snubnosed faces of a high and shiny colour, or if the

This morning, when the coach drew up, the horses were well groomed, the coachman smartly dressed, and a

footman was in attendance, who sprang to earth and opened the door with a flourish.

The loiterers in the churchyard, and those who were approaching the gate or passing towards the church

porch, stared with eyes wide stretched in wonder and incredulity. Never had such a thing before been beheld

Mistress Clorinda, clad in highest town fashion, in brocades and silver lace and splendid furbelows, stepped

forth from the chariot with the air of a queen. She had the majestic composure of a young lady who had worn

nothing less modish than such raiment all her life, and who had prayed decorously beneath her neighbours'

Her sisters and their governess looked timorous, and as if they knew not where to cast their eyes for

shamefacedness; but not so Mistress Clorinda, who moved forward with a stately, swimming gait, her fine

head in the air. As she stepped into the porch a young gentleman drew back and made a profound obeisance

to her. She cast her eyes upon him and returned it with a grace and condescension which struck the beholders

dumb with admiring awe. To some of the people of a commoner sort he was a stranger, but all connected

with the gentry knew he was Sir John Oxon, who was staying at Eldershawe Park with his relative, whose

How Mistress Clorinda contrived to manage it no one was aware but herself, but after a few appearances at

church she appeared at other places. She was seen at dinners at fine houses, and began to be seen at routs and

balls. Where she was seen she shone, and with such radiance as caused matchmaking matrons great dismay,

and their daughters woeful qualms. Once having shone, she could not be extinguished or hidden under a

bushel; for, being of rank and highly connected through mother as well as father, and playing her cards with

At her first hunt ball she set aflame every male breast in the shire, unmasking such a battery of charms as no

man could withstand the fire of. Her dazzling eye, her wondrous shape, the rich music of her laugh, and the

mocking wit of her sharp saucy tongue were weapons to have armed a dozen women, and she was but one,

She turned more heads and caused more quarrels than she could have counted had she sat up half the night.

She went to her coach with her father followed by a dozen gallants, each ready to spit the other for a smile.

Her smiles were wondrous, but there seemed always a touch of mockery or disdain in them which made them

One man there was, who perchance found something in her high glance not wholly scornful, but he was used

to soft treatment from women, and had, in sooth, expected milder glances than were bestowed upon him. This

was young Sir John Oxon, who had found himself among the fair sex that night as great a beau as she had

been a belle; but two dances he had won from her, and this was more than any other man could boast, and

Sir Jeoffry, who had watched her as she queened it amongst rakes and fops and honest country squires and

knights, had marked the vigour with which they plied her with an emotion which was a new sensation to his

drinkbemuddled brain. So far as it was in his nature to love another than himself, he had learned to love this

young lovely virago of his own flesh and blood, perchance because she was the only creature who had never

When the chariot rode away, he looked at her as she sat erect in the early morning light, as unblenching,

bright, and untouched in bloom as if she had that moment risen from her pillow and washed her face in dew.

"Thou pretty, brazen baggage," her father laughed. "Old Dunstanwolde looked thee well over tonight. He

"That I knew better than thee, Dad," said the beauty; "and I saw that he could not have done it if he had tried.

"Thou hast a sharp eye and a keen wit," said Sir Jeoffry, looking askance at her with a new maggot in his

brain. "Wouldst never play the fool, I warrant. They will press thee hard and 'twill be hard to withstand their

lovemaking, but I shall never have to mount and ride off with pistols in my holsters to bring back a man and

make him marry thee, as Chris Crowell had to do for his youngest wench. Thou wouldst never play the fool, I

She tossed her head and laughed like a young scornful devil, showing her white pearl teeth between her lips'

She played her part as triumphant beauty so successfully that the cleverest managing mother in the universe

could not have bettered her position. Gallants brawled for her; honest men fell at her feet; romantic swains

wrote verses to her, praising her eyes, her delicate bosom, the carnation of her cheek, and the awful majesty

of her mien. In every revel she was queen, in every contest of beauties Venus, in every spectacle of triumph

The Earl of Dunstanwolde, who had the oldest name and the richest estates in his own county and the six

adjoining ones, who, having made a lovematch in his prime, and lost wife and heir but a year after his

nuptials, had been the despair of every maid and mother who knew him, because he would not be melted to a

marriageable mood. After the hunt ball this mourning nobleman, who was by this time of ripe years, had

appeared in the world again as he had not done for many years. Before many months had elapsed, it was

known that his admiration of the new beauty was confessed, and it was believed that he but waited further

knowledge of her to advance to the point of laying his title and estates at her feet.

But though, two years before, the entire county would have rated low indeed the wit and foresight of the man

who had even hinted the possibility of such honour and good fortune being in prospect for the young lady, so

great was Mistress Clorinda's brilliant and noble beauty, and with such majesty she bore herself in these

times, that there were even those who doubted whether she would think my lord a rich enough prize for her,

and if, when he fell upon his knees, she would deign to become his countess, feeling that she had such

splendid wares to dispose of as might be bartered for a duke, when she went to town and to court.

During the length of more than one man's lifetime after, the reign of Mistress Clorinda Wildairs was a

memory recalled over the bottle at the diningtable among men, some of whom had but heard their fathers

vaunt her beauties. It seemed as if in her person there was not a single flaw, or indeed a charm, which had not

reached the highest point of beauty. For shape she might have vied with young Diana, mounted side by side

with her upon a pedestal; her raven locks were of a length and luxuriance to clothe her as a garment, her great

eye commanded and flashed as Juno's might have done in the goddess's divinest moments of lovely pride, and

though it was said none ever saw it languish, each man who adored her was maddened by the secret belief

that Venus' self could not so melt in love as she if she would stoop to lovingas each one prayed she

mighthimself. Her hands and feet, her neck, the slimness of her waist, her mantling crimson and ivory

white, her little ear, her scarlet lip, the pearls between them and her long white throat, were perfection each

"She hath such beauties," one admirer said, "that a man must toast them all and cannot drink to her as to a

single woman. And she hath so many that to slight none her servant must go from the table reeling."

There was but one thing connected with her which was not a weapon to her hand, and this was, that she was

not a fortune. Sir Jeoffry had drunk and rioted until he had but little left. He had cut his timber and let his

estate go to rack, having, indeed, no money to keep it up. The great Hall, which had once been a fine old

place, was almost a ruin. Its carved oak and noble rooms and galleries were all of its past splendours that

remained. All had been sold that could be sold, and all the outcome had been spent. The county, indeed,

wondered where Mistress Clorinda's fine clothes came from, and knew full well why she was not taken to

court to kneel to the Queen. That she was waiting for this to make her match, the envious were quite sure, and

The name of one man of rank and fortune after another was spoken of as that of a suitor to her hand, but in

some way it was discovered that she refused them all. It was also known that they continued to worship her,

and that at any moment she could call even the best among them back. It seemed that, while all the men were

enamoured of her, there was not one who could cure himself of his passion, however hopeless it might be.

Her wit was as great as her beauty, and she had a spirit before which no man could stand if she chose to be

disdainful. To some she was so, and had the whim to flout them with great brilliancy. Encounters with her

were always remembered, and if heard by those not concerned, were considered worthy both of recollection

and of being repeated to the world; she had a tongue so nimble and a wit so full of fire.

Young Sir John Oxon's visit to his relative at Eldershawe being at an end, he returned to town, and remaining

there through a few weeks of fashionable gaiety, won new reputations as a triumpher over the female heart.

He made some renowned conquests and set the mode in some new essences and swordknots. But even these

triumphs appeared to pall upon him shortly, since he deserted the town and returned again to the country,

where, on this occasion, he did not stay with his relative, but with Sir Jeoffry himself, who had taken a

It had been much marked since the altered life of Mistress Clorinda that she, who had previously defied all

rules laid down on behaviour for young ladies, and had been thought to do so because she knew none of

them, now proved that her wild fashion had been but wilfulness, since it was seen that she must have

observed and marked manners with the best. There seemed no decorum she did not know how to observe

with the most natural grace. It was, indeed, all grace and majesty, there being no suggestion of the prude

about her, but rather the manner of a young lady having been born with pride and stateliness, and most

carefully bred. This was the result of her wondrous wit, the highness of her talents, and the strength of her

will, which was of such power that she could carry out without fail anything she chose to undertake. There

are some women who have beauty, and some who have wit or vigour of understanding, but she possessed all

three, and with them such courage and strength of nerve as would have well equipped a man.

Quick as her wit was and ready as were her brilliant quips and sallies, there was no levity in her demeanour,

and she kept Mistress Margery Wimpole in discreet attendance upon her, as if she had been the daughter of a

Spanish Hidalgo, never to be approached except in the presence of her duenna. Poor Mistress Margery,

finding her old fears removed, was overpowered with new ones. She had no lawlessness or hoyden manners

to contend with, but instead a haughtiness so high and demands so great that her powers could scarcely

"It is as if one were ladyinwaiting to her Majesty's self," she used to whimper when she was alone and dare

do so. "Surely the Queen has not such a will and such a temper. She will have me toil to look worthy of her in

my habit, and bear myself like a duchess in dignity. Alack! I have practised my obeisance by the hour to

perfect it, so that I may escape her wrath. And I must know how to look, and when and where to sit, and with

what air of being near at hand, while I must see nothing! And I must drag my failing limbs hither and thither

with genteel ease while I ache from head to foot, being neither young nor strong."

The poor lady was so overawed by, and yet so admired, her charge, that it was piteous to behold.

"She is an arrant fool," quoth Mistress Clorinda to her father. "A nice duenna she would be, forsooth, if she

were with a woman who needed watching. She could be hoodwinked as it pleased me a dozen times a day. It

is I who am her guard, not she mine! But a beauty must drag some spy about with her, it seems, and she I can

make to obey me like a spaniel. We can afford no better, and she is well born, and since I bought her the

"Dunstanwolde need not fear for thee now," said Sir Jeoffry. "Thou art a clever and foreseeing wench, Clo."

"Dunstanwolde nor any man!" she answered. "There will be no gossip of me. It is Anne and Barbara thou

must look to, Dad, lest their plain faces lead them to show soft hearts. My face is my fortune!"

When Sir John Oxon paid his visit to Sir Jeoffry the days of Mistress Margery were filled with carking care.

The night before he arrived, Mistress Clorinda called her to her closet and laid upon her her commands in her

own high way. She was under her woman's hands, and while her great mantle of black hair fell over the back

of her chair and lay on the floor, her tirewoman passing the brush over it, lock by lock, she was at her greatest

beauty. Either she had been angered or pleased, for her cheek wore a bloom even deeper and richer than

At her first timorous glance at her, Mistress Margery thought she must have been angered, the spark so

burned in her eyes, and so evident was the light but quick heave of her bosom; but the next moment it seemed

as if she must be in a pleasant humour, for a little smile deepened the dimples in the corner of her bowed, full

"This gentleman who comes to visit tomorrow," she said, "Sir John Oxondo you know aught of him?"

"Then it will be well that you should, since I have commands to lay upon you concerning him," said the

"He is a gentleman from town, the kinsman of Lord Eldershawe," she said. "He is a handsome man,

concerning whom many women have been fools. He chooses to allow it to be said that he is a conqueror of

female hearts and virtue, even among women of fashion and rank. If this be said in the town, what may not be

said in the country? He shall wear no such graces here. He chooses to pay his court to me. He is my father's

guest and a man of fashion. Let him make as many fine speeches as he has the will to. I will listen or not as I

"Attend to thy business if thou dost not want a box o' the ear," she said in a tone which made the woman start.

"You would not be left alone with the gentleman, Madam?" faltered Mistress Margery.

"If he comes to boast of conquests," said Mistress Clorinda, looking at her straight again and drawing down

her black brows, "I will play as cleverly as he. He cannot boast greatly of one whom he never makes his court

to but in the presence of a kinswoman of ripe years. Understand that this is to be your task."

"I will remember," Madam, answered Mistress Margery. "I will bear myself as you command."

The good gentlewoman took her leave gladly. She had spent a life in timid fears of such things and persons as

were not formed by Nature to excite them, but never had she experienced such humble terrors as those with

which Mistress Clorinda inspired her. Never did she approach her without inward tremor, and never did she

receive permission to depart from her presence without relief. And yet her beauty and wit and spirit had no

In the bare west wing of the house, comfortless though the neglect of its master had made it, there was one

corner where she was unafraid. Her first charges, Mistress Barbara and Mistress Anne, were young ladies of

gentle spirit. Their sister had said of them that their spirit was as poor as their looks. It could not be said of

them by any one that they had any pretension to beauty, but that which Mistress Clorinda rated at as poor

spirit was the one element of comfort in their poor dependent kinswoman's life. They gave her no ill words,

they indulged in no fantastical whims and vapours, and they did not even seem to expect other entertainment

than to walk the country roads, to play with their little lapdog Cupid, wind silks for their needlework, and

To them their sister appeared a goddess whom it would be presumptuous to approach in any frame of mind

quite ordinary. Her beauty must be heightened by rich adornments, while their plain looks were left without

the poorest aid. It seemed but fitting that what there was to spend must be spent on her. They showed no

signs of resentment, and took with gratitude such castoff finery as she deigned at times to bestow upon

them, when it was no longer useful to herself. She was too full of the occupations of pleasure to have had

time to notice them, even if her nature had inclined her to the observance of family affections. It was their

habit, when they knew of her going out in state, to watch her incoming and outgoing through a peephole in a

chamber window. Mistress Margery told them stories of her admirers and of her triumphs, of the county

gentlemen of fortune who had offered themselves to her, and of the modes of life in town of the handsome Sir

John Oxon, who, without doubt, was of the circle of her admiring attendants, if he had not fallen totally her

Of the two young women, it was Mistress Anne who had the more parts, and the attraction of the mind the

least dull. In sooth, Nature had dealt with both in a niggardly fashion, but Mistress Barbara was the plainer

and the more foolish. Mistress Anne had, perchance, the tenderer feelings, and was in secret given to a certain

sentimentality. She was thin and stooping, and had but a muddy complexion; her hair was heavy, it is true,

but its thickness and weight seemed naught but an ungrateful burden; and she had a dull, soft eye. In private

she was fond of reading such romances as she could procure by stealth from the library of books gathered

together in past times by some ancestor Sir Jeoffry regarded as an idiot. Doubtless she met with strange

reading in the volumes she took to her closet, and her simple virgin mind found cause for the solving of many

problems; but from the pages she contrived to cull stories of lordly lovers and cruel or kind beauties, whose

romances created for her a strange world of pleasure in the midst of her loneliness. Poor, neglected young

female, with every guileless maiden instinct withered at birth, she had need of some tender dreams to dwell

upon, though Fate herself seemed to have decreed that they must be no more than visions.

It was, in sooth, always the beauteous Clorinda about whose charms she builded her romances. In her great

power she saw that for which knights fought in tourney and great kings committed royal sins, and to her

splendid beauty she had in secrecy felt that all might be forgiven. She cherished such fancies of her, that one

morning, when she believed her absent from the house, she stole into the corridor upon which Clorinda's

apartment opened. Her first timid thought had been, that if a chamber door were opened she might catch a

glimpse of some of the splendours her sister's woman was surely laying out for her wearing at a birthnight

ball, at the house of one of the gentry of the neighbourhood. But it so happened that she really found the door

of entrance open, which, indeed, she had not more than dared to hope, and finding it so, she stayed her

footsteps to gaze with beating heart within. On the great bed, which was of carved oak and canopied with

tattered tapestry, there lay spread such splendours as she had never beheld near to before. 'Twas blue and

silver brocade Mistress Clorinda was to shine in tonight; it lay spread forth in all its dimensions. The

beautiful bosom and shoulders were to be bared to the eyes of scores of adorers, but rich lace was to set their

beauties forth, and strings of pearls. Why Sir Jeoffry had not sold his lady's jewels before he became

enamoured of her sixyearold child it would be hard to explain. There was a great painted fan with jewels in

the sticks, and on the flooras if peeping forth from beneath the bravery of the expanded petticoatswas a

pair of blue and silver shoes, highheeled and arched and slender. In gazing at them Mistress Anne lost her

breath, thinking that in some fashion they had a regal air of being made to trample hearts beneath them.

To the gentle, hapless virgin, to whom such possessions were as the wardrobe of a queen, the temptation to

behold them near was too great. She could not forbear from passing the threshold, and she did with heaving

breast. She approached the bed and gazed; she dared to touch the scented gloves that lay by the outspread

petticoat of blue and silver; she even laid a trembling finger upon the pointed bodice, which was so slender

"Ah me," she sighed gently, "how beautiful she will be! How beautiful! And all of them will fall at her feet,

as is not to be wondered at. And it was always so all her life, even when she was an infant, and all gave her

her will because of her beauty and her power. She hath a great power. Barbara and I are not so. We are dull

and weak, and dare not speak our minds. It is as if we were creatures of another world; but He who rules all

things has so willed it for us. He has given it to us for our portionour portion."

Her dull, poor face dropped a little as she spoke the words, and her eyes fell upon the beauteous tiny shoes,

which seemed to trample even when no foot was within them. She stooped to take one in her hand, but as she

was about to lift it something which seemed to have been dropped upon the floor, and to have rolled beneath

the valance of the bed, touched her hand. It was a thing to which a riband was attachedan ivory

miniatureand she picked it up wondering. She stood up gazing at it, in such bewilderment to find her eyes

upon it that she scarce knew what she did. She did not mean to pry; she would not have had the daring so to

do if she had possessed the inclination. But the instant her eyes told her what they saw, she started and

blushed as she had never blushed before in her tame life. The warm rose mantled her cheeks, and even

suffused the neck her chaste kerchief hid. Her eye kindled with admiration and an emotion new to her indeed.

"How beautiful!" she said. "He is like a young Adonis, and has the bearing of a royal prince! How can itby

She had not regarded it more than long enough to have uttered these words, when a fear came upon her, and

"What must I do with it?" she trembled. "What will she say, whether she knows of its being within the

chamber or not? She will be angry with me that I have dared to touch it. What shall I do?"

She regarded it again with eyes almost suffused. Her blush and the sensibility of her emotion gave to her

"I will put it back where I found it," she said, "and the one who knows it will find it later. It cannot be sheit

cannot be she! If I laid it on her table she would rate me bitterlyand she can be bitter when she will."

She bent and placed it within the shadow of the valance again, and as she felt it touch the hard oak of the

"It is an unseemly thing to do," she said; "'tis as though one were uncivil; but I dare notI dare not do

She would have turned to leave the apartment, being much overcome by the incident, but just as she would

have done so she heard the sound of horses' feet through the window by which she must pass, and looked out

to see if it was Clorinda who was returning from her ride. Mistress Clorinda was a matchless horsewoman,

and a marvel of loveliness and spirit she looked when she rode, sitting upon a horse such as no other woman

dared to mountalways an animal of the greatest beauty, but of so dangerous a spirit that her ridingwhip

This time it was not she; and when Mistress Anne beheld the young gentleman who had drawn rein in the

court she started backward and put her hand to her heart, the blood mantling her pale cheek again in a flood.

But having started back, the next instant she started forward to gaze again, all her timid soul in her eyes.

"'Tis he!" she panted; "'tis he himself! He hath come in hope to speak with my sister, and she is abroad. Poor

gentleman, he hath come in such high spirit, and must ride back heavy of heart. How comely, and how finely

He was, in sooth, with his rich ridinghabit, his handsome face, his plumed hat, and the sun shining on the

fair luxuriant locks which fell beneath it. It was Sir John Oxon, and he was habited as when he rode in the

park in town and the court was there. Not so were attired the country gentry whom Anne had been wont to

see, though many of them were well mounted, knowing horseflesh and naught else, as they did.

She pressed her cheek against the side of the oriel window, over which the ivy grew thickly. She was so

intent that she could not withdraw her gaze. She watched him as he turned away, having received his

dismissal, and she pressed her face closer that she might follow him as he rode down the long avenue of

Thus she bent forward gazing, until he turned and the oaks hid him from her sight; and even then the spell

was not dissolved, and she still regarded the place where he had passed, until a sound behind her made her

start violently. It was a peal of laughter, high and rich, and when she so started and turned to see whom it

might be, she beheld her sister Clorinda, who was standing just within the threshold, as if movement had

been arrested by what had met her eye as she came in. Poor Anne put her hand to her side again.

She saw that she had thought falsely, and that Clorinda had not been out at all, for she was in home attire; and

even in the midst of her trepidation there sprang into Anne's mind the awful thought that through some

servant's blunder the comely young visitor had been sent away. For herself, she expected but to be driven

forth with wrathful, disdainful words for her presumption. For what else could she hope from this splendid

creature, who, while of her own flesh and blood, had never seemed to regard her as being more than a poor

superfluous underling? But strangely enough, there was no anger in Clorinda's eyes; she but laughed, as

"You here, Anne," she said, "and looking with lightmindedness after gallant gentlemen! Mistress Margery

should see to this and watch more closely, or we shall have unseemly stories told. YOU, sister, with your

Suddenly she crossed the room to where her sister stood drooping, and seized her by the shoulder, so that she

"What," she said, with a mocking not quite harsh"What is this? Does a glance at a fine gallant, even taken

from behind an oriel window, make such change indeed? I never before saw this look, nor this colour,

"Sister," faltered Anne, "I so desired to see your birthnight ball gown, of which Mistress Margery hath

much spokenI so desiredI thought it would not matter if, the door being open and it spread forth upon

"And then was tempted more," Clorinda laughed, still regarding her downcast countenance shrewdly, "by a

thing far less to be resisted a fine gentleman from town, with lovelocks falling on his shoulders and

ladies' hearts strung at his saddlebow by scores. Which found you the most beautiful?"

"Your gown is splendid, sister," said Anne, with modest shyness. "There will be no beauty who will wear

Anne plucked up just enough of her poor spirit to raise her eyes to the brilliant ones that mocked at her.

"'Tis true," she said, "it is not; but for this one time, Anne, thou lookest almost a woman."

"'Tis not beauty alone that makes womanhood," said Anne, her head on her breast again. "In some book I

"You have readyou have read," quoted Clorinda. "You are the bookworm, I remember, and filch romances

and poems from the shelves. And you have read that it is mostly pain that makes a woman? 'Tis not true. 'Tis

a poor lie. I am a woman and I do not sufferfor I WILL not, that I swear! And when I take an oath I keep

it, mark you! It is men women suffer for; that was what your scholar meant for such fine gentlemen as the

one you have just watched while he rode away. More fools they! No man shall make ME womanly in such a

"Sister," Anne faltered, "I thought you were not within. The gentleman who rode awaydid the servants

"That did they," quoth Clorinda, mocking again. "They knew that I would not receive him today, and so sent

him away. He might have known as much himself, but he is an arrant popinjay, and thinks all women wish to

"I would not", she answered. "You cannot understand such ingratitude, poor Anne; you would have treated

him more softly. Sit down and talk to me, and I will show thee my furbelows myself. All women like to

Anne was tremulous with relief and pleasure. It was as if a queen had bid her to be seated. She sat almost

with the humble lack of case a servingwoman might have shown. She had never seen Clorinda wear such an

air before, and never had she dreamed that she would so open herself to any fellowcreature. She knew but

little of what her sister was capableof the brilliancy of her charm when she chose to condescend, of the

deigning softness of her manner when she chose to please, of her archpleasantries and cutting wit, and of the

strange power she could wield over any human being, gentle or simple, with whom she came in contact. But

if she had not known of these things before, she learned to know them this morning. For some reason best

known to herself, Mistress Clorinda was in a high good humour. She kept Anne with her for more than an

hour, and was dazzling through every moment of its passing. She showed her the splendours she was to shine

in at the birthnight ball, even bringing forth her jewels and displaying them. She told her stories of the house

of which the young heir today attained his majority, and mocked at the poor youth because he was ungainly,

"I have scarce looked at him," she said. "He is a lout, with great eyes staring, and a red nose. It does not need

To poor Mistress Anne, who had seen no company and listened to no wits, the entertainment bestowed upon

her was as wonderful as a night at the playhouse would have been. To watch the vivid changing face; to

hearken to jesting stories of men and women who seemed like the heroes and heroines of her romances; to

hear love itselfthe love she trembled and palpitated at the mere thought ofspoken of openly as an

experience which fell to all; to hear it mocked at with dainty or biting quips; to learn that women of all ages

played with, enjoyed, or lost themselves for itit was with her as if a nun had been withdrawn from her

"Sister," she said, looking at the Beauty with humble, adoring eyes, "you make me feel that my romances are

true. You tell such things. It is like seeing pictures of things to hear you talk. No wonder that all listen to you,

for indeed 'tis wonderful the way you have with words. You use them so that 'tis as though they had shapes of

their own and colours, and you builded with them. I thank you for being so gracious to me, who have seen so

And being led into the loving boldness by her gratitude, she bent forward and touched with her lips the fair

"I' faith, it doth not seem fair, Anne," she said. "I should not like to change lives with thee. Thou hast eyes

like a shot pheasantsoft, and with the bright hid beneath the dull. Some man might love them, even if thou

She uprose from her chair and went to the oaken wardrobe, and threw the door of it open wide while she

"There is a gown and tippet or so here, and a hood and some ribands I might do without," she said. "My

woman shall bear them to your chamber, and show you how to set them to rights. She is a nimble fingered

creature, and a gown of mine would give almost stuff enough to make you two. Then some days, when I am

not going abroad and Mistress Margery frets me too much, I will send for you to sit with me, and you shall

Anne would have kissed her feet then, if she had dared to do so. She blushed red all over, and adored her with

"I should not have dared to hope so much," she stammered. "I could notperhaps it is not fittingperhaps I

could not bear myself as I should. I would try to show myself a gentlewoman and seemly. II AM a

gentlewoman, though I have learned so little. I could not be aught but a gentlewoman, could I, sister, being of

"No," said Clorinda. "Do not be a fool, Anne, and carry yourself too humbly before the world. You can be as

"I shallI shall be your servant and worship you, sister," cried the poor soul, and she drew near and kissed

again the white hand which had bestowed with such royal bounty all this joy. It would not have occurred to

It was not a minute after this grateful caress that Clorinda made a sharp movementa movement which was

so sharp that it seemed to be one of dismay. At first, as if involuntarily, she had raised her hand to her tucker,

and after doing so she startedthough 'twas but for a second's space, after which her face was as it had been

"No," quoth Mistress Clorinda quite carelessly, as she once more turned to the contents of the oaken

wardrobe; "but I thought I missed a trinket I was wearing for a wager, and I would not lose it before the bet is

"Sister," ventured Anne before she left her and went away to her own dull world in the west wing, "there is a

thing I can do if you will allow me. I can mend your tapestry hangings which have holes in them. I am quick

at my needle, and should love to serve you in such poor ways as I can; and it is not seemly that they should

"Can you make these broken things beautiful?" said Clorinda. "Then indeed you shall. You may come here to

"They are very fine hangings, though so old and ill cared for," said Anne, looking up at them; "and I shall be

only too happy sitting here thinking of all you are doing while I am at my work."

"Thinking of all I am doing?" laughed Mistress Clorinda. "That would give you such wondrous things to

dream of, Anne, that you would have no time for your needle, and my hangings would stay as they are."

From that time henceforward into the young woman's dull life there came a little change. It did not seem a

little change to her, but a great one, though to others it would have seemed slight indeed. She was an

affectionate, housewifely creature, who would have made the best of wives and mothers if it had been so

ordained by Fortune, and something of her natural instincts found outlet in the furtive service she paid her

sister, who became the empress of her soul. She darned and patched the tattered hangings with a wonderful

neatness, and the hours she spent at work in the chamber were to her almost as sacred as hours spent at

religious duty, or as those nuns and novices give to embroidering altarcloths. There was a brightness in the

room that seemed in no other in the house, and the lingering essences in the air of it were as incense to her. In

secrecy she even busied herself with keeping things in better order than Rebecca, Mistress Clorinda's woman,

had ever had time to do before. She also contrived to get into her own hands some duties that were Rebecca's

own. She could mend lace cleverly and arrange ribandknots with taste, and even change the fashion of a

gown. The hardworked tirewoman was but too glad to be relieved, and kept her secret well, being praised

many times for the set or fashion of a thing into which she had not so much as set a needle. Being a shrewd

baggage, she was wise enough always to relate to Anne the story of her mistress's pleasure, having the wit to

At times it so befell that, when Anne went into the bedchamber, she found the beauty there, who, if she

chanced to be in the humour, would detain her in her presence for a space and bewitch her over again. In

sooth, it seemed that she took a pleasure in showing her female adorer how wondrously full of all fascinations

she could be. At such times Anne's plain face would almost bloom with excitement, and her shot pheasant's

She neither saw nor heard more of the miniature on the riband. It used to make her tremble at times to fancy

that by some strange chance it might still be under the bed, and that the handsome face smiled and the blue

eyes gazed in the very apartment where she herself sat and her sister was robed and disrobed in all her beauty.

She used all her modest skill in fitting to her own shape and refurnishing the castoff bits of finery bestowed

upon her. It was all set to rights long before Clorinda recalled to mind that she had promised that Anne

Anne ran to her bedchamber and donned her remodelled gown with shaking hands. She laughed a little

hysterically as she did it, seeing her plain snubnosed face in the glass. She tried to dress her head in a

fashion new to her, and knew she did it ill and untidily, but had no time to change it. If she had had some red

she would have put it on, but such vanities were not in her chamber or Barbara's. So she rubbed her cheeks

hard, and even pinched them, so that in the end they looked as if they were badly rouged. It seemed to her

that her nose grew red too, and indeed 'twas no wonder, for her hands and feet were like ice.

"She must be ashamed of me," the humble creature said to herself. "And if she is ashamed she will be

She did not deceive herself, poor thing, and imagine she had the chance of being regarded with any great

"Mistress Clorinda begged that you would come quickly," said Rebecca, knocking at the door.

So she caught her handkerchief, which was scented, as all her garments were, with dried roseleaves from the

garden, which she had conserved herself, and went down to the chintz parlour trembling.

It was a great room with white panels, and flowered coverings to the furniture. There were a number of ladies

and gentlemen standing talking and laughing loudly together. The men outnumbered the women, and most of

them stood in a circle about Mistress Clorinda, who sat upright in a great flowered chair, smiling with her

Anne came in like a mouse. Nobody saw her. She did not, indeed, know what to do. She dared not remain

standing all alone, so she crept to the place where her sister's chair was, and stood a little behind its high

They were only country gentlemen who made the circle, but to her they seemed dashing gallants. That some

of them had red noses as well as cheeks, and that their voices were big and their gallantries boisterous, was

no drawback to their manly charms, she having seen no other finer gentlemen. They were specimens of the

great conquering creature Man, whom all women must aspire to please if they have the fortunate power; and

And so Anne gazed at them with admiring awe, waiting until there should come a pause in which she might

presume to call her sister's attention to her presence; but suddenly, before she had indeed made up her mind

"It is only goddesses," said the voice, "who waft about them as they move the musk of the rosegardens of

Araby. When you come to reign over us in town, Madam, there will be no perfume in the mode but that of

And there, at her side, was bowing, in cinnamon and crimson, with jewelled buttons on his velvet coat, the

beautiful being whose fair locks the sun had shone on the morning she had watched him ride awaythe man

Clorinda looked under her lashes towards him without turning, but in so doing beheld Anne standing in

"A fine speech lost," she said, "though 'twas well enough for the country, Sir John. 'Tis thrown away, because

'tis not I who am scented with roseleaves, but Anne there, whom you must not ogle. Come hither, sister, and

And she drew her forward, and there Anne stood, and all of them stared at her poor, plain, blushing face, and

the Adonis in cinnamon and crimson bowed low, as if she had been a duchess, that being his conqueror's way

It was so with him always; he could never resist the chance of luring to himself a woman's heart, whether he

wanted it or not, and he had a charm, a strange and wonderful one, it could not be denied. Anne palpitated

indeed as she made her curtsey to him, and wondered if Heaven had ever before made so fine a gentleman

She went but seldom to this room again, and when she went she stood always in the background, far more in

fear that some one would address her than that she should meet with neglect. She was used to neglect, and to

being regarded as a nonentity, and aught else discomfited her. All her pleasure was to hear what was said,

though 'twas not always of the finest witand to watch Clorinda play the queen among her admirers and her

slaves. She would not have dared to speak of Sir John Oxon frequentlyindeed, she let fall his name but

rarely; but she learned a curious wit in contriving to hear all things concerning him. It was her habit

cunningly to lead Mistress Margery to talking about him and relating long histories of his conquests and his

grace. Mistress Wimpole knew many of them, having, for a staid and prudent matron, a lively interest in his

ways. It seemed, trulyif one must believe her longwinded storiesthat no duchess under seventy had

escaped weeping for him and losing rest, and that ladies of all ranks had committed follies for his sake.

Mistress Anne, having led her to this fruitful subject, would sit and listen, bending over her embroidery frame

with strange emotions, causing her virgin breast to ache with their swelling. She would lie awake at night

thinking in the dark, with her heart beating. Surely, surely there was no other man on earth who was so fitted

to Clorinda, and to whom it was so suited that this empress should give her charms. Surely no woman,

however beautiful or proud, could dismiss his suit when he pressed it. And then, poor woman, her

imagination strove to paint the splendour of their mutual love, though of such love she knew so little. But it

must, in sooth, be bliss and rapture; and perchance, was her humble thought, she might see it from afar, and

hear of it. And when they went to court, and Clorinda had a great mansion in town, and many servants who

needed a housewife's eye upon their doings to restrain them from wastefulness and riot, might it not chance to

be that if she served well now, and had the courage to plead with her then, she might be permitted to serve

her there, living quite apart in some quiet corner of the house. And then her wild thoughts would go so far

that she would dreamreddening at her own boldnessof a child who might be born to them, a lordly

infant son and heir, whose eyes might be blue and winning, and his hair in great fair locks, and whom she

might nurse and tend and be a slave toand loveand loveand love, and who might end by knowing she

was his tender servant, always to be counted on, and might look at her with that wooing, laughing glance, and

The night Clorinda laid her commands upon Mistress Wimpole concerning the coming of Sir John Oxon, that

matron, after receiving them, hurried to her other charges, flurried and full of talk, and poured forth her

"She is a wondrous lady!" she said"she is indeed! It is not alone her beauty, but her spirit and her wit.

Mark you how she sees all things and lets none pass, and can lay a plan as prudent as any lady old enough to

be twice her mother. She knows all the ways of the world of fashion, and will guard herself against gossip in

such a way that none can gainsay her high virtue. Her spirit is too great to allow that she may even SEEM to

be as the town ladies. She will not have it! Sir John will not find his court easy to pay. She will not allow that

he shall be able to say to any one that he has seen her alone a moment. Thus, she says, he cannot boast. If all

ladies were as wise and cunning, there would be no tales to tell." She talked long and garrulously, and set

forth to them how Mistress Clorinda had looked straight at her with her black eyes, until she had almost

shaken as she sat, because it seemed as though she dared her to disobey her will; and how she had sat with

her hair trailing upon the floor over the chair's back, and at first it had seemed that she was flushed with

"Betimes," said Mistress Wimpole, "I am afraid when she smiles, but tonight some thought had crossed her

mind that pleased her. I think it was that she liked to think that he who has conquered so many ladies will

find that he is to be outwitted and made a mock of. She likes that others shall be beaten if she thinks them

impudent. She liked it as a child, and would flog the stableboys with her little whip until they knelt to beg

That night Mistress Anne went to her bedchamber with her head full of wandering thoughts, and she had not

the power to bid them disperse themselves and leave herindeed, she scarce wished for it. She was thinking

of Clorinda, and wondering sadly that she was of so high a pride that she could bear herself as though there

were no human weakness in her breast, not even the womanly weakness of a heart. How could it be possible

that she could treat with disdain this gallant gentleman, if he loved her, as he surely must? Herself she had

been sure that she had seen an ardent flame in his blue eyes, even that first day when he had bowed to her

with that air of grace as he spoke of the fragrance of the rose leaves he had thought wafted from her robe.

How could a woman whom he loved resist him? How could she cause him to suffer by forcing him to stand at

In the silence of her chamber as she disrobed, she sighed with restless pain, but did not know that her sighing

was for grief that loveof which there seemed so little in some livescould be wasted and flung away. She

could not fall into slumber when she lay down upon her pillow, but tossed from side to side with a burdened

"She is so young and beautiful and proud," she thought. "It is because I am so much older that I can see these

thingsthat I see that this is surely the one man who should be her husband. There may be many others, but

they are none of them her equals, and she would scorn and hate them when she was once bound to them for

life. This one is as beautiful as sheand full of grace, and wit, and spirit. She could not look down upon him,

however wrath she was at any time. Ah me! She should not spurn him, surely she should not!"

She was so restless and ill at ease that she could not lie upon her bed, but rose therefrom, as she often did in

her wakeful hours, and went to her lattice, gently opening it to look out upon the night, and calm herself by

sitting with her face uplifted to the stars, which from her childhood she had fancied looked down upon her

Tonight there were no stars. There should have been a moon three quarters full, but, in the evening, clouds

had drifted across the sky and closed over all heavily, so that no moonlight was to be seen, save when a rare

She did not sit this time, but knelt, clad in her nightrail as she was. All was sunk into the profoundest silence

of the night. By this time the entire household had been long enough abed to be plunged in sleep. She alone

was waking, and being of that simple mind which, like a child's, must ever bear its trouble to a protecting

strength, she looked up at the darkness of the cloudy sky and prayed for the better fortune of the man who

had indeed not remembered her existence after the moment he had made her his obeisance. She was too plain

"Perchance," she murmured, "he is at this moment also looking at the clouds from his window, because he

cannot sleep for thinking that in two days he will be beneath her father's roof and will see her loveliness, and

he must needs be contriving within his mind what he will say, if she do but look as if she might regard him

From the path below, that moment there rose a slight sound, so slight a one that for a moment she thought she

must have been deceived in believing it had fallen upon her ear. All was still after it for full two minutes, and

had she heard no more she would have surely forgotten she had heard aught, or would have believed herself

but the victim of fancy. But after the long pause the same sound came again, though this time it was slighter;

yet, despite its slightness, it seemed to her to be the crushing of the earth and stone beneath a cautious foot. It

was a foot so cautious that it was surely stealthy and scarce dared to advance at all. And then all was still

again. She was for a moment overcome with fears, not being of a courageous temper, and having heard, but

of late, of a bold gipsy vagabond who, with a companion, had broken into the lower rooms of a house of the

neighbourhood, and being surprised by its owner, had only been overcome and captured after a desperate

fight, in which shots were exchanged, and one of the hurriedlyawakened servants killed. So she leaned

forward to hearken further, wondering what she should do to best alarm the house, and, as she bent so, she

heard the sound again and a smothered oath, and with her straining eyes saw that surely upon the path there

stood a dark draped figure. She rose with great care to her feet, and stood a moment shaking and clinging to

the windowledge, while she bethought her of what servants she could wake first, and how she could reach

her father's room. Her poor heart beat in her side, and her breath came quickly. The soundlessness of the

night was broken by one of the strange sudden gusts of wind which tossed the trees, and tore at the clouds as

they hurried. She heard the footsteps again, as if it feared its own sound the less when the wind might cover

it. A faint pale gleam showed between two dark clouds behind which the moon had been hidden; it grew

brighter, and a jagged rent was torn, so that the moon herself for a second or so shone out dazzling bright

It was at this very instant Mistress Anne heard the footsteps once more, and saw full well a figure in dark

cloak and hat which stepped quickly into the shade of a great tree. But more she sawand clapped her hand

upon her mouth to stifle the cry that would have otherwise risen in spite of herthat notwithstanding his fair

locks were thrust out of sight beneath his hat, and he looked strange and almost uncomely, it was the face of

CHAPTER VIIITwo meet in the deserted rose garden, and the old Earl of Dunstanwolde is made a

It was not until three days later, instead of two, that Sir John Oxon rode into the courtyard with his servant

behind him. He had been detained on his journey, but looked as if his impatience had not caused him to

suffer, for he wore his finest air of spirit and beauty, and when he was alone with Sir Jeoffry, made his

compliments to the absent ladies, and inquired of their health with his best town grace.

Mistress Clorinda did not appear until the dining hour, when she swept into the room like a queen, followed

by her sister, Anne, and Mistress Wimpole, this being the first occasion of Mistress Anne's dining, as it were,

The honour had so alarmed her, that she looked pale, and so ugly that Sir Jeoffry scowled at sight of her, and

"I know my own affairs the best, by your leave, sir," answered Clorinda, as low and with a grand flash of her

This she had indeed, and so had Mistress Wimpole, and throughout Sir John Oxon's stay they were called

upon to see that they played well their parts. Two weeks he stayed and then rode gaily back to town, and

when Clorinda made her sweeping curtsey to the ground to him upon the threshold of the flowered room in

which he bade her farewell, both Anne and Mistress Wimpole curtseyed a step behind her.

"Now that he has gone and you have shown me that you can attend me as I wish," she said, turning to them as

the sound of his horse's hoofs died away, "it will not trouble me should he choose some day to come again.

In truth, it seemed to the outer world that she had held him well in hand. If he had come as a sighing lover,

the whole county knew she had shown him but small favour. She had invited companies to the house on

several occasions, and all could see how she bore herself towards him. She carried herself with a certain

proud courtesy as becoming the daughter of his host, but her wit did not spare him, and sometimes when it

was more than in common cutting he was seen to wince though he held himself gallantly. There were one or

two who thought they now and then had seen his blue eyes fall upon her when he believed none were

looking, and rest there burningly for a moment, but 'twas never for more than an instant, when he would

She had been for a month or two less given to passionate outbreaks, having indeed decided that it was to her

interest as a young lady and a future great one to curb herself. Her tirewoman, Rebecca, had begun to dare to

breathe more freely when she was engaged about her person, and had, in truth, spoken of her pleasanter

But a night or two after the visitor took his departure, she gave way to such an outburst as even Rebecca had

scarce ever beheld, being roused to it by a small thing in one sense, though in yet another perhaps great

She was at her toilettable being prepared for the night, and her long hair brushed and dressed before retiring.

Mistress Wimpole had come in to the chamber to do something at her bidding, and chancing to stand gazing

at her great and heavy fall of locks as she was waiting, she observed a thing which caused her, foolish woman

"What then!" quoth Mistress Clorinda angrily. "You bring my heart to my throat!"

"Your hair!" stammered Wimpole, losing all her small wit"your beauteous hair! A lock is gone, madam!"

Clorinda started to her feet, and flung the great black mass over her white shoulder, that she might see it in

Her voice rose to a sound that was wellnigh a scream. She saw the rifled spota place where a great lock

She turned and sprang upon her woman, her beautiful face distorted with fury, and her eyes like flames of

fire. She seized her by each shoulder and boxed her ears until her head spun round and bells rang within it.

"'Twas you!" she shrieked. "'Twas youshedevilbeastslut that you are! 'Twas when you used your

scissors to the new head you made for me. You set it on my hair that you might set a loopand in your

She beat her till her own black hair flew about her like the mane of a fury; and having used her hands till they

were tired, she took her brush from the table and beat her with that till the room echoed with the blows on the

"Mistress, 'twas not so!" cried the poor thing, sobbing and struggling. "'Twas not so, madam!"

"Madam, you will kill the woman," wept Mistress Wimpole. "I beseech you ! 'Tis not seemly, I beseech"

Mistress Clorinda flung her woman from her and threw the brush at Mistress Wimpole, crying at her with the

"Damnation to thy seemliness!" she cried, "and to thee too! Get thee gonefrom me, bothget thee gone

And both women fled weeping, and sobbing, and gasping from the room incontinently.

She was shrewish and sullen with her woman for days after, and it was the poor creature's labour to keep

from her sight, when she dressed her head, the place from whence the lock had been taken. In the servants'

hall the woman vowed that it was not she who had cut it, that she had had no accident, though it was true she

had used the scissors about her head, yet it was but in snipping a ribbon, and she had not touched a hair.

"If she were another lady," she said, "I should swear some gallant had robbed her of it; but, forsooth, she does

not allow them to come near enough for such sport, and with five feet of hair wound up in coronals, how

could a man unwind a lock, even if 'twas permitted him to stand at her very side."

Two years passed, and the beauty had no greater fields to conquer than those she found in the country, since

her father, Sir Jeoffry, had not the money to take her to town, he becoming more and more involved and so

fallen into debt that it was even whispered that at times it went hard with him to keep even the poor

Mistress Clorinda's fortunes the gentry of the neighbourhood discussed with growing interest and curiosity.

What was like to become of her great gifts and powers in the end, if she could never show them to the great

world, and have the chance to carry her splendid wares to the fashionable market where there were men of

quality and wealth who would be like to bid for them. She had not chosen to accept any of those who had

offered themselves so far, and it was believed that for some reason she had held off my lord of Dunstanwolde

in his suit. 'Twas evident that he admired her greatly, and why he had not already made her his countess was

a sort of mystery which was productive of many discussions and bore much talking over. Some said that,

with all her beauty and his admiration, he was wary and waited, and some were pleased to say that the reason

he waited was because the young lady herself contrived that he should, it being her desire to make an open

conquest of Sir John Oxon, and show him to the world as her slave, before she made up her mind to make

even a much greater match. Some hinted that for all her disdainfulness and haughty pride she would marry

Sir John if he asked her, but that he being as brilliant a beau as she a beauty, he was too fond of his pleasures

and his gay town life to give them up even to a goddess who had no fortune. His own had not been a great

one, and he had squandered it magnificently, his extravagances being renowned in the world of fashion, and

It was, however, still his way to accept frequent hospitalities from his kinsman Eldershawe, and Sir Jeoffry

was always rejoiced enough to secure him as his companion for a few days when he could lure him from the

dissipation of the town. At such times it never failed that Mistress Wimpole and poor Anne kept their guard.

Clorinda never allowed them to relax their vigilance, and Mistress Wimpole ceased to feel afraid, and became

accustomed to her duties, but Anne never did so. She looked always her palest and ugliest when Sir John was

in the house, and she would glance with sad wonder and timid adoration from him to Clorinda; but

sometimes when she looked at Sir John her plain face would grow crimson, and once or twice he caught her

at the folly, and when she dropped her eyes overwhelmed with shame, he faintly smiled to himself, seeing in

There came a day when in the huntingfield there passed from mouth to mouth a rumour, and Sir Jeoffry,

hearing it, came pounding over on his big black horse to his daughter and told it to her in great spirits.

"He is a sly dog, John Oxon," he said, a broad grin on his rubicund face. "This very week he comes to us, and

he and I are cronies, yet he has blabbed nothing of what is being buzzed about by all the world."

"He has learned how to keep a closed mouth," said Mistress Clorinda, without asking a question.

"But 'tis marriage he is so mum about, bless ye!" said Sir Jeoffry. "And that is not a thing to be hid long. He

is to be shortly married, they say. My lady, his mother, has found him a great fortune in a new beauty but just

come to town. She hath great estates in the West Indies, as well as a fine fortune in England and all the

world is besieging her; but Jack hath come and bowed sighing before her, and writ some verses, and borne

"'Tis time," said Clorinda, "that he should marry some woman who can pay his debts and keep him out of the

spunging house, for to that he will come if he does not play his cards with skill."

"I wish thou hadst liked him, Clo," he said, "and ye had both had fortunes to match. I love the fellow, and ye

Mistress Clorinda laughed, sitting straight in her saddle, her fine eyes unblenching, though the sun struck

"We had fortunes to match," she said"I was a beggar and he was a spendthrift. Here comes Lord

And as the gentleman rode near, it seemed to his dazzled eyes that the sun so shone down upon her because

In the west wing of the Hall 'twas talked of between Mistress Wimpole and her charges, that a rumour of Sir

"Yet can I not believe it," said Mistress Margery; "for if ever a gentleman was deep in love, though he bitterly

"But she," faltered Anne, looking pale and even agitated"she was always disdainful to him and held him at

But whether the rumour was true or falseand there were those who bestowed no credit upon it, and said it

was mere town talk, and that the same things had been bruited abroad beforeit so chanced that Sir John

paid no visit to his relative or to Sir Jeoffry for several months. 'Twas heard once that he had gone to France,

and at the French Court was making as great a figure as he had made at the English one, but of this even his

kinsman Lord Eldershawe could speak no more certainly than he could of the first matter.

The suit of my Lord of Dunstanwoldeif suit it wasduring these months appeared to advance somewhat.

All orders of surmises were made concerning itthat Mistress Clorinda had privately quarrelled with Sir

John and sent him packing; that he had tired of his love making, as 'twas well known he had done many

times before, and having squandered his possessions and finding himself in open straits, must needs patch up

his fortunes in a hurry with the first heiress whose estate suited him. But 'twas the women who said these

things; the men swore that no man could tire of or desert such spirit and beauty, and that if Sir John Oxon

stayed away 'twas because he had been commanded to do so, it never having been Mistress Clorinda's

intention to do more than play with him awhile, she having been witty against him always for a fop, and

meaning herself to accept no man as a husband who could not give her both rank and wealth.

"We know her," said the old boon companions of her childhood, as they talked of her over their bottles. "She

knew her price and would bargain for it when she was not eight years old, and would give us songs and kisses

but when she was paid for them with sweet things and knickknacks from the toyshops. She will marry no

man who cannot make her at least a countess, and she would take him but because there was not a duke at

In the west wing, which grew more bare and illfurnished as things wore out and time went by, Mistress

Anne waxed thinner and paler. She was so thin in two months' time, that her soft, dull eyes looked twice their

natural size, and seemed to stare piteously at people. One day, indeed, as she sat at work in her sister's room,

Clorinda being there at the time, the beauty, turning and beholding her face suddenly, uttered a violent

"Why look you at me so?" she said. "Your eyes stand out of your head like a newhatched, unfeathered

"I do not know," Anne faltered. "I could not tell you, sister. My eyes seem to stare so because of my thinness.

"II do not know," again Anne faltered. "Naught ails me. I do not know. Forforgive me!"

"Soft little fool," she said, "why should you ask me to forgive you? I might as fairly ask you to forgive ME,

Anne rose from her chair and hurried to her sister's side, sinking upon her knees there to kiss her hand.

"Sister," she said, "one could never dream that you could need pardon. I love you sothat all you do, it

Clorinda drew her fair hands away and clasped them on the top of her head, proudly, as if she crowned

herself thereby, her great and splendid eyes setting themselves upon her sister's face.

"All that I do," she said slowly, and with the steadfast high arrogance of an empress' self"All that I do IS

rightfor me. I make it so by doing it. Do you think that I am conquered by the laws that other women

crouch and whine before, because they dare not break them, though they long to do so? I am my own

It was by this time the first month of the summer, and tonight there was again a birthnight ball, at which

the beauty was to dazzle all eyes; but 'twas of greater import than the one she had graced previously, it being

to celebrate the majority of the heir to an old name and estate, who had been orphaned early, and was highly

connected, counting, indeed, among the members of his family the Duke of Osmonde, who was one of the

richest and most envied nobles in Great Britain, his dukedom being of the oldest, his numerous estates the

most splendid and beautiful, and the long history of his family full of heroic deeds. This nobleman was also a

distant kinsman to the Earl of Dunstanwolde, and at this ball, for the first time for months, Sir John Oxon

He did not arrive on the gay scene until an hour somewhat late. But there was one who had seen him early,

In the rambling, illcared for grounds of Wildairs Hall there was an old rosegarden, which had once been

the pride and pleasure of some lady of the house, though this had been long ago; and now it was but a lonely

wilderness where roses only grew because the dead Lady Wildairs had loved them, and Barbara and Anne

had tended them, and with their own hands planted and pruned during their childhood and young maiden

days. But of late years even they had seemed to have forgotten it, having become discouraged, perchance,

having no gardeners to do the rougher work, and the weeds and brambles so running riot. There were high

hedges and winding paths overgrown and run wild; the stronger rosebushes grew in tangled masses, flinging

forth their rich blooms among the weeds; such as were more delicate, struggling to live among them, became

more frail and scantblossoming season by season; a careless foot would have trodden them beneath it as

their branches grew long and trailed in the grass; but for many months no foot had trodden there at all, and it

In the centre was an ancient broken sundial, which was in these days in the midst of a sort of thicket, where

a bold tangle of the finest red roses clambered, and, defying neglect, flaunted their rich colour in the sun.

And though the place had been so long forgotten, and it was not the custom for it to be visited, about this

garlanded broken sundial the grass was a little trodden, and on the morning of the young heir's coming of

This was no less than Mistress Clorinda herself. She was clad in a morning gown of white, which seemed to

make of her more than ever a tall, transcendent creature, less a woman than a conquering goddess; and she

had piled the dial with scarlet red roses, which she was choosing to weave into a massive wreath or crown,

for some purpose best known to herself. Her head seemed haughtier and more splendidly held on high even

than was its common wont, but upon these roses her lustrous eyes were downcast and were curiously smiling,

as also was her ripe, arching lip, whose scarlet the blossoms vied with but poorly. It was a smile like this,

perhaps, which Mistress Wimpole feared and trembled before, for 'twas not a tender smile nor a melting one.

If she was waiting, she did not wait long, nor, to be sure, would she have long waited if she had been kept by

'Twas not a laggard who came soon, stepping hurriedly with light feet upon the grass, as though he feared the

sound which might be made if he had trodden upon the gravel. It was Sir John Oxon who came towards her

He came and stood before her on the other side of the dial, and made her a bow so low that a quick eye might

have thought 'twas almost mocking. His feather, sweeping the ground, caught a fallen rose, which clung to it.

His beauty, when he stood upright, seemed to defy the very morning's self and all the morning world; but

Mistress Clorinda did not lift her eyes, but kept them upon her roses, and went on weaving.

"Why did you choose to keep the tryst in answer to my message?" he replied to her.

"I wished," she said, "to hear what you would saybut more to SEE you than to hear."

She held up her white hand with a longstemmed rose in itas though a queen should lift a sceptre.

"You choose to bear yourself like a goddess, and disdain me from Olympian heights," he said. "I had the wit

"That you had not," was her clearworded answer. "That is a later thought sprung up since you have seen my

face. 'Twas quickfor youbut not quick enough." And the smile in her eyes was maddening. "You

thought to see a woman crushed and weeping, her beauty bent before you, her locks dishevelled, her

streaming eyes lifted to Heavenand youwith prayers, swearing that not Heaven could help her so much

as your deigning magnanimity. You have seen women do this before, you would have seen ME do itat

your feet crying out that I was lostlost for ever. THAT you expected! 'Tis not here."

Debauched as his youth was, and free from all touch of heart or consciencefor from his earliest boyhood

he had been the pupil of rakes and fashionable villainswell as he thought he knew all women and their

ways, betraying or betrayedthis creature taught him a new thing, a new mood in woman, a new power

"Gods!" he exclaimed, catching his breath, and even falling back apace, "Damnation! you are NOT a

She laughed again, weaving her roses, but not allowing that his eyes should loose themselves from hers.

"But now, you called me a goddess and spoke of Olympian heights," she said; "I am not oneI am a woman

who would show other women how to bear themselves in hours like these. Because I am a woman why

should I kneel, and weep, and rave? What have I lostin losing you? I should have lost the same had I been

twice your wife. What is it women weep and beat their breasts forbecause they love a manbecause they

She had finished the wreath, and held it up in the sun to look at it. What a strange beauty was hers, as she

"Yes," he answered, watching hera flame growing in his eyes and in his soul in his own despite.

"It cannot be too soon," she said. And she turned and faced him, holding the wreath high in her two hands

poised like a crown above her headthe brilliant sun embracing her, her lips curling, her face uplifted as if

she turned to defy the light, the crimson of her cheek. 'Twas as if from foot to brow the woman's whole

person was a flame, rising and burning triumphant high above him. Thus for one second's space she stood,

dazzling his very eyesight with her strange, dauntless splendour; and then she set the great rosewreath upon

"You came to see me," she said, the spark in her eyes growing to the size of a star; "I bid you look at

meand see how grief has faded me these past months, and how I am bowed down by it. Look well that

"Then," she said, her finecut nostril pinching itself with her breath, as she pointed down the path before

That night she appeared at the birthnight ball with the wreath of roses on her head. No other ladies wore

such things, 'twas a fashion of her own; but she wore it in such beauty and with such state that it became a

crown again even as it had been the first moment that she had put it on. All gazed at her as she entered, and a

murmur followed her as she moved with her father up the broad oak staircase which was known through all

the country for its width and massive beauty. In the hall below guests were crowded, and there were indeed

few of them who did not watch her as she mounted by Sir Jeoffry's side. In the upper hall there were guests

also, some walking to and fro, some standing talking, many looking down at the arrivals as they came up.

"'Tis Mistress Wildairs," these murmured as they saw her. "Clorinda, by God!" said one of the older men to

his crony who stood near him. "And crowned with roses! The vixen makes them look as if they were built of

At the top of the great staircase there stood a gentleman, who had indeed paused a moment, spellbound, as he

saw her coming. He was a man of unusual height and of a majestic mien; he wore a fair periwig, which added

to his tallness; his laces and embroiderings were marvels of art and richness, and his breast blazed with

orders. Strangely, she did not seem to see him; but when she reached the landing, and her face was turned so

that he beheld the full blaze of its beauty, 'twas so great a wonder and revelation to him that he gave a start.

The next moment almost, one of the red roses of her crown broke loose from its fastenings and fell at his very

feet. His countenance changed so that it seemed almost, for a second, to lose some of its colour. He stooped

and picked the rose up and held it in his hand. But Mistress Clorinda was looking at my Lord of

Dunstanwolde, who was moving through the crowd to greet her. She gave him a brilliant smile, and from her

After she had made her obeisance to her entertainers, and her birthday greetings to the young heir, he

contrived to draw closely to her side and speak a few words in a tone those near her could not hear.

"Tonight, madam," he said, with melting fervour, "you deign to bring me my answer as you promised."

He led her to an antechamber, where they were sheltered from the gaze of the passersby, though all was

moving gaiety about them. He fell upon his knee and bowed to kiss her fair hand. Despite the sobriety of his

"Be gracious to me, madam," he implored. "I am not young enough to wait. Too many months have been

And while he, poor gentleman, knelt, kissing her hand with adoring humbleness, she, under the splendour of

her crown of roses, gazed down at his greysprinkled head with her great steady shining orbs, as if gazing at

In less than an hour the whole assemblage knew of the event and talked of it. Young men looked daggers at

Dunstanwolde and at each other; and older men wore glum or envious faces. Women told each other 'twas as

they had known it would be, or 'twas a wonder that at last it had come about. Upon the arm of her lord that

As she made her first turn of the ballroom, all eyes upon her, her beauty blazing at its highest, Sir John Oxon

entered and stood at the door. He wore his gallant air, and smiled as ever; and when she drew near him he

'Twas but in the next room her lord led her to a gentleman who stood with a sort of court about him. It was

the tall stranger, with the fair periwig, and the orders glittering on his breastthe one who had started at

sight of her as she had reached the landing of the stairs. He held still in his hand a broken red rose, and when

"My honoured kinsman, his Grace the Duke of Osmonde," said her affianced lord. "Your Graceit is this

And as the deep, tawny brown eye of the man bending before her flashed into her own, for the first time in

her life Mistress Clorinda's lids fell, and as she swept her curtsey of stately obeisance her heart struck like a

In a month she was the Countess of Dunstanwolde, and reigned in her lord's great town house with a retinue

of servants, her powdered lackeys among the tallest, her liveries and equipages the richest the world of

fashion knew. She was presented at the Court, blazing with the Dunstanwolde jewels, and even with others

her bridegroom had bought in his passionate desire to heap upon her the magnificence which became her so

well. From the hour she knelt to kiss the hand of royalty she set the town on fire. It seemed to have been

ordained by Fate that her passage through this world should be always the triumphant passage of a conqueror.

As when a baby she had ruled the servants' hall, the kennel, and the grooms' quarters, later her father and his

boisterous friends, and from her fifteenth birthday the whole hunting shire she lived in, so she held her sway

in the great world, as did no other lady of her rank or any higher. Those of her age seemed but girls yet by her

side, whether married or unmarried, and howsoever trained to modish ways. She was but scarce eighteen at

her marriage, but she was no girl, nor did she look one, glowing as was the early splendour of her bloom. Her

height was far beyond the ordinary for a woman; but her shape so faultless and her carriage so regal, that

though there were men upon whom she was tall enough to look down with ease, the beholder but felt that her

tallness was an added grace and beauty with which all women should have been endowed, and which, as they

were not, caused them to appear but insignificant. What a throat her diamonds blazed on, what shoulders and

bosom her laces framed, on what a brow her coronet sat and glittered. Her lord lived as 'twere upon his knees

in enraptured adoration. Since his first wife's death in his youth, he had dwelt almost entirely in the country at

his house there, which was fine and stately, but had been kept gloomily half closed for a decade. His town

establishment had, in truth, never been opened since his bereavement; and nowan elderly manhe

returned to the gay world he had almost forgotten, with a bride whose youth and beauty set it aflame. What

wonder that his head almost reeled at times and that he lost his breath before the sum of his strange late bliss,

In the days when, while in the country, he had heard such rumours of the lawless days of Sir Jeoffry Wildairs'

daughter, when he had heard of her dauntless boldness, her shrewish temper, and her violent passions, he had

been awed at the thought of what a wife such a woman would make for a gentleman accustomed to a quiet

life, and he had indeed striven hard to restrain the desperate admiration he was forced to admit she had

The effort had, in sooth, been in vain, and he had passed many a sleepless night; and when, as time went on,

he beheld her again and again, and saw with his own eyes, as well as heard from others, of the great change

which seemed to have taken place in her manners and character, he began devoutly to thank Heaven for the

alteration, as for a merciful boon vouchsafed to him. He had been wise enough to know that even a stronger

man than himself could never conquer or rule her; and when she seemed to begin to rule herself and bear

herself as befitted her birth and beauty, he had dared to allow himself to dream of what perchance might be if

In these days of her union with him, he was, indeed, almost humbly amazed at the grace and kindness she

showed him every hour they passed in each other's company. He knew that there were men, younger and

handsomer than himself, who, being wedded to beauties far less triumphant than she, found that their wives

had but little time to spare them from the world, which knelt at their feet, and that in some fashion they

themselves seemed to fall into the background. But 'twas not so with this woman, powerful and worshipped

though she might be. She bore herself with the high dignity of her rank, but rendered to him the gracious

respect and deference due both to his position and his merit. She stood by his side and not before him, and her

smiles and wit were bestowed upon him as generously as to others. If she had once been a vixen, she was

surely so no longer, for he never heard a sharp or harsh word pass her lips, though it is true her manner was

always somewhat imperial, and her lacqueys and waiting women stood in greatest awe of her. There was that

in her presence and in her eye before which all commoner or weaker creatures quailed. The men of the world

who flocked to pay their court to her, and the popinjays who followed them, all knew this look, and a tone in

her rich voice which could cut like a knife when she chose that it should do so. But to my Lord of

"Your ladyship has made of me a happier man than I ever dared to dream of being, even when I was but

thirty," he would say to her, with reverent devotion. "I know not what I have done to deserve this late summer

"When I consented to be your wife," she answered once, "I swore to myself that I would make one for you;"

and she crossed the hearth to where he satshe was attired in all her splendour for a Court ball, and starred

Upon the night before her wedding with him, her sister, Mistress Anne, had stolen to her chamber at a late

hour. When she had knocked upon the door, and had been commanded to enter, she had come in, and closing

the door behind her, had stood leaning against it, looking before her, with her eyes wide with agitation and

All the tapers for which places could be found had been gathered together, and the room was a blaze of light.

In the midst of it, before her mirror, Clorinda stood attired in her bridal splendour of white satin and flowing

rich lace, a diamond crescent on her head, sparks of light flaming from every point of her raiment. When she

caught sight of Anne's reflection in the glass before her, she turned and stood staring at her in wonder.

"Whatnay, what is this?" she cried. "What do you come for? On my soul, you come for somethingor

Anne started forward, trembling, her hands clasped upon her breast, and fell at her feet with sobs.

"Yes, yes," she gasped, "I camefor somethingto speakto pray you ! SisterClorinda, have patience

Something which came nigh to being a shudder passed through Mistress Clorinda's frame; but it was gone in

a second, and she touched Anne though not ungentlywith her foot, withdrawing her robe.

"For what?" Clorinda asked. "For what, I pray you tell me, if you can find your wits. You go beyond my

"This marriage," trembled Mistress Anne, taking her poor hands from her face to wring them. "It should not

"Fool!" quoth Clorinda. "Get up and cease your grovelling. Did you come to tell me it was not too late to

draw back and refuse to be the Countess of Dunstanwolde?" and she laughed bitterly.

Clorinda bent deliberately and laid her strong, jewelled hand on her shoulder with a grasp like a vice. There

was no hurry in her movement or in her air, but by sheer, slow strength she forced her head backward so that

"Look at me," she said. "I would see you well, and be squarely looked at, that my eyes may keep you from

going mad. You have pondered over this marriage until you have a frenzy. Women who live alone are

sometimes so, and your brain was always weak. What is it that you know. Lookin my eyesand tell me."

It seemed as if her gaze stabbed through Anne's eyes to the very centre of her brain. Anne tried to bear it, and

shrunk and withered; she would have fallen upon the floor at her feet a helpless, sobbing heap, but the white

"Find your courageif you have lost itand speak plain words," Clorinda commanded. Anne tried to

"I cannotI dare not!" she gasped. "I am afraid. You are right; my brain is weak, and Ibut thatthat

"The one you fell in love with and stared at through the window," said Clorinda, with her brief laugh again.

"John Oxon! He has victims enough, forsooth, to have spared such an one as you are."

"But he loved you!" cried Anne piteously, "and it must have been that youyou too, sisteroror else"

She choked again with sobs, and Clorinda released her grasp upon her shoulder and stood upright.

"He wants none of menor I of him," she said, with strange sternness. "We have done with one another. Get

She turned from her, and walking back to her dressingtable, stood there steadying the diadem on her hair,

which had loosed a fastening when Anne tried to writhe away from her. Anne half sat, half knelt upon the

Anne staggered to her feet and obeyed her behest. In the glass she could see the resplendent reflection; but

Clorinda did not deign to turn towards her while she addressed her, changing the while the brilliants in her

"Hark you, sister Anne," she said. "I read you better than you think. You are a poor thing, but you love me

andin my fashionI think I love you somewhat too. You think I should not marry a gentleman whom you

fancy I do not love as I might a younger, handsomer man. You are full of love, and spinster dreams of it

which make you flighty. I love my Lord of Dunstanwolde as well as any other man, and better than some, for

I do not hate him. He has a fine estate, and is a gentlemanand worships me. Since I have been promised to

him, I own I have for a moment seen another gentleman who MIGHTbut 'twas but for a moment, and 'tis

done with. 'Twas too late then. If we had met two years agone 'twould not have been so. My Lord

Dunstanwolde gives to me wealth, and rank, and life at Court. I give to him the thing he craves with all his

soul myself. It is an honest bargain, and I shall bear my part of it with honesty. I have no virtueswhere

should I have got them from, forsooth, in a life like mine? I mean I have no women's virtues; but I have one

that is sometimesnot alwaysa man's. 'Tis that I am not a coward and a trickster, and keep my word when

'tis given. You fear that I shall lead my lord a bitter life of it. 'Twill not be so. He shall live smoothly, and not

suffer from me. What he has paid for he shall honestly have. I will not cheat him as weaker women do their

And then, still looking at the glass, she pointed to the doorway through which her sister had come, and in

Through the brilliant, happy year succeeding to his marriage my Lord of Dunstanwolde lived like a man who

"I feel," he said to his lady, "as if 'twere too great rapture to last, and yet what end could come, unless you

ceased to be kind to me; and, in truth, I feel that you are too noble above all other women to change, unless I

Both in the town and in the country, which last place heard many things of his condition and estate through

rumour, he was the man most wondered at and envied of his timeenvied because of his strange happiness;

wondered at because having, when long past youth, borne off this arrogant beauty from all other aspirants she

showed no arrogance to him, and was as perfect a wife as could have been some woman without gifts whom

he had lifted from low estate and endowed with rank and fortune. She seemed both to respect himself and her

position as his lady and spouse. Her manner of reigning in his household was among his many delights the

greatest. It was a great house, and an old one, built long before by a Dunstanwolde whose lavish feasts and

riotous banquets had been the notable feature of his life. It was curiously rambling in its structure. The rooms

of entertainment were large and splendid, the halls and staircases stately; below stairs there was space for an

army of servants to be disposed of; and its network of cellars and wine vaults was so beyond all need that

more than one long arched stone passage was shut up as being without use, and but letting cold, damp air into

corridors leading to the servants' quarters. It was, indeed, my Lady Dunstanwolde who had ordered the

closing of this part when it had been her pleasure to be shown her domain by her housekeeper, the which had

greatly awed and impressed her household as signifying that, exalted lady as she was, her wit was practical as

well as brilliant, and that her eyes being open to her surroundings, she meant not that her lacqueys should rob

her and her scullions filch, thinking that she was so high that she was ignorant of common things and blind.

"You will be well housed and fed and paid your dues," she said to them; "but the first man or woman who

does a task ill or dishonestly will be turned from his place that hour. I deal justicenot mercy."

"Such a mistress they have never had before," said my lord when she related this to him. "Nay, they have

never dreamed of such a lady one who can be at once so severe and so kind. But there is none other such,

She gave him one of her sweet, splendid smiles. It was the sweetness she at rare times gave her splendid

"I would not be too grand a lady to be a good housewife," she said. "I may not order your dinners, my dear

lord, or sweep your corridors, but they shall know I rule your household and would rule it well."

"You are a goddess!" he cried, kneeling to her, enraptured. "And you have given yourself to a poor mortal

Her assemblies were the most brilliant in the town, and the most to be desired entrance to. Wits and beauties

planned and intrigued that they might be bidden to her house; beaux and fine ladies fell into the spleen if she

neglected them. Her lord's kinsman the Duke of Osmonde, who had been present when she first knelt to

Royalty, had scarce removed his eyes from her so long as he could gaze. He went to Dunstanwolde

afterwards and congratulated him with stately courtesy upon his great good fortune and happiness, speaking

almost with fire of her beauty and majesty, and thanking his kinsman that through him such perfections had

been given to their name and house. From that time, at all special assemblies given by his kinsman he was

present, the observed of all observers. He was a man of whom 'twas said that he was the most magnificent

gentleman in Europe; that there was none to compare with him in the combination of gifts given both by

Nature and Fortune. His beauty both of feature and carriage was of the greatest, his mind was of the highest,

and his education far beyond that of the age he lived in. It was not the fashion of the day that men of his rank

should devote themselves to the cultivation of their intellects instead of to a life of pleasure; but this he had

done from his earliest youth, and now, in his perfect though early maturity, he had no equal in polished

knowledge and charm of bearing. He was the patron of literature and art; men of genius were not kept waiting

in his antechamber, but were received by him with courtesy and honour. At the Court 'twas well known

there was no man who stood so near the throne in favour, and that there was no union so exalted that he might

not have made his suit as rather that of a superior than an equal. The Queen both loved and honoured him,

and condescended to avow as much with gracious frankness. She knew no other man, she deigned to say,

who was so worthy of honour and affection, and that he had not married must be because there was no

woman who could meet him on ground that was equal. If there were no scandals about himand there were

none'twas not because he was cold of heart or imagination. No man or woman could look into his deep eye

and not know that when love came to him 'twould be a burning passion, and an evil fate if it went ill instead

"Being past his callow, youthful days, 'tis time he made some woman a duchess," Dunstanwolde said

reflectively once to his wife. "'Twould be more fitting that he should; and it is his way to honour his house in

all things, and bear himself without fault as the head of it. Methinks it strange he makes no move to do it."

"No, 'tis not strange," said my lady, looking under her black fringed lids at the glow of the fire, as though

"There is no mate for him," she answered slowly. "A man like him must mate as well as marry, or he will

break his heart with silent raging at the weakness of the thing he is tied to. He is too strong and splendid for a

common woman. If he married one, 'twould be as if a lion had taken to himself for mate a jackal or a sheep.

Ah!" with a long drawn breath"he would go madmad with misery;" and her hands, which lay upon her

"He should have a goddess, were they not so rare," said Dunstanwolde, gently smiling. "He should hold a

bitter grudge against me, that I, his unworthy kinsman, have been given the only one."

"Yes, he should have a goddess," said my lady slowly again; "and there are but women, naught but women."

"You have marked him well," said her lord, admiring her wisdom. "Methinks that youthough you have

spoken to him but little, and have but of late become his kinswomanhave marked and read him better than

"He is a man to mark, and I have a keen eye." She rose up as she spoke, and stood before the fire, lifted by

some strong feeling to her fullest height, and towering there, splendid in the shadowfor 'twas by twilight

they talked. "He is a Man," she said"he is a Man! Nay, he is as God meant man should be. And if men

were so, there would be women great enough for them to mate with and to give the world men like them."

And but that she stood in the shadow, her lord would have seen the crimson torrent rush up her cheek and

If none other had known of it, there was one man who knew that she had marked him, though she had borne

herself towards him always with her stateliest grace. This man was his Grace the Duke himself. From the

hour that he had stood transfixed as he watched her come up the broad oak stair, from the moment that the

red rose fell from her wreath at his feet, and he had stooped to lift it in his hand, he had seen her as no other

man had seen her, and he had known that had he not come but just too late, she would have been his own.

Each time he had beheld her since that night he had felt this burn more deeply in his soul. He was too high

and fine in all his thoughts to say to himself that in her he saw for the first time the woman who was his peer;

but this was very truthor might have been, if Fate had set her youth elsewhere, and a lady who was noble

and her own mother had trained and guarded her. When he saw her at the Court surrounded, as she ever was,

by a court of her own; when he saw her reigning in her lord's house, receiving and doing gracious honour to

his guests and hers; when she passed him in her coach, drawing every eye by the majesty of her presence, as

she drove through the town, he felt a deep pang, which was all the greater that his honour bade him conquer

it. He had no ignoble thought of her, he would have scorned to sully his soul with any light passion; to him

she was the woman who might have been his beloved wife and duchess, who would have upheld with him the

honour and traditions of his house, whose strength and power and beauty would have been handed down to

his children, who so would have been born endowed with gifts befitting the state to which Heaven had called

them. It was of this he thought when he saw her, and of naught less like to do her honour. And as he had

marked her so, he saw in her eyes, despite her dignity and grace, she had marked him. He did not know how

closely, or that she gave him the attention he could not restrain himself from bestowing upon her. But when

he bowed before her, and she greeted him with all courtesy, he saw in her great, splendid eye that had Fate

willed it so, she would have understood all his thoughts, shared all his ambitions, and aided him to uphold his

high ideals. Nay, he knew she understood him even now, and was stirred by what stirred him also, even

though they met but rarely, and when they encountered each other, spoke but as kinsman and kinswoman

who would show each other all gracious respect and honour. It was because of this pang which struck his

great heart at times that he was not a frequent visitor at my Lord Dunstanwolde's mansion, but appeared there

only at such assemblies as were matters of ceremony, his absence from which would have been a noted thing.

His kinsman was fond of him, and though himself of so much riper age, honoured him greatly. At times he

strove to lure him into visits of greater familiarity; but though his kindness was never met coldly or repulsed,

"My lady must beguile you to be less formal with us," said Dunstanwolde. And later her ladyship spoke as

her husband had privately desired: "My lord would be made greatly happy if your Grace would honour our

house oftener," she said one night, when at the end of a great ball he was bidding her adieu.

Osmonde's deep eye met hers gently and held it. "My Lord Dunstanwolde is always gracious and warm of

heart to his kinsman," he replied. "Do not let him think me discourteous or ungrateful. In truth, your ladyship,

The eyes of each gazed into the other's steadfastly and gravely. The Duke of Osmonde thought of Juno's as he

"Your Grace is not so free as lesser men," Clorinda said. "You cannot come and go as you would."

It having been known by all the world that, despite her beauty and her conquests, Mistress Clorinda Wildairs

had not smiled with great favour upon Sir John Oxon in the country, it was not wondered at or made any

matter of gossip that the Countess of Dunstanwolde was but little familiar with him and saw him but rarely at

Once or twice he had appeared there, it is true, at my Lord Dunstanwolde's instance, but my lady herself

"You never smiled on him, my love," Dunstanwolde said to his wife. "You bore yourself towards him but

cavalierly, as was your ladyship's waywith all but one poor servant," tenderly; "but he was one of the many

who followed in your train, and if these gay young fellows stay away, 'twill be said that I keep them at a

distance because I am afraid of their youth and gallantry. I would not have it fancied that I was so ungrateful

"Nor would I, my lord," she answered. "But he will not come often; I do not love him well enough."

His marriage with the heiress who had wealth in the West Indies was broken off, or rather 'twas said had

come to naught. All the town knew it, and wondered, and talked, because it had been believed at first that the

young lady was much enamoured of him, and that he would soon lead her to the altar, the which his creditors

had greatly rejoiced over as promising them some hope that her fortune would pay their bills of which they

had been in despair. Later, however, gossip said that the heiress had not been so tender as was thought; that,

indeed, she had been found to be in love with another man, and that even had she not, she had heard such

stories of Sir John as promised but little nuptial happiness for any woman that took him to husband.

When my Lord Dunstanwolde brought his bride to town, and she soared at once to splendid triumph and

renown, inflaming every heart, and setting every tongue at work, clamouring her praises, Sir John Oxon saw

her from afar in all the scenes of brilliant fashion she frequented and reigned queen of. 'Twas from afar, it

might be said, he saw her only, though he was often near her, because she bore herself as if she did not

observe him, or as though he were a thing which did not exist. The first time that she deigned to address him

was upon an occasion when she found herself standing so near him at an assembly that in the crowd she

brushed him with her robe. His blue eyes were fixed burningly upon her, and as she brushed him he drew in a

hard breath, which she hearing, turned slowly and let her own eyes fall upon his face.

"No, I did not marry," he answered, in a low, bitter voice. "'Twas your ladyship who did that."

"I should not have been like to do otherwise," she said; "'tis an honourable condition. I would advise you to

When the earl and his countess went to their house in the country, there fell to Mistress Anne a great and

curious piece of good fortune. In her wildest dreams she had never dared to hope that such a thing might be.

My Lady Dunstanwolde, on her first visit home, bore her sister back with her to the manor, and there

established her. She gave her a suite of rooms and a waiting woman of her own, and even provided her with a

suitable wardrobe. This last she had chosen herself with a taste and fitness which only such wit as her own

"They are not great rooms I give thee, Anne," she said, "but quiet and small ones, which you can make

homelike in such ways as I know your taste lies. My lord has aided me to choose romances for your shelves,

he knowing more of books than I do. And I shall not dress thee out like a peacock with gay colours and great

farthingales. They would frighten thee, poor woman, and be a burden with their weight. I have chosen such

things as are not too splendid, but will suit thy pale face and shot partridge eyes."

Anne stood in the middle of her room and looked about at its comforts, wondering.

"Sister," she said, "why are you so good to me? What have I done to serve you? Why is it Anne instead of

"Perchance because I am a vain woman and would be worshipped as you worship me."

"Ay, by men!" said Clorinda, mocking; "but not by women. And it may be that my pride is so high that I

must be worshipped by a woman too. You would always love me, sister Anne. If you saw me break the

lawif you saw me stab the man I hated to the heart, you would think it must be pardoned to me."

She laughed, and yet her voice was such that Anne lost her breath and caught at it again.

"Ay, I should love you, sister!" she cried. "Even then I could not but love you. I should know you could not

strike so an innocent creature, and that to be so hated he must have been worthy of hate. Youare not like

other women, sister Clorinda; but you could not be basefor you have a great heart."

Clorinda put her hand to her side and laughed again, but with less mocking in her laughter.

"What do you know of my heart, Anne?" she said. "Till late I did not know it beat, myself. My lord says 'tis a

great one and noble, but I know 'tis his own that is so. Have I done honestly by him, Anne, as I told you I

would? Have I been fair in my bargainas fair as an honest man, and not a puling, slippery woman."

"You have been a great lady," Anne answered, her great dull, soft eyes filling with slow tears as she gazed at

her. "He says that you have given to him a year of Heaven, and that you seem to him like some

"'Tis as I said'tis his heart that is noble," said Clorinda. "But I vowed it should be so. He paidhe paid!"

The country saw her lord's happiness as the town had done, and wondered at it no less. The manor was

thrown open, and guests came down from town; great dinners and balls being given, at which all the country

saw the mistress reign at her consort's side with such a grace as no lady ever had worn before. Sir Jeoffry,

appearing at these assemblies, was so amazed that he forgot to muddle himself with drink, in gazing at his

"Look at her!" he said to his old boon companions and hers, who were as much awed as he. "Lord! who

would think she was the strapping, handsome shrew that swore, and sang men's songs to us, and rode to the

He was awed at the thought of paying fatherly visits to her house, and would have kept away, but that she

"I am countrybred, and have not the manners of your town men, my lady," he said to her, as he sat with her

alone on one of the first mornings he spent with her in her private apartment. "I am used to rap out an oath or

an illmannered word when it comes to me. Dunstanwolde has weaned you of hearing such thingsand I am

"Wouldst have thought I was too old to change," answered she, "but I was not. Did I not tell thee I would be a

"Thou hadst it, Clo," said Sir Jeoffry, gazing at her with a sort of slow wonder. "Thou hadst it. If thou hadst

not !" He paused, and shook his head, and there was a rough emotion in his coarse face. "I was not the man

to have made aught but a baggage of thee, Clo. I taught thee naught decent, and thou never heard or saw

aught to teach thee. Damn me!" almost with moisture in his eyes, "if I know what kept thee from going to

"Nor I," quoth she, in answer. "Nor Ibut here thou seest me, Dad an earl's lady, sitting before thee."

"'Twas thy wit," said he, still moved, and fairly maudlin. "'Twas thy wit and thy devil's will!"

She rode to the hunt with him as she had been wont to do, but she wore the latest fashion in hunting habit and

coat; and though 'twould not have been possible for her to sit her horse better than of old, or to take hedges

and ditches with greater daring and spirit, yet in some way every man who rode with her felt that 'twas a great

lady who led the field. The horse she rode was a fierce, beauteous devil of a beast which Sir Jeoffry himself

would scarce have mounted even in his younger days; but she carried her loaded whip, and she sat upon the

My Lord Dunstanwolde did not hunt this season. He had never been greatly fond of the sport, and at this time

was a little ailing, but he would not let his lady give up her pleasure because he could not join it.

"Nay," he said, "'tis not for the queen of the huntingfield to stay at home to nurse an old man's aches. My

pride would not let it be so. Your father will attend you. Goand lead them all, my dear."

In the field appeared Sir John Oxon, who for a brief visit was at Eldershawe. He rode close to my lady,

though she had naught to say to him after her first greetings of civility. He looked not as fresh and glowing

with youth as had been his wont only a year ago. His reckless wildness of life and his town debaucheries had

at last touched his bloom, perhaps. He had a haggard look at moments when his countenance was not lighted

by excitement. 'Twas whispered that he was deep enough in debt to be greatly straitened, and that his

marriage having come to naught his creditors were besetting him without mercy. This and more than this, no

one knew so well as my Lady Dunstanwolde; but of a certainty she had little pity for his evil case, if one

might judge by her face, when in the course of the running he took a hedge behind her, and pressing his

She could have left him and not answered, but she chose to restrain the pace of her wild beast for a moment

"This morning," she said, "I found a letter in a casket in my closet. I do not know the mad villain who wrote

"The letter lies in ashes on the hearth," she said. "'Twas burned unopened. Do not ride so close, Sir John, and

"'The wife!'" he answered. "'My lord!' 'Tis a new game this, and well played, by God!"

"Quite new," she answered him"quite new. And could I not have played it well and fairly, I would not

have touched the cards. Keep your horse off, Sir John. Mine is restive, and likes not another beast near him;"

The next day, being in her room, Anne saw her come from her dressingtable with a sealed letter in her hand.

"Anne," she said, "I am going to rate my woman and turn her from my service. I shall not beat or swear at her

as I was wont to do with my women in time past. You will be afraid, perhaps; but you must stay with me."

She was standing by the fire with the letter held almost at arm's length in her fingertips, when the woman

entered, who, seeing her face, turned pale, and casting her eyes upon the letter, paler still, and began to shake.

"You have attended mistresses of other ways than mine," her lady said in her slow, clear voice, which seemed

to cut as knives do. "Some fool and madman has bribed you to serve him. You cannot serve me also. Come

hither and put this in the fire. If 'twere to be done I would make you hold it in the live coals with your hand."

The woman came shuddering, looking as if she thought she might be struck dead. She took the letter and

kneeled, ashen pale, to burn it. When 'twas done, her mistress pointed to the door.

"Go and gather your goods and chattels together, and leave within this hour," she said. "I will be my own

When she was gone, Anne sat gazing at the ashes on the hearth. She was pale also.

"Yes," answered my lady. "'Tis a man who loved me, a cur and a knave. He thought for an hour he was cured

of his passion. I could have told him 'twould spring up and burn more fierce than ever when he saw another

man possess me. 'Tis so with knaves and curs; and 'tis so with him. He hath gone mad again."

"He was ever base," she said"as he was at first, so he is now. 'Tis thy favourite, Anne," lightly, and she

delicately spurned the blackened tinder with her foot"thy favourite, John Oxon."

"Oh, my lady!" she cried, not feeling that she could say "sister," "if he be base, and ever was so, pity him,

For she had loved him madly, all unknowing her own passion, not presuming even to look up in his beautiful

face, thinking of him only as the slave of her sister, and in dead secrecy knowing strange thingsstrange

things! And when she had seen the letter she had known the handwriting, and the beating of her simple heart

When Dunstanwolde and his lady went back to their house in town, Mistress Anne went with them. Clorinda

willed that it should be so. She made her there as peaceful and retired a nest of her own as she had given to

her at Dunstanwolde. By strange good fortune Barbara had been wedded to a plain gentleman, who, being a

widower with children, needed a helpmeet in his modest household, and through a distant relationship to

Mistress Wimpole, encountered her charge, and saw in her meekness of spirit the thing which might fall into

the supplying of his needs. A beauty or a fine lady would not have suited him; he wanted but a housewife and

a mother for his orphaned children, and this, a young woman who had lived straitly, and been forced to many

contrivances for mere decency of apparel and ordinary comfort, might be trained to become.

So it fell that Mistress Anne could go to London without pangs of conscience at leaving her sister in the

country and alone. The stateliness of the town mansion, my Lady Dunstanwolde's retinue of lacqueys and

servingwomen, her little black page, who waited on her and took her pug dogs to walk, her wardrobe, and

jewels, and equipages, were each and all marvels to her, but seemed to her mind so far befitting that she

remembered, wondering, the days when she had darned the tattered tapestry in her chamber, and changed the

ribbands and fashions of her gowns. Being now attired fittingly, though soberly as became her, she was not in

these daysat least, as far as outward seeming wentan awkward blot upon the scene when she appeared

among her sister's company; but at heart she was as timid and shrinking as ever, and never mingled with the

guests in the great rooms when she could avoid so doing. Once or twice she went forth with Clorinda in her

coach and six, and saw the glittering world, while she drew back into her corner of the equipage and gazed

"'Twas grand and like a beautiful show!" she said, when she came home the first time. "But do not take me

But though she kept as much apart from the great World of Fashion as she could, she contrived to know of all

her sister's triumphs; to see her when she went forth in her bravery, though 'twere but to drive in the Mall; to

be in her closet with her on great nights when her tirewomen were decking her in brocades and jewels, that

she might show her highest beauty at some assembly or ball of State. And at all these times, as also at all

others, she knew that she but shared her own love and dazzled admiration with my Lord Dunstanwolde,

whose tenderness, being so fed by his lady's unfailing graciousness of bearing and kindly looks and words,

They held one night a splendid assembly at which a member of the Royal House was present. That night

"SometimesI do not command it alwaysbut sometimes you must show yourself to our guests. My lord

will not be pleased else. He says it is not fitting that his wife's sister should remain unseen as if we hid her

away through ungraciousness. Your woman will prepare for you all things needful. I myself will see that your

dress becomes you. I have commanded it already, and given much thought to its shape and colour. I would

have you very comely, Anne." And she kissed her lightly on her cheekalmost as gently as she sometimes

kissed her lord's grey hair. In truth, though she was still a proud lady and stately in her ways, there had come

On the day on which the assembly was held, Mistress Anne's woman brought to her a beautiful robe. 'Twas

flowered satin of the sheen and softness of a dove's breast, and the lace adorning it was like a spider's web for

gossamer fineness. The robe was sweetly fashioned, fitting her shape wondrously; and when she was attired

in it at night a little colour came into her cheeks to see herself so far beyond all comeliness she had ever

known before. When she found herself in the midst of the dazzling scene in the rooms of entertainment, she

was glad when at last she could feel herself lost among the crowd of guests. Her only pleasure in such scenes

was to withdraw to some hidden corner and look on as at a pageant or a play. Tonight she placed herself in

the shadow of a screen, from which retreat she could see Clorinda and Dunstanwolde as they received their

guests. Thus she found enjoyment enough; for, in truth, her love and almost abject passion of adoration for

her sister had grown as his lordship's had, with every hour. For a season there had rested upon her a black

shadow beneath which she wept and trembled, bewildered and lost; though even at its darkest the object of

her humble love had been a star whose brightness was not dimmed, because it could not be so whatsoever

passed before it. This cloud, however, being it seemed dispelled, the star had shone but more brilliant in its

high place, and she the more passionately worshipped it. To sit apart and see her idol's radiance, to mark her

as she reigned and seemed the more royal when she bent the knee to royalty itself, to see the shimmer of her

jewels crowning her midnight hair and crashing the warm whiteness of her noble neck, to observe the

admiration in all eyes as they dwelt upon herthis was, indeed, enough of happiness.

"She is, as ever," she murmured, "not so much a woman as a proud lovely goddess who has deigned to

descend to earth. But my lord does not look like himself. He seems shrunk in the face and old, and his eyes

have rings about them. I like not that. He is so kind a gentleman and so happy that his body should not fail

him. I have marked that he has looked colourless for days, and Clorinda questioned him kindly on it, but he

'Twas but a little later than she had thought this, that she remarked a gentleman step aside and stand quite

near without observing her. Feeling that she had no testimony to her fancifulness, she found herself thinking

in a vague fashion that he, too, had come there because he chose to be unobserved. 'Twould not have been so

easy for him to retire as it had been for her smallness and insignificance to do so; and, indeed, she did not

fancy that he meant to conceal himself, but merely to stand for a quiet moment a little apart from the crowd.

And as she looked up at him, wondering why this should be, she saw he was the noblest and most stately

She had never seen him before; he must either be a stranger or a rare visitor. As Clorinda was beyond a

He carried himself as kingly as she did nobly; he had a countenance of strong, manly beauty, and a deep

tawny eye, thickfringed and full of fire; orders glittered upon his breast, and he wore a fair periwig, which

became him wondrously, and seemed to make his eye more deep and burning by its contrast.

Beside his strength and majesty of bearing the stripling beauty of John Oxon would have seemed slight and

Mistress Anne looked at him with an admiration somewhat like reverence, and as she did so a sudden thought

rose to her mind, and even as it rose, she marked what his gaze rested on, and how it dwelt upon it, and knew

that he had stepped apart to stand and gaze as she didonly with a man's hid fervourat her sister's self.

'Twas as if suddenly a strange secret had been told her. She read it in his face, because he thought himself

unobserved, and for a space had cast his mask aside. He stood and gazed as a man who, starving at soul, fed

himself through his eyes, having no hope of other sustenance, or as a man weary with long carrying of a

burden, for a space laid it down for rest and to gather power to go on. She heard him draw a deep sigh almost

stifled in its birth, and there was that in his face which she felt it was unseemly that a stranger like herself

She gently rose from her corner, wondering if she could retire from her retreat without attracting his

observation; but as she did so, chance caused him to withdraw himself a little farther within the shadow of the

Then his face changed; the mask of noble calmness, for a moment fallen, resumed itself, and he bowed before

her with the reverence of a courtly gentleman, undisturbed by the unexpectedness of his recognition of her

"Madam," he said, "pardon my unconsciousness that you were near me. You would pass?" And he made way

"Sir," she answered, "I but retired here for a moment's rest from the throng and gaiety, to which I am

"Your sister, madam?" he said, as if the questioning echo were almost involuntary, and he bowed again in

"My Lady Dunstanwolde," she replied. "I take such pleasure in her loveliness and in all that pertains to her, it

Whatsoever the thing was in her loving mood which touched him and found echo in his own, he was so far

moved that he answered to her with something less of ceremoniousness; remembering also, in truth, that she

"It is then Mistress Anne Wildairs I am honoured by having speech with," he said. "My Lady Dunstanwolde

has spoken of you in my presence. I am my lord's kinsman the Duke of Osmonde;" again bowing, and Anne

Despite his greatness, she felt a kindness and grace in him which was not condescension, and which almost

dispelled the timidity which, being part of her nature, so unduly beset her at all times when she addressed or

was addressed by a stranger. John Oxon, bowing his bright curls, and seeming ever to mock with his smiles,

had caused her to be overcome with shy awkwardness and blushes; but this man, who seemed as far above

him in person and rank and mind as a god is above a graceful painted puppet, even appeared to give of his

own noble strength to her poor weakness. He bore himself towards her with a courtly respect such as no

human being had ever shown to her before. He besought her again to be seated in her nook, and stood before

her conversing with such delicate sympathy with her mood as seemed to raise her to the pedestal on which

stood less humble women. All those who passed before them he knew and could speak easily of. The high

deeds of those who were statesmen, or men honoured at Court or in the field, he was familiar with; and of

those who were beauties or notable gentlewomen he had always something courtly to say.

Her own worship of her sister she knew full well he understood, though he spoke of her but little.

"Well may you gaze at her," he said. "So does all the world, and honours and adores."

He proffered her at last his arm, and she, having strangely taken courage, let him lead her through the rooms

and persuade her to some refreshment. Seeing her so wondrously emerge from her chrysalis, and under the

protection of so distinguished a companion, all looked at her as she passed with curious amazement, and

indeed Mistress Anne was all but overpowered by the reverence shown them as they made their way.

As they came again into the apartment wherein the host and hostess received their guests, Anne felt her escort

pause, and looked up at him to see the meaning of his sudden hesitation. He was gazing intently, not at

"Madam," he said, "pardon me that I seem to detain you, butbut I look at my kinsman. Madam," with a

sudden fear in his voice, "he is ailinghe sways as he stands. Let us go to him. Quickly! He falls!"

And, in sooth, at that very moment there arose a dismayed cry from the guests about them, and there was a

surging movement; and as they pressed forward themselves through the throng, Anne saw Dunstanwolde no

more above the people, for he had indeed fallen and lay out stretched and deathly on the floor.

'Twas but a few seconds before she and Osmonde were close enough to him to mark his fallen face and

But 'twas his wife who knelt beside his prostrate body, waving all else aside with a great majestic gesture of

But he did not answer, or even stir, though she bent close to him and thrust her hand within his breast. And

then the frightened guests beheld a strange but beautiful and loving thing, such as might have moved any

heart to tenderness and wonder. This great beauty, this worshipped creature, put her arms beneath and about

the helpless, awful bodyfor so its pallor and stillness indeed made itand lifted it in their powerful

whiteness as if it had been the body of a child, and so bore it to a couch near and laid it down, kneeling beside

Anne and Osmonde were beside her. Osmonde pale himself, but gently calm and strong. He had despatched

"My lady," he said, bending over her, "permit me to approach. I have some knowledge of these seizures.

He knelt also and took the moveless hand, feeling the pulse; he, too, thrust his hand within the breast and held

"My dear lord," her ladyship was saying, as if to the prostrate man's ear alone, knowing that her tender voice

Osmonde held his hand steadily over the heart. The guests shrunk back, stricken with terror.

Osmonde slowly withdrew his hand, and turning to the kneeling woman with a pallor like that of marble,

"My lady," he said, "you are a brave woman. Your great courage must sustain you. The heart beats no more.

The guests heard, and drew still farther back, a woman or two faintly whimpering; a hurrying lacquey parted

Anne put her shaking hands up to cover her gaze. Osmonde stood still, looking down. My Lady

Dunstanwolde knelt by the couch and hid her beautiful face upon the dead man's breast.

CHAPTER XIIWhich treats of the obsequies of my Lord of Dunstanwolde, of his lady's widowhood,

All that remained of my Lord Dunstanwolde was borne back to his ancestral home, and there laid to rest in

the ancient tomb in which his fathers slept. Many came from town to pay him respect, and the Duke of

Osmonde was, as was but fitting, among them. The countess kept her own apartments, and none but her

The night before the final ceremonies she spent sitting by her lord's coffin, and to Anne it seemed that her

mood was a stranger one, than ever woman had before been ruled by. She did not weep or moan, and only

once kneeled down. In her sweeping black robes she seemed more a majestic creature than she had ever been,

and her beauty more that of a statue than of a mortal woman. She sent away all other watchers, keeping only

her sister with her, and Anne observed in her a strange protecting gentleness when she spoke of the dead man.

"I do not know whether dead men can feel and hear," she said. "Sometimes there has come into my

mindand made me shudderthe thought that, though they lie so still, mayhap they know what we do

and how they are spoken of as nothings whom live men and women but wait a moment to thrust away, that

their own living may go on again in its accustomed way, or perchance more merrily. If my lord knows aught,

he will be grateful that I watch by him tonight in this solemn room. He was ever grateful, and moved by any

'Twas as she said, the room was solemn, and this almost to awfulness. It was a huge cold chamber at best, and

draped with black, and hung with hatchments; a silent gloom filled it which made it like a tomb. Tall

waxcandles burned in it dimly, but adding to its solemn shadows with their faint light; and in his rich coffin

the dead man lay in his shroud, his hands like carvings of yellowed ivory clasped upon his breast.

Mistress Anne dared not have entered the place alone, and was so overcome at sight of the pinched nostrils

and sunk eyes that she turned cold with fear. But Clorinda seemed to feel no dread or shrinking. She went and

stood beside the great funeraldraped bed of state on which the coffin lay, and thus standing, looked down

with a grave, protecting pity in her face. Then she stooped and kissed the dead man long upon the brow.

"I will sit by you tonight," she said. "That which lies here will be alone tomorrow. I will not leave you this

She sat down beside him and laid her strong warm hand upon his cold waxen ones, closing it over them as if

she would give them heat. Anne knelt and prayedthat all might be forgiven, that sins might be blotted out,

that this kind poor soul might find love and peace in the kingdom of Heaven, and might not learn there what

might make bitter the memory of his last year of rapture and love. She was so simple that she forgot that no

knowledge of the past could embitter aught when a soul looked back from Paradise.

Throughout the watches of the night her sister sat and held the dead man's hand; she saw her more than once

smooth his grey hair almost as a mother might have touched a sick sleeping child's; again she kissed his

forehead, speaking to him gently, as if to tell him he need not fear, for she was close at hand; just once she

knelt, and Anne wondered if she prayed, and in what manner, knowing that prayer was not her habit.

'Twas just before dawn she knelt so, and when she rose and stood beside him, looking down again, she drew

"Anne," she said, as she untied the ribband that bound it, "when first I was his wife I found him one day at his

desk looking at these things as they lay upon his hand. He thought at first it would offend me to find him so;

but I told him that I was gentler than he thoughtthough not so gentle as the poor innocent girl who died in

giving him his child. 'Twas her picture he was gazing at, and a little ring and two locks of hairone a brown

ringlet from her head, and onesuch a tiny wisp of downfrom the head of her infant. I told him to keep

them always and look at them often, remembering how innocent she had been, and that she had died for him.

There were tears on my hand when he kissed it in thanking me. He kept the little package in his desk, and I

The miniature was of a sweetfaced girl with large loving childish eyes, and cheeks that blushed like the

"There is no marrying or giving in marriage, 'tis said," quoth she; "but were there, 'tis you who were his

wifenot I. I was but a lighter thing, though I bore his name and he honoured me. When you and your child

She held the miniature and the soft hair to his cold lips a moment, and Anne saw with wonder that her own

mouth worked. She slipped the ring on his least finger, and hid the picture and the ringlets within the palms

"He was a good man," she said; "he was the first good man that I had ever known." And she held out her

hand to Anne and drew her from the room with her, and two crystal tears fell upon the bosom of her black

When the funeral obsequies were over, the next of kin who was heir came to take possession of the estate

which had fallen to him, and the widow retired to her father's house for seclusion from the world. The town

house had been left to her by her deceased lord, but she did not wish to return to it until the period of her

mourning was over and she laid aside her weeds. The income the earl had been able to bestow upon her made

her a rich woman, and when she chose to appear again in the world it would be with the power to mingle with

During her stay at her father's house she did much to make it a more suitable abode for her, ordering down

from London furnishings and workmen to set her own apartments and Anne's in order. But she would not

occupy the rooms she had lived in heretofore. For some reason it seemed to be her whim to have begun to

have an enmity for them. The first day she entered them with Anne she stopped upon the threshold.

"I will not stay here," she said. "I never loved the roomsand now I hate them. It seems to me it was another

woman who lived in them in another world. 'Tis so long ago that 'tis ghostly. Make ready the old red

chambers for me," to her woman; "I will live there. They have been long closed, and are wormeaten and

mouldy perchance; but a great fire will warm them. And I will have furnishings from London to make them

The next day it seemed for a brief space as if she would have changed even from the red chambers.

"I did not know," she said, turning with a sudden movement from a side window, "that one might see the old

rose garden from here. I would not have taken the room had I guessed it. It is too dreary a wilderness, with its

"You cannot see the dial from here," said Anne, coming towards her with a strange paleness and haste. "One

"Nay," said Clorinda; "'tis not near enough, and the hedges are too high; but one knows 'tis there, and 'tis

"Let us draw the curtains and not look, and forget it," said poor Anne. And she drew the draperies with a

My lady wore her mourning for more than a year, and in her sombre trailing weeds was a wonder to behold.

She lived in her father's house, and saw no company, but sat or walked and drove with her sister Anne, and

visited the poor. The perfect stateliness of her decorum was more talked about than any levity would have

been; those who were wont to gossip expecting that having made her fine match and been so soon rid of her

lord, she would begin to show her strange wild breeding again, and indulge in fantastical whims. That she

should wear her mourning with unflinching dignity and withdraw from the world as strictly as if she had been

a lady of royal blood mourning her prince, was the unexpected thing, and so was talked of everywhere.

At the end of the eighteenth month she sent one day for Anne, who, coming at her bidding, found her

standing in her chamber surrounded by black robes and draperies piled upon the bed, and chairs, and floor,

their sombreness darkening the room like a cloud; but she stood in their midst in a trailing garment of pure

white, and in her bosom was a bright red rose tied with a knot of scarlet ribband, whose ends fell floating.

Her woman was upon her knees before a coffer in which she was laying the weeds as she folded them.

Mistress Anne paused within the doorway, her eyes dazzled by the tall radiant shape and blot of scarlet colour

as if by the shining of the sun. She knew in that moment that all was changed, and that the world of darkness

they had been living in for the past months was swept from existence. When her sister had worn her

mourning weeds she had seemed somehow almost pale; but now she stood in the sunlight with the rich scarlet

"Come in, sister Anne," she said. "I lay aside my weeds, and my woman is folding them away for me. Dost

know of any poor creature newly left a widow whom some of them would be a help to? 'Tis a pity that so

much sombreness should lie in chests when there are perhaps poor souls to whom it would be a godsend."

Before the day was over, there was not a shred of black stuff left in sight; such as had not been sent out of the

house to be distributed, being packed away in coffers in the garrets under the leads.

"You will wear it no more, sister?" Anne asked once. "You will wear gay coloursas if it had never been?"

"It IS as if it had never been," Clorinda answered. "Ere now her lord is happy with her, and he is so happy

that I am forgot. I had a fancy thatperhaps at firstwell, if he had looked down on

earthrememberinghe would have seen I was faithful in my honouring of him. But now, I am sure"

She stopped with a half laugh. "'Twas but a fancy," she said. "Perchance he has known naught since that night

he fell at my feet and even so, poor gentleman, he hath a happy fate. Yes, I will wear gay colours,"

flinging up her arms as if she dropped fetters, and stretched her beauteous limbs for ease"gay

The next day there came a chest from London, packed close with splendid raiment; when she drove out again

in her chariot her servants' sadcoloured liveries had been laid by, and she was attired in rich hues, amidst

Her house in town was thrown open again, and set in order for her coming. She made her journey back in

state, Mistress Anne accompanying her in her travellingcoach. As she passed over the highroad with her

equipage and her retinue, or spent the night for rest at the best inns in the towns and villages, all seemed to

"'Tis the young widow of the Earl of Dunstanwolde," people said to each other"she that is the great beauty,

and of such a wit and spirit that she is scarce like a mere young lady. 'Twas said she wed him for his rank; but

afterwards 'twas known she made him a happy gentleman, though she gave him no heir. She wore weeds for

Mistress Anne felt as if she were attending some royal lady's progress, people so gazed at them and nudged

"You do not mind that all eyes rest on you," she said to her sister; "you are accustomed to be gazed at."

"I have been gazed at all my life," my lady answered; "I scarce take note of it."

On their arrival at home they met with fitting welcome and reverence. The doors of the town house were

thrown open wide, and in the hall the servants stood in line, the housekeeper at the head with her keys at her

girdle, the little jetblack negro page grinning beneath his turban with joy to see his lady again, he

worshipping her as a sort of fetich, after the manner of his race. 'Twas his duty to take heed to the pet dogs,

and he stood holding by their little silver chains a smartfaced pug and a pretty spaniel. His lady stopped a

moment to pat them and to speak to him a word of praise of their condition; and being so favoured, he spoke

"Yesterday, ladyship, when I took them out," he said, "a gentleman marked them, knowing whose they were.

He asked me when my lady came again to town, and I answered him today. 'Twas the fair gentleman in his

Her ladyship left caressing her spaniel and stood upright. Little Nero was frightened, fearing she was

"Thy favourite again, Anne," she said. "He means to haunt me, now we are alone. 'Tis thee he comes after."

The town and the World of Fashion greeted her on her return with open arms. Those who looked on when she

bent the knee to kiss the hand of Royalty at the next drawingroom, whispered among themselves that

bereavement had not dimmed her charms, which were even more radiant than they had been at her

presentation on her marriage, and that the mind of no man or woman could dwell on aught as mournful as

widowhood in connection with her, or, indeed, could think of anything but her brilliant beauty. 'Twas as if

from this time she was launched into a new life. Being rich, of high rank, and no longer an unmarried woman,

her position had a dignity and freedom which there was no creature but might have envied. As the wife of

Dunstanwolde she had been the fashion, and adored by all who dared adore her; but as his widow she was

surrounded and besieged. A fortune, a toast, a wit, and a beauty, she combined all the things either man or

woman could desire to attach themselves to the train of; and had her air been less regal, and her wit less keen

of edge, she would have been so beset by flatterers and toadies that life would have been burdensome. But

this she would not have, and was swift enough to detect the man whose debts drove him to the expedient of

daring to privately think of the usefulness of her fortune, or the woman who manoeuvred to gain reputation or

"They would be about me like vultures if I were weak fool enough to let them," she said to Anne. "They

cringe and grovel like spaniels, and flatter till 'tis like to make one sick. 'Tis always so with toadies; they have

not the wit to see that their flattery is an insolence, since it supposes adulation so rare that one may be moved

by it. The men with empty pockets would marry me, forsooth, and the women be dragged into company

clinging to my petticoats. But they are learning. I do not shrink from giving them sharp lessons."

This she did without mercy, and in time cleared herself of hangers on, so that her banquets and assemblies

were the most distinguished of the time, and the men who paid their court to her were of such place and

Among the earliest to wait upon her was his Grace of Osmonde, who found her one day alone, save for the

presence of Mistress Anne, whom she kept often with her. When the lacquey announced him, Anne, who sat

upon the same seat with her, felt her slightly start, and looking up, saw in her countenance a thing she had

never beheld before, nor had indeed ever dreamed of beholding. It was a strange, sweet crimson which

flowed over her face, and seemed to give a wondrous deepness to her lovely orbs. She rose as a queen might

have risen had a king come to her, but never had there been such pulsing softness in her look before. 'Twas in

some curious fashion like the look of a girl; and, in sooth, she was but a girl in years, but so different to all

others of her age, and had lived so singular a life, that no one ever thought of her but as a woman, or would

have deemed it aught but folly to credit her with any tender emotion or blushing warmth girlhood might be

His Grace was as courtly of bearing as he had ever been. He stayed not long, and during his visit conversed

but on such subjects as a kinsman may graciously touch upon; but Anne noted in him a new look also, though

she could scarce have told what it might be. She thought that he looked happier, and her fancy was that some

Before he went away he bent low and long over Clorinda's hand, pressing his lips to it with a tenderness

which strove not to conceal itself. And the hand was not withdrawn, her ladyship standing in sweet yielding,

the tender crimson trembling on her cheek. Anne herself trembled, watching her new, strange loveliness with

a sense of fascination; she could scarce withdraw her eyes, it seemed so as if the woman had been reborn.

"Your Grace will come to us again," my lady said, in a soft voice. "We are two lonely women," with her

His eyes dwelt deep in hers as he answered, and there was a flush upon his own cheek, man and warrior

"If I might come as often as I would," he said, "I should be at your door, perhaps, with too great frequency."

"Nay, your Grace," she answered. "Come as often as WE wouldand see who wearies first. 'Twill not be

He kissed her hand again, and this time 'twas passionately, and when he left her presence it was with a look

For a few moments' space she stood where he had parted from her, looking as though listening to the sound

of his step, as if she would not lose a footfall; then she went to the window, and stood among the flowers

there, looking down into the street, and Anne saw that she watched his equipage.

'Twas early summer, and the sunshine flooded her from head to foot; the window and balcony were full of

flowersyellow jonquils and daffodils, white narcissus, and all things fragrant of the spring. The scent of

them floated about her like an incense, and a straying zephyr blew great puffs of their sweetness back into the

room. Anne felt it all about her, and remembered it until she was an aged woman.

"'Tis the Spring that comes," she murmured breathlessly. "Never hath it come to me before."

Even as she said the words, at the very moment of her speaking, Fatea strange Fate indeedbrought to

her yet another visitor. The door was thrown open wide, and in he came, a lacquey crying aloud his name.

Those of the World of Fashion who were wont to gossip, had bestowed upon them a fruitful subject for

discussion over their teatables, in the future of the widowed Lady Dunstanwolde. All the men being

enamoured of her, 'twas not likely that she would long remain unmarried, her period of mourning being over;

and, accordingly, forthwith there was every day chosen for her a new husband by those who concerned

themselves in her affairs, and they were many. One week 'twas a great general she was said to smile on;

again, a great beau and female conqueror, it being argued that, having made her first marriage for rank and

wealth, and being a passionate and fantastic beauty, she would this time allow herself to be ruled by her

caprice, and wed for love; again, a certain marquis was named, and after him a young earl renowned for both

beauty and wealth; but though each and all of those selected were known to have laid themselves at her feet,

There were two men, however, who were more spoken of than all the rest, and whose court awakened a more

lively interest; indeed, 'twas an interest which was lively enough at times to become almost a matter of

contention, for those who upheld the cause of the one man would not hear of the success of the other, the

claims of each being considered of such different nature. These two men were the Duke of Osmonde and Sir

John Oxon. 'Twas the soberer and more dignified who were sure his Grace had but to proffer his suit to gain

"But being a man of such noble mind, it may be that he would leave her to her freedom yet a few months,

because, despite her stateliness, she is but young, and 'twould be like his honourableness to wish that she

should see many men while she is free to choose, as she has never been before. For these days she is not a

The less serious, or less worldly, especially the sentimental spinsters and matrons and romantic young, who

had heard and enjoyed the rumours of Mistress Clorinda Wildairs' strange early days, were prone to build

"Sir John Oxon was her first love," they said. "He went to her father's house a beautiful young man in his

earliest bloom, and she had never encountered such an one before, having only known country dolts and her

father's friends. 'Twas said they loved each other, but were both passionate and proud, and quarrelled bitterly.

Sir John went to France to strive to forget her in gay living; he even obeyed his mother and paid court to

another woman, and Mistress Clorinda, being of fierce haughtiness, revenged herself by marrying Lord

"But she has never deigned to forgive him," 'twas also said. "She is too haughty and of too high a temper to

forgive easily that a man should seem to desert her for another woman's favour. Even when 'twas whispered

that she favoured him, she was disdainful, and sometimes flouted him bitterly, as was her way with all men.

She was never gentle, and had always a cutting wit. She will use him hardly before she relents; but if he sues

patiently enough with such grace as he uses with other women, love will conquer her at last, for 'twas her

She showed him no great favour, it was true; and yet it seemed she granted him more privilege than she had

done during her lord's life, for he was persistent in his following her, and would come to her house whether of

her will or of his own. Sometimes he came there when the Duke of Osmonde was with herthis happened

more than once and then her ladyship's face, which was ever warmly beautiful when Osmonde was near,

would curiously change. It would grow pale and cold; but in her eyes would burn a strange light which one

man knew was as the light in the eyes of a tigress lying chained, but crouching to leap. But it was not

Osmonde who felt this, he saw only that she changed colour, and having heard the story of her girlhood, a

little chill of doubt would fall upon his noble heart. It was not doubt of her, but of himself, and fear that his

great passion made him blind; for he was the one man chivalrous enough to remember how young she was,

and to see the cruelty of the Fate which had given her unmothered childhood into the hands of a coarse rioter

and debauchee, making her his plaything and his whim. And if in her first hours of bloom she had been

thrown with youthful manhood and beauty, what more in the course of nature than that she should have

learned to love; and being separated from her young lover by their mutual youthful faults of pride and

passionateness of temper, what more natural than, being free again, and he suing with all his soul, that her

heart should return to him, even though through a struggle with pride. In her lord's lifetime he had not seen

Oxon near her; and in those days when he had so struggled with his own surging love, and striven to bear

himself nobly, he had kept away from her, knowing that his passion was too great and strong for any man to

always hold at bay and make no sign, because at brief instants he trembled before the thought that in her eyes

he had seen that which would have sprung to answer the same self in him if she had been a free woman. But

now when, despite her coldness, which never melted to John Oxon, she still turned pale and seemed to fall

under a restraint on his coming, a man of sufficient high dignity to be splendidly modest where his own merit

was concerned, might well feel that for this there must be a reason, and it might be a grave one.

So though he would not give up his suit until he was sure that 'twas either useless or unfair, he did not press it

as he would have done, but saw his lady when he could, and watched with all the tenderness of passion her

lovely face and eyes. But one short town season passed before he won his prize; but to poor Anne it seemed

Poor woman, as she had grown thin and largeeyed in those days gone by, she grew so again. Time in

passing had taught her so much that others did not know; and as she served her sister, and waited on her

wishes, she saw that of which no other dreamed, and saw without daring to speak, or show by any sign, her

The day when Lady Dunstanwolde had turned from standing among her daffodils, and had found herself

confronting the open door of her saloon, and John Oxon passing through it, Mistress Anne had seen that in

her face and his which had given to her a shock of terror. In John Oxon's blue eyes there had been a set fierce

look, and in Clorinda's a blaze which had been like a declaration of war; and these same looks she had seen

since that day, again and again. Gradually it had become her sister's habit to take Anne with her into the

world as she had not done before her widowhood, and Anne knew whence this custom came. There were

times when, by use of her presence, she could avoid those she wished to thrust aside, and Anne noted, with a

cold sinking of the spirit, that the one she would plan to elude most frequently was Sir John Oxon; and this

was not done easily. The young man's gay lightness of demeanour had changed. The few years that had

passed since he had come to pay his courts to the young beauty in male attire, had brought experiences to him

which had been bitter enough. He had squandered his fortune, and failed to reinstate himself by marriage; his

dissipations had told upon him, and he had lost his spirit and goodhumour; his mocking wit had gained a

bitterness; his gallantry had no longer the gaiety of youth. And the woman he had loved for an hour with

youthful passion, and had dared to dream of casting aside in boyish insolence, had risen like a phoenix, and

soared high and triumphant to the very sun itself. "He was ever base," Clorinda had said. "As he was at first

he is now," and in the saying there was truth. If she had been helpless and heartbroken, and had pined for

him, he would have treated her as a victim, and disdained her humiliation and grief; magnificent, powerful,

rich, in fullest beauty, and disdaining himself, she filled him with a mad passion of love which was strangely

mixed with hatred and cruelty. To see her surrounded by her worshippers, courted by the Court itself, all eyes

drawn towards her as she moved, all hearts laid at her feet, was torture to him. In such cases as his and hers, it

was the woman who should sue for love's return, and watch the averted face, longing for the moment when it

would deign to turn and she could catch the cold eye and plead piteously with her own. This he had seen; this,

men like himself, but older, had taught him with vicious art; but here was a woman who had scorned him at

the hour which should have been the moment of his greatest powerfulness, who had mocked at and lashed

him in the face with the high derision of a creature above law, and who never for one instant had bent her

neck to the yoke which women must bear. She had laughed it to scornand himand all things and gone

on her way, crowned with her scarlet roses, to wealth, and rank, and power, and adulation; while hethe

man, whose right it was to be transgressorhad fallen upon hard fortune, and was losing step by step all she

had won. In his way he loved her madlyas he had loved her before, and as he would have loved any

woman who embodied triumph and beauty; and burning with desire for both, and with jealous rage of all, he

At the playhouse when she looked from her box, she saw him leaning against some pillar or stationed in some

noticeable spot, his bold blue eyes fixed burningly upon her; at fashionable assemblies he made his way to

her side and stood near her, gazing, or dropping words into her ear; at church he placed himself in some pew

near by, that she and all the world might behold him; when she left her coach and walked in the Mall he

joined her or walked behind. At such times in my lady's closefringed eyes there shone a steady gleam; but

they were ever eyes that glowed, and there were none who had ever come close enough to her to know her

well, and so there were none who read its meaning. Only Anne knew as no other creature could, and looked

on with secret terror and dismay. The world but said that he was a man mad with love, and desperate at the

knowledge of the powerfulness of his rivals, could not live beyond sight of her.

They did not hear the words that passed between them at times when he stood near her in some crowd, and

dropped, as 'twas thought, words of burning prayer and love into her ear. 'Twas said that it was like her to

listen with unchanging face, and when she deigned reply, to answer without turning towards him. But such

words and replies it had more than once been Anne's illfortune to be near enough to catch, and hearing them

One night at a grand rout, the Duke of Osmonde but just having left the reigning beauty's side, she heard the

"You think a man will lie beneath your feet and be trodden upon without speaking. You are too high and

She waved her painted fan, and gazed steadily before her at the crowd, now and then bending her head in

"If I could tell the story of the rose garden, and of what the sun dial saw, and what the moon shone on" he

He heard her draw her breath sharply through her teeth, he saw her white bosom lift as if a wild beast leapt

"His Grace of Osmonde returns," he said; and then marking, as he never failed to do, bitterly against his will,

the grace and majesty of this rival, who was one of the greatest and bravest of England's gentlemen, and

"'Twould be too easy," he answered. "You fear it too little. There are bitterer things."

She rose and met his Grace, who had approached her. Always to his greatness and his noble heart she turned

with that new feeling of dependence which her whole life had never brought to her before. His deep eyes,

falling on her tenderly as she rose, were filled with protecting concern. Involuntarily he hastened his steps.

"Will your Grace take me to my coach?" she said. "I am not well. May Igo?" as gently as a tender,

And moved by this, as by her pallor, more than his man's words could have told, he gave her his arm and

Mistress Anne did not sleep well that night, having much to distract her mind and keep her awake, as was

often in these days the case. When at length she closed her eyes her slumber was fitful and broken by dreams,

and in the mid hour of the darkness she wakened with a start as if some sound had aroused her. Perhaps there

had been some sound, though all was still when she opened her eyes; but in the chair by her bedside sat

Clorinda in her nightrail, her hands wrung hard together on her knee, her black eyes staring under a brow

Clorinda slowly turned her head towards her, whereupon Anne saw that in her face there was a look as if of

"Lie down, Anne," she said. "Be not afraid'tis only I," bitterly "who need fear?"

Anne cowered among the pillows and hid her face in her thin hands. She knew so well that this was true.

"I never thought the time would come," her sister said, "when I should seek you for protection. A thing has

come upon meperhaps I shall go madtonight, alone in my room, I wanted to sit near a woman'twas

Mistress Anne crept near the bed's edge, and stretching forth a hand, touched hers, which were as cold as

"Naught," was the steady answer. "There is naught to be said. You were always a womanI was never

"Why was I thrown into the world?" striking her breast. "Why was I made soand not one to watch or care

She turned to Anne, her arms outstretched, and so stood white and strange and beauteous as a statue, with

drops like great pearls running down her lovely cheeks, and she caught her breath sobbingly, like a child.

"I was thrown to them," she wailed piteously, "and they harried me and left the marks of their great

teethand of the scars I cannot rid myselfand since it was my fatepronounced from my first hour

why was not this," clutching her breast, "left hard as 'twas at first? Not a woman'snot a woman's, but a

Anne slipped from her bed and ran to her, falling upon her knees and clinging to her, weeping bitterly.

Her touch and words seemed to recall Clorinda to herself. She started as if wakened from a dream, and drew

"I have gone mad," she said. "What is it I do?" She passed her hand across her brow and laughed a little wild

laugh. "Yes," she said; "this it is to be a womanto turn weak and run to other womenand weep and talk.

Yes, by these signs I AM a woman!" She stood with her clenched hands pressed against her breast. "In any

fair fight," she said, "I could have struck back blow for blowand mine would have been the heaviest; but

being changed into a woman, my arms are taken from me. He who strikes, aims at my bared breast and

She set her teeth together, and ground them, and the look, which was like that of a chained and harried

"But there is NONE shall beat me," she said through these fierce shut teeth. "Nay I there is NONE! Get up,

Anne," bending to raise her. "Get up, or I shall be kneeling tooand I must stand upon my feet."

She made a motion as if she would have turned and gone from the room without further explanation, but

Anne still clung to her. She was afraid of her again, but her piteous love was stronger than her fear.

"Let me go with you," she cried. "Let me but go and lie in your closet that I may be near, if you should call."

Clorinda put her hands upon her shoulders, and stooping, kissed her, which in all their lives she had done but

"God bless thee, poor Anne," she said. "I think thou wouldst lie on my threshold and watch the whole night

through, if I should need it; but I have given way to womanish vapours too muchI must go and be alone. I

was driven by my thoughts to come and sit and look at thy good faceI did not mean to wake thee. Go back

She would be obeyed, and led Anne to her couch herself, making her lie down, and drawing the coverlet

about her; after which she stood upright with a strange smile, laying her hands lightly about her own white

"When I was a newborn thing and had a little throat and a weak breath," she cried, "'twould have been an

easy thing to end me. I have been told I lay beneath my mother when they found her dead. If, when she felt

her breath leaving her, she had laid her hand upon my mouth and stopped mine, I should not," with the little

CHAPTER XIVContaining the history of the breaking of the horse Devil, and relates the returning of

There were in this strange nature, depths so awful and profound that it was not to be sounded or to be judged

as others were. But one thing could have melted or caused the unconquerable spirit to bend, and this was the

overwhelming passion of lovenot a slight, tender feeling, but a great and powerful one, such as could be

awakened but by a being of as strong and deep a nature as itself, one who was in all things its peer.

"I have been lonelylonely all my life," my Lady Dunstanwolde had once said to her sister, and she had

Even in her childhood she had felt in some strange way she stood apart from the world about her. Before she

had been old enough to reason she had been conscious that she was stronger and had greater power and

endurance than any human being about her. Her strength she used in these days in wilful tyranny, and indeed

it was so used for many a day when she was older. The time had never been when an eye lighted on her with

indifference, or when she could not rule and punish as she willed. As an infant she had browbeaten the

women servants and the stableboys and grooms; but because of her quick wit and clever tongue, and also

because no humour ever made her aught but a creature well worth looking at, they had taken her bullying in

goodhumour and loved her in their coarse way. She had tyrannised over her father and his companions, and

they had adored and boasted of her; but there had not been one among them whom she could have turned to if

a softer moment had come upon her and she had felt the need of a friend, nor indeed one whom she did not

A god or goddess forced upon earth and surrounded by mere human beings would surely feel a desolateness

beyond the power of common words to express, and a human being endowed with powers and physical gifts

so rare as to be out of all keeping with those of its fellows of ordinary build and mental stature must needs be

She had had no companion, because she had found none like herself, and none with whom she could have

aught in common. Anne she had pitied, being struck by some sense of the unfairness of her lot as compared

with her own. John Oxon had moved her, bringing to her her first knowledge of buoyant, ardent youth, and

blooming strength and beauty; for Dunstanwolde she had felt gratitude and affection; but than these there had

The night she had given her promise to Dunstanwolde, and had made her obeisance before his kinsman as she

had met his deep and leonine eye, she had known that 'twas the only man's eye before which her own would

She did not think this as a romantic girl would have thought it; it was revealed to her by a sudden

tempestuous leap of her heart, and by a shock like terror. Here was the man who was of her own build, whose

thews and sinews of mind and body was as powerful as her own here was he who, had she met him one

In the days of her wifehood when she had read in his noble face something of that which he endeavoured to

command and which to no other was apparent, the dignity of his selfrestraint had but filled her with

"Had he been a villain and a coward," was her thought, "he would have made my life a bitter battle; but 'tis

Now she beheld the same passion in his eyes, but no more held in leash: his look met hers, hiding from her

nothing of what his high soul burned with; and she was freefree to answer when he spoke, and only feeling

one bitterness in her heartif he had but come in timeGod! why had he not been sent in time?

But, late or early, he had come; and what they had to give each other should not be mocked at and lost. The

night she had ended by going to Anne's chamber, she had paced her room saying this again and again, all the

strength of her being rising in revolt. She had been then a caged tigress of a verity; she had wrung her hands;

she had held her palm hard against her leaping heart; she had walked madly to and fro, battling in thought

with what seemed awful fate; she had flung herself upon her knees and wept bitter scalding tears.

"He is so noble," she had cried"he is so nobleand I so worship his noblenessand I have been so base!"

And in her suffering her woman's nerves had for a moment betrayed her. Heretofore she had known no

weakness of her sex, but the woman soul in her so being moved, she had been broken and conquered for a

space, and had gone to Anne's chamber, scarcely knowing what refuge she so sought. It had been a feminine

act, and she had realised all it signified when Anne sank weeping by her. Women who wept and prated

together at midnight in their chambers ended by telling their secrets. So it was that it fell out that Anne saw

not again the changed face to the sight of which she had that night awakened. It seemed as if my lady from

that time made plans which should never for a moment leave her alone. The next day she was busied

arranging a brilliant rout, the next a rich banquet, the next a great assembly; she drove in the Mall in her

stateliest equipages; she walked upon its promenade, surrounded by her crowd of courtiers, smiling upon

them, and answering them with shafts of graceful wit the charm of her gaiety had never been so remarked

upon, her air never so enchanting. At every notable gathering in the World of Fashion she was to be seen.

Being bidden to the Court, which was at Hampton, her brilliant beauty and spirit so enlivened the royal

dulness that 'twas said the Queen herself was scarce resigned to part with her, and that the ladies and

gentlemen in waiting all suffered from the spleen when she withdrew. She bought at this time the fiercest but

most beautiful beast of a horse she had ever mounted. The creature was superbly handsome, but apparently so

unconquerable and so savage that her grooms were afraid to approach it, and indeed it could not be saddled

and bitted unless she herself stood near. Even the horsedealer, rogue though he was, had sold it to her with

some approach to a qualm of conscience, having confessed to her that it had killed two grooms, and been

sentenced to be shot by its first owner, and was still living only because its great beauty had led him to

hesitate for a few days. It was by chance that during these few days Lady Dunstanwolde heard of it, and

"It is the very beast I want," she said, with a gleam in her eye. "It will please me to teach it that there is one

She had much use for her loaded ridingwhip; and indeed, not finding it heavy enough, ordered one made

which was heavier. When she rode the beast in Hyde Park, her first battles with him were the town talk; and

there were those who bribed her footmen to inform them beforehand, when my lady was to take out Devil,

that they might know in time to be in the Park to see her. Fops and huntingmen laid wagers as to whether

her ladyship would kill the horse or be killed by him, and followed her training of the creature with an

"Well may the beast's name be Devil," said more than one lookeron; "for he is not so much horse as demon.

And when he plunges and rears and shows his teeth, there is a look in his eye which flames like her own, and

'tis as if a male and female demon fought together, for surely such a woman never lived before. She will not

let him conquer her, God knows; and it would seem that he was swearing in horse fashion that she should not

When he was first bought and brought home, Mistress Anne turned ashy at the sight of him, and in her heart

of hearts grieved bitterly that it had so fallen out that his Grace of Osmonde had been called away from town

by high and important matters; for she knew full well, that if he had been in the neighbourhood, he would

have said some discreet and tender word of warning to which her ladyship would have listened, though she

would have treated with disdain the caution of any other man or woman. When she herself ventured to speak,

"I have ridden only illtempered beasts all my life, and that for the mere pleasure of subduing them," she

said. "I have no liking for a horse like a bellwether; and if this one should break my neck, I need battle with

neither men nor horses again, and I shall die at the high tide of life and power; and those who think of me

But the horse did not kill her, nor she it. Day after day she stood by while it was taken from its stall, many a

time dealing with it herself, because no groom dare approach; and then she would ride it forth, and in Hyde

Park force it to obey her; the wondrous strength of her will, her wrist of steel, and the fierce, pitiless

punishment she inflicted, actually daunting the devilish creature's courage. She would ride from the

encounter, through two lines of people who had been watching herand some of them found themselves

following after her, even to the Park gatealmost awed as they looked at her, sitting erect and splendid on

the fretted, anguished beast, whose shining skin was covered with lather, whose mouth tossed blood flecked

foam, and whose great eye was so strangely like her own, but that hers glowed with the light of triumph, and

his burned with the agonised protest of the vanquished. At such times there was somewhat of fear in the

glances that followed her beauty, which almost seemed to blazeher colour was so rich, the curve of her red

mouth so imperial, the poise of her head, with its loosening coils of velvet black hair, so high.

"It is good for me that I do this," she said to Anne, with a short laugh, one day. "I was growing too softand

I have need now for all my power. To fight with the demon in this beast, rouses all in me that I have held in

check since I became my poor lord's wife. That the creature should have set his will against all others, and

should resist me with such strength and devilishness, rouses in me the passion of the days when I cursed and

raved and struck at those who angered me. 'Tis fury that possesses me, and I could curse and shriek at him as

I flog him, if 'twould be seemly. As it would not be so, I shut my teeth hard, and shriek and curse within

Among those who made it their custom to miss no day when she went forth on Devil that they might stand

near and behold her, there was one man ever present, and 'twas Sir John Oxon. He would stand as near as

might be and watch the battle, a stealthy fire in his eye, and a look as if the outcome of the fray had deadly

meaning to him. He would gnaw his lip until at times the blood started; his face would by turns flush scarlet

and turn deadly pale; he would move suddenly and restlessly, and break forth under breath into oaths of

exclamation. One day a man close by him saw him suddenly lay his hand upon his sword, and having so

done, still keep it there, though 'twas plain he quickly remembered where he was.

As for the horse's rider, my Lady Dunstanwolde, whose way it had been to avoid this man and to thrust him

from her path by whatsoever adroit means she could use, on these occasions made no effort to evade him and

his glances; in sooth, he knew, though none other did so, that when she fought with her horse she did it with a

fierce joy in that he beheld her. 'Twas as though the battle was between themselves; and knowing this in the

depths of such soul as he possessed, there were times when the man would have exulted to see the brute rise

and fall upon her, crushing her out of life, or dash her to the earth and set his hoof upon her dazzling upturned

face. Her scorn and deadly defiance of him, her beauty and maddening charm, which seemed but to increase

with every hour that flew by, had roused his love to fury. Despite his youth, he was a villain, as he had ever

been; even in his first freshness there had been older menand hardened oneswho had wondered at the

selfish mercilessness and blackness of the heart that was but that of a boy. They had said among themselves

that at his years they had never known a creature who could be so gaily a dastard, one who could plan with

such light remorselessness, and using all the gifts given him by Nature solely for his own ends, would take so

much and give so little. In truth, as time had gone on, men who had been his companions, and had indeed

small consciences to boast of, had begun to draw off a little from him, and frequent his company less. He

chose to tell himself that this was because he had squandered his fortune and was less good company, being

pursued by creditors and haunted by debts; but though there was somewhat in this, perchance 'twas not the

"By Gad!" said one over his cups, "there are things even a rakehell fellow like me cannot do; but he does

There had been a time when without this woman's beauty he might have livedindeed, he had left it of his

own free vicious will; but in these days, when his fortunes had changed and she represented all that he stood

most desperately in need of, her beauty drove him mad. In his haunting of her, as he followed her from place

to place, his passion grew day by day, and all the more gained strength and fierceness because it was so

mixed with hate. He tossed upon his bed at night and cursed her; he remembered the wild past, and the

memory all but drove him to delirium. He knew of what stern stuff she was made, and that even if her love

had died, she would have held to her compact like grim death, even while loathing him. And he had cast all

this aside in one mad moment of boyish cupidity and folly; and now that she was so radiant and entrancing a

thing, and wealth, and splendour, and rank, and luxury lay in the hollow of her hand, she fixed her beauteous

devil's eyes upon him with a scorn in their black depths which seemed to burn like fires of hell.

The great brute who dashed, and plunged, and pranced beneath her seemed to have sworn to conquer her as

he had sworn himself; but let him plunge and kick as he would, there was no quailing in her eye, she sat like a

creature who was superhuman, and her hand was iron, her wrist was steel. She held him so that he could not

do his worst without such pain as would drive him mad; she lashed him, and rained on him such blows as

almost made him blind. Once at the very worst, Devil dancing near him, she looked down from his back into

John Oxon's face, and he cursed aloud, her eye so told him his own story and hers. In those days their souls

"You will not conquer him," he said to her one morning, forcing himself near enough to speak.

"I will, unless he kills me," she answered, "and that methinks he will find it hard to do."

"You would if you could," were her words; "but you could not with his bit in your mouth and my hand on the

snaffle. And if he killed me, still 'twould be he, not I, was beaten; since he could only kill what any bloody

villain could with any knife. He is a brute beast, and I am that which was given dominion over such. Look on

And thus, with other beholders, though in a different mood from theirs, he did, until a day when even the

most sceptical saw that the brute came to the fray with less of courage, as if there had at last come into his

brain the dawning of a fear of that which rid him, and all his madness could not displace from its throne upon

"By God!" cried more than one of the bystanders, seeing this, despite the animal's fury, "the beast gives way!

He gives way! She has him!" And John Oxon, shutting his teeth, cut short an oath and turned pale as death.

From that moment her victory was a thing assured. The duel of strength became less desperate, and having

once begun to learn his lesson, the brute was made to learn it well. His bearing was a thing superb to behold;

once taught obedience, there would scarce be a horse like him in the whole of England. And day by day this

he learned from her, and being mastered, was put through his paces, and led to answer to the rein, so that he

trotted, cantered, galloped, and leaped as a bird flies. Then as the town had come to see him fight for

freedom, it came to see him adorn the victory of the being who had conquered him, and over their dishes of

tea in the afternoon beaux and beauties of fashion gossiped of the interesting and exciting event; and there

were vapourish ladies who vowed they could not have beaten a brute so, and that surely my Lady

Dunstanwolde must have looked hot and blowzy while she did it, and have had the air of a great rough man;

and there were some pretty tiffs and even quarrels when the men swore that never had she looked so

On the first day after her ladyship's last battle with her horse, the one which ended in such victory to her that

she rode him home hard through the streets without an outbreak, he white with lather, and marked with

stripes, but his large eye holding in its velvet a look which seemed almost like a human thoughton that day

His Grace of Osmonde had been in France, called there by business of the State, and during his absence the

gossip concerning the horse Devil had taken the place of that which had before touched on himself. 'Twas not

announced that he was to return to England, and indeed there were those who, speaking with authority, said

that for two weeks at least his affairs abroad would not be brought to a close; and yet on this morning, as my

Lady Dunstanwolde rode 'neath the trees, holding Devil well in hand, and watching him with eagle keenness

of eye, many looking on in wait for the moment when the brute might break forth suddenly again, a horseman

was seen approaching at a pace so rapid that 'twas on the verge of a gallop, and the first man who beheld him

looked amazed and lifted his hat, and the next, seeing him, spoke to another, who bowed with him, and all

along the line of loungers hats were removed, and people wore the air of seeing a man unexpectedly, and

hearing a name spoken in exclamation by his side, Sir John Oxon looked round and beheld ride by my lord

Duke of Osmonde. The sun was shining brilliantly, and all the Park was gay with bright warmth and

greenness of turf and trees. Clorinda felt the glow of the summer morning permeate her being. She kept her

watch upon her beast; but he was going well, and in her soul she knew that he was beaten, and that her

victory had been beheld by the one man who knew that it meant to her that which it seemed to mean also to

himself. And filled with this thought and the joy of it, she rode beneath the trees, and so was riding with

splendid spirit when she heard a horse behind her, and looked up as it drew near, and the rich crimson swept

over her in a sweet flood, so that it seemed to her she felt it warm on her very shoulders, 'neath her habit, for

'twas Osmonde's self who had followed and reached her, and uncovered, keeping pace by her side.

Ah, what a face he had, and how his eyes burned as they rested on her. It was such a look she met, that for a

moment she could not find speech, and he himself spoke as a man who, through some deep emotion, has

"My Lady Dunstanwolde," he began; and then with a sudden passion, "Clorinda, my beloved!" The time had

come when he could not keep silence, and with great leapings of her heart she knew. Yet not one word said

she, for she could not; but her beauty, glowing and quivering under his eyes' great fire, answered enough.

"Were it not that I fear for your sake the beast you ride," he said, "I would lay my hand upon his bridle, that I

might crush your hand in mine. At posthaste I have come from France, hearing this thing that you

endangered every day that which I love so madly. My God! beloved, cruel, cruel womansure you must

She answered with a breathless wild surrender. "Yes, yes!" she gasped, "I know."

"And yet you braved this danger, knowing that you might leave me a widowed man for life."

"But," she said, with a smile whose melting radiance seemed akin to tears"but see how I have beaten

"Yes, yes," he said, "as you have conquered allas you have conquered meand did from the first hour.

"Forgive me for the tempest of my passion," he said. "'Twas not thus I had thought to come to make my suit.

'Tis scarcely fitting that it should be so; but I was almost mad when I first heard this rumour, knowing my

duty would not loose me to come to you at once and knowing you so well, that only if your heart had

"I worship you," he said; "I worship you." And their meeting eyes were drowned in each other's tenderness.

They galloped side by side, and the watchers looked on, exchanging words and glances, seeing in her

beauteous, glowing face, in his joyous one, the final answer to the question they had so often asked each

other. 'Twas his Grace of Osmonde who was the happy man, he and no other. That was a thing plain indeed

to be seen, for they were too high above the common world to feel that they must play the paltry part of

outward trifling to deceive it; and as the sun pierces through clouds and is stronger than they, so their love

shone like the light of day itself through poor conventions. They did not know the people gazed and

whispered, and if they had known it, the thing would have counted for naught with them.

"See!" said my lady, patting her Devil's neck"see, he knows that you have come, and frets no more."

They rode homeward together, the great beauty and the great duke, and all the town beheld; and after they

had passed him where he stood, John Oxon mounted his own horse and galloped away, white lipped and

"Let me escort you home," the duke had said, "that I may kneel to you there, and pour forth my heart as I

have so dreamed of doing. Tomorrow I must go back to France, because I left my errand incomplete. I stole

from duty the time to come to you, and I must return as quickly as I came." So he took her home; and as they

entered the wide hall together, side by side, the attendant lacqueys bowed to the ground in deep, welcoming

Together they went to her own sittingroom, called the Panelled Parlour, a beautiful great room hung with

rare pictures, warm with floods of the bright summer sunshine, and perfumed with bowls of summer flowers;

and as the lacquey departed, bowing, and closed the door behind him, they turned and were enfolded close in

each other's arms, and stood so, with their hearts beating as surely it seemed to them human hearts had never

"Oh! my dear love, my heavenly love!" he cried. "It has been so longI have lived in prison and in

Even as my Lord Dunstanwolde had found cause to wonder at her gentle ways, so was this man amazed at

her great sweetness, now that he might cross the threshold of her heart. She gave of herself as an empress

might give of her store of imperial jewels, with sumptuous lavishness, knowing that the store could not fail.

In truth, it seemed that it must be a dream that she so stood before him in all her great, rich loveliness, leaning

against his heaving breast, her arms as tender as his own, her regal head thrown backward that they might

"From that first hour that I looked up at you," she said, "I knew you were my lordmy lord! And a fierce

pain stabbed my heart, knowing you had come too late by but one hour; for had it not been that

Dunstanwolde had led me to you, I knewah! how well I knew that our hearts would have beaten

"And from the moment that your rose fell at my feet and I raised it in my hand," he said, "I knew I held some

rapture which was my own. And when you stood before me at Dunstanwolde's side and our eyes met, I could

There, in her arms, among the flowers and in the sweetness of the sun, he lived again the past, telling her of

the days when, knowing his danger, he had held himself aloof, declining to come to her lord's house with the

familiarity of a kinsman, because the pang of seeing her often was too great to bear; and relating to her also

the story of the hours when he had watched her and she had not known his nearness or guessed his pain,

when she had passed in her equipage, not seeing him, or giving him but a gracious smile. He had walked

outside her window at midnight sometimes, too, coming because he was a despairing man, and could not

sleep, and returning homeward, having found no rest, but only increase of anguish. "Sometimes," he said, "I

dared not look into your eyes, fearing my own would betray me; but now I can gaze into your soul itself, for

As he had spoken, he had caressed softly with his hand her cheek and her crown of hair, and such was his

great gentleness that 'twas as if he touched lovingly a child; for into her face there had come that look which

it would seem that in the arms of the man she loves every true woman wearsa look which is somehow like

a child's in its trusting, sweet surrender and appeal, whatsoever may be her stateliness and the splendour of

Yet as he touched her cheek so and her eyes so dwelt on him, suddenly her head fell heavily upon his breast,

"Nay, they are long passed, sweet," he said, in his deep, noble voice, thinking that she spoke of the wildness

"Yes, yes," she cried, clinging closer, yet with shuddering, "they were BEFOREthe joythe joy is all to

His Grace of Osmonde went back to France to complete his business, and all the world knew that when he

returned to England 'twould be to make his preparations for his marriage with my Lady Dunstanwolde. It was

a marriage not long to be postponed, and her ladyship herself was known already to be engaged with

lacemen, linendrapers, toyshop women, and goldsmiths. Mercers awaited upon her at her house,

accompanied by their attendants, bearing burdens of brocades and silks, and splendid stuffs of all sorts. Her

chariot was to be seen standing before their shops, and the interest in her purchases was so great that

fashionable beauties would contrive to visit the counters at the same hours as herself, so that they might catch

glimpses of what she chose. In her own great house all was repressed excitement; her women were

enraptured at being allowed the mere handling and laying away of the glories of her wardrobe; the lacqueys

held themselves with greater state, knowing that they were soon to be a duke's servants; her little black Nero

strutted about, his turban set upon his pate with a majestic cock, and disdained to enter into battle with such

pages of his own colour as wore only silver collars, he feeling assured that his own would soon be of gold.

The World of Fashion said when her ladyship's equipage drove by, that her beauty was like that of the god of

day at morning, and that 'twas plain that no man or woman had ever beheld her as his Grace of Osmonde

"She loves at last," a wit said. "Until the time that such a woman loves, however great her splendour, she is as

"And now this one hath come forth, and shines so that she warms us in mere passing," said another. "What

eyes, and what a mouth, with that strange smile upon it. Whoever saw such before? and when she came to

town with my Lord Dunstanwolde, who, beholding her, would have believed that she could wear such a

In sooth, there was that in her face and in her voice when she spoke which almost made Anne weep, through

its strange sweetness and radiance. 'Twas as if the flood of her joy had swept away all hardness and disdain.

Her eyes, which had seemed to mock at all they rested on, mocked no more, but ever seemed to smile at some

One night when she went forth to a Court ball, being all attired in brocade of white and silver, and glittering

with the Dunstanwolde diamonds, which starred her as with great sparkling dewdrops, and yet had not the

radiance of her eyes and smile, she was so purely wonderful a vision that Anne, who had been watching her

through all the time when she had been under the hands of her tirewoman, and beholding her now so dazzling

and white a shining creature, fell upon her knees to kiss her hand almost as one who worships.

"Oh, sister," she said, "you look like a spirit. It is as if with the earth you had naught to doas if your eyes

"Sister Anne," she said, laying her hand on her white breast, "at times I think that I must almost be a spirit, I

feel such heavenly joy. It is as if He whom you believe in, and who can forgive and wipe out sins, has

forgiven me, and has granted it to me, that I may begin my poor life again. Ah! I will make it better; I will try

to make it as near an angel's life as a woman can; and I will do no wrong, but only good; and I will believe,

and pray every day upon my kneesand all my prayers will be that I may so live that my dear lordmy

Geraldcould forgive me all that I have ever doneand seeing my soul, would know me worthy of him.

Oh! we are strange things, we human creatures, Anne," with a tremulous smile; "we do not believe until we

want a thing, and feel that we shall die if 'tis not granted to us; and then we kneel and kneel and believe,

"But all help has been given to you," poor tender Anne said, kissing her hand again; "and I will pray, I will

"Ay, pray, Anne, pray with all thy soul," Clorinda answered; "I need thy prayingand thou didst believe

"Thou wast given me, sister," said Anne. "Thou hast given me a home and kindness such as I never dared to

hope; thou hast been like a great star to meI have had none other, and I thank Heaven on my knees each

"Poor Anne, dear Anne!" Clorinda said, laying her arms about her and kissing her. "Pray for thy star, good,

tender Anne, that its light may not be quenched." Then with a sudden movement her hand was pressed upon

her bosom again. "Ah, Anne," she cried, and in the music of her voice, agony itself was ringing"Anne,

there is but one thing on this earth God rules overbut one thing that belongs BELONGS to me; and 'tis

Gerald Mertounand he is mine and SHALL not be taken from me, for he is a part of me, and I a part of

"Did it reach your ears," she said, reclasping a band of jewels on her arm, "that John Oxon had been offered a

"I heard some rumour of it," Anne answered, her emotion getting the better of her usual discreet speech. "God

But that he was not, for when she entered the assembly that night he was standing near the door as though he

lay in waiting for her, and his eyes met hers with a leaping gleam, which was a thing of such exultation that

to encounter it was like having a knife thrust deep into her side and through and through it, for she knew full

well that he could not wear such a look unless he had some strength of which she knew not.

This gleam was in his eyes each time she found herself drawn to them, and it seemed as though she could

look nowhere without encountering his gaze. He followed her from room to room, placing himself where she

could not lift her eyes without beholding him; when she walked a minuet with a royal duke, he stood and

"'Tis as if he threatens her," one said. "He has gone mad with disappointed love."

But 'twas not love that was in his look, but the madness of long thwarted passion mixed with hate and

mockery; and this she saw, and girded her soul with all its strength, knowing that she had a fiercer beast to

deal with, and a more vicious and dangerous one, than her horse Devil. That he kept at first at a distance from

her, and but looked on with this secret exultant glow in his bad, beauteous eyes, told her that at last he felt he

held some power in his hands, against which all her defiance would be as naught. Till this hour, though she

had suffered, and when alone had writhed in agony of grief and bitter shame, in his presence she had never

flinched. Her strength she knew was greater than his; but his baseness was his weapon, and the depths of that

At midnight, having just made obeisance before Royalty retiring, she felt that at length he had drawn near and

"Tonight," he said, in the low undertone it was his way to keep for such occasions, knowing how he could

"And I have stood and watched you moving among all lesser goddesses as the moon sails among the stars,

and I have smiled in thinking of what these lesser deities would say if they had known what I bear in my

She did not even make a movementin truth, she felt that at his next words she might change to stone.

"I have found it," he said"I have it herethe lost treasurethe tress of hair like a raven's wing and six

feet long. Is there another woman in England who could give a man a lock like it?"

She felt then that she had, in sooth, changed to stone; her heart hung without moving in her breast; her eyes

"I knew not," she said slowly, and with bated breath, for the awfulness of the moment had even made her

body weak as she had never known it feel before"I knew not truly that hell made things like you."

Whereupon he made a movement forward, and the crowd about surged nearer with hasty exclamations, for

the strange weakness of her body had overpowered her in a way mysterious to her, and she had changed to

marble, growing too heavy of weight for her sinking limbs. And those in the surrounding groups saw a

marvellous thingthe same being that my Lady Dunstanwolde swayed as she turned, and falling, lay

stretched, as if dead, in her white and silver and flashing jewels at the startled beholders' feet.

She wore no radiant look when she went home that night. She would go home alone and unescorted,

excepting by her lacqueys, refusing all offers of companionship when once placed in her equipage. There

were, of course, gentlemen who would not be denied leading her to her coach; John Oxon was among them,

and at the last pressed close, with a manner of great ceremony, speaking a final word.

"'Tis useless, your ladyship," he murmured, as he made his obeisance gallantly, and though the words were

uttered in his lowest tone and with great softness, they reached her ear as he intended that they should.

Anne had forborne going to bed, and waited for her return, longing to see her spirit's face again before she

slept; for this poor tender creature, being denied all woman's loves and joys by Fate, who had made her as she

was, so lived in her sister's beauty and triumphs that 'twas as if in some faroff way she shared them, and

herself experienced through them the joy of being a woman transcendently beautiful and transcendently

beloved. Tonight she had spent her waiting hours in her closet and upon her knees, praying with all humble

adoration of the Being she approached. She was wont to pray long and fervently each day, thanking Heaven

for the smallest things and the most common, and imploring continuance of the mercy which bestowed them

upon her poor unworthiness. For her sister her prayers were offered up night and morning, and ofttimes in

hours between, and tonight she prayed not for herself at all, but for Clorinda and for his Grace of Osmonde,

that their love might be crowned with happiness, and that no shadow might intervene to cloud its brightness,

and the tender rapture in her sister's softened look, which was to her a thing so wonderful that she thought of

Her prayers being at length ended, she had risen from her knees and sat down, taking a sacred book to read, a

book of sermons such as 'twas her simple habit to pore over with entire respect and child like faith, and

being in the midst of her favourite homily, she heard the chariot's returning wheels, and left her chair,

"'Tis my sister," she said, with a soft, sentimental smile. "Osmonde not being among the guests, she hath no

She went below to the room her ladyship usually went to first on her return at night from any gathering, and

there she found her sitting as though she had dropped there in the corner of a great divan, her hands hanging

clasped before her on her knee, her head hanging forward on her fallen chest, her large eyes staring into

"Clorinda! Clorinda!" Anne cried, running to her and kneeling at her side. "Clorinda! God have mercy! What

Never before had her face worn such a look'twas colourless, and so drawn and fallen in that 'twas indeed

almost as if all her great beauty was gone; but the thing most awful to poor Anne was that all the new

softness seemed as if it had been stamped out, and the fierce hardness had come back and was engraven in its

"An hour ago," she said, "I swooned. That is why I look thus. 'Tis yet another sign that I am a womana

"You are illyou swooned?" cried Anne. "I must send for your physician. Have you not ordered that he be

"I have seen heaven," Clorinda said; "I have stood on the threshold and seen through the partopened

"But back to hell I will not go," she went on saying. "Had I not seen Heaven, they might perhaps have

dragged me; but now I will not goI will not, that I swear! There is a thing which cannot be endured. Bear it

no woman should. Even I, who was not born a woman, but a wolf's shecub, I cannot. 'Twas not I, 'twas

Fate," she said"'twas not I, 'twas Fate'twas the great wheel we are bound to, which goes round and round

that we may be broken on it. 'Twas not I who bound myself there; and I will not be broken so."

She said the words through her clenched teeth, and with all the mad passion of her most lawless years; even

at Anne she looked almost in the old ungentle fashion, as though half scorning all weaker than herself, and

She left her divan and stood upright, the colour having come back to her face; but the look Anne worshipped

not having returned with it, 'twas as though Mistress Clorinda Wildairs had been born again.

"Tomorrow morning I go forth on Devil," she said; "and I shall be abroad if any visitors come."

What passed in her chamber that night no human being knew. Anne, who left her own apartment and crept

into a chamber near hers to lie and watch, knew that she paced to and fro, but heard no other sound, and dared

When she came forth in the morning she wore the high look she had been wont to wear in the years gone by,

when she ruled in her father's house, and rode to the hunt with a following of gay middle aged and elderly

rioters. Her eye was brilliant, and her colour matched it. She held her head with the old dauntless carriage,

and there was that in her voice before which her women quaked, and her lacqueys hurried to do her bidding.

Devil himself felt this same thing in the touch of her hand upon his bridle when she mounted him at the door,

She took no servant with her, and did not ride to the Park, but to the country. Once on the highroad, she rode

fast and hard, only galloping straight before her as the way led, and having no intention. Where she was

going she knew not; but why she rode on horseback she knew full well, it being because the wild, almost

fierce motion was in keeping with the tempest in her soul. Thoughts rushed through her brain even as she

rushed through the air on Devil's back, and each leaping after the other, seemed to tear more madly.

"What shall I do?" she was saying to herself. "What thing is there for me to do? I am trapped like a hunted

The blood went like a torrent through her veins, so that she seemed to hear it roaring in her ears; her heart

thundered in her side, or 'twas so she thought of it as it bounded, while she recalled the past and looked upon

"What else could have been?" she groaned. "Naught elsenaught else. 'Twas a tricka trick of Fate to ruin

When she had gone forth it had been with no hope in her breast that her wit might devise a way to free herself

from the thing which so beset her, for she had no weak fancies that there dwelt in this base soul any germ of

honour which might lead it to relenting. As she had sat in her dark room at night, crouched upon the floor,

and clenching her hands, as the mad thoughts went whirling through her brain, she had stared her Fate in the

face and known all its awfulness. Before her lay the rapture of a great, sweet, honourable passion, a high and

noble life lived in such bliss as rarely fell to lot of womanon this one man she knew that she could lavish

all the splendour of her nature, and make his life a heaven, as hers would be. Behind her lay the mad,

uncaredfor years, and one black memory blighting all to come, though 'twould have been but a black

memory with no power to blight if the heaven of love had not so opened to her and with its light cast all else

"If 'twere not love," she cried"if 'twere but ambition, I could defy it to the last; but 'tis lovelovelove,

Even as she moaned the words she heard hoof beats near her, and a horseman leaped the hedge and was at her

"I have followed you at a distance hitherto," he said; "now I shall follow close."

"Think you you can outride me?" he said grimly, quickening his steed's pace. "I go with your ladyship to your

own house. For fear of scandal you have not openly rebuffed me previous to this time; for a like reason you

My Lady Dunstanwolde turned to gaze at him again. The sun shone on his bright falling locks and his blue

eyes as she had seen it shine in days which seemed so strangely long passed by, though they were not five

"'Tis strange," she said, with a measure of wonder, "to live and be so black a devil."

"Bah! my lady," he said, "these are fine wordsand fine words do not hold between us. Let us leave them. I

would escort you home, and speak to you in private." There was that in his mocking that was madness to her,

and made her sick and dizzy with the boiling of the blood which surged to her brain. The fury of passion

which had been a terror to all about her when she had been a child was upon her once more, and though she

had thought herself freed from its dominion, she knew it again and all it meant. She felt the thundering beat in

her side, the hot flood leaping to her cheek, the flame burning her eyes themselves as if fire was within them.

Had he been other than he was, her face itself would have been a warning. But he pressed her hard. As he

would have slunk away a beaten cur if she had held the victory in her hands, so feeling that the power was

"I pay back old scores," he said. "There are many to pay. When you crowned yourself with roses and set your

foot upon my face, your ladyship thought not of this! When you gave yourself to Dunstanwolde and spat at

me, you did not dream that there could come a time when I might goad as you did."

She struck Devil with her whip, who leaped forward; but Sir John followed hard behind her. He had a swift

horse too, and urged him fiercely, so that between these two there was a race as if for life or death. The beasts

bounded forward, spurning the earth beneath their feet. My lady's face was set, her eyes were burning flame,

her breath came short and pantingly between her teeth. Oxon's fair face was white with passion; he panted

And in this wise they galloped over the white road until the hedges disappeared and they were in the streets,

and people turned to look at them, and even stood and stared. Then she drew rein a little and went slower,

"That which I would say within four walls that you may hear it all," he answered. "This time 'tis not idle

Through the streets they went, and as her horse's hoofs beat the pavement, and the passersby, looking

towards her, gazed curiously at so fine a lady on so splendid a brute, she lifted her eyes to the houses, the

booths, the faces, and the sky, with a strange fancy that she looked about her as a man looks who, doomed to

death, is being drawn in his cart to Tyburn tree. For 'twas to death she went, nor to naught else could she

compare it, and she was so young and strong, and full of love and life, and there should have been such bliss

and peace before her but for one madness of her all unknowing days. And this beside herthis man with

the fair face and looks and beauteous devil's eyes, was her hangman, and carried his rope with him, and soon

When they rode through the part of the town where abode the World of Fashion, those who saw them knew

"But perhaps his love has made him sue for pardon that he has so borne himself," some said, "and she has

When they reached her house he dismounted with her, wearing an outward air of courtesy; but his eye

mocked her, as she knew. His horse was in a lather of sweat, and he spoke to a servant.

"Take my beast home," he said. "He is too hot to stand, and I shall not soon be ready."

He followed her to the Panelled Parlour, the one to which she had taken Osmonde on the day of their bliss,

the one in which in the afternoon she received those who came to pay court to her over a dish of tea. In the

mornings none entered it but herself or some invited guest. 'Twas not the room she would have chosen for

him; but when he said to her, "'Twere best your ladyship took me to some private place," she had known

When the door was closed behind them, and they stood face to face, they were a strange pair to beholdshe

with mad defiance battling with mad despair in her face; he with the mocking which every woman who had

ever trusted him or loved him had lived to see in his face when all was lost. Few men there lived who were as

vile as he, his power of villainy lying in that he knew not the meaning of man's shame or honour.

"'Tis not so bad," he answered, "that a man should claim his own, and swear that no other man shall take it

"My own, since I can keep it," quoth he. "Before you were my Lord of Dunstanwolde's you were mineof

"Nay, nay," she cried. "God! through some madness I knew not the awfulness ofbecause I was so young

"An innocent of all good," she cried"of all things good on earth of all that I know now, having seen

"His Grace of Osmonde has not been told this," he said; "and I should make it all plain to him."

"That you shall not be the Duchess of Osmonde," he said, drawing near to her; "that you shall be the wife of

Sir John Oxon, as you once called yourself for a brief space, though no priest had mumbled over us"

"Who was't divorced us?" she said, gasping; "for I was an honest thing, though I knew no other virtue. Who

"I confess," he answered, bowing, "that 'twas Ifor the time being. I was young, and perhaps fickle"

"And you left me," she cried, "and I found that you had come but for a betand since I so bore myself that

you could not boast, and since I was not a rich woman whose fortune would be of use to you, you followed

"As his Grace of Osmonde will when I tell him my story," he answered. "He is not one to brook that such

"Tell him!" she cried, "tell him, and see if he will hear you. Your word against mine!"

"Think you I do not know that full well," he answered, and he brought forth a little package folded in silk.

"Why have I done naught but threaten till this time? If I went to him without proof, he would run me through

with his sword as I were a mad dog. But is there another woman in England from whose head her lover could

He unfolded the silk, and let other silk unfold itself, a great and thick ring of raven hair which uncoiled its

serpent length, and though he held it high, was long enough after surging from his hand to lie upon the floor.

"'Twas a bet, I own," he said; "I heard too much of the mad beauty and her disdain of men not to be fired by a

desire to prove to her and others, that she was but a woman after all, and so was to be won. I took an oath that

I would come back some day with a trophy and this I cut when you knew not that I did it."

"Devil, craven, and loathsomeand he knows not what he is!" she gasped. "He is a mad thing who knows

'Twas, in sooth, a strange and monstrous thing to see him so unwavering and bold, flinching before no

ignominy, shrinking not to speak openly the thing before the mere accusation of which other men's blood

"When I bore it away with me," he said, "I lived wildly for a space, and in those days put it in a place of

safety, and when I was sober again I had forgot where. Yesterday, by a strange chance, I came upon it. Think

"I will tell him all the story of the rose garden and of the sun dial, and the beauty who had wit enough to

scorn a man in public that she might more safely hold tryst with him alone. She had great wit and cunning for

a beauty of sixteen. 'Twould be well for her lord to have keen eyes when she is twenty."

He should have seen the warning in her eyes, for there was warning enough in their flaming depths.

"All that you can say I know," she said"all that you can say! And I love him. There is no other man on

earth. Were he a beggar, I would tramp the highroad by his side and go hungered with him. He is my lord,

"That you will not be," he answered, made devilish by her words. "He is a high and noble gentleman, and

Her breast leaped up and down in her panting as she pressed her hand upon it; her breath came in sharp puffs

"Loved me!" he said. "Thou! As thou lovedst meand as thou lovest himso will Moll Easy love any

Her whip lay upon the table, she caught and whirled it in the air. She was blind with the surging of her blood,

And 'twas his temple that the loaded weapon met, and 'twas wielded by a wrist whose sinews were of steel,

and even as it struck he gasped, casting up his hands, and thereupon fell, and lay stretched at her feet!

But the awful tempest which swept over her had her so under its dominion that she was like a branch whirled

on the wings of the storm. She scarce noted that he fell, or noting it, gave it not one thought as she dashed

from one end of the apartment to the other with the fierce striding of a mad woman.

"Devil!" she cried, "and cur! and for thee I blasted all the years to come! To a beast so base I gave all that an

empress' self could giveall lifeall lovefor ever. And he comes backshameless to barter like a

cheating huckster, because his trade goes ill, and II could stock his counters once again."

"Think you I do not know, woman's bully and poltroon, that you plot to sell yourself, because your day has

come, and no woman will bid for such an outcast, saving one that you may threaten. Rise, verminrise, lest

In her blind madness she lashed him once across the face again. And he stirred notand something in the

resistless feeling of the flesh beneath the whip, and in the quiet of his lying, caused her to pause and stand

panting and staring at the thing which lay before her. For it was a Thing, and as she stood staring, with wild

heaving breast, this she saw. 'Twas but a thinga thing lying inert, its fair locks outspread, its eyes rolled

upward till the blue was almost lost; a purple indentation on the right temple from which there oozed a tiny

"There will be a way," she had said, and yet in her most mad despair, of this way she had never thought;

though strange it had been, considering her lawless past, that she had notnever of this waynever!

Notwithstanding which, in one frenzied moment in which she had known naught but her delirium, her loaded

And yet it being so found, and she stood staring, seeing what she had doneseeing what had befallen'twas

as if the blow had been struck not at her own temple but at her hearta great and heavy shock, which left her

She sank upon her knees, so shuddering that her teeth began to chatter. She pushed him and shook him by the

Yet he stirred not, but lay inert, only with his lips drawn back, showing his white teeth a little, as if her horrid

agony made him begin to laugh. Shuddering, she drew slowly nearer, her eyes more awful than his own. Her

hand crept shaking to his wrist and clutched it. There was naught astirnaught! It stole to his breast, and

baring it, pressed close. That was still and moveless as his pulse; for life was ended, and a hundred

"I have KILLED thee," she breathed. "I have KILLED theethough I meant it noteven hell itself doth

His hand fell heavily from hers, and she still knelt staring, such a look coming into her face as throughout her

life had never been there beforefor 'twas the look of a creature who, being tortured, the worst at last being

"I have killed him!" she said, in a low, awful voice; "and he lies hereand outside people walk, and know

not. But HE knowsand I and as he lies methinks he smilesknowing what he has done!"

She crouched even lower still, the closer to behold him, and indeed it seemed his still face sneered as if

defying her now to rid herself of him! 'Twas as though he lay there mockingly content, saying, "Now that I

She rose and stood up rigid, and all the muscles of her limbs were drawn as though she were a creature

stretched upon a rack; for the horror of this which had befallen her seemed to fill the place about her, and

"Now!" she cried, "if I would give wayand go mad, as I could but do, for there is naught else leftif I

would but give way, that which is Iand has lived but a poor score of yearswould be done with for all

time. All whirls before me. 'Twas I who struck the blowand I am a womanand I could go ravingand

cry out and call them in, and point to him, and tell them how 'twas doneall!all!"

She choked, and clutched her bosom, holding its heaving down so fiercely that her nails bruised it through

her habit's cloth; for she felt that she had begun to rave already, and that the waves of such a tempest were

arising as, if not quelled at their first swell, would sweep her from her feet and engulf her for ever.

"Thatthat!" she gasped"naythat I swear I will not do! There was always One who hated meand

doomed and hunted me from the hour I lay 'neath my dead mother's corpse, a newborn thing. I know not

whom it wasor whyor howbut 'twas so! I was made evil, and cast helpless amid evil fates, and having

done the things that were ordained, and there was no escape from, I was shown noble manhood and high

honour, and taught to worship, as I worship now. An angel might so love and be made higher. And at the gate

of heaven a devil grins at me and plucks me back, and taunts and mires me, and I fall on THIS!"

She stretched forth her arms in a great gesture, wherein it seemed that surely she defied earth and heaven.

"No hopeno mercynaught but doom and hell," she cried, "unless the thing that is tortured be the

She looked down at the thing before her. How its stone face sneered, and even in its sneering seemed to

disregard her. She knelt by it again, her blood surging through her body, which had been cold, speaking as if

"Ay, mock!" she said, setting her teeth, "thinking that I am conqueredyet am I not! 'Twas an honest blow

struck by a creature goaded past all thought! Ay, mockand yet, but for one man's sake, would I call in

those outside and stand before them, crying: 'Here is a villain whom I struck in madnessand he lies dead! I

She crouched still nearer, her breath and words coming hard and quick. 'Twas indeed as if she spoke to a

"There would be men in England who would give it me," she raved, whispering. "That would there, I swear!

But there would be dullards and dastards who would not. He would give ithe! Ay, mock as thou wilt! But

By her great divan the dead man had fallen, and so near to it he lay that one arm was hidden by the draperies;

and at this moment this she sawbefore having seemed to see nothing but the death in his face. A thought

came to her like a flame lit on a sudden, and springing high the instant the match struck the fuel it leaped

from. It was a thought so daring and so strange that even she gasped once, being appalled, and her hands,

stealing to her brow, clutched at the hair that grew there, feeling it seem to rise and stand erect.

"Is it madness to so dare?" she said hoarsely, and for an instant, shuddering, hid her eyes, but then uncovered

and showed them burning. "Nay! not as I will dare it," she said, "for it will make me steel. You fell well," she

said to the stonefaced thing, "and as you lie there, seem to tell me what to do, in your own despite. You

would not have so helped me had you known. Now 'tis 'twixt Fate and Ia human thingwho is but a

She put her strong hand forth and thrust himhe was already stiffeningbackward from the shoulder, there

being no shrinking on her face as she felt his flesh yield beneath her touch, for she had passed the barrier

lying between that which is mere life and that which is pitiless hell, and could feel naught that was human. A

poor wild beast at bay, pressed on all sides by dogs, by huntsmen, by resistless weapons, by Nature's pitiless

self glaring with bloodshot eyes, panting, with fangs bared in the savagery of its unfriended agonymight

feel thus. 'Tis but a hunted beast; but 'tis alone, and faces so the terror and anguish of death.

The thing gazing with its set sneer, and moving but stiffly, she put forth another hand upon its side and thrust

it farther backward until it lay stretched beneath the great broad seat, its glazed and open eyes seeming to

stare upward blankly at the low roof of its strange prison; she thrust it farther backward still, and letting the

draperies fall, steadily and with care so rearranged them that all was safe and hid from sight.

She picked up the long silken lock of hair which lay like a serpent at her feet, and threw it into the fire,

watching it burn, as all hair burns, with slow hissing, and she watched it till 'twas gone.

Then she stood with her hands pressed upon her eyeballs and her brow, her thoughts moving in great leaps.

Although it reeled, the brain which had worked for her ever, worked clear and strong, setting before her what

was impending, arguing her case, showing her where dangers would arise, how she must provide against

them, what she must defend and set at defiance. The power of will with which she had been endowed at birth,

and which had but grown stronger by its exercise, was indeed to be compared to some great engine whose

lever 'tis not nature should be placed in human hands; but on that lever her hand rested now, and to herself

she vowed she would control it, since only thus might she be saved. The torture she had undergone for

months, the warring of the evil past with the noble present, of that which was sweet and passionately loving

woman with that which was all but devil, had strung her to a pitch so intense and high that on the falling of

this unnatural and unforeseen blow she was left scarce a human thing. Looking back, she saw herself a

creature doomed from birth; and here in one moment seemed to stand a force ranged in mad battle with the

"'Twas ordained that the blow should fall so," she said, "and those who did it laughlaugh at me."

'Twas but a moment, and her sharp breathing became even and regular as though at her command; her face

composed itself, and she turned to the bell and rang it as with imperious haste.

When the lacquey entered, she was standing holding papers in her hand as if she had but just been consulting

"Follow Sir John Oxon," she commanded. "Tell him I have forgot an important thing and beg him to return at

The fellow saw there was no time to lose. They all feared that imperial eye of hers and fled to obey its

glances. Bowing, he turned, and hastened to do her bidding, fearing to admit that he had not seen the guest

leave, because to do so would be to confess that he had been absent from his post, which was indeed the

She knew he would come back shortly, and thus he did, entering somewhat breathed by his haste.

"My lady," he said, "I went quickly to the street, and indeed to the corner of it, but Sir John was not within

"Fool, you were not swift enough!" she said angrily. "Wait, you must go to his lodgings with a note. The

She went to a table'twas close to the divan, so close that if she had thrust forth her foot she could have

touched what lay beneath itand wrote hastily a few lines. They were to request That which was stiffening

within three feet of her to return to her as quickly as possible that she might make inquiries of an important

"Take this to Sir John's lodgings," she said. "Let there be no loitering by the way. Deliver into his own hands,

Then she was left alone again, and being so left, paced the room slowly, her gaze upon the floor.

"That was well done," she said. "When he returns and has not found him, I will be angered, and send him

"'Tis like a nightmare," she said"as if one dreamed, and choked, and panted, and would scream aloud, but

could not. I cannot! I must not! Would that I might shriek, and dash myself upon the floor, and beat my head

She stood a moment, breathing fast, her eyes widening, that part of her which was weak woman for the

moment putting her in parlous danger, realising the which she pressed her sides with hands that were of steel.

"Wait! wait!" she said to herself. "This is going mad. This is loosening hold, and being beaten by that One

Naught but that unnatural engine of will could have held her within bounds and restrained the mounting

female weakness that beset her; but this engine being stronger than all else, it beat her womanish and

"Through this one day I must live," she said, "and plan, and guard each moment that doth pass. My face must

tell no tale, my voice must hint none. He will be stillGod knows he will be still enough."

Upon the divan itself there had been lying a little dog; 'twas a King Charles' spaniel, a delicate pampered

thing, which attached itself to her, and was not easily driven away. Once during the last hour the fierce,

illhushed voices had disturbed it, and it had given vent to a fretted bark, but being a luxurious little beast, it

had soon curled up among its cushions and gone to sleep again. But as its mistress walked about muttering

low words and ofttimes breathing sharp breaths, it became disturbed again. Perhaps through some instinct of

which naught is known by human creatures, it felt the strange presence of a thing which roused it. It stirred, at

first drowsily, and lifted its head and sniffed; then it stretched its limbs, and having done so, stood up, turning

on its mistress a troubled eye, and this she saw and stopped to meet it. 'Twas a strange look she bestowed

upon it, a startled and fearful one; her thought drew the blood up to her cheek, but backward again it flowed

when the little beast lifted its nose and gave a low but woeful howl. Twice it did this, and then jumped down,

There was no mistake, some instinct of which it knew not the meaning had set it on, and it would not be

thrust back. In all beasts this strange thing has been remarkedthat they know That which ends them all, and

so revolt against it that they cannot be at rest so long as it is near them, but must roar, or whinny, or howl

until 'tis out of the reach of their scent. And so 'twas plain this little beast knew and was afraid and restless.

He would not let it be, but roved about, sniffing and whining, and not daring to thrust his head beneath the

falling draperies, but growing more and yet more excited and terrified, until at last he stopped, raised head in

air, and gave vent to a longer, louder, and more dolorous howl, and albeit to one with so strange and

noticeable a sound that her heart turned over in her breast as she stooped and caught him in her grasp, and

shuddered as she stood upright, holding him to her side, her hand over his mouth. But he would not be

hushed, and struggled to get down as if indeed he would go mad unless he might get to the thing and rave at

"If I send thee from the room thou wilt come back, poor Frisk," she said. "There will be no keeping thee

away, and I have never ordered thee away before. Why couldst thou not keep still? Nay, 'twas not dog

That it was not so was plain by his struggles and the yelps but poorly stifled by her grasp.

"Thou too, poor little beast," she said. "Thou too, who art so small a thing and never harmed me."

"Your ladyship," he faltered, "Sir John had not yet reached his lodgings. His servant knew not when he might

"In an hour go again and wait," she commanded. "He must return ere long if he has not left town."

And having said this, pointed to a little silken heap which lay outstretched limp upon the floor. "'Tis poor

Frisk, who has had some strange spasm, and fell, striking his head. He hath been ailing for days, and howled

The stronghold of her security lay in the fact that her household so stood in awe of her, and that this room,

which was one of the richest and most beautiful, though not the largest, in the mansion, all her servitors had

learned to regard as a sort of sacred place in which none dared to set foot unless invited or commanded to

enter. Within its four walls she read and wrote in the morning hours, no servant entering unless summoned by

her; and the apartment seeming, as it were, a citadel, none approached without previous parley. In the

afternoon the doors were thrown open, and she entertained there such visitors as came with less formality

than statelier assemblages demanded. When she went out of it this morning to go to her chamber that her

habit might be changed and her toilette made, she glanced about her with a steady countenance.

"Until the babblers flock in to chatter of the modes and playhouses," she said, "all will be as quiet as the

grave. Then I must stand near, and plan well, and be in such beauty and spirit that they will see naught but

In the afternoon 'twas the fashion for those who had naught more serious in their hands than the killing of

time to pay visits to each other's houses, and drinking dishes of tea, to dispose of their neighbours' characters,

discuss the playhouses, the latest fashions in furbelows or commodes, and make love either lightly or with

serious intent. One may be sure that at my Lady Dunstanwolde's many dishes of Bohea were drunk, and

many ogling glances and much witticism exchanged. There was in these days even a greater following about

her than ever. A triumphant beauty on the verge of becoming a great duchess is not like to be neglected by

her acquaintance, and thus her ladyship held assemblies both gay and brilliantly varied, which were the

This afternoon they flocked in greater numbers than usual. The episode of the breaking of Devil, the

unexpected return of his Grace of Osmonde, the preparations for the union, had given an extra stimulant to

that interest in her ladyship which was ever great enough to need none. Thereunto was added the piquancy of

the stories of the noticeable demeanour of Sir John Oxon, of what had seemed to be so plain a rebellion

against his fate, and also of my lady's open and cold displeasure at the manner of his bearing himself as a

disappointed man who presumed to show anger against that to which he should gallantly have been resigned,

as one who is conquered by the chance of war. Those who had beheld the two ride homeward together in the

morning, were full of curiousness, and one and another, mentioning the matter, exchanged glances, speaking

plainly of desire to know more of what had passed, and of hope that chance might throw the two together

again in public, where more of interest might be gathered. It seemed indeed not unlikely that Sir John might

appear among the teabibbers, and perchance 'twas for this lively reason that my lady's room was this

They found, however, only her ladyship's self and her sister, Mistress Anne, who, of truth, did not often join

her teaparties, finding them so given up to fashionable chatter and worldly witticisms that she felt herself

somewhat out of place. The world knew Mistress Anne but as a dull, plain gentlewoman, whom her more

brilliant and fortunate sister gave gracious protection to, and none missed her when she was absent, or

observed her greatly when she appeared upon the scene. Today she was perchance more observed than

usual, because her pallor was so great a contrast to her ladyship's splendour of beauty and colour. The

contrast between them was ever a great one; but this afternoon Mistress Anne's always pale countenance

seemed almost livid, there were rings of pain or illness round her eyes, and her features looked drawn and

pinched. My Lady Dunstanwolde, clad in a great rich petticoat of crimson flowered satin, with wondrous

yellow Mechlin for her ruffles, and with her glorious hair dressed like a tower, looked taller, more

goddesslike and full of splendid fire than ever she had been before beheld, or so her visitors said to her and

to each other; though, to tell the truth, this was no new story, she being one of those women having the

curious power of inspiring the beholder with the feeling each time he encountered them that he had never

When she had come down the staircase from her chamber, Anne, who had been standing at the foot, had

"Why do you jump as if I were a ghost, Anne?" she asked. "Do I look like one? My lookingglass did not tell

"You are not crimson and splendid," she said. "'Tis you who are a ghost. What is it?"

Anne let her soft, dull eyes rest upon her for a moment helplessly, and when she replied her voice sounded

"Go then to bed and see the physician. You must be cared for," said her ladyship. "In sooth, you look ill

"Nay," said Anne; "I beg you, sister, this afternoon let me be with you; it will sustain me. You are so

She put out her hand as if to touch her, but it dropped at her side as though its strength was gone.

"But there will be many babbling people," said her sister, with a curious look. "You do not like company, and

"I care not for the peopleI would be with you," Anne said, in strange imploring. "I have a sick fancy that I

am afraid to sit alone in my chamber. 'Tis but weakness. Let me this afternoon be with you."

"Go then and change your robe," said Clorinda, "and put some red upon your cheeks. You may come if you

And thus saying, she passed into her apartment. As there are blows and pain which end in insensibility or

delirium, so there are catastrophes and perils which are so great as to produce something near akin to these.

As she had stood before her mirror in her chamber watching her reflection, while her woman attired her in

her crimson flowered satin and builded up her stately headdress, this other woman had felt that the hour

when she could have shrieked and raved and betrayed herself had passed by, and left a deadness like a calm

behind, as though horror had stunned all pain and yet left her senses clear. She forgot not the thing which lay

staring upward blankly at the under part of the couch which hid itthe look of its fixed eyes, its outspread

locks, and the purple indentation on the temple she saw as clearly as she had seen them in that first mad

moment when she had stood staring downward at the thing itself; but the coursing of her blood was stilled,

the gallop of her pulses, and that wild hysteric leaping of her heart into her throat, choking her and forcing

her to gasp and pant in that way which in women must ever end in shrieks and cries and sobbing beatings of

the air. But for the feminine softness to which her nature had given way for the first time, since the power of

love had mastered her, there was no thing of earth could have happened to her which would have brought this

rolling ball to her throat, this tremor to her bodysince the hour of her birth she had never been attacked by

such a female folly, as she would indeed have regarded it once; but now 'twas differentfor a while she had

been a womana woman who had flung herself upon the bosom of him who was her soul's lord, and resting

But 'twas not this woman who had known tender yielding who returned to take her place in the Panelled

Parlour, knowing of the companion who waited near her unseenfor it was as her companion she thought of

him, as she had thought of him when he followed her in the Mall, forced himself into her box at the play, or

stood by her shoulder at assemblies; he had placed himself by her side again, and would stay there until she

"After tonight he will be gone, if I act well my part," she said, "and then may I live a freed woman."

'Twas always upon the divan she took her place when she received her visitors, who were accustomed to

finding her enthroned there. This afternoon when she came into the room she paused for a space, and stood

beside it, the parlour being yet empty. She felt her face grow a little cold, as if it paled, and her underlip

"In a graveyard," she said, "I have sat upon the stone ledge of a tomb, and beneath there wasworse than

When the Sir Humphreys and Lord Charleses, Lady Bettys and Mistress Lovelys were announced in flocks,

fluttering and chattering, she rose from her old place to meet them, and was brilliant graciousness itself. She

hearkened to their gossipings, and though 'twas not her way to join in them, she was this day witty in such

way as robbed them of the dulness in which sometimes gossip ends. It was a varied company which gathered

about her; but to each she gave his or her moment, and in that moment said that which they would afterwards

remember. With those of the Court she talked royalty, the humours of her Majesty, the severities of her Grace

of Marlborough; with statesmen she spoke with such intellect and discretion that they went away pondering

on the good fortune which had befallen one man when it seemed that it was of such proportions as might

have satisfied a dozen, for it seemed not fair to them that his Grace of Osmonde, having already rank, wealth,

and fame, should have added to them a gift of such magnificence as this beauteous woman would bring; with

beaux and wits she made dazzling jests; and to the beauties who desired their flatteries she gave praise so

adroit that they were stimulated to plume their feathers afresh and cease to fear the rivalry of her loveliness.

And yet while she so bore herself, never once did she cease to feel the presence of that which, lying near,

seemed to her racked soul as one who lay and listened with staring eyes which mocked; for there was a

thought which would not leave her, which was, that it could hear, that it could see through the glazing on its

blue orbs, and that knowing itself bound by the moveless irons of death and dumbness it impotently raged

and cursed that it could not burst them and shriek out its vengeance, rolling forth among her worshippers at

"But he CAN not," she said, within her clenched teeth, again and again"THAT he cannot."

Once as she said this to herself she caught Anne's eyes fixed helplessly upon her, it seeming to be as the poor

woman had said, that her weakness caused her to desire to abide near her sister's strength and draw support

from it; for she had remained at my lady's side closely since she had descended to the room, and now seemed

"You are too weak to stay, Anne," her ladyship said. "'Twould be better that you should retire."

"I am weak," the poor thing answered, in low tones"but not too weak to stay. I am always weak. Would

that I were of your strength and courage. Let me sit downsister here." She touched the divan's cushions

with a shaking hand, gazing upward wearily perchance remembering that this place seemed ever a sort of

"You are too meek, poor sister," quoth Clorinda. "'Tis not a chair of coronation or the woolsack of a judge.

She spoke to a lacquey and bade him bring the drink, for even as she sank into her place Anne's cheeks grew

When 'twas brought, her ladyship poured it forth and gave it to her sister with her own hand, obliging her to

drink enough to bring her colour back. Having seen to this, she addressed the servant who had obeyed her

"Hath Jenfry returned from Sir John Oxon?" she demanded, in that clear, ringing voice of hers, whose music

ever arrested those surrounding her, whether they were concerned in her speech or no; but now all felt

"But not all day, poor fool," she said, setting down Anne's empty glass upon the salver. "Did he think I bade

"'Tis ever thus with these dull serving folk," she said to those nearest her. "One cannot pay for wit with wages

and livery. They can but obey the literal word. Sir John, leaving me in haste this morning, I forgot a question

"Was he overtaken?" said a curious matron, who wished not to see the subject closed.

"No," quoth her ladyship, with a light laugh"though he must have been in haste, for the man was sent after

him in but a moment's time. 'Twas then I told the fellow to go later to his lodgings and deliver my message

into Sir John's own hand, whence it seems that he thinks that he must await him till he comes."

Upon a table near there lay the loaded whip; for she had felt it bolder to let it lie there as if forgotten, because

her pulse had sprung so at first sight of it when she came down, and she had so quailed before the desire to

thrust it away, to hide it from her sight. "And that I quail before," she had said, "I must have the will to

A languishing beauty, with melting blue eyes and a pretty fashion of ever keeping before the world of her

"How can your ladyship wield it?" she said. "It is so heavy for a womanbut your ladyship isis not"

"Not quite a woman," said the beautiful creature, standing at her full great height, and smiling down at this

"Not quite a woman," cried two wits at once. "A goddess ratheran Olympian goddess."

The languisher could not endure comparisons which so seemed to disparage her ethereal charms. She lifted

the weapon with a great effort, which showed the slimness of her delicate fair wrist and the sweet tracery of

"Nay," she said lispingly, "it needs the muscle of a great man to lift it. I could not hold itmuch less beat

with it a horse." And to show how coarse a strength was needed and how far her femininity lacked such

vigour, she dropped it upon the floorand it rolled beneath the edge of the divan.

"Now," the thought shot through my lady's brain, as a bolt shoots from the sky"nowhe LAUGHS!"

She had no time to stirthere were upon their knees three beaux at once, and each would sure have thrust his

arm below the seat and rummaged, had not God saved her! Yes, 'twas of God she thought in that terrible mad

For Annepoor Mistress Annewhitefaced and shaking, was before them all, and with a strange

adroitness stooped,and thrust her hand below, and drawing the thing forth, held it up to view.

"'Tis here," she said, "and in sooth, sister, I wonder not at its fallingits weight is so great."

"I shall break no more beasts like Devil," she said, "and for quieter ones it weighs too much; I shall lay it by."

"It was ever heavybut for Devil. 'Tis done with," she said; and there came back to her facewhich for a

second had lost huea flood of crimson so glowing, and a smile so strange, that those who looked and

heard, said to themselves that 'twas the thought of Osmonde who had so changed her, which made her blush.

But a few moments later they beheld the same glow mount again. A lacquey entered, bearing a salver on

which lay two letters. One was a large one, sealed with a ducal coronet, and this she saw first, and took in her

"His Grace's courier has arrived from France," he said; "the package was ordered to be delivered at once."

"It must be that his Grace returns earlier than we had hoped," she said, and then the other missive caught her

"'Tis your ladyship's own," the lacquey explained somewhat anxiously. "'Twas brought back, Sir John not

She did not lay Osmonde's letter aside, but kept it in her hand, and seeing that she waited for their retirement

to read it, her guests began to make their farewells. One by one or in groups of twos and threes they left her,

the men bowing low, and going away fretted by the memory of the picture she madea tall and regal figure

in her flowered crimson, her stateliness seeming relaxed and softened by the mere holding of the sealed

missive in her hand. But the women were vaguely envious, not of Osmonde, but of her before whom there lay

outspread as far as life's horizon reached, a future of such perfect love and joy; for Gerald Mertoun had been

marked by feminine eyes since his earliest youth, and had seemed to embody all that woman's dreams or

When the last was gone, Clorinda turned, tore her letter open, and held it hard to her lips. Before she read a

word she kissed it passionately a score of times, paying no heed that Anne sate gazing at her; and having

kissed it so, she fell to reading it, her cheeks warm with the glow of a sweet and splendid passion, her bosom

rising and falling in a tempest of tender, fluttering breathsand 'twas these words her eyes devoured

"If I should head this page I write to you 'Goddess and Queen, and Empress of my deepest soul,' what more

should I be saying than 'My Love' and 'My Clorinda,' since these express all the soul of man could crave for

or his body desire. The body and soul of me so long for thee, sweetheart, and sweetest beautiful woman that

the hand of Nature ever fashioned for the joy of mortals, that I have had need to pray Heaven's help to aid me

to endure the passing of the days that lie between me and the hour which will make me the most strangely,

rapturously, happy man, not in England, not in the world, but in all God's universe. I must pray Heaven again,

and indeed do and will, for humbleness which shall teach me to remember that I am not deity, but mere

manmere manthough I shall hold a goddess to my breast and gaze into eyes which are like deep pools of

Paradise, and yet answer mine with the marvel of such love as none but such a soul could make a woman's,

and so fit to mate with man's. In the heavy days when I was wont to gaze at you from afar with burning heart,

my unceasing anguish was that even high honour itself could not subdue and conquer the thoughts which

leaped within me even as my pulse leaped, and even as my pulse could not be stilled unless by death. And

one that for ever haunteday, and tauntedme was the image of how your tall, beauteous body would yield

itself to a strong man's arm, and your noble head with its heavy tower of hair resting upon his shoulderthe

centres of his very being would be thrilled and shaken by the uplifting of such melting eyes as surely man

ne'er gazed within on earth before, and the ripe and scarlet bow of a mouth so beauteous and so sweet with

womanhood. This beset me day and night, and with such torture that I feared betimes my brain might reel and

I become a lost and ruined madman. And nowit is no more forbidden me to dwell upon itnay, I lie

waking at night, wooing the picture to me, and at times I rise from my dreams to kneel by my bedside and

thank God that He hath given me at last what surely is my own!for so it seems to me, my love, that each of

us is but a part of the other, and that such forces of Nature rush to meet together in us, that Nature herself

would cry out were we rent apart. If there were aught to rise like a ghost between us, if there were aught that

could sunder usnoble soul, let us but swear that it shall weld us but the closer together, and that locked in

each other's arms its blows shall not even make our united strength to sway. Sweetest lady, your lovely lip

will curve in smiles, and you will say, 'He is mad with his joymy Gerald' (for never till my heart stops at

its last beat and leaves me still, a dead man, cold upon my bed, can I forget the music of your speech when

you spoke those words, 'My Gerald! My Gerald.') And indeed I crave your pardon, for a man so filled with

rapture cannot be quite sane, and sometimes I wonder if I walk through the palace gardens like one who is

drunk, so does my brain reel. But soon, my heavenly, noble love, my exile will be over, and this is in truth

what my letter is to tell you, that in four days your lacqueys will throw open your doors to me and I shall

enter, and being led to you, shall kneel at your feet and kiss the hem of your robe, and then rise standing to

Back to her face had come all the softness which had been lost, the hard lines were gone, the tender curves

had returned, her lashes looked as if they were moist. Anne, sitting rigidly and gazing at her, was afraid to

speak, knowing that she was not for the time on earth, but that the sound of a voice would bring her back to

She read the letter, not once, but thrice, dwelling upon every word, 'twas plain; and when she had reached the

last one, turning back the pages and beginning again. When she looked up at last, 'twas with an almost wild

"Locked in each other's arms," she said"locked in each other's arms. My Gerald! My Gerald! 'What surely

Anne rose and came to her, laying her hand on her arm. She spoke in a voice low, hushed, and strained.

That she must leave the Panelled Parlour at her usual hour, or attract attention by doing that to which her

household was unaccustomed, she well knew, her manner of life being ever stately and ceremonious in its

regularity. When she dined at home she and Anne partook of their repast together in the large diningroom,

the table loaded with silver dishes and massive glittering glass, their powdered, goldlaced lacqueys in

attendance, as though a score of guests had shared the meal with them. Since her lord's death there had been

nights when her ladyship had sat late writing letters and reading documents pertaining to her estates, the

management of which, though in a measure controlled by stewards and attorneys, was not left to them, as the

business of most great ladies is generally left to others. All papers were examined by her, all leases and

agreements clearly understood before she signed them, and if there were aught unsatisfactory, both stewards

"Never did Ior any other manmeet with such a head upon a woman's shoulders," her attorney said. And

the head steward of Dunstanwolde and Helversly learned to quake at the sight of her bold handwriting upon

"Such a lady!" he said"such a lady! Lie to her if you can; palter if you know how; try upon her the smallest

honest shrewd trick, and see how it fares with you. Were it not that she is generous as she is piercing of eye,

She went to her chamber and was attired again sumptuously for dinner. Before she descended she dismissed

her woman for a space on some errand, and when she was alone, drawing near to her mirror, gazed

steadfastly within it at her face. When she had read Osmonde's letter her cheeks had glowed; but when she

had come back to earth, and as she had sat under her woman's hands at her toilette, bit by bit the crimson had

died out as she had thought of what was behind her and of what lay before. The thing was so stiffly rigid by

this time, and its eyes still stared so. Never had she needed to put red upon her cheeks before, Nature having

stained them with such richness of hue; but as no lady of the day was unprovided with her crimson, there was

a little pot among her toilette ornaments which contained all that any emergency might require. She opened

this small receptacle and took from it the red she for the first time was in want of.

"I must not wear a pale face, God knows," she said, and rubbed the colour on her cheeks with boldness.

It would have seemed that she wore her finest crimson when she went forth full dressed from her apartment;

little Nero grinned to see her, the lacqueys saying among themselves that his Grace's courier had surely

brought good news, and that they might expect his master soon. At the dinnertable 'twas Anne who was pale

and ate but little, she having put no red upon her cheeks, and having no appetite for what was spread before

her. She looked strangely as though she were withered and shrunken, and her face seemed even wrinkled. My

lady had small leaning towards food, but she sent no food away untouched, forcing herself to eat, and letting

not the talk flagthough it was indeed true that 'twas she herself who talked, Mistress Anne speaking rarely;

but as it was always her way to be silent, and a listener rather than one who conversed, this was not greatly

Her Ladyship of Dunstanwolde talked of her guests of the afternoon, and was charming and witty in her

speech of them; she repeated the mots of the wits, and told some brilliant stories of certain modish ladies and

gentlemen of fashion; she had things to say of statesmen and politics, and was sparkling indeed in speaking

of the lovely languisher whose little wrist was too delicate and slender to support the loaded whip. While she

talked, Mistress Anne's soft, dull eyes were fixed upon her with a sort of wonder which had some of the

quality of bewilderment; but this was no new thing either, for to the one woman the other was ever something

"It is because you are so quiet a mouse, Anne," my lady said, with her dazzling smile, "that you seem never

in the way; and yet I should miss you if I knew you were not within the house. When the duke takes me to

Camylotte you must be with me even then. It is so great a house that in it I can find you a bower in which you

can be happy even if you see us but little. 'Tis a heavenly place I am told, and of great splendour and beauty.

"Yes," was her sister's answer"yes." And 'twas spoken with a deep indrawn breath.

"You may sit with me till bedtime if you desire, Anne," she said; "but 'twill be but dull for you, as I go to sit

at work. I have some documents of import to examine and much writing to do. I shall sit up late." And upon

this she turned to the lacquey holding open the door for her passing through. "If before halfpast ten there

comes a message from Sir John Oxon," she gave order, "it must be brought to me at once; but later I must not

Yet as she spoke there was before her as distinct a picture as ever of what lay waiting and gazing in the room

Until twelve o'clock she sat at her table, a despatch box by her side, papers outspread before her. Within three

feet of her was the divan, but she gave no glance to it, sitting writing, reading, and comparing documents. At

"I shall be later than I thought," she said. "I need none of you who are below stairs. Go you all to bed. Tell

my woman that she also may lie down. I will ring when I come to my chamber and have need of her. There is

He went away with a relieved countenance, as she made no comment. He knew that his fellows as well as

himself would be pleased enough to be released from duty for the night. They were a pampered lot, and had

no fancy for late hours when there were no great entertainments being held which pleased them and gave

Mistress Anne sat in a large chair, huddled into a small heap, and looking colourless and shrunken. As she

heard bolts being shot and bars put up for the closing of the house, she knew that her own dismissal was at

hand. Doors were shut below stairs, and when all was done the silence of night reigned as it does in all

households when those who work have gone to rest. 'Twas a common thing enough, and yet this night there

was one woman who felt the stillness so deep that it made her breathing seem a sound too loud.

She was a poor weak creature, and so she looked with her pale insignificant face and dull eyes, a wisp of

loose hair lying damp on her forehead. She seemed indeed too weak a thing to stand even for a moment in the

way of what must be done this night, and 'twas almost irritating to be stopped by her.

"Nay," said my Lady Dunstanwolde, her beautiful brow knitting as she looked at her. "Go to your chamber,

"Butbut" Anne stammered, dominated again, and made afraid, as she ever was, by this strong nature, "in

this work you must finish is there not something I could do toaid youeven in some small and poor

"Naught," answered Clorinda, her form drawn to its great full height, her lustrous eyes darkening. "What

"Not some small thingnot some poor thing?" Anne said, her fingers nervously twisting each other, so

borne down was she by her awful timorousness, for awful it was indeed when she saw clouds gather on her

sister's brow. "I have so loved you, sisterI have so loved you that my mind is quickened somehow at times,

and I can understand more than would be thoughtwhen I hope to serve you. Once you saidonce you

She knew not then nor ever afterwards how it came to pass that in that moment she found herself swept into

her sister's white arms and strained against her breast, wherein she felt the wild heart bounding; nor could

she, not being given to subtle reasoning, have comprehended the almost fierce kiss on her cheek nor the hot

"I said that I believed that if you saw me commit murder," Clorinda cried, "you would love me still, and be

"And I believe your word, poor, faithful soulI do believe it," my lady said, and kissed her hard again, but

the next instant set her free and laughed. "But you will not be put to the test," she said, "for I have done none.

And in two days' time my Gerald will be here, and I shall be safesaved and happy for evermorefor

And she went back to her table and sat beside it, taking her pen to write, and Anne knew that she dare say no

more, and turning, went slowly from the room, seeing for her last sight as she passed through the doorway,

the erect and splendid figure at its task, the light from the candelabras shining upon the rubies round the

snow white neck and wreathed about the tower of raven hair like lines of crimson.

It is, indeed, strangely easy in the great world for a man to lose his importance, and from having been the

target for all eyes and the subject of all conversation, to step from his place, or find it so taken by some rival

that it would seem, judging from the general obliviousness to him, that he had never existed. But few years

before no fashionable gathering would have been felt complete had it not been graced by the presence of the

young and fascinating Lovelace, Sir John Oxon. Women favoured him, and men made themselves his boon

companions; his wit was repeated; the fashion of his hair and the cut of his waistcoat copied. He was at first

rich and gay enough to be courted and made a favourite; but when his fortune was squandered, and his

marriage with the heiress came to naught, those qualities which were vicious and base in him were more easy

to be seen. Besides, there came new male beauties and new dandies with greater resources and more of

prudence, and these, beginning to set fashion, win ladies' hearts, and make conquests, so drew the attention of

the public mind that he was less noticeable, being only one of many, instead of ruling singly as it had seemed

that by some strange chance he did at first. There were indeed so many stories told of his light ways, that their

novelty being worn off and new ones still repeated, such persons as concerned themselves with matters of

reputation either through conscience or policy, began to speak of him with less of warmth or leniency.

"'Tis not well for a matron with daughters to marry and with sons to keep an eye to," it was said, "to have in

her household too often a young gentleman who has squandered his fortune in dice and drink and wild living,

So there were fine ladies who began to avoid him, and those in power at Court and in the world who regarded

him with lessening favour day by day! In truth, he had such debts, and his creditors pressed him so

ceaselessly, that even had the world's favour continued, his life must have changed its aspect greatly. His

lodgings were no longer the most luxurious in the fashionable part of the town, his brocades and laces were

no longer of the richest, nor his habit of the very latest and most modish cut; he had no more an equipage

attracting every eye as he drove forth, nor a gentleman's gentleman whose swagger and pomp outdid that of

all others in his world. Soon after the breaking of his marriage with the heiress, his mother had died, and his

relatives being few, and those of an order strictly averse to the habits of illprovided and extravagant

kinsmen, he had but few family ties. Other ties he had, 'twas true, but they were not such as were accounted

So it befell that when my Lady Dunstanwolde's lacquey could not find him at his lodgings, and as the days

went past neither his landlady nor his creditors beheld him again, his absence from the scene was not

considered unaccountable by them, nor did it attract the notice it would have done in times gone by.

"He hath made his way out of England to escape us," said the angry tailors and mercerswho had besieged

his door in vain for months, and who were now infuriated at the thought of their own easiness and the

impudent gay airs which had befooled them. "A good four hundred pounds of mine hath he carried with

him," said one. "And two hundred of mine!" "And more of mine, since I am a poor man to whom a pound

means twenty guineas!" "We are all robbed, and he has cheated the debtors' prison, wherein, if we had not

"Think ye he will not come back, gentlemen?" quavered his landlady. "God knows when I have seen a guinea

of his moneybut he was such a handsome, fine young nobleman, and had such a way with a poor body,

He did not come back, indeed; and hearing the rumour that he had fled his creditors, the world of fashion

received the news with small disturbance, all modish persons being at that time much engaged in discussion

of the approaching nuptials of her ladyship of Dunstanwolde and the Duke of Osmonde. Close upon the

discussions of the preparations came the nuptials themselves, and then all the town was agog, and had small

leisure to think of other things. For those who were bidden to the ceremonials and attendant entertainments,

there were rich habits and splendid robes to be prepared; and to those who had not been bidden, there were

"He has fled to escape something more painful than the spleen," others answered. "He had reached his rope's

end, and finding that my Lady Dunstanwolde was not of a mind to lengthen it with her fortune, having taken

a better man, and that his creditors would have no more patience, he showed them a light pair of heels."

Before my Lady Dunstanwolde left her house she gave orders that it be set in order for closing for some time,

having it on her mind that she should not soon return. It was, however, to be left in such condition that at any

moment, should she wish to come to it, all could be made ready in two days' time. To this end various repairs

and changes she had planned were to be carried out as soon as she went away from it. Among other things

was the closing with brickwork of the entrance to the passage leading to the unused cellars.

"'Twill make the servants' part more wholesome and less damp and draughty," she said; "and if I should sell

the place, will be to its advantage. 'Twas a builder with little wit who planned such passages and black holes.

In spite of all the lime spread there, they were ever mouldy and of evil odour."

It was her command that there should be no time lost, and men were set at work, carrying bricks and mortar.

It so chanced that one of them, going in through a back entrance with a hod over his shoulder, and being

young and lively, found his eye caught by the countenance of a pretty, frightenedlooking girl, who seemed

to be loitering about watching, as if curious or anxious. Seeing her near each time he passed, and observing

She drew nearer gratefully, and then he saw her eyes were red as if with weeping.

"Think you her ladyship would let a poor girl speak a word with her?" she said. "Think you I dare ask so

much of a servantor would they flout me and turn me from the door? Have you seen her? Does she look

"That she does not, though all stand in awe of her," he answered, pleased to talk with so pretty a creature. "I

but caught a glimpse of her when she gave orders concerning the closing with brick of a passageway below.

She is a tall lady, and grand and stately, but she hath a soft pair of eyes as ever man would wish to look into,

"Ay!" she said; "all men love her, they say. Many a poor girl's sweetheart has been false through herand I

thought she was cruel and illnatured. Know you the servants that wait on her? Would you dare to ask one

for me, if he thinks she would deign to see a poor girl who would crave the favour to be allowed to speak to

"They are but lacqueys, and I would dare to ask what was in my mind," he answered; "but she is near her

weddingday, and little as I know of brides' ways, I am of the mind that she will not like to be troubled."

"That I stand in fear of," she said; "but, oh! I pray you, ask some one of thema kindly one."

The young man looked aside. "Luck is with you," he said. "Here comes one now to air himself in the sun,

having naught else to do. Here is a young woman who would speak with her ladyship," he said to the

"She had best begone," the lacquey answered, striding towards the applicant. "Think you my lady has time to

"'Twas only for a moment I asked," the girl said. "I come fromI would speak to her ofof Sir John

"Sir John Oxon," he said. "Then I will ask her. Had you said any other name I would not have gone near her

Her ladyship was in her new closet with Mistress Anne, and there the lacquey came to her to deliver his

My Lady Dunstanwolde made no start, but turned a steady countenance towards the door, looking into the

"After the morning he rode home with me," my lady answered, "'twas said he went away. He left his lodgings

without warning. It seems he hath come back. What does the woman want?" she ended.

"To speak with your ladyship," replied the man, "of Sir John himself, she says."

The girl was brought in, overawed and trembling. She was a country bred young creature, as the lacquey

had said, being of the simple roseandwhite freshness of seventeen years perhaps, and having childish blue

She was so frightened by the grandeur of her surroundings, and the splendid beauty of the lady who was so

soon to be a duchess, and was already a great earl's widow, that she could only stand within the doorway,

"Be not afraid," said my Lady Dunstanwolde. "Come hither, child, and tell me what you want." Indeed, she

did not look a hard or shrewish lady; she spoke as gently as woman could, and a mildness so unexpected

produced in the young creature such a revulsion of feeling that she made a few steps forward and fell upon

"My lady," she said, "I know not how I dared to come, but that I am so desperateand your ladyship being

so happy, it seemedit seemed that you might pity me, who am so helpless and know not what to do."

Her ladyship leaned forward in her chair, her elbow on her knee, her chin held in her hand, to gaze at her.

"Not FROM him, asking your ladyship's pardon," said the child, "but butfrom the country to him," her

"You came TO him," asked my lady. "Are you," and her speech was pitiful and slow"are you one of those

"Had he not been," the child answered, "my mother would have been afraid to trust him. I am but a poor

country widow's daughter, but was well brought up, and honestlyand when he came to our village my

mother was afraid, because he was a gentleman; but when she saw his piety, and how he went to church and

"'Twas in church he saw me, your ladyship," she was answered. "He said 'twas his custom to go always when

he came to a new place, and that often there he found the most heavenly faces, for 'twas piety and innocence

that made a face like to an angel's; and 'twas innocence and virtue stirred his heart to love, and not mere

"Go on, innocent thing," my lady said; and she turned aside to Anne, flashing from her eyes unseen a great

blaze, and speaking in a low and hurried voice. "God's house," she said"God's prayersGod's songs of

praisehe used them all to break a tender heart, and bring an innocent life to ruinand yet was he not

"He was a gentleman," the poor young thing cried, sobbing"and I no fit match for him, but that he loved

me. 'Tis said love makes all equal; and he said I was the sweetest, innocent young thing, and without me he

could not live. And he told my mother that he was not rich or the fashion now, and had no modish friends or

"And he would marry you?" my lady's voice broke in. "He said that he would marry you?"

"A thousand times, your ladyship, and so told my mother, but said I must come to town and be married at his

lodgings, or 'twould not be counted a marriage by law, he being a town gentleman, and I from the country."

"And you came," said Mistress Anne, down whose pale cheeks the tears were running"you came at his

"What day came you up to town?" demands my lady, breathless and leaning forward. "Went you to his

"He was not there!" she cried. "I came alone because he said all must be secret at first; and my heart beat so

with joy, my lady, that when the woman of the house whereat he lodges let me in I scarce could speak. But

she was a merry woman and goodnatured, and only laughed and cheered me when she took me to his

"That he was not yet in, but that he would sure come to such a young and pretty thing as I, and I must wait for

him, for he would not forgive her if she let me go. And the while I waited there came a man in bands and

cassock, but he had not a holy look, and late in the afternoon I heard him making jokes with the woman

outside, and they both laughed in such an evil way that I was affrighted, and waiting till they had gone to

"Why should your ladyship thank God?" she says, pure drops falling from her eyes. "I am so humble, and had

Then drops fell from my lady's eyes also, and she came forward and caught the child's hand, and held it close

"'Twas not that your joy was taken away that I thanked God," said she. "I am not cruelGod Himself knows

that, and when He smites me 'twill not be for cruelty. I knew not what I said, and yettell me what did you

"I went to a poor house to lodge, having some little money he had given me," the simple young thing

answered. "'Twas an honest house, though mean and comfortless. And the next day I went back to his

lodgings to question, but he had not come, and I would not go in, though the woman tried to make me enter,

saying, Sir John would surely return soon, as he had the day before rid with my Lady Dunstanwolde and been

to her house; and 'twas plain he had meant to come to his lodgings, for her ladyship had sent her lacquey

The hand with which Mistress Anne sate covering her eyes began to shake. My lady's own hand would have

"He has not," she cried, "and I know not what to doand the great town seems full of evil men and wicked

women. I know not which way to turn, for all plot wrong against me, and would drag me down to

"I have not been made an honest, wedded woman, and none would believe my story, andand he might

At this question the girl slipped from her grasp and down upon her knees again, catching at her rich petticoat

and holding it, her eyes searching the great lady's in imploring piteousness, her own streaming.

"I love him," she wept"I love him soI cannot leave the place where he might be. He was so beautiful

and grand a gentleman, and, sure, he loved me better than all elseand I cannot thrust away from me that

last night when he held me to his breast near our cottage door, and the nightingale sang in the roses, and he

spake such words to me. I lie and sob all night on my hard pillowI so long to see him and to hear his

voiceand hearing he had been with you that last morning, I dared to come, praying that you might have

heard him let drop some word that would tell me where he may be, for I cannot go away thinking he may

come back longing for meand I lose him and never see his face again. Oh! my lady, my lady, this place is

so full of wickedness and fierce peopleand dark kennels where crimes are done. I am affrighted for him,

thinking he may have been struck some blow, and murdered, and hid away; and none will look for him but

one who loves himwho loves him. Could it be so?could it be? You know the town's ways so well. I pray

"God's mercy!" Anne breathed, and from behind her hands came stifled sobbing. My Lady Dunstanwolde

"Nay, nay," she said, "there has been no murder donenone! Hush, poor thing, hush thee. There is

She tried to raise her, but the child would not be raised, and clung to her rich robe, shaking as she knelt

"It is a bitter thing," my lady said, and 'twas as if her own eyes were imploring. "God help you bear itGod

help us all. He told me nothing of his journey. I knew not he was about to take it; but wheresoever he has

"Nay! nay!" the girl cried out"to leave me helpless. Nay! it could not be so. He loved meloved meas

"He meant you evil," said my lady, shuddering, "and evil he would have done you. He was a villaina

villain who meant to trick you. Had God struck him dead that day, 'twould have been mercy to you. I knew

The young thing gave a bitter cry and fell swooning at her feet; and down upon her knees my lady went

beside her, loosening her gown, and chafing her poor hands as though they two had been of sister blood.

"Call for hartshorn, Anne, and for water," she said; "she will come out of her swooning, poor child, and if she

is cared for kindly in time her pain will pass away. God be thanked she knows no pain that cannot pass! I will

protect heray, that will I, as I will protect all he hath done wrong to and deserted."

She was so strangely kind through the poor victim's swoons and weeping that the very menials who were

called to aid her went back to their hall wondering in their talk of the noble grandness of so great a lady, who

on the very brink of her own joy could stoop to protect and comfort a creature so far beneath her, that to most

ladies her sorrow and desertion would have been things which were too trivial to count; for 'twas guessed,

and talked over with great freedom and much shrewdness, that this was a country victim of Sir John Oxon's,

and he having deserted his creditors, was read enough to desert his rustic beauty, finding her heavy on his

Below stairs the men closing the entrance to the passage with brick, having caught snatches of the servants'

"Ay, a noble lady indeed," they said. "For 'tis not a woman's way to be kindly with the castoff fancy of a

man, even when she does not want him herself. He was her own worshipper for many a day, Sir John; and

before she took the old earl 'twas said that for a space people believed she loved him. She was but fifteen and

a high mettled beauty; and he as handsome as she, and had a blue eye that would melt any womanbut at

sixteen he was a town rake, and such tricks as this one he hath played since he was a lad. 'Tis well indeed for

this poor thing her ladyship hath seen her. She hath promised to protect her, and sends her down to

Dunstanwolde with her mother this very week. Would all fine ladies were of her kind. To hear such things of

When the duke came back from France, and to pay his first eager visit to his bride that was to be, her

ladyship's lacqueys led him not to the Panelled Parlour, but to a room which he had not entered before, it

being one she had had the fancy to have remodelled and made into a beautiful closet for herself, her great

wealth rendering it possible for her to accomplish changes without the loss of time the owners of limited

purses are subjected to in the carrying out of plans. This room she had made as unlike the Panelled Parlour as

two rooms would be unlike one another. Its panellings were white, its furnishings were bright and delicate, its

draperies flowered with rosebuds tied in clusters with loveknots of pink and blue; it had a large

bowwindow, through which the sunlight streamed, and it was blooming with great rosebowls overrunning

From a seat in the morning sunshine among the flowers and plants in the bowwindow, there rose a tall

figure in a snowwhite robea figure like that of a beautiful stately girl who was half an angel. It was my

lady, who came to him with blushing cheeks and radiant shining eyes, and was swept into his arms in such a

"My Gerald!" she cried. "My Geraldlet me say it on your breast a thousand times!"

"Nay, nay," she cried, her cheek pressed to his own, "through all eternity, for Love's life knows no end."

As it had seemed to her poor lord who had died, so it seemed to this man who lived and so worshipped

herthat the wonder of her sweetness was a thing to marvel at with passionate reverence. Being a man of

greater mind and poetic imagination than Dunstanwolde, and being himself adored by her, as that poor

gentleman had not had the good fortune to be, he had ten thousandfold the power and reason to see the

tender radiance of her. As she was taller than other women, so her love seemed higher and greater, and as free

from any touch of earthly poverty of feeling as her beauty was from any flaw. In it there could be no doubt,

no pride; it could be bounded by no limit, measured by no rule, its depths sounded by no plummet.

His very soul was touched by her great longing to give to him the feeling, and to feel herself, that from the

"I am a new created thing," she said; "until you called me 'Love' I had no life! All before was darkness. 'Twas

"Hush, hush, sweet love," he said. "Your words would make me too near God's self."

"Sure Love is God," she cried, her hands upon his shoulders, her face uplifted. "What else? Love we know;

Love we worship and kneel to; Love conquers us and gives us Heaven. Until I knew it, I believed naught.

Never before, it was true, had she knelt and prayed, but from this time no nun in her convent knelt oftener or

prayed more ardently, and her prayer was ever that the past might be forgiven her, the future blessed, and she

taught how to so live that there should be no faintest shadow in the years to come.

"I know not What is above me," she said. "I cannot lie and say I love It and believe, but if there is aught, sure

It must be a power which is great, else had the world not been so strange a thing, and Iand those who live

in itand if He made us, He must know He is to blame when He has made us weak or evil. And He must

understand why we have been so made, and when we throw ourselves into the dust before Him, and pray for

help and pardon, surelysurely He will lend an ear! We know naught, we have been told naught; we have

but an old book which has been handed down through strange hands and strange tongues, and may be but

poor history. We have so little, and we are threatened so; but for love's sake I will pray the poor prayers we

are given, and for love's sake there is no dust too low for me to lie in while I plead."

This was the strange truththough 'twas not so strange if the world feared not to admit such thingsthat

through her Gerald, who was but noble and highsouled man, she was led to bow before God's throne as the

humblest and holiest saint bows, though she had not learned belief and only had learned love.

"But life lasts so short a while," she said to Osmonde. "It seems so short when it is spent in such joy as this;

and when the day comesfor, oh! Gerald, my soul sees it alreadywhen the day comes that I kneel by your

bedside and see your eyes close, or you kneel by mine, it MUST be that the one who waits behind shall know

Often in these blissful hours her way was almost like a child's, she was so tender and so clinging. At times

her beauteous, great eyes were full of an imploring which made them seem soft with tears, and thus they were

"I will do all I can," she said. "I will obey every law, I will pray often and give alms, and strive to be dutiful

andholy, that in the end He will not thrust me from you; that I may stay near even in the lowest place,

even in the lowestthat I may see your face and know that you see mine. We are so in His power, He can do

To Anne she went with curious humility, questioning her as to her religious duties and beliefs, asking her

"All your life you have been a religious woman," she said. "I used to think it folly, but now"

But when she listened to Anne's simple homilies, and read her weighty sermons, they but made her restless

"Nay, 'tis not that," she said one day, with a deep sigh. "'Tis more than that; 'tis deeper, and greater, and your

But a short time elapsed before the marriage was solemnised, and such a wedding the world of fashion had

not taken part in for years, 'twas said. Royalty honoured it; the greatest of the land were proud to count

themselves among the guests; the retainers, messengers, and company of the two great houses were so

numerous that in the west end of the town the streets wore indeed quite a festal air, with the passing to and fro

'Twas to the Tower of Camylott, the most beautiful and remote of the bridegroom's several notable seats, that

they removed their household, when the irksomeness of the extended ceremonies and entertainments were

overfor these they were of too distinguished rank to curtail as lesser personages might have done. But

when all things were over, the stately town houses closed, and their equipages rolled out beyond the sight of

town into the country roads, the great duke and his great duchess sat hand in hand, gazing into each other's

eyes with as simple and ardent a joy as they had been but young 'prentice and country maid, flying to hide

"There is no other woman who is so like a queen," Osmonde said, with tenderest smiling. "And yet your eyes

wear a look so young in these days that they are like a child's. In all their beauty, I have never seen them so

"It is because I am a new created thing, as I have told you, love," she answered, and leaned towards him. "Do

you not know I never was a child. I bring myself to you new born. Make of me then what a woman should

beto be beloved of husband and of God. Teach me, my Gerald. I am your child and servant."

'Twas ever thus, that her words when they were such as these were ended upon his breast as she was swept

there by his impassioned arm. She was so goddesslike and beautiful a being, her life one strangely dominant

and brilliant series of triumphs, and yet she came to him with such softness and humility of passion, that

"Surely," he said, "it is a thing too wondrous and too full of joy's splendour to be true."

In the golden afternoon, when the sun was deepening and mellowing towards its setting, they and their

retinue entered Camylott. The bells pealed from the grey belfry of the old church; the villagers came forth in

clean smocks and Sunday cloaks of scarlet, and stood in the street and by the roadside curtseying and baring

their heads with rustic cheers; little country girls with red cheeks threw posies before the horses' feet, and into

the equipage itself when they were of the bolder sort. Their chariot passed beneath archways of flowers and

boughs, and from the battlements of the Tower of Camylott there floated a flag in the soft wind.

"God save your Graces," the simple people cried. "God give your Graces joy and long life! Lord, what a

beautiful pair they be. And though her Grace was said to be a proud lady, how sweetly she smiles at a poor

Her Grace of Osmonde leaned forward in her equipage and smiled at the people with the face of an angel.

Late at night they walked together on the broad terrace before the Tower. The blueblack vault of heaven

above them was studded with myriads of God's brilliants; below them was spread out the beauty of the land,

the rolling plains, the soft low hills, the forests and moors folded and hidden in the swathing robe of the

night; from the park and gardens floated upward the freshness of acres of thick sward and deep fern thicket,

the fragrance of roses and a thousand flowers, the tender sighing of the wind through the huge oaks and

beeches bordering the avenues, and reigning like kings over the seeming boundless grassy spaces.

As lovers have walked since the days of Eden they walked together, no longer duke and duchess, but man and

womannear to Paradise as human beings may draw until God breaks the chain binding them to earth; and,

indeed, it would seem that such hours are given to the straining human soul that it may know that somewhere

perfect joy must be, since sometimes the gates are for a moment opened that Heaven's light may shine

through, so that human eyes may catch glimpses of the white and golden glories within.

His arm held her, she leaned against him, their slow steps so harmonising the one with the other that they

accorded with the harmony of music; the nightingales trilling and bubbling in the rose trees were not

affrighted by the low murmur of their voices; perchance, this night they were so near to Nature that the

"Oh! to be a woman," Clorinda murmured. "To be a woman at last. All other things I have been, and have

been called 'Huntress,' 'Goddess,' 'Beauty,' 'Empress,' 'Conqueror,'but never 'Woman.' And had our paths

not crossed, I think I never could have known what 'twas to be one, for to be a woman one must close with

the man who is one's mate. It must not be that one looks down, or only pities or protects and guides; and only

to a few a mate seems given. And IGerald, how dare I walk thus at your side and feel your heart so beat

"Oh, woman! woman!" he breathed, straining her close. "Oh, woman who is mine, though I am but man."

"We are but one," she said; "one breath, one soul, one thought, and one desire. Were it not so, I were not

woman and your wife, nor you man and my soul's lover as you are. If it were not so, we were still apart,

though we were wedded a thousand times. Apart, what are we but like loppedoff limbs; welded together, we

areTHIS." And for a moment they spoke not, and a nightingale on the rose vine, clambering o'er the

terrace's balustrade, threw up its little head and sang as if to the myriads of golden stars. They stood and

listened, hand in hand, her sweet breast rose and fell, her lovely face was lifted to the bespangled sky.

"Of all this," she said, "I am a part, as I am a part of you. To night, as the great earth throbs, and as the stars

tremble, and as the wind sighs, so I, being woman, throb and am tremulous and sigh also. The earth lives for

the sun, and through strange mysteries blooms forth each season with fruits and flowers; love is my sun, and

through its sacredness I may bloom too, and be as noble as the earth and that it bears."

In a fair tower whose windows looked out upon spreading woods, and rich lovely plains stretching to the

freshness of the sea, Mistress Anne had her abode which her duchess sister had given to her for her own

living in as she would. There she dwelt and prayed and looked on the new life which so beauteously unfolded

itself before her day by day, as the leaves of a great tree unfold from buds and become noble branches,

housing birds and their nests, shading the earth and those sheltering beneath them, braving centuries of

To this simile her simple mind oft reverted, for indeed it seemed to her that naught more perfect and more

noble in its high likeness to pure Nature and the fulfilling of God's will than the passing days of these two

"As the first two livedAdam and Eve in their garden of Edenthey seem to me," she used to say to her

own heart; "but the Tree of Knowledge was not forbidden them, and it has taught them naught ignoble."

As she had been wont to watch her sister from behind the ivy of her chamber windows, so she often watched

her now, though there was no fear in her hiding, only tenderness, it being a pleasure to her full of wonder and

reverence to see this beautiful and stately pair go lovingly and in high and gentle converse side by side, up

and down the terrace, through the paths, among the beds of flowers, under the thick branched trees and over

"It is as if I saw Love's self, and dwelt with itthe love God's nature made," she said, with gentle sighs.

For if these two had been great and beauteous before, it seemed in these days as if life and love glowed

within them, and shone through their mere bodies as a radiant light shines through alabaster lamps. The

strength of each was so the being of the other that no thought could take form in the brain of one without the

"Neither of us dare be ignoble," Osmonde said, "for 'twould make poor and base the one who was not so in

"'Twas not the way of my Lady Dunstanwolde to make a man feel that he stood in church," a frivolous court

wit once said, "but in sooth her Grace of Osmonde has a look in her lustrous eyes which accords not with

And true it was that when they went to town they carried with them the illumining of the pure fire which

burned within their souls, and bore it all unknowing in the midst of the trivial or designing world, which

knew not what it was that glowed about them, making things bright which had seemed dull, and revealing

They returned not to the house which had been my Lord of Dunstanwolde's, but went to the duke's own great

mansion, and there lived splendidly and in hospitable state. Royalty honoured them, and all the wits came

there, some of those gentlemen who writ verses and dedications being by no means averse to meeting noble

lords and ladies, and finding in their loves and graces material which might be useful. 'Twas not only Mr.

Addison and Mr. Steele, Dr. Swift and Mr. Pope, who were made welcome in the stately rooms, but others

who were more humble, not yet having won their spurs, and how these worshipped her Grace for the

generous kindness which was not the fashion, until she set it, among great ladies, their odes and verses could

"They are so poor," she said to her husband. "They are so poor, and yet in their starved souls there is a thing

which can less bear flouting than the dull content which rules in others. I know not whether 'tis a curse or a

boon to be born so. 'Tis a bitter thing when the bird that flutters in them has only little wings. All the more

She comforted so many creatures. In strange parts of the town, where no other lady would have dared to go to

give alms, it was rumoured that she went and did noble things privately. In dark kennels, where thieves hid

and vagrants huddled, she carried her beauty and her stateliness, the which when they shone on the poor

rogues and victims housed there seemed like the beams of the warm and golden sun.

Once in a filthy hovel in a black alley she came upon a poor girl dying of a loathsome ill, and as she stood by

her bed of rags she heard in her delirium the uttering of one man's name again and again, and when she

questioned those about she found that the sufferer had been a little country wench enticed to town by this man

for a plaything, and in a few weeks cast off to give birth to a child in the almshouse, and then go down to the

"What is the name she says?" her Grace asked the hag nearest to her, and least maudlin with liquor. "I would

"'Tis the name of a gentleman, your ladyship may be sure," the beldam answered; "'tis always the name of a

gentleman. And this is one I know well, for I have heard more than one poor soul mumbling it and raving at

him in her last hours. One there was, and I knew her, a pretty rosy thing in her country days, not sixteen, and

distraught with love for him, and lay in the street by his door praying him to take her back when he threw her

off, until the watch drove her away. And she was so mad with love and grief she killed her girl child when

'twas born i' the kennel, sobbing and crying that it should not live to be like her and bear others. And she was

condemned to death, and swung for it on Tyburn Tree. And, Lord! how she cried his name as she jolted on

her coffin to the gallows, and when the hangman put the rope round her shuddering little fair neck. 'Oh, John,'

screams she, 'John Oxon, God forgive thee! Nay, 'tis God should be forgiven for letting thee to live and me to

die like this.' Aye, 'twas a bitter sight! She was so little and so young, and so affrighted. The hangman could

scarce hold her. I was i' the midst o' the crowd and cried to her to strive to stand still, 'twould be the sooner

over. But that she could not. 'Oh, John,' she screams, 'John Oxon, God forgive thee! Nay, 'tis God should be

Till the last hour of the poor creature who lay before her when she heard this thing, her Grace of Osmonde

saw that she was tended, took her from her filthy hovel, putting her in a decent house and going to her day by

day, until she received her last breath, holding her hand while the poor wench lay staring up at her beauteous

face and her great deep eyes, whose lustrousness held such power to sustain, protect, and comfort.

"Be not afraid, poor soul," she said, "be not afraid. I will stay near thee. Soon all will end in sleep, and if thou

wakest, sure there will be Christ who died, and wipes all tears away. Hear me say it to thee for a prayer," and

she bent low and said it soft and clear into the deadening ear, "He wipes all tears awayHe wipes all tears

The great strength she had used in the old days to conquer and subdue, to win her will and to defend her way,

seemed now a power but to protect the suffering and uphold the weak, and this she did, not alone in hovels

but in the brilliant court and world of fashion, for there she found suffering and weakness also, all the more

bitter and sorrowful since it dared not cry aloud. The grandeur of her beauty, the elevation of her rank, the

splendour of her wealth would have made her a protector of great strength, but that which upheld all those

who turned to her was that which dwelt within the high soul of her, the courage and power of love for all

things human which bore upon itself, as if upon an eagle's outspread wings, the woes dragging themselves

broken and halting upon earth. The starving beggar in the kennel felt it, and, not knowing wherefore, drew a

longer, deeper breath, as if of purer, more exalted air; the poor poet in his garret was fed by it, and having

stood near or spoken to her, went back to his lair with lightening eyes and soul warmed to believe that the

From the hour she stayed the last moments of John Oxon's victim she set herself a work to do. None knew it

but herself at first, and later Anne, for 'twas done privately. From the hag who had told her of the poor girl's

hanging upon Tyburn Tree, she learned things by close questioning, which to the old woman's dull wit

seemed but the curiousness of a great lady, and from others who stood too deep in awe of her to think of her

as a mere human being, she gathered clues which led her far in the tracing of the evils following one wicked,

heartless life. Where she could hear of man, woman, or child on whom John Oxon's sins had fallen, or who

had suffered wrong by him, there she went to help, to give light, to give comfort and encouragement.

Strangely, as it seemed to them, and as if done by the hand of Heaven, the poor tradesmen he had robbed

were paid their dues, youth he had led into evil ways was checked mysteriously and set in better paths;

women he had dragged downward were given aid and chance of peace or happiness; children he had cast

upon the world, unfathered, and with no prospect but the education of the gutter, and a life of crime, were

cared for by a powerful unseen hand. The pretty country girl saved by his death, protected by her Grace, and

living innocently at Dunstanwolde, memory being merciful to youth, forgot him, gained back her young

"Since 'twas I who killed him," said her Grace to her inward soul, "'tis I must live his life which I took from

him, and making it better I may be forgivenif there is One who dares to say to the poor thing He made, 'I

Surely it was said there had never been lives so beautiful and noble as those the Duke of Osmonde and his

lady lived as time went by. The Tower of Camylott, where they had spent the first months of their wedded

life, they loved better than any other of their seats, and there they spent as much time as their duties of Court

and State allowed them. It was indeed a splendid and beautiful estate, the stately tower being built upon an

eminence, and there rolling out before it the most lovely land in England, moorland and hills, thick woods

and broad meadows, the edge of the heather dipping to show the soft silver of the sea.

Here was this beauteous woman chatelaine and queen, wife of her husband as never before, he thought, had

wife blessed and glorified the existence of mortal man. All her great beauty she gave to him in tender, joyous

tribute; all her great gifts of mind and wit and grace it seemed she valued but as they were joys to him; in his

stately households in town and country she reigned a lovely empress, adored and obeyed with reverence by

every man or woman who served her and her lord. Among the people on his various estates she came and

went a tender goddess of benevolence. When she appeared amid them in the first months of her wedded life,

the humble souls regarded her with awe not unmixed with fear, having heard such wild stories of her youth at

her father's house, and of her proud state and bitter wit in the great London world when she had been my

Lady Dunstanwolde; but when she came among them all else was forgotten in their wonder at her

"To see her come into a poor body's cottage, so tall and grand a lady, and with such a carriage as she hath,"

they said, hobnobbing together in their talk of her, "looking as if a crown of gold should sit on her high black

head, and then to hear her gentle speech and see the look in her eyes as if she was but a simple newmarried

girl, full of her joy, and her heart big with the wish that all other women should be as happy as herself, it is,

"Ay, and no hovel too poor for her, and no man or woman too sinful," was said again.

"Heard ye how she found that poor wench of Haylits lying sobbing among the fern in the Tower woods, and

stayed and knelt beside her to hear her trouble? The poor soul has gone to ruin at fourteen, and her father,

finding her out, beat her and thrust her from his door, and her Grace coming through the wood at sunsetit

being her way to walk about for mere pleasure as though she had no coach to ride inthe girl says she came

through the golden glow as if she had been one of God's angelsand she kneeled and took the poor wench in

her armsas strong as a man, Betty says, but as soft as a young motherand she said to her things surely no

mortal lady ever said beforethat she knew naught of a surety of what God's true will might be, or if His

laws were those that have been made by man concerning marriage by priests saying common words, but that

she surely knew of a man whose name was Christ, and He had taught love and helpfulness and pity, and for

His sake, He having earned our trust in Him, whether He was God or man, because He hung and died in

awful torture on the Crossfor His sake all of us must love and help and pity'I you, poor Betty,' were her

very words, 'and you me.' And then she went to the girl's father and mother, and so talked to them that she

brought them to weeping, and begging Betty to come home; and also she went to her sweetheart, Tom Beck,

and made so tender a story to him of the poor pretty wench whose love for him had brought her to such

trouble, that she stirred him up to falling in love again, which is not man's way at such times, and in a week's

time he and Betty went to church together, her Grace setting them up in a cottage on the estate."

"I used all my wit and all my tenderest words to make a picture that would fire and touch him, Gerald," her

Grace said, sitting at her husband's side, in a great window, from which they often watched the sunset in the

valley spread below; "and that with which I am so strong sometimesI know not what to call it, but 'tis a

power people bend to, that I knowthat I used upon him to waken his dull soul and brain. Whose fault is it

that they are dull? Poor lout, he was born so, as I was born strong and passionate, and as you were born noble

and pure and high. I led his mind back to the past, when he had been made happy by the sight of Betty's little

smiling, blushing face, and when he had kissed her and made love in the hayfields. And this I saidthough

'twas not a thing I have learned from any chaplainthat when 'twas said he should make an honest woman of

her, it was MY thought that she had been honest from the first, being too honest to know that the world was

not so, and that even the man a woman loved with all her soul, might be a rogue, and have no honesty in him.

And at last'twas when I talked to him about the childand that I put my whole soul's strength inhe

burst out acrying like a schoolboy, and said indeed she was a fond little thing and had loved him, and he had

loved her, and 'twas a shame he had so done by her, and he had not meant it at the first, but she was so

simple, and he had been a villain, but if he married her now, he would be called a fool, and laughed at for his

pains. Then was I angry, Gerald, and felt my eyes flash, and I stood up tall and spoke fiercely: 'Let them

dare,' I said'let any man or woman dare, and then will they see what his Grace will say.'"

"Nay, 'tis not his Grace who need be called on," he said; "'tis her Grace they love and fear, and will obey;

though 'tis the sweetest, womanish thing that you should call on me when you are power itself, and can so

"Nay," she said, with softly pleading face, "let me not rule. Rule for me, or but help me; I so long to say your

"Ay," she said, with a little nod of her head, "that I knowthat I am yourself; and 'tis because of this that one

of us cannot be proud with the other, for there is no other, there is only one. And I am wrong to say, 'Let me

not rule,' for 'tis as if I said, 'You must not rule.' I meant surely, 'God give me strength to be as noble in ruling

as our love should make me.' But just as one tree is a beech and one an oak, just as the grass stirs when the

summer wind blows over it, so a woman is a woman, and 'tis her nature to find her joy in saying such words

to the man who loves her, when she loves as I do. Her heart is so full that she must joy to say her husband's

name as that of one she cannot think withoutwho is her life as is her blood and her pulses beating. 'Tis a

joy to say your name, Gerald, as it will be a joy"and she looked far out across the sun goldened valley

and plains, with a strange, heavenly sweet smile "as it will be a joy to say our child'sand put his little

"Sweet love," he cried, drawing her by the hand that he might meet the radiance of her look"heart's

She did not withhold her lovely eyes from him, but withdrew them from the sunset's mist of gold, and the

clouds piled as it were at the gates of heaven, and they seemed to bring back some of the far off glory with

them. Indeed, neither her smile nor she seemed at that moment to be things of earth. She held out her fair,

"Yes, love," she said"yes, loveand I have prayed, my Gerald, that I may give you sons who shall be men

like you. But when I give you women children, I shall pray with all my soul for themthat they may be just

In the morning of a spring day when the cuckoos cried in the woods, and May blossomed thick, white and

pink, in all the hedges, the bells in the grey churchsteeple at Camylott rang out a joyous, jangling peal,

telling all the village that the heir had been born at the Tower. Children stopped in their play to listen, men at

their work in field and barn; good gossips ran out of their cottage door, wiping their arms dry, from their tubs

"Ay, 'tis well over, that means surely," one said to the other; "and a happy day has begun for the poor

ladythough God knows she bore herself queenly to the very last, as if she could have carried her burden for

another year, and blenched not a bit as other women do. Bless mother and child, say I."

"And 'tis an heir," said another. "She promised us that we should know almost as quick as she did, and

commanded old Rowe to ring a peal, and then strike one bell loud between if 'twere a boy, and two if 'twere a

girl child. 'Tis a boy, heard you, and 'twas like her wit to invent such a way to tell us."

In four other villages the chimes rang just as loud and merrily, and the women talked, and blessed her Grace

and her young child, and casks of ale were broached, and oxen roasted, and work stopped, and dancers footed

"Surely the newborn thing comes here to happiness," 'twas said everywhere, "for never yet was woman

In her stately bed her Grace the duchess lay, with the face of the Mother Mary, and her manchild drinking

from her breast. The duke walked softly up and down, so full of joy that he could not sit still. When he had

entered first, it was his wife's self who had sate upright in her bed, and herself laid his son within his arms.

"None other shall lay him there," she said, "I have given him to you. He is a great child, but he has not taken

He was indeed a great child, even at his first hour, of limbs and countenance so noble that nurses and

physicians regarded him amazed. He was the offspring of a great love, of noble bodies and great souls. Did

such powers alone create human beings, the earth would be peopled with a race of giants.

Amid the veiled spring sunshine and the flowerscented silence, broken only by the twittering of birds

nesting in the ivy, her Grace lay soft asleep, her son resting on her arm, when Anne stole to look at her and

her child. Through the night she had knelt praying in her chamber, and now she knelt again. She kissed the

newborn thing's curled roseleaf hand and the lace frill of his mother's nightrail. She dared not further

"Sure God forgives," she breathed"for Christ's sake. He would not give this little tender thing a

There was no punishment. The tender little creature grew as a blossom grows from bud to fairest bloom. His

mother flowered as he, and spent her days in noble cherishing of him and tender care. Such motherhood and

"Once I thought that I was under ban," she said to her lord in one of their sweetest hours; "but I have been

given love and a life, and so I know it cannot be. Do I fill all your being, Gerald?"

"Leave I no longing unfulfilled, no duty undone, to you, dear love, to the world, to human suffering I might

"He grants your prayer," he answered, his eyes moist with worshipping tenderness.

"And this white soul given to me from the outer bounds we know not it has no stain; and the little human

body it wakened to life in think you that Christ will help me to fold them in love high and pure enough,

and teach the human body to do honour to its soul? 'Tis not monkish scorn of itself that I would teach the

body; it is so beautiful and noble a thing, and so full of the power of joy. Surely That which made itin His

own imagewould not that it should despise itself and its own wonders, but do them reverence, and rejoice

in them nobly, knowing all their seasons and their changes, counting not youth folly, and manhood sinful, or

age aught but gentle ripeness passing onward? I pray for a great soul, and great wit, and greater power to help

These had been born and had rested hid within her when she lay a babe struggling 'neath her dead mother's

corpse. Through the darkness of untaught years they had grown but slowly, being so unfitly and unfairly

nourished; but Life's sun but falling on her, they seemed to strive to fair fruition with her days.

'Twas not mere love she gave her offspringfor she bore others as years passed, until she was the mother of

four sons and two girls, children of strength and beauty as noted as her own; she gave them of her constant

thought, and an honour of their humanity such as taught them reverence of themselves as of all other human

things. Their love for her was such a passion as their father bore her. She was the noblest creature that they

knew; her beauty, her great unswerving love, her truth, were things bearing to their child eyes the

"Why is she not the Queen?" a younger one asked his father once, having been to London and seen the Court.

"The Queen is not so beautiful and grand as she, and she could so well reign over the people. She is always

From her side Mistress Anne was rarely parted. In her fair retreat at Camylott she had lived a life all

undisturbed by outward things. When the children were born strange joy came to her.

"Be his mother also," the duchess had said when she had drawn the clothes aside to show her firstborn

"Mine I will share with you," her Grace had said, lifting her Madonna face. "Kiss me, sisterkiss him, too,

and bless him. Your life has been so innocent it must be good that you should love and guard him."

'Twas sweet to see the wit she showed in giving to poor Anne the feeling that she shared her motherhood. She

shared her tenderest cares and duties with her. Together they bathed and clad the child in the morning, this

being their high festival, in which the nurses shared but in the performance of small duties. Each day they

played with him and laughed as women will at such dear times, kissing his grand round limbs, crying out at

their growth, worshipping his little rosy feet, and smothering him with caresses. And then they put him to

sleep, Anne sitting close while his mother fed him from her breast until his small red mouth parted and

When he could toddle about and was beginning to say words, there was a morning when she bore him to

Anne's tower that they might joy in him together, as was their way. It was a beautiful thing to see her walk

carrying him in the strong and lovely curve of her arm as if his sturdy babyhood were of no more weight than

a rose, and he cuddling against her, clinging and crowing, his wide brown eyes shining with delight.

"He has come to pay thee court, Anne," she said. "He is a great gallant, and knows how we are his loving

She set him down where he stood holding to Anne's knee and showing his new pearl teeth, in a rosy grin; his

"Who is she?" she said, pointing with her finger at Anne's face, her own full of lovely fear lest the child

should not speak rightly his lesson. "What is her name? Mammy's man say" and she mumbled softly with

The child looked up at Anne, with baby wit and laughter in his face, and stammered sweetly

"MuzMuzzerAnne," he said, and then being pleased with his cleverness, danced on his little feet and

"Know you what he calls you?" she said. "'Tis but a mumble, his little tongue is not nimble enough for

clearness, but he says it his pretty best. 'Tis Mother Anne, he says'tis Mother Anne."

And then they were in each other's arms, the child between them, he kissing both and clasping both, with

Each child born they clasped and kissed so, and were so clasped and kissed by; each one calling the tender

unwed woman "Mother Anne," and having a special lovingness for her, she being the creature each one

The wonder of Anne's life grew deeper to her hour by hour, and where she had before loved, she learned to

worship, for 'twas indeed worship that her soul was filled with. She could not look back and believe that she

had not dreamed a dream of all the fears gone by and that they held. Thisthis was truethe beauty of

these days, the love of them, the generous deeds, the sweet courtesies, and gentle words spoken. This

beauteous woman dwelling in her husband's heart, giving him all joy of life and love, ruling queenly and

gracious in his house, bearing him noble children, and tending them with the very genius of tenderness and

But in Mistress Anne herself life had never been strong; she was of the fibre of her mother, who had died in

youth, crushed by its cruel weight, and to her, living had been so great and terrible a thing. There had not

been given to her the will to battle with the Fate that fell to her, the brain to reason and disentangle problems,

or the power to set them aside. So while her Grace of Osmonde seemed but to gain greater state and beauty in

her ripening, her sister's frail body grew more frail, and seemed to shrink and age. Yet her face put on a

strange worn sweetness, and her soft, dull eyes had a look almost like a saint's who looks at heaven. She

prayed much, and did many charitable works both in town and country. She read her books of devotion, and

went much to church, sitting with a reverend face through many a dull and lengthy sermon she would have

felt it sacrilegious to think of with aught but pious admiration. In the middle of the night it was her custom to

rise and offer up prayers through the dark hours. She was an humble soul who greatly feared and trembled

"I waken in the night sometimes," the fair, tall child Daphne said once to her mother, "and Mother Anne is

thereshe kneels and prays beside my bed. She kneels and prays so by each one of us many a night."

"'Tis because she is so pious a woman and so loves us," said young John, in his stately, generous way. The

house of Osmonde had never had so fine and handsome a creature for its heir. He o'ertopped every boy of his

age in height, and the bearing of his lovely youthful body was masculine grace itself.

The town and the Court knew these children, and talked of their beauty and growth as they had talked of their

"To be the mate of such a woman, the father of such heirs, is a fate a man might pray God for," 'twas said.

"Love has not grown stale with them. Their children are the very blossoms of it. Her eyes are deeper pools of

CHAPTER XXIII"In One who will do justice, and demands that it shall be done to each thing He has

'Twas in these days Sir Jeoffry came to his end, it being in such way as had been often prophesied; and when

this final hour came, there was but one who could give him comfort, and this was the daughter whose youth

If he had wondered at her when she had been my Lady Dunstanwolde, as her Grace of Osmonde he regarded

her with heavy awe. Never had she been able to lead him to visit her at her house in town or at any other

which was her home. "'Tis all too grand for me, your Grace," he would say; "I am a country yokel, and have

hunted and drank, and lived too hard to look well among town gentlemen. I must be drunk at dinner, and

when I am in liquor I am no ornament to a duchess's drawingroom. But what a woman you have grown," he

would say, staring at her and shaking his head. "Each time I clap eyes on you 'tis to marvel at you,

remembering what a baggage you were, and how you kept from slipping by the way. There was Jack Oxon,

now," he added one day"after you married Dunstanwolde, I heard a pretty tale of Jackthat he had made

a wager among his friends in townhe was a braggart devil, Jackthat he would have you, though you

were so scornful; and knowing him to be a liar, his fellows said that unless he could bring back a raven lock

six feet long to show them, he had lost his bet, for they would believe no other proof. And finely they scoffed

at him when he came back saying that he had had one, but had hid it away for safety when he was drunk, and

could not find it again. They so flouted and jeered at him that swords were drawn, and blood as well. But

though he was a beauty and a crafty rakehell fellow, you were too sharp for him. Had you not had so shrewd

a wit and strong a will, you would not have been the greatest duchess in England, Clo, as well as the finest

"Nay," she answered"in those daysnay, let us not speak of them! I would blot them outout."

As time went by, and the years spent in drink and debauchery began to tell even on the big, strong body

which should have served any other man bravely long past his threescore and ten, Sir Jeoffry drank harder

and lived more wildly, sometimes being driven desperate by dulness, his coarse pleasures having lost their

"Liquor is not as strong as it once was," he used to grumble, "and there are fewer things to stir a man to frolic.

So in his efforts to emulate such nights and days, he plunged deeper and deeper into new orgies; and one

night, after a heavy day's hunting, sitting at the head of his table with his old companions, he suddenly leaned

forward, staring with starting eyes at an empty chair in a dark corner. His face grew purple, and he gasped

"What is't, Jeoff?" old Eldershawe cried, touching his shoulder with a shaking hand. "What's the man staring

"Jack," cried Sir Jeoffry, his eyes still farther starting from their sockets. "Jack! what say you? I cannot hear."

The next instant he sprang up, shrieking, and thrusting with his hands as if warding something off.

"Keep back!" he yelled. "There is green mould on thee. Where hast thou been to grow mouldy? Keep back!

His friends at table started up, staring at him and losing colour; he shrieked so loud and strangely, he clutched

his hair with his hands, and fell into his chair, raving, clutching, and staring, or dashing his head down upon

the table to hide his face, and then raising it as if he could not resist being drawn in his affright to gaze again.

There was no soothing him. He shouted, and struggled with those who would have held him. 'Twas Jack

Oxon who was there, he sworeJack, who kept stealing slowly nearer to him, his face and his fine clothes

damp and green, he beat at the air with mad hands, and at last fell upon the floor, and rolled, foaming at the

They contrived, after great strugglings, to bear him to his chamber, but it took the united strength of all who

would stay near him to keep him from making an end of himself. By the dawn of day his boon companions

stood by him with their garments torn to tatters, their faces drenched with sweat, and their own eyes almost

starting from their sockets; the doctor who had been sent for, coming in no hurry, but scowled and shook his

"He is a dead man," he said, "and the wonder is that this has not come before. He is sodden with drink and

rotten with illliving, besides being past all the strength of youth. He dies of the life he has lived."

'Twas little to be expected that his boon companions could desert their homes and pleasures and tend his

horrors longer than a night. Such a sight as he presented did not inspire them to cheerful spirits.

"Lord," said Sir Chris Crowell, "to see him clutch his flesh and shriek and mouth, is enough to make a man

live sober for his remaining days," and he shook his big shoulders with a shudder.

"There is but one on earth who will do aught for him," said Eldershawe. "'Tis handsome Clo, who is a

duchess; but she will come and tend him, I could swear. Even when she was a lawless devil of a child she had

So after taking counsel together they sent for her, and in as many hours as it took to drive from London, her

coach stood before the door. By this time all the household was panicstricken and in hopeless disorder, the

womenservants scattered and shuddering in far corners of the house; such men as could get out of the way

having found work to do afield or in the kennels, for none had nerve to stay where they could hear the

Her Grace, entering the house, went with her woman straight to her chamber, and shortly emerged therefrom,

stripped of her rich apparel, and clad in a gown of strong blue linen, her hair wound close, her white hands

bare of any ornament, save the band of gold which was her weddingring. A servingwoman might have

been clad so; but the plainness of her garb but made her height, and strength, so reveal themselves, that the

mere sight of her woke somewhat that was like to awe in the eyes of the servants who beheld her as she

She needed not to be led, but straightway followed the awful sounds, until she reached the chamber behind

whose door they were shut. Upon the huge disordered bed, Sir Jeoffry writhed, and tried to tear himself, his

great sinewy and hairy body almost stark. Two of the stable men were striving to hold him.

The duchess went to his bedside and stood there, laying her strong white hand upon his shuddering shoulder.

"Father," she said, in a voice so clear, and with such a ring of steady command, as, the men said later, might

Sir Jeoffry writhed his head round and glared at her, with starting eyes and foaming mouth.

"Who says 'tis Clo?" he shouted. "'Tis a lie! She was ever a bigger devil than any other, though she was but a

handsome wench. Jack himself could not manage her. She beat him, and would beat him now. 'Tis a lie!"

All through that day and night the power of her Grace's white arm was the thing which saved him from

dashing out his brains. The two men could not have held him, and at his greatest frenzy they observed that

now and then his bloodshot eye would glance aside at the beauteous face above him. The sound of the word

She sent away the men to rest, calling for others in their places; but leave the bedside herself she would not.

'Twas a strange thing to see her strength and bravery, which could not be beaten down. When the doctor

came again he found her there, and changed his surly and reluctant manner in the presence of a duchess, and

"You should not have left him," she said to him unbendingly, "even though I myself can see there is little

help that can be given. Thought you his Grace and I would brook that he should die alone if we could not

Those words "his Grace and I" put a new face upon the matter, and all was done that lay within the man's

skill; but most was he disturbed concerning the lady, who would not be sent to rest, and whose noble consort

"His Grace knew what I came to do and how I should do it," the duchess said, unbending still. "But for affairs

She held her place throughout the second night, and that was worse than the firstthe paroxysms growing

more and more awful; for Jack was within a yard, and stretched out a green and mouldy hand, the

At last one pealing scream rang out after another, until after making his shuddering body into an arc resting

on heels and head, the madman fell exhausted, his flesh all quaking before the eye. Then the duchess waved

the men who helped, away. She sat upon the bed's edge closeclose to her father's body, putting her two

firm hands on either of his shoulders, holding him so, and bent down, looking into his wild face, as if she

"Father," she said, "look at my face. Thou canst if thou wilt. Look at my face. Then wilt thou see 'tis

She kept her gaze upon his very pupils; and though 'twas at first as if his eyes strove to break away from her

look, their effort was controlled by her steadfastness, and they wandered back at last, and her great orbs held

them. He heaved a long breath, half a big, broken sob, and lay still, staring up at her.

The sweat began to roll from his forehead, and the tears down his cheeks. He broke forth, wailing like a child.

"Nay," she answered; "thou art on earth, and in thine own bed, and I am here, and will not leave thee."

She made another sign to the men who stood and stared aghast in wonder at her, but feeling in the very air

"'Twas not mere human woman who sat there," they said afterwards in the stables among their fellows.

"'Twas somewhat more. Had such a will been in an evil thing a man's hair would have risen on his skull at the

She had seen delirium and death enough in the doings of her deeds of mercy, to know that his strength had

gone and death was coming. His bed and room were made orderly, and at last he lay in clean linen, with all

made straight. Soon his eyes seemed to sink into his head and stare from hollows, and his skin grew grey, but

She drew a seat close to his bed and took his hand. It lay knotted and gnarled and swollenveined upon her

smooth palm, and with her other hand she stroked it. His breath came weak and quick, and fear grew in his

"Ay," he said, "done. Would there were nine and sixty more. What a man I was at twenty. I want not to die,

Clo. I want to liveto livelive, and be young," gulping, "with strong muscle and moist flesh. Sixtynine

He clung to her hand, and stared at her with awful eyes. Through all his life he had been but a great, strong,

human carcass; and he was now but the same carcass worn out, and at death's door. Of not one human thing

but of himself had he ever thought, not one creature but himself had he ever lovedand now he lay at the

"None can bring them back," he shuddered. "Not even thou, Clo, who art so strong. Nonenone! Canst pray,

"Not as chaplains do," she answered. "I believe not in a God who clamours but for praise."

"In One who will do justice, and demands that it shall be done to each thing He has made, by each who bears

His imageay, and mercy toobut justice always, for justice is mercy's highest self."

Who knows the mysteries of the human soulwho knows the workings of the human brain? The God who is

just alone. In this man's mind, which was so near a simple beast's in all its movings, some remote, unborn

consciousness was surely reached and vaguely set astir by the clear words thus spoken.

"Clo, Clo!" he cried, "Clo, Clo!" in terror, clutching her the closer, "what dost thou mean? In all my nine and

In all his nine and sixty years he had shown justice to no man, mercy to no woman, since he had thought of

none but Jeoffry Wildairs; and this truth somehow dimly reached his longdulled brain and wakened there.

It was so horrible, the look struggling in his dying face, that she went down upon her knees that moment, and

"Thou who didst make him as he was born into Thy world," she said, "deal with that to which Thou didst

give lifeand death. Show him in this hour, which Thou mad'st also, that Thou art not Man who would have

"He will weigh thee," she said; "and that which His own hand created will He separate from that which was

"Clo," he cried again "thy mothershe was but a girl, and died aloneI did no justice to her!Daphne!

Daphne!" And he shook beneath the bedclothes, shuddering to his feet, his face growing more grey and

"She loved thee once," Clorinda said. "She was a gentle soul, and would not forget. She will show thee

"Birth she went through," he muttered, "and deathalone. Birth and death! Daphne, my girl" And his

The duchess sat by him and held his hand. She moved not, though at last he seemed to fall asleep. Two hours

later he began to stir. He turned his head slowly upon his pillows until his gaze rested upon her, as she sat

"Clo!" he cried, and though his voice was but a whisper, there was both wonder and wild question in

But she moved not, her great eyes meeting his with steady gaze; and even as they so looked at each other his

When they had had ten years of happiness, Anne died. 'Twas of no violent illness, it seemed but that through

these years of joy she had been gradually losing life. She had grown thinner and whiter, and her soft eyes

bigger and more prayerful. 'Twas in the summer, and they were at Camylott, when one sweet day she came

from the flowergarden with her hands full of roses, and sitting down by her sister in her morningroom,

When she came back to consciousness she looked up at the duchess with a strange, far look, as if her soul had

"Let me be borne to bed, sister," she said. "I would lie still. I shall not get up again."

The look in her face was so unearthly and a thing so full of mystery, that her Grace's heart stood still, for in

They bore her to her tower and laid her in her bed, when she looked once round the room and then at her

"'Tis a fair, peaceful room," she said. "And the prayers I have prayed in it have been answered. Today I saw

"Anne! Anne!" cried her Grace, leaning over her and gazing fearfully into her face; for though her words

sounded like delirium, her look had no wildness in it. And yet"Anne, Anne! you wander, love," the

Anne smiled a strange, sweet smile. "Perchance I do," she said. "I know not truly, but I am very happy. She

said that all was over, and that I had not done wrong. She had a fair, young face, with eyes that seemed to

The duchess's face laid itself down upon the pillow, a river of clear tears running down her cheeks.

"Wrong!" she said"you! dear onewoman of Christ's heart, if ever lived one. You were so weak and I so

strong, and yet as I look back it seems that all of good that made me worthy to be wife and mother I learned

Through the tower window and the ivy closing round it, the blueness of the summer sky was heavenly fair;

soft, and light white clouds floated across the clearness of its sapphire. On this Anne's eyes were fixed with

"Soon I shall be away," she said. "Soon all will be left behind. And I would tell you that my prayers were

No man could tell what made the duchess then fall on her knees, but she herself knew. 'Twas that she saw in

"Anne! Anne!" she cried. "Sister Anne! Mother Anne of my children! You have knownyou have known all

She dropped her queenly head and shielded the whiteness of her face in the coverlid's folds.

"Ay, sister," Anne said, coming a little back to earth, "and from the first. I found a letter near the sundialI

guessedI loved youand could do naught else but guard you. Many a day have I watched within the

rosegardenmany a dayand nightGod pardon meand night. When I knew a letter was hid, 'twas

my wont to linger near, knowing that my presence would keep others away. And when you approachedor

heI slipped aside and waited beyond the rose hedgethat if I heard a step, I might make some sound of

warning. Sister, I was your sentinel, and being so, knelt while on my guard, and prayed."

"My sentinel!" Clorinda cried. "And knowing all, you so guarded me night and day, and prayed God's pity on

my poor madness and girl's frenzy!" And she gazed at her in amaze, and with humblest, burning tears.

"For my own poor self as well as for you, sister, did I pray God's pity as I knelt," said Anne. "For long I knew

it notbeing so ignorantbut alas! I loved him too!I loved him too! I have loved no man other all my

days. He was unworthy any woman's love and I was too lowly for him to cast a glance on; but I was a

Anne moved upon her pillow, drawing weakly, slowly near until her white lips were close upon her sister's

Then did the other woman give a shuddering start and lift her head, staring with a frozen face.

"Down the dark stairway," the panting voice went on, "to the far cellarI kept watch again."

"Upon the stair which led to the servants' placethat I might stop them ifif aught disturbed them, and they

Then stooped the duchess nearer to her, her hands clutching the coverlid, her eyes widening.

"Anne, Anne," she cried, "you knew the awful thing that I would hide! That too? You knew that he was

Anne lay upon her pillow, her own eyes gazing out through the ivy hung window of her tower at the blue

sky and the fair, fleecy clouds. A flock of snowwhite doves were flying back and forth across it, and one

sate upon the window's deep ledge and cooed. All was warm and perfumed with summer's sweetness. There

seemed naught between her and the uplifting blueness, and naught of the earth was near but the dove's

deepthroated cooing and the laughter of her Grace's children floating upward from the garden of flowers

"I lie upon the brink," she said"upon the brink, sister, and methinks my soul is too near to God's pure

justice to fear as human things fear, and judge as earth does. She said I did no wrong. Yes, I knew."

"To stand by that which lay hidden, that I might keep the rest away. Being a poor creature and timorous and

"Weak! weak!" the duchess cried, amid a greater flood of streaming tears"ay, I have dared to call you so,

"'Twas love," Anne whispered. "Your love was strong, and so was mine. That other love was not for me. I

knew that my long woman's life would pass without itfor woman's life is long, alas! if love comes not. But

you were love's self, and I worshipped you and it; and to myself I saidpraying forgiveness on my

kneesthat one woman should know love if I did not. And being so poor and imperfect a thing, what

mattered if I gave my soul for youand love, which is so great, and rules the world. Look at the doves,

sister, look at them, flying past the heavenly bluenessand she said I did no wrong."

Her hand was wet with tears fallen upon it, as her duchess sister knelt, and held and kissed it, sobbing.

"Ay, all of it I knew," Anne said"his torture of you and the madness of your horror. And when he forced

himself within the Panelled Parlour that day of fate, I knew he came to strike some deadly blow; and in such

anguish I waited in my chamber for the end, that when it came not, I crept down, praying that somehow I

"And therewhat saw you?" quoth the duchess, shuddering. "Somewhat you must have seen, or you could

"The room was empty, and I stood alone. It was so still I was afraid; it seemed so like the silence of the

"I heard a slipping sound, and a dead hand fell on the floorlying outstretched, its palm turned upwards,

She threw her frail arms round her sister's neck, and as Clorinda clasped her own, breathing gaspingly, they

"I prayed God keep me saneand kneltand looked below. I thrust it backthe dead hand, saying aloud,

'Swoon you must not, swoon you must not, swoon you shall notGod help! God help!'and I saw! the

purple markhis eyes upturnedhis fair curls spread; and I lost strength and fell upon my side, and for a

minute lay there knowing that shudder of breath had been the very last expelling of his being, and his hand

"O God! O God! O God!" Clorinda cried, and over and over said the word, and over again.

"How was'thow was't?" Anne shuddered, clinging to her. "How was't 'twas done? I have so suffered, being

weakI have so prayed! God will have mercybut it has done me to death, this knowledge, and before I

"O God! O God! O God!" Clorinda groaned"O God!" and having cried so, looking up, was blanched as a

"Stay, stay!" she cried, with a sudden shock of horror, for a new thought had come to her which, strangely,

Convulsive sobs heaved Anne's poor chest, tears sweeping her hollow cheeks, her thin, soft hands clinging

"Through all these years I have known nothing," she wept"sister, I have known nothing but that I found

Her hands resting upon the bed's edge, Clorinda held her body upright, such passion of wonder, love, and

"You thought I MURDERED him, and loved me still," she said. "You thought I murdered him, and still you

shielded me, and gave me chance to live, and to repent, and know love's highest sweetness. You thought I

murdered him, and yet your soul had mercy. Now do I believe in God, for only a God could make a heart so

"And youdid not" cried out Anne, and raised upon her elbow, her breast panting, but her eyes growing

wide with light as from stars from heaven. "Oh, sister lovethanks be to Christ who died!"

"I think 'twas God Himself who did it," she said, "though 'twas I who struck the blow. He drove me mad and

blind, he tortured me, and thrust to my heart's core. He taunted me with that vile thing Nature will not let

women bear, and did it in my Gerald's name, calling on him. And then I struck with my whip, knowing

nothing, not seeing, only striking, like a goaded dying thing. He fellhe fell and lay thereand all was

"But not with murderous thoughtonly through frenzy and a cruel chancea cruel, cruel chance. And of

your own will blood is not upon your hand," Anne panted, and sank back upon her pillow.

"With deepest oaths I swear," Clorinda said, and she spoke through her clenched teeth, "if I had not loved, if

Gerald had not been my soul's life and I his, I would have stood upright and laughed in his face at the devil's

threats. Should I have feared? You know me. Was there a thing on earth or in heaven or hell I feared until

love rent me. 'Twould but have fired my blood, and made me mad with fury that dares all. 'Spread it abroad!'

I would have cried to him. 'Tell it to all the world, craven and outcast, whose vileness all men know, and see

how I shall bear myself, and how I shall drive through the town with head erect. As I bore myself when I set

the rose crown on my head, so shall I bear myself then. And you shall see what comes!' This would I have

said, and held to it, and gloried. But I knew love, and there was an anguish that I could not endurethat my

Gerald should look at me with changed eyes, feeling that somewhat of his rightful meed was gone. And I was

all distraught and conquered. Of ending his base life I never thought, never at my wildest, though I had

thought to end my own; but when Fate struck the blow for me, then I swore that carrion should not taint my

whole life through. It should notshould notfor 'twas Fate's self had doomed me to my ruin. And there it

lay until the night; for this I planned, that being of such great strength for a woman, I could bear his body in

my arms to the farthest of that labyrinth of cellars I had commanded to be cut off from the rest and closed;

and so I did when all were sleepingbut you, poor Annebut you! And there I laid him, and there he lies

"It was not murder," whispered Anne"no, it was not." She lifted to her sister's gaze a quivering lip. "And

yet once I had loved himyears I had loved him," she said, whispering still. "And in a woman there is ever

somewhat that the mother creature feels"the hand which held her sister's shook as with an ague, and her

"I could not rest," the poor voice said. "He had been so base, he was so beautiful, and so unworthy loveand

he was dead,none knowing, untouched by any hand that even pitied him that he was so base a thing, for

that indeed is piteous when death comes and none can be repentant. And he lay so hard, so hard upon the

Her teeth were chattering, and with a breath drawn like a wild sob of terror, the duchess threw her arm about

"Nay, 'tis not wandering," Anne said. "'Tis true, sister. There is no night these years gone by I have not

remembered it againand seen. In the night after that you bore him thereI prayed until the midhours,

when all were sleeping fastand then I stole down in my bare feet, that none could hear meand at last I

found my way in the black darkfeeling the walls until I reached that farthest door in the stoneand then I

"Anne!" cried the duchess"Anne, look through the tower window at the blueness of the skyat the

blueness, Anne!" But drops of cold water had started out and stood upon her brow.

"He lay there in his graveit was a little black place with its stone wallshis fair locks were tumbled,"

Anne went on, whispering. "The spot was black upon his browand methought he had stopped mocking,

and surely looked upon some great and awful thing which asked of him a question. I knelt, and laid his curls

straight, and his hands, and tried to shut his eyes, but close they would not, but stared at that which

questioned. And having loved him so, I kissed his poor cheek as his mother might have done, that he might

not stand outside, having carried not one tender human thought with him. And, oh, I prayed, sisterI prayed

for his poor soul with all my own. 'If there is one noble or gentle thing he has ever done through all his life,' I

prayed, 'Jesus remember itChrist do not forget.' We who are human do so few things that are nobleoh,

The duchess's head lay near her sister's breast, and she had fallen asobbingasobbing and weeping like a

"Oh, brave and noble, pitiful, strong, fair soul!" she cried. "As Christ loved you have loved, and He would

hear your praying. Since you so pleaded, He would find one thing to hang His mercy on."

"And Iand I," she cried"have I not built a temple on his grave? Have I not tried to live a fair life, and be

as Christ bade me? Have I not loved, and pitied, and succoured those in pain? Have I not filled a great man's

days with bliss, and love, and wifely worship? Have I not given him noble children, bred in high lovingness,

and taught to love all things God made, even the very beasts that perish, since they, too, suffer as all do?

Have I left aught undone? Oh, sister, I have so prayed that I left naught. Even though I could not believe that

there was One who, ruling all, could yet be pitiless as He is to some, I have prayed Thatwhich sure it

seems must be, though we comprehend it notto teach me faith in something greater than my poor self, and

not of earth. Say this to Christ's self when you are face to facesay this to Him, I pray you! Anne, Anne,

look not so strangely through the window at the blueness of the sky, sweet soul, but look at me."

For Anne lay upon her pillow so smiling that 'twas a strange thing to behold. It seemed as she were smiling at

the whiteness of the doves against the blue. A moment her sister stood up watching her, and then she stirred,

meaning to go to call one of the servants waiting outside; but though she moved not her gaze from the tower

Clorinda fell upon her knees again and bent her lips close to her ear. This was death, and yet she feared it

notthis was the passing of a soul, and while it went it seemed so fair and loving a thing that she could ask it

her last questionher greatestknowing it was so near to God that its answer must be rest.

"Anne, Anne," she whispered, "must he knowmy Gerald? Must Imust I tell him all? If so I must, I

The doves came flying downward from the blue, and lighted on the window stone and cooedAnne's

answer was as low as her soft breath and her still eyes were filled with joy at that she saw but which another

"Nay," she breathed. "Tell him not. What need? Wait, and let God tell himwho understands."

Then did her soft breath stop, and she lay still, her eyes yet open and smiling at the blossoms, and the doves

'Twas her duchess sister who clad her for her last sleeping, and made her chamber fairthe hand of no other

touched her; and while 'twas done the tower chamber was full of the golden sunshine, and the doves ceased

not to flutter about the window, and coo as if they spoke lovingly to each other of what lay within the room.

Then the children came to look, their arms full of blossoms and flowering sprays. They had been told only

fair things of death, and knowing but these fair things, thought of it but as the opening of a golden door. They

entered softly, as entering the chamber of a queen, and moving tenderly, with low and gentle speech, spread

all their flowers about the bedlaying them round her head, on her breast, and in her hands, and strewing

"She lies in a bower and smiles at us," one said. "She hath grown beautiful like you, mother, and her face

"She loves us as she ever did," the fair child Daphne said; "she will never cease to love us, and will be our

When the duke returned, who had been absent since the day before, the duchess led him to the tower

"Yes," was Osmonde's answer"yes, love, as if at God, who has smiled at herselffaithful, tender woman

The hand which he held in his clasp clung closer. The other crept to his shoulder and lay there tremblingly.

"How faithful and how tender, my Gerald," Clorinda said, "I only know. She is my saintsweet Anne,

whom I dared treat so lightly in my poor wayward days. Gerald, she knows all my sins, and today she has

carried them in her pure hands to God and asked His mercy on them. She had none of her own."

"And so having done, dear heart, she lies amid her flowers, and smiles," he said, and he drew her white hand

While her body slept beneath soft turf and flowers, and that which was her self was given in God's heaven, all

joys for which her earthly being had yearned, even when unknowing how to name its longing, each year that

passed made more complete and splendid the lives of those she so had loved. Never, 'twas said, had woman

done such deeds of gentleness and shown so sweet and generous a wisdom as the great duchess. None who

were weak were in danger if she used her strength to aid them; no man or woman was a lost thing whom she

tried to save: such tasks she set herself as no lady had ever given herself before; but 'twas not her way to

failher will being so powerful, her brain so clear, her heart so purely noble. Pauper and prince, noble and

hind honoured her and her lord alike, and all felt wonder at their happiness. It seemed that they had learned

life's meaning and the honouring of love, and this they taught to their children, to the enriching of a long and

noble line. In the ripeness of years they passed from earth in as beauteous peace as the sun sets, and upon a

tablet above the restingplace of their ancestors there are inscribed lines like these:

"Here sleeps by her husband the purest and noblest lady God e'er loved, yet the high and gentle deeds of her

chaste sweet life sleep not, but live and grow, and so will do so long as earth is earth."