II.
NEW THREE- VOLUME NOVELS
AT ALL LIBRARIES.
PRINCESS NAPRAXINE. By OUIDA.
DOROTHY FORSTER. By WALTER BESANT.
A DRAWN GAME. By BASIL.
ST. MUNGO'S CITY. By SARAH TYTLER.
HEART SALVAGE BY SEA AND LAND.
By MRS. COOPER.
LONDON: CHATTO AND WIND US, PICCADILLY.
FOXGLOVE MANOR
FOXGLOVE MANOR
BY
ROBERT* BUCHANAN
AUTHOR OF
'GOD AND THE MAN," "THE SHADOW OF THE SV/ORD,'
"THE NEW ABELARD," ETC.
t Ut
IN THREE VOLUMES
VOL. II.
Honfcou
CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY
1884
[All rights reserved}
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
CHAPTER
XIV. BAPTISTO STAYS AT HOME
XV. CONJURATION
XVI. AT THE OPERA
XVII. WALTER HETHERINGTON ...
XVIII. CHURCH BELLS AND A DISCORD
XIX. "HE is BUT A LANDSCAPE PAINTER"
XX. IN THE GLOAMING
XXI. IN THE VICARAGE PARLOUR
XXII. AT THE VICARAGE
XXIII. DR. DUPRE'S ELIXIR
XXIV. THE EXPERIMENT
XXV. "BEWARE, MY LORD, OF JEA-
LOUSY!" ...
XXVI. FIRST LEAVES FROM A PHILOSO-
PHER'S NOTE-BOOK ... 225
XXVII. THE NOTE-BOOK CONTINUED
NYMPH AND SATYR ... 248
PAGE
I
28
35
5o
67
88
109
131
155
'75
193
206
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
CHAPTER XIV.
BAPTISTO STAYS AT HOME.
As Haldane sat in his study, the even-
ing previous to the morning fixed for his
journey to London, Baptisto entered
quickly and stood before the desk at
which his master was busily writing.
" Can I speak to you, sefior ? "
Haldane looked and nodded.
" What is it, Baptisto ? 11
"You have arranged that I shall go
with you to-morrow, but I have had
VOL. ii. n
2 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
during the last few days an attack of
my old vertigo. Can you possibly dis-
pense with my attendance, senor ? "
Haldane stared in surprise at the
Spaniard's face, which was inscrutable as
usual.
" Do you mean to say you wish to
remain at home ? "
"Certainly, senor."
" Why ? because you are ill ? On
the contrary, you look in excellent
health. No ; it is impossible. I cannot
get along without you."
And Haldane returned to his papers
as if the matter was ended.
Baptisto, however, did not budge, but
remained in the same position, with his
dark eyes fixed upon his master.
" Do me this favour, senor. I am
really indisposed, and must beg to
remain."
nAPTISTO STAYS AT HOME. 3
Haldane laughed, for an idea suddenly
"occurred to him which seemed to explain
the mystery of his servant's request.
" My good Baptisto, I think I under-
stand the cause of your complaint, and
I am sure a little travel will do you
good. It- is that dark-eyed widow of
the lodge-keeper who attaches you so
much to the Manor. The warm blood
of Spain still burns in your veins, and,
despite your sad experience of women,
you are still impressionable. Eh ? am
I right ? "
Baptisto quickly shook his head, with
the least suspicion of a smile upon his
swarthy face.
" I am not impressionable, senor, and
I do not admire your English women ;
but I wish to remain all the same."
" Nonsense ! "
" Nonsense ! In serious lament,
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
senor, I beseech you to allow me to
remain."
But Haldane was not to be persuaded
at what he conceived to be a mere whim
of his servant. He still believed that
Baptisto had fallen a captive to the
charms of Mrs. Feme, a little plump,
dark-eyed woman, with a large family..
He had frequently of late seen the
Spaniard hanging about the lodge-
on one occasion nursing and dandling
the youngest child and he had smiled
to himself, thinking that the poor fellow's
misanthropy, or rather his misogynism,,
was in a fair way of coming to an end.
Finding his master indisposed to take
his request seriously, Baptisto retired ;
and presently Haldane strolled into the
drawing-room, where he found his wife.
" Have you heard of the last freak of
Baptisto ? He actually wants to remain
BAPTISTO STAYS AT HOME. 5
at ease, instead of accompanying me in
my journey."
Ellen looked up from some em-
broidery, in which she was busily
engaged.
" On no account ! " she exclaimed.
" If you don't take him with you, I shall
not stay in the place."
" Dear me ! said the philosopher.
Surely you are not afraid of poor
Baptisto ! "
" Not afraid of him exactly, but he
makes me shiver. He comes and goes
like a ghost, and when you least expect
him, he is at your elbow. Then, of
course, I cannot help remembering he
has committed a murder ! "
" Nothing of the kind," said Haldane,
laughing and throwing himself into a
chair. " My dear Ellen, you don't be-
lieve the whole truth of that affair.
6 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
True, he surprised that Spanish wife of
: his with her gallant, whom he stabbed ;
but I have it on excellent authority that
it was a kind of duello ; the other man
was armed, and so it was a fair fight."
Ellen shuddered, and showed more
nervous agitation than her husband
could quite account for.
" Take him away with you," she cried ;:
44 take him away. If you never bring
him back, I shall rejoice. If I had been
consulted, he would never have been
brought to England."
A little later in the evening, when
Haldane had returned to his papers,
which he was diligently finishing to take
away with him, he rang and summoned
the Spaniard to his presence.
" Well, it is all settled. I have con-
sulted your mistress, and she insists in
your accompanying me to-morrow."
BAPTISTO STAYS AT HOME. 7
A sharp flash came upon Baptisto's
dark eyes. He made an angry gesture ;
then controlling himself, he said in a low,
emphatic voice
" The senora means it ? She does
not wish me to remain ? "
" Just so."
" May I ask why ? "
" Only because she does not want you,
and I do. Between ourselves, she is
not quite so certain of you as I am.
She has never forgotten that little affair
in Spain."
Again the dark eyes flashed, and
again there was the same angry gesture,
instantly checked.
Haldane continued.
" You are violent sometimes, my
Baptisto, and madam e is a little afraid
of you. When she knows you better,
as I know you, she will be aware that
you are rational ; at present "
8 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
" At present, senor," said Baptisto,
" she would rather not have me so near.
Ah, I can understand ! Perhaps she
has reason to be afraid."
Something in the man's manner, which
was sinister and almost threatening,
jarred upon his master's mind. Rising
from his chair, Haldane stood with
his back to the fire, and, with a
frown, regarded the Spaniard, as he
said
" Listen to me, Baptisto. I have
noticed with great annoyance, especially
of late, that your manner to madame
.has been strange, not to say sullen.
You are whimsical still, and apt to take
offence. If this goes on, if you fail
in respect to your mistress, and make
your presence uncomfortable in this
house, we shall have to part."
To Haldane's astonishment, Baptisto
BAPTISTO STAYS AT HOME. 9
asked an explanation, and, falling on his
knees, seized his master's hand and
kissed it eagerly,
" Senor ! Senor ! you don't compre-
hend. You don't think I am un-
grateful, that I do not remember ? But
you are wrong. I would die to save
you yes, I would die ; and I would kill
with my own hand any one who did you
an injury. I am your servant, your
slave ah yes, till death."
" Come, get up, and go and finish
packing my things."
" But, senor
" Get up, I say."
The Spaniard rose, and with folded
hands and bent head stood waiting.
" Get ready like a sensible fellow, and
let us have no more of this foolery.
There, there, I understand. You are
exciting yourself for nothing."
10 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
" Then, I am to go, seiior ? "
" Certainly."
Early the next morning Baptisto-
entered the carriage with his master,
and was driven to the railway station,
some seven miles away. As they went
along, Haldane noticed that the man
looked very ill, and that from time to
time he put his hand to his head as if
in pain. At the railway station, while
they were waiting for the train, matters
looked most serious. Suddenly the
Spaniard fell forward on the platform
as if in strong convulsions, his eyes
starting out of his head, his mouth
foaming. They sprinkled water on his
face, chafed his hands, and with some
difficulty brought him round.
"The devil!" muttered Haldane to
himself. "It looks like epilepsy ! "
Baptisto was placed on a seat, and
BAPTISTO STAYS AT HOME. If
lay back ghastly pale, as if utterly
exhausted.
" Are you better now ? " asked Hal-
dane, bending over him.
" A little better, senor."
But seeing him so utterly helpless,
and likely to have other seizure, Hal-
dane rapidly calculated in his own mind
the inexpediency of taking him away on
a long railway journey. After all, the
poor fellow had not exaggerated his con-
dition, when he had pleaded illness as
an excuse for remaining at home.
" After all," said Haldane, " I think
you will have to remain behind."
Baptisto opened his eyes feebly, and
stretched out his hands.
" No, senor ; since you wish it, I will
go."
" You shall remain," answered Hal-
dane, just as the whistle of the coming
12 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
train was heard in the distance. Per-
haps, if you are better in a day or two,
you can follow ; but you will go away
now in the carriage, and send over to
Dr. Spruce, and he will prescribe for
you."
Baptisto did not answer, but, taking
his masters hand, kissed it gratefully.
The train came up. Haldane entered a
carriage, and, gazing from the window as
the train began to move on, saw Bap-
tisto still seated on the platform, very
pale, his eyes half closed, his head re-
cumbent. Near him stood the station
master, a railway porter, and the groom
who had driven them over from the
Manor, all regarding him with languid
curiosity.
But the moment the train was gone,
Baptisto began to recover. Rising to
his feet, and refusing all offers of assist-
BAPTISTO STAYS AT HOME. IJ
ance from the others, he strolled out of
the station, and quietly mounted the
dog-cart. The groom got up beside
him, and they drove homeward through
the green lanes.
Now, Baptisto was a gentleman, and
seldom entered or tolerated familiarity
from his fellow-servants. Had it been
otherwise, the groom might have asked
the explanation of his curious conduct ;
for no sooner was he mounted on the dog-
cart, and driving along in the fresh air,
than the Spaniard seemed to forget all
about his recent illness, sat erect like a
man Jn perfect health, and exhibited
none of the curious symptoms which had
so alarmed his master.
And when the groom, who was a
thirsty individual, suggested that they
should make a detour and call at the
Blue Boar Inn for a little stimulant,
14 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
chiefly as a corrective to the attack from
which his companion had just suffered,
the Spaniard turned his dark eyes round
about him and actually winked. This
proceeding so startled the groom that he
almost dropped the reins, for never in
the whole course of his sojourn had the
foreign gent condescended to such a
familiarity.
They drove round to the Blue Boar,
however, and the groom consumed the
brandy, while Baptisto, who was a tee-
totaller, had some lemonade, and lit his
cigar. Then they drove home to the
Manor, Baptisto sitting with folded arms,
completely and absolutely recovered.
About noon that day, as Mrs. Haldane
moved about the conservatory, looking
after her roses, a servant announced the
Rev. Mr. Santley. Ellen flushed, a
little startled at the announcement,
BAPTISTO STAYS AT HOME. 15
coming so soon after her husband's
departure, and her first impulse was to
deny herself; but before she could do so
the clergyman himself appeared at the
door of the conservatory.
"You are an early visitor," she said
coldly, bending her face over the flowers.
"It is just noon," answered the clergy-
man, " and I was going home from a
sick-call. Has Mr. Haldane gone ? "
" Yes. Did you wish to see him ? "
" Not particularly, though I had a little
commission which I might have asked
him to execute had I been in time."
Surely the man's fall had already
begun. Ellen knew perfectly well that
he was lying. In point of fact, he had
seen the dog-cart drive past on the way
to the station, and he had been unable to
resist the temptation of coming over
without delay.
1 6 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
With face half averted, Ellen led the
way into the drawing-room, and on to
the terrace beyond, from which there
was a pleasant view of the Manor, the
plain, and the surrounding country. Just
below the gardens were laid out in flower-
beds and gravel walks ; but the dark
shrubberies were beyond, and at a little
distance, well in the shadow of the trees,
the old chapel.
There was a long silence. Ellen
stood silent, gazing upon the woods and
lawn, while the clergyman stood just
behind her, evidently regarding her.
At last she could bear it no longer,
but, turning quickly, exclaimed
" Why did you come ? Have you
anything to say to me ? "
" Nothing, Ellen, if you are angry,"
replied the clergyman.
" Angry ! You surely know best if I
BAPTISTO STAYS AT HOME. I 7
have cause. After what has passed, I
think it is better that we should not
meet," she added in a low voice. " At
least, not often."
He saw she was agitated, and he took
a certain pleasure in her agitation, for it
showed him that she was not quite un-
susceptible to the influence he might
bring to bear upon her. As he stood
there, his sad eyes fixed upon her, his
being conscious of every movement she
made, of every breath she drew, he felt
again the deep fatality of his passion,
and silently yielded to it.
There was another long pause, which
he was the first to break.
" Do you know, Ellen, I sometimes
tremble for you, when I think of your
husband's opinions. In time you may
learn to share them, and then we should
be further apart than ever. At present,
VOL. II. C
1 8 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
it is my sole comfort to know you possess
that living faith without which every
soul is lost."
" Lost ? " she repeated, in a bewilder-
ing way, not looking at him.
" I don't mean in the vulgar sense ;
the theological ideas of damnation have
never had my sanction, far less my
sympathy. But materialism degrades
the believer, and sooner or later comes
a disbelief in all that is holy, beautiful,
and sanctified. It is a humble creed,
the new creed of science, and fatal to
spiritual hopes."
" Does it matter so much what one
believes, if one's life is good ? "
" It matters so much that I would
rather see one I loved dead before my
feet than an avowed unbeliever. But
there, I have not come to preach to you.
When does Mr. Haldane return ? "
BAPTISTO STAYS AT HOME. 19
" As I told you : in a fortnight, perhaps
sooner."
"And during his absence we shall
meet again, I hope ? "
x
She hesitated and looked at him. His
eyes were fixed on the distant woods,
though he stood expectantly, as if await-
ing her reply, which did not come.
" Can you not trust me ? " he ex-
claimed. ""You know I am your friend?"
" I hope so ; but I think it is best that
you should not come here. If you were
married, it would be different."
" I shall not marry," he replied im-
patiently. " What then ? I am a priest
of God, and you may trust me fully. I f
our Church commenced the confessional,
you might enter it without fear, and I
I would listen to the outpourings of your
heart. Should you in your grief be
afraid to utter them ? "
20 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
She moved away from him, turning
her back ; but betrayed herself. He saw
the bright colour mount to her neck and
mantle there.
" What nonsense you talk ! " she said
presently, with a forced laugh. "Are
you going over to Rome ? "
" I might go over to the evil place
itself, Ellen, \{ you were there."
There was no mistaking the words,
the tone, in their diabolic gentleness,
their suavity of supreme and total self-
surrender. She felt helpless in spite of
herself. The man was overmastering
her, and rapidly encroaching. She felt
like a person morally stifled, and with a
strong effort tried to shake the evil
influence away.
"I was right," she said. "We must
not meet."
He smiled sadly.
BAPTISTO STAYS AT HOME. 21
"As you please. I will come, or I
will go, at your will. You have only
to say to me, ' Go and destroy yourself,
obliterate yourself for ever from my life,
blot yourself out from the roll of living
beings/ and I shall obey you."
Her spirit revolted more and more
against the steadfast, self-assured obli-
quity of the man. She saw that he
was desperate, and that the danger grew
with his desperation. In every word he
spoke, and in his whole manner, there
was the sombre assurance of something
between them, of some veiled, but ex-
citable sympathy, which she herself
utterly ignored. That moment of wild
delirium, when he caught her in his
arms and kissed her, seemed, instead of
severing them, to have made a link be-
tween them. He had been conscious
of her indignation, he had even professed
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
.penitence ; but she saw to her dismay
that the fact of his folly filled him, not
with fear, but with courage. So she
determined to end it once and for ever.
*' Let us understand each other," she
said, trembling violently. " How dare
you talk as if there was any community
of feeling between us ? How dare you
presume upon my patience, Mr. Santley?
It is wretched ; it is abominable ! When
you talk of killing yourself, when you
assume that I have any serious interest
in you, or any right over you, you insult
me and degrade yourself. We are
nothing, and can be nothing to each
other."
" I know that," he replied. " Do you
think I am so mad as not to know that?"
" Then why do you come here to
torture me, and to tempt me ? "
The word came from her before she
BAPTISTO STAYS AT HOME. 23
knew it, and her face became scarlet ;
but he uttered no protest, and raised his
white hand in deprecation.
" Tempt you ? God forbid ! "
" I did not mean that," she murmured,
in confusion ; " but you must know,
you cannot fail to know, that it is not
right for a married woman to receive
such expressions of sympathy, however
spiritual. It is that which makes me
hate the Catholic Church. The priest
promises you his office, and too often
makes mischief under the guise of
religion."
" Do you accuse me of doing so ? "
he demanded, in the same sad, calm
voice.
" No ; but you should remember that
you have not the custody of my soul, and
I have no right to influence your actions.
Come," she continued, with rather a
24 . FOXGLOVE MANOR.
forced laugh, " talk to me like a true
English clergyman. Tell me of the
old women of the village, and their ail-
ments ; ask me for a subscription to give
to your new soup kitchen ; talk to me
as if Mr. Haldane were listening to us
of your schools, your parish troubles
and you shall find me an eager listener ! "
" I will talk of anything, Ellen, so long
as I may talk to you."
Again that manner of despairing cer-
tainty, of assured and fatal sympathy.
The man was incorrigible.
She waited impatiently for some
minutes, but finding he did not speak
again, she held out her hand.
" Since you have nothing more to tell
me," she observed lightly, " I think I
will say good morning. I am going to
order the carriage and drive to Om-
berley."
BAPTISTO STAYS AT HOME. 25
" When may I come again ? "
"When you have anything really
parochial to say to me. Please go
now."
Their eyes met, and hers sank beneath
his own.
As he crossed towards the door it
opened, and Baptisto appeared upon the
threshold.
"Did you ring, senora ? "
At the sight of the Spaniard's dull
impressive face Mrs. Haldane started
violently, and went a little pale. She
had heard nothing of his return, and he
came like an apparition.
" Baptisto ! What are you doing here ?
I thought-
She paused in wonder, while the
Spaniard inclined his head and bowed
profoundly.
" I was taken with a vertigo at the
26 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
station, and the senor permitted me to
return."
"Then your master has gone alone?"
" Yes, seflcra."
"Very well. Order the carriage at
once. I am going out."
Baptisto bowed and retired, quickly
closing the door.
Santley, who had stood listening
during the above conversation, now pre-
pared to follow, but, glancing at Ellen,
saw that she was unusually agitated.
" That is a sinister-looking fellow/' he
remarked. " I am afraid he has frightened
you."
" Indeed, no," she replied ; " though I
confess I was startled at his unexpected
return. Good-bye."
" Good-bye," he said, again taking her
hand and holding it up a moment in his
own.
BAPTISTO STAYS AT HOME. 27
Passing from the drawing-room, he
again came face to face with Baptisto,
who was lurking in the lobby, but who
drew aside with a respectful bow, to
allow the clergyman to pass.
He crossed the hall, descended the
stone steps of the portico, and walked
slowly towards the lodge. As he passed
the ruined chapel, its shadows seemed
to fall upon his spirit and leave it in
ominous darkness. He shivered slightly,
and drew his cloak about him, then with
his eyes cast down he thoughtfully
walked on.
He did not glance back. Had he done
so, he would have seen Baptisto stand-
ing on the steps of the Manor house,
watching him with a sinister smile.
28 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
CHAPTER XV.
CONJURATION.
IT was a chill day in early autumn, and
as Charles Santley passed along the
dark avenue of the Manor his path was
strewn here and there with freshly
fallen leaves. Dark shadows lay on
every side, and the heaven above was
full of a sullen, cheerless light. It was
just the day for a modern Faust, in the
course of his noonday walk, to encounter,
in some fancied guise, canine or human,
the evil one of old superstition.
Be that as it may, Santley knew at
last that the hour of his temptation was
CO NJ URA TION. 2 9
over, and that the evil one was not far
away. He knew it, by the sullen acqui-
escence of evil of his own soul ; by the
deliberate and despairing precision with
which he had chosen the easy and
downward path ; by the sense of dark-
ness which already obliterated the
bright moral instincts in his essentially
religious mind. He had spoken the
truth when he said he would follow
Ellen Haldane anywhere, even to the
eternal pit itself. Her beauty possessed
him and disturbed him with the joy of
impure thoughts ; and now that he per-
ceived his own power to trouble her
peace of mind, he rejoiced at the strength
of his passion with a truly diabolic
perversity.
As he came out of the lodge gate he
saw, far away over the fields, the spire
of his own church.
3 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
He laughed to himself.
But the man's faith in spiritual things,
so far from being shaken, was as strong
as ever. His own sense of moral dete-
rioration, of spiritual backsliding, only
made him believe all the more fervently
in the heaven from which he had fallen,
or might choose to fall. For it is surely
a mistake to picture, as so many poets
have pictured, the evil spirit as one
ignorant of or insensible to good. Far
wiser is the theology which describes
Satan as the highest of angelic spirits
the spirit which, above all others, had
beheld and contemplated the Godhead,
and had then, in sheer revolt and nega-
tion, deliberately and advisedly decided
its o.wn knowledge and rejected its own
truthright. Santley was, in his basest
moods, essentially a godly man a man
strangely curious of the beauty of good-
CONJURATION. 31
ness, and capable of infinite celestial
dreams. If, like many another, he con-
fused the flesh and the spirit, he did
no more than many sons of Eve have
done.
As he walked slowly along he mused,
somewhat to this effect
" I love this woman. In her heart she
loves me. Her superior spiritual en-
dowments are mystically alive to those
I myself possess. Her husband is a
clod, an unbeliever, with no spiritual
promptings. In his sardonic presence,
her aspirations are chilled, frozen at the
very fountain-head ; whereas, in mine, all
the sweetness and the power of her
nature are aroused, though with a cer-
tain irritation. If I persist, she must
yield to the slow moral mesmerism of
my passion, and eventually fall. Is this
necessarily evil ? Am I of set purpose
32 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
sinning ? Is it not possible that even
a breach of the moral law might, under
certain conditions, lead us both to a
'higher religious place yes, even to a
deeper and intenser consciousness of
God?"
And again
" What is sin ? Surely it is better
than moral stagnation, which is death.
There are certain deflections from duty
which, like the side stroke of a bird's
wing, may waft us higher. In the arms
of this woman, I should surely be nearer
God than crawling alone on the bare
path of duty, loving nothing, hoping
nothing, becoming nothing. What is it
that Goethe says of the Eternal Femi-
nine which lead us ever upward and
onward ? Which was the highest,
Faust before he loved Marguerite, or
Faust after he passed out of the shadow
CONJ URA TION. 3 3
of his sin into the sphere of imperial
and daring passion ? I believe in God,,
I love this woman. Out of that belief,
and that love, shall I not become a living
soul ? "
Was this the man's own musing, or
rather the very devil whispering in his
ear ? From such fragmentary glimpses
of his mind as have been given, we can
at least guess the extent of his intel-
lectual degradation.
As he walked along the country road,
his pale countenance became seraphic ;
just so may the face of Lucifer have
looked when he plumed his wings for
deliberate flight from heaven.
He stepped into a roadside farm and
had a glass of milk, which the good woman
of the place handed to him with a senti-
ment of adoration ; he looked so gentle,
so at peace with all living things. His
VOL. II. D
34 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
white hand rested for a moment on the
head of her little girl, in gentle bene-
diction. He had never felt more ten-
derly disposed to all creation than at that
moment, when he was prepared to dip a
pen into his own heart's blood, and sign
the little promissory note which Mephis-
topheles carries, always ready, in his
pocket. He had hated his congregation
before ; now he loved them exceed-
ingly and all the world.
( 35 )
CHAPTER XVI.
AT THE OPERA.
ON arriving in London, George Haldane
was driven straight to the house of an
old friend at Chelsea, where he always
stayed during his visits to the Metro-
polis. This friend was Lovell Blakistoh,
as eccentric a being in his own way as
Haldane himself was in his. He had
been, since boyhood, in the India Office,
where he still put in an appearance
several hours a day, and whence he still
drew a large income, with the immediate
right to a retiring pension whenever he
choose to take it. He was a great
3 6 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
student, especially of the pagan poets
and philosophers ; and the greater part
of his days and nights were spent in his
old-fashioned library, opening with fold-
ing doors on to a quiet lawn, which led
in its turn to the very river-side. He
had two pet aversions modern pro-
gress, in the shape of railroads, elec-
tricity, geology ; all the new business of
science and modern religion, especially
in its connection with Christian theology.
He was, in short, a pagan pure and
simple, fond of old books, old wine, old
meditations, and old gods. However
he might differ with Haldane on such
subjects as the nebujar hypothesis,
which he hated with all his heart, he
agreed with him sufficiently on the sub-
ject of Christianity. Both had a cordial
dislike for church ceremonies and church
bells.
AT THE OPERA. 37
The two gentlemen had another taste
in common. This was the opera, which
both enjoyed hugely, though Blakiston
never ceased to regret the disappearance
of that old operatic institution, the bal-
let, which, like a rich dessert wine, used
to bring the feast of music to a de-
lightfully sensuous conclusion. Haldane
was too young a man to remember such
visions of loveliness as Cerito, whom his
old friend had often gone to see in com-
pany with Home Took.
So it happened that two or three days
after his arrival, Haldane accompanied
his host to the opera house, where Patti
was to appear in " Traviata."
Seated comfortably in the stalls, he
was glancing quietly round the house
between the acts, when his attention was
-attracted to a face in one of the private
boxes. A pale, Madonna-like, yet
3 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
girlish face, set in golden hair, with
soft blue eyes, and an expression so
forlorn, so wistful, so ill at ease, that
it was almost painful to behold.
Haldane started in surprise,
" What is the matter ? " said his friend,
" Have you recognized anybody ? "
" I am not certain," returned Haldane,
raising his opera-glass and surveying the
face through them. Then, after a long
look, he added as if to himself, " I am
almost sure it is the same."
" Do you mean that young lady in
black, seated in the second tier ? "
" Yes. Oblige me by looking at her,
and tell me what you think of her."
Blakiston raised his opera-glass, and
took a long look.
" Well ? " asked Haldane.
" She reminds me of one of your
detestable pre-Raphaelistic drawings,
AT THE OPERA. 39
shockheaded and vacuous. She is
pretty, I grant you, but she has no
expression."
" I should say, on the contrary, a very
marked expression of deep pain."
" Tight lacing," grunted Blakiston.
" Your modern women have no shape,
since Cerito."
Here Haldane rose from his seat.
Looking up again, he had met the young
lady's eyes, and had perceived at once
that she recognized him.
" I am going to speak to her," he
explained. " She is a neighbour of ours,
and a friend of my wife."
He made his way to the second tier,
and finding the door of the box open, he
looked in, and saw the person he sought,
seated in company with an elderly lady
and a young man.
" Miss Dove !" he said, advancing into
4Q FOXGLOVE MANOR.
the box. " Although we have only met
twice, I thought I could not be mistaken."
Edith (for it was she) turned quickly
and took his outstretched hand.
" How strange to find you here ! " she
exclaimed. " Is Mrs. Haldane with
you ? "
" No, indeed. I left her to the pious
duties of the parish, which she is ful-
filling daily, I expect, in company with
your seraphic friend the minister."
Edith looked at him with strange
surprise, but said nothing.
" When did you come to town ? " he
asked. " I thought you were quite a
country young lady, and never ventured
into the giddy world of London."
" I was not very well," replied Edith,
<4 and my aunt invited me to stop with
her a few weeks. This is my aunt, Mrs.
Hetherington ; and this gentleman is my
AT THE OPERA, 4 1
cousin Walter." Here Edith went some-
what nervously through the ceremony of
introduction. She added, with a slight
flush, " My cousin insisted on bringing us
here to-night. I did not wish to come."
"Why not?" demanded Haldane,
noticing her uneasiness.
" Because I did not think it right ; and
I have been thinking all the evening
what the vicar will say when I tell him
I have been to such a place."
Here the old lady shook her head
ominously, and gave a slight groan.
" Is the place so terrible," asked Hal-
dane, smiling, " now you have seen it ? "
" No, it is very pretty ; and of course
the singing is beautiful. But Mr.
Santley does not approve of the theatre,
and 1 am sorry I came."
11 Nonsense, Edith," said young
Hetherington, with a laugh. " You
4 2 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
know you wanted to see the ' Traviata.'
The fact is," he continued, turning to Hal-
dane, "my mother and my cousin are
both terribly old-fashioned. My mother
here is Scotch, and believes in the kirk,
the whole kirk, and nothing but the kirk ;
and as for Edith, she is entirely, as they
say in Scotland, under the minister's
'thoomb.' I thought they would have
enjoyed themselves, but they have been
doing penance all the evening."
Without paying attention to her
cousin's remarks, Edith was looking
thoughtfully at Haldane.
" When do you return to Omberley ? "
she asked.
" I am not sure in a fortnight, at the
latest. I am going on to France."
" And Mrs. Haldane will remain all
that time alone ? "
"Of course," he replied. " Oh, she
AT THE OPERA, 43
will not miss me. She has her house-
hold duties, her parish, her garden to
say nothing of her clergyman. And you,
do you stay long in London ? "
" I am not sure ; I think not. I am
tired of it already."
Again that weary, wistful look, which
sat so strangely on the young, almost
childish face. She sighed, and gazed
sadly around the crowded house. A
minute later, Haldane took his leave,
and rejoined his friend in the stalls.
Looking up at the end of the next act,
he saw that the box was empty.
The women had yielded to their con-
sciences, and departed before the end of
the performance.
That night, when Haldane went home
to Chelsea, he found a letter from his
wife. It was a long letter, but contained
no news whatever, being chiefly occupied
44 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
with self-reproaches that the writer had
not accompanied her husband in his
pilgrimage. This struck Haldane as
rather peculiar, as in former communi-
cations Ellen had expressed no such
dissatisfaction ; but he was by nature and
of set habit unsuspicious, and he set it
down to some momentary enmti. The
letter contained no mention whatever
of Mr. Santley, but in the postscript,
where ladies often put the most inte-
resting part of their correspondence,
there was a reference to the Spanish
valet, Baptisto.
" As I told you," wrote Ellen, " Bap-
tisto seems in excellent health, though he
is mysterious and unpleasant as usual.
He comes and goes like a ghost, but if
he made you believe that he was ill, he
was imposing upon you. I do so wish
you had taken him with you."
AT THE OPERA. 45
Haldane folded up the letter with a
smile.
" Poor Baptisto ! " he thought, " I sup-
pose it is as I suspected, and the little
widow at the lodge is at the bottom of
it all."
After a few days' sojourn at Chelsea,
during which' time he was much
interested in certain spiritualistic in-
vestigations which were just then being
conducted by the London savants, to
the manifest confusion of the spirits
and indignation of true believers, Hal-
dane went to Paris, where he read his
paper before the French Society to
which he belonged. There we shall
leave him for a little time, returning
to the company of Miss Dove, with
whom we have more immediate con-
cern.
Mother and son lived in a pleasant
4 6 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
house overlooking Clapham Common,
a district famous for its religious edifi-
cation, its young ladies' seminaries, and
its dissenting chapels. Mrs. Hethering-
ton was the wealthy widow of a Glasgow
merchant, long settled in London, and
she set her face rigidly against modern
thought, ecclesiastical vestments, and
cooking on the sabbath. Curiously
enough, her son Walter, who inherited
a handsome competence, was a painter,
and followed his heathen occupation
with much talent, and more youthful
euthusiasm. His landscapes, chiefly of
Highland scenes, had been exhibited in
the Royal Scottish Academy. His
mother, whose highest ideas of art were
founded on a superficial acquaintance with
the Scripture pieces of Noel Paton,
and an occasional contemplation of
biblical masterpieces in the Dore Gal-
AT THE OPERA. 47
lery, would have preferred to have seen
him following in his father's footsteps,
and even entering the true kirk as a
preacher ; but his sympathies were
pagan, and a gloomy childish experience
had not fitted him with the requisite
enthusiasm for John Calvin and the
sabbath.
Walter Hetherington was a fine
fresh young fellow of three and twenty,
and belonged to the clever set of
Scotch painters, headed by Messrs.
Pettie, Richardson, and Peter Graham.
He was "cannie" painstaking, and rather
sceptical, and, putting aside his art, which
he really loved, he felt true enthusiasm
for only one thing in the world his
cousin Edith, whom he hoped and
longed to make his wife.
As a very young girl, Edith had seemed
rather attached to him ; but of late years,
4 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
during which they saw each other only
at long intervals, she seemed colder
and colder to his advances. He noticed
her indifference, and set it down some-
what angrily to girlish fanaticism, for
he had little or no suspicion whatever
that another man's image might be
filling her thoughts. Once or twice, it
is true, when she sounded the praises
of her Omberley pastor, his zeal, his
goodness, his beauty of discourse, he
asked himself if he could possibly have
a rival there ; but knowing something of
the relinquent fancies of young vestals,
he rejected the idea. To tell the truth,,
he rather pitied the Rev. Mr. Santley,
whom he had never seen, as a hard-
headed, dogmatic, elderly creature of
the type greatly approved by his mother,
and abundant even in Clapham. He
had no idea of an Adonis in a clerical
AT THE OPERA. 49
frock coat, with a beautiful profile,
white hands, and a voice gentle and
low the latter an excellent thing in
woman, but a dangerous thing in an
unmarried preacher of the Word.
VOL. II.
50 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
CHAPTER XVII.
WALTER HETHERINGTON.
WHEN the party got home from the
opera, it was only half-past ten. They
sat down to a frugal supper in the
dining-room.
" I am sorry you did not wait till the
last act," said the young man, after an
awkward silence. " Patti's death scene
is magnificent."
" I'm thinking we heard enough," his
mother replied. " I never cared much
for play-acting, and I see little sense in
screeching about in a foreign tongue.
I'd rather have half an hour of the
WALTER HETHERINGTON. 5 1
Reverend Mr. Mactavish's discourses
than a night of fooling like yon."
" What do you say, Edith ? I'm sure
the music was very pretty."
" Yes, it was beautiful ; but not know-
ing much of Italian, I could not gather
what it was all about."
" It is an operatic version of a story
of the younger Dumas," explained
Walter, with an uncomfortable sense of
treading on dangerous ground. " The
story is that of a beautiful woman who
has lived an evil life, and is reformed
through her affection for a young
Frenchman. His friends think he is
degrading himself by offering to marry
her, and to cure him she pretends to
be false and wicked. In the end, she
dies in his arms, broken-hearted. It is
a very touching subject, I think, though
some people consider it immoral."
5 2 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
Here the matron broke in with quiet
seventy.
" I wonder yon woman Patti, you
call her doesn't think shame to appear
in such dresses. One of them was
scarcely decent, and I was almost
ashamed to look at her the creature ! '*
" But her singing, mother, her sing-
ing ; was it not divine ? "
" It was meeddling loud ; but I've
heard far finer in the kirk. Edith, my
bairn, you're tired, I'm thinking. We'll
just read a chapter, and get to bed."
So the chapter was read, and the
ladies retired, while Walter walked off
to his studio to have a quiet pipe.
He was too used to his mother's
peculiarities to be much surprised at
the failure of the evening's entertain-
ment ; but he felt really amazed that
Edith had not been more impressed.
WALTER HETHERINGTON. 53
The next morning, when they met at
breakfast, Edith astonished both her aunt
and cousin by expressing her wish to re-
turn to Omberley as soon as possible.
" Go away already ! " cried the young
man. "'Why, you've hardly been here
a week, and you've seen nothing of
town, and we've all the picture-galleries
to visit yet."
u And you have not heard Mr.
Mactavish discoorse," cried his mother.
" No, no ; you must bide awhile."
But Edith shook her head, and they
saw her mind was made up.
" I can come again at Christmas, but
I would rather go now," she said.
" But why have you changed your
mind ? " inquired her cousin eagerly.
" I think they want me at home ; and
there is a great deal of church work to
be done in the village.
54 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
Walter was not deceived by this
excuse, and tried persuasion, but it was
of no avail. The girl was determined
to return home immediately. He little
knew the real cause of her determina-
tion. Haldane's presence in London
had filled her, in spite of herself, with
jealous alarm. Ellen Haldane was
alone at the Manor, with no husband's
eyes to trouble her ; and, despite the
clergyman's oath of fidelity, Edith could
not trust him.
Yes, she would go home. It was
time to put an end to it all, to remind
Santley of his broken promises, and to
claim their fulfilment. If he refused to
do her justice, she would part from him
for ever ; not, however, without letting
the other woman, her rival, know his
true character.
It was arranged that she should leave
WALTER HETHERINGTON. 55
by an early train next morning. For
the greater part of the day she kept her
room, engaged in preparations for the
journey ; but towards evening Walter
found her alone in the drawing-room.
The old lady, his mother, who earnestly
wished him to marry his cousin, had
contrived to be out of the way.
" I am so sorry you are going," the
young man said. " We see so little of
each other now."
Edith was seated with her back to the
window, her face in deep shade. She
knew by her cousin's manner that he
was more than usually agitated, and she
dreaded what was coming what had
come, indeed, on several occasions
before. She did not answer, but almost
unconsciously heaved a deep sigh.
" Does that mean that you are sorry
too ? " asked Walter, leaning towards
her to see her face.
56 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
" Of course I am sorry," she replied,
with a certain constraint.
" I wish I could believe that. Some-
how or other, Edith, it seems to me that
you would rather be anywhere than
here. Well, you have some cause ; for
the house is dreary enough, and we are
all dull people. But you and I used to
be such friends ! More like brother and
sister than mere cousins. Is that all
over ? Are we to drift farther and
farther apart as the years pass on ? It
seems to me as if it might come to that."
" How absurd you are ! " said Edith,
trying to force a laugh, but failing
lamentably. "You know I was always
fond of you and and of your mother."
Walter winced under the sting of the
last sentence, so unconsciously given.
" I don't mean that at all," he ex-
claimed. " Of course you liked us, as
WALTER HETHERINGTON. 57
relations like each other ; but am I
never to be more to you than a mere
cousin ? You know I love you, that I
have loved you ever since we were boy
and girl ; and once ah, yes, I thought
you cared for me a little. Edith, what
does it mean ? Why are you so
changed ? "
Edith was more deeply changed than
ever her cousin could guess. Had he
been able to see her face, he would have
been wonderstricken at its expression of
mingled shame and despair. She tried
to reply ; but before she could do so
her voice was choked, and her tears
began to fall. In a moment he was
close beside her, and bending over her,
with one hand outstretched to clasp
her.
" Now, you are crying. Edith, my
darling, what is it ? "
5 8 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
" Don't touch me," she sobbed, shrink-
ing from him. " I can't bear it."
" Forgive me, if I have said anything
to pain you ; and oh, my darling ! re-
member it is my love that carries me
away. I do love you, Edith. I wish
to God I could prove to you how
much ! "
He took her hand in his ; but she
drew it forcibly from him, and, shrinking
still further away, entirely losing her
self-control, sobbed silently.
" Don't ! " she exclaimed. " For pity's
sake, be silent. You do not know what
you are saying. I am not fit to become
your wife."
He moved a few steps from her, and
waited until her wild, hysterical sobbing
should have ceased. She commanded
herself quickly, as it the wild outburst
which she had not been able to control
WALTER HETHERINGTON. 59'
had terrified her. Then she rose, and
would have left the room, but the young
man stopped her.
" Edith," he said, " surely you did not
mean what you said just now, that you
are not fit to become my wife ? "
" Yes," she replied quickly ; " I did
mean it."
She was glad that her face, was turned
from him, and that the room was in
partial darkness. She was glad that
she was able to steady her voice, and
to give a direct reply.
He did not answer ; she felt he was
waiting for her to speak on.
" Even if two people love each other,"
she said, trembling, " or only think they
do, which is too often the case, they
have no right to thoughtlessly contract
that holy tie. There cannot be perfect
happiness in this world without perfect
6o
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
spiritual communion. I know I feel
sure that this does not exist between
you and me."
The young man flushed, and his brow
contracted somewhat angrily.
" Take time to think it over," he said
quickly ; " this is not your own heart
that is speaking now. The seeds which
that man, your clergyman, has been
sowing in your heart have borne fruit.
Religion is changing your whole nature.
It is alienating you hopelessly from all
to whom you are so dear ; it is making
you unjust, cruelly unkind, to yourself,
but doubly so to others, under the
shallow pretence that you are serving
GoA"
She did not interrupt him; 'but when
he ceased, she put out her hand and
said, quickly but firmly
" Good night. 1 '
WALTER HETHERINGTON. 6 1
" Good night," he repeated. " It is
so early, surely you are not going to
your room already ? This is our last
night together, remember."
" I am so tired/' returned the girl,
wearily. " I must get a good night s-
rest, since I am to start early in the
morning."
"And you will not say another
word ? "
" I don't know that there is anything
more that I can say."
"You are angry with me, Edith,
Before you go, say at least that you
forgive me."
" I am not angry ; indeed, I am glad
you have spoken. I know now I should
never have come here. I know I must
never come again."
So, without another word, they parted.
Edith went up to her room. Walter
62 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
sought his, and there he remained all
the evening, sitting in the darkness,
pondering over the unaccountable change
which had taken place in the girl.
Yes, she was changed ; but was it
hopeless, and altogether unexpected ?
Might she not, with gentle care, be
freed from this hateful influence of the
Church ? Walter believed that might
be so. Already he seemed to see light
through the cloud, and to trace the
secret of this man's influence over her.
Edith was imaginative and highly
fanatical ; he had appealed to her
imagination. Being a High Church
clergyman, he had employed two power-
ful agents colour and form. He had
scattered the shrine at which she wor-
shipped with soft and durable perfumes,
and had set up sacred symbols ; and
he had said, " Kneel before these ; cast
WALTER HETHERINGTON. 63
clown all your worldly wishes and
earthly affections." She, being intoxi-
cated, as it were, had yielded to the
spell. It was part of his plan, thought
Walter, that she must neither marry
nor form any other earthly tie ; for was
it not through her, and such as her, that
his beloved Church was able to sustain
its full prestige ? The Church must
reign supreme in her heart, as it had
done in that of many another vestal ; it
was at the altar alone that her gifts of
love and devotion must be burned. She
must be sacrificed, as many others had
been before her, and the Church
would stand.
This was the young man's true view
of the case. He believed it, for he had
learnt in his home to hate other world-
liness ; but though he fancied he saw
the nature of the discord, he could not
64 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
as yet perceive the clirectest means of
cure.
The next morning, when Edith, look-
ing very pale and weary, but still very
pretty in her simple travelling costume,
came down to breakfast, she was a little
surprised to find Walter already there.
His manner was kind and considerate,
as it had always been, and he made no
reference whatever to what had passed
between them on the previous night.
They sat and -carried on a constrained
but polite conversation ; but both were
glad when it was interrupted by the
entrance of Mrs. Hetherington. The
old lady was filled with genuine regret
at her niece's sudden departure, and,
while presiding at the breakfast- table,
was so busy laying down plans for her
speedy return that she did not notice
that every morsel on Edith's plate re-
WALTER HETHERINGTON. 65
mained untouched, and that, while
sipping her tea, her eyes wandered
continually towards the window, as if
anxiously watching for the cab which
was to take her away. Walter noticed
it with pain, and remained discreetly
silent.
As soon as the cab arrived, he left
the room, ostensibly to superintend the
removal of Edith's luggage, but in reality
to be absent at the leave-taking between
his mother and his cousin.
He accompanied Edith to the station.
It was merely an act of common courtesy,
to which she could make no possible
objection. On the way there was
very little said on either side. She
was silent from preoccupation, and he
feared to tread on dangerous ground.
But when they were near their parting,
when Edith was comfortably seated in
VOL. II. F
66
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
the train, and he stood by the open
carnage door, he ventured in a covert
manner to refer to what had passed.
" The house will be brighter in winter-
time," he said, " and we shall have more
means of amusing you. You will come
back at Christmas, Edith ? "
She started, dropped his hand, and
drew herself from him.
"No, I think not," she said; "it is
always a busy time with us at Christmas.
There is much to be done in the
church."
This was their good-bye ; for before
he could say more the guard noisily
closed the carriage doors, and whistled
shrilly. Mechanically Walter took off
his hat, and stood sadly watching the
train as it moved away.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CHURCH BELLS AND A DISCORD.
EDITH was glad that the next day was
Sunday.
She rose early, dressed hurriedly, and
went for a walk in the fresh morning
air. She felt instinctively that she had
a battle to fight, and that all her re-
sources must be brought into play to
gain her the victory. If her influence
over the man was to continue, she knew
there was one way by which she could
regain it. With such pale cheeks and
lacklustre eyes as she had brought with
her from London, where, she asked.
68 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
would her chances be against Ellen
Haldane's fresh country charms ? She
must banish all painful thoughts for the
present, and try to win back the roses
which he had caused to fade.
She walked for above an hour ; and
when she returned home, she went
straight into the garden to gather a
little bouquet of flowers. Then she
went up to her room to dress for church.
When she came down to breakfast, she
wore her prettiest costume, and the
bunch of flowers was fastened at her
throat.
Her aunt had a headache, she said r
and could not go to church. Edith was
not sorry ; indeed, when the time came
for her to set out, she was glad she was
alone.
She arrived at the church rather
earlier than usual, nevertheless she
CHURCH BELLS AND A DISCORD. 9
walked straight in, and no sooner had
she crossed the threshold than she
obeyed a sudden impulse which seized
her, and determined for that day at least
not to occupy her usual seat. She
selected one which was some distance
from the pulpit, but from which she
could command an excellent view of the
pew belonging to Foxglove Manor.
The congregation gathered, but the
Haldane's pew was empty. Edith
watched it with feverish impatience.
Presently, just as the tolling bell was
about to cease, she saw Mrs. Haldane
^nter and take her seat.
Two minutes later, Mr. Santley,
clothed in his white, priestly robes,
ascended the steps of the reading-desk,
and bent his beautiful head in prayer.
As he rose to his feet, Edith, who had
been watching him in extreme fascina-
7 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
tion, saw his gaze wandering round the
church, and finally fix upon the face of
the mistress of Foxglove Manor. She
saw, or thought she saw, the lady's eye-
lids quiver and finally droop beneath
that glance ; while the clergyman arose,
like a sick man suddenly restored to
health, and began to read the lessons for
the day.
How that morning passed Edith
scarcely knew. She remained like one
in a dream, mechanically going though
the religious forms, but feeling as if her
heart's blood was slowly ebbing away.
Of one thing only she was conscious
that of all those upturned faces before
him the clergyman seemed to see but
one, but that from this one face seemed
to draw his inspiration, as the earth
draws life and light from the shining
rays of the sun.
CHURCH BELLSAND A DISCORD. 7 1
At length the service was over, the
congregation dispersed, and Edith found
herself walking up and down the quiet
lanes alone, panting for air, feeling sick
at heart, and shivering through and
through, though she stood in the warm
rays of sunlight. Go home she could
not. She must see Mr. Santley before
she could face another human soul.
She turned, intending to go to the
Vicarage, but when she was yet within
some distance of the house, she saw
coming towards her the .very man she
sought.
She paused, not knowing whether to
feel glad or sorry. It was certainly
better than having to go to the Vicarage,
yet now that the meeting was so near,
she shrank from it. She made a des-
perate effort to compose herself, and
paused, waiting for him. The clergy-
7 2 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
man was evidently lost in deep thought,
his head was bent, his eyes were fixed
on the ground, and he was quite close to
Edith before he saw her.
When their eyes met he paused,
almost involuntarily, a momentary flush
of mingled annoyance and surprise-
passed over his face, then he recovered
himself, walked forward, and quietly
extended his hand.
" Miss Dove!" he said, glancing ner-
vously round. " I had no idea you were
at home. How do you do ? "
It had been agreed between them,
long before, that so long as their secret
remained a secret, no warmer greeting
than this must be exchanged between
them in public. When the proposition
had been made, Edith had quietly
assented. What was it to her that
Santley should bow his head with a
CHURCH BELLS AND A DISCORD. 73
politeness even more frigid than he
bestowed upon any one of his flock.
Had she not seen the burning light of
love in his half-lowered eyes ? and had
she not known that a few hours later
she would feel his caressing arms about
her, and hear his rich, mellow voice
whispering tenderly in her ear ?
But now all was changed. The frigid
bow which had formerly been the pro-
logue, had rapidly developed into the
play. There were no stolen meetings
now ; no consoling whisperings. The
clergyman had latterly become alive to
the risk of such indulgences, and had
gradually allowed them to cease ; and
Edith, receiving as her portion the cold
bow and cold handshake that every eye
might have seen, had watched the love
light gradually fade from her hero's
eyes.
74 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
But she had never seen him so cold
as to-day. When their eyes had met,,
she had noticed the look of positive
annoyance which had passed across his
face. It had soon fled, but when he
spoke and extended his hand, his face
had assumed a look of cold severity.
Edith did not speak ; the painful beat-
ing of her heart almost stifled her, and
her tongue clove to the roof of her
mouth. She extended her hand ; the
cold, listless touch of his fingers throbbed
through her like ice. The clergyman
saw her trouble, and again that look of im-
patient annoyance passed across his face ;.
then he raised his brows in calm surprise.
" What is the matter ? " he asked
quickly. <l Has some domestic trouble
caused your sudden return home ? "
She withdrew her hand from his cold,
lax fingers, and answered, " No."
CHURCH BELLS AND A DISCORD. 75
Then she turned and walked along in
silence by his side.
The good man was annoyed, seriously
annoyed. First at her sudden appear-
ance in the village, when he believed
she was safely bestowed in London for
several weeks to come ; next at the role
she thought fit to assume. He hated
scenes at any time ; just now he par-
ticularly wished to avoid one. So he
walked on in silence, until he could
command his voice to speak quietly ;
then he said, in the most careless manner
possible
" When did you return home ? "
" Last night. I attended church this
morning."
She looked at him quickly, to see what
effect her words produced. Apparently
they produced none. The clergyman's
face remained as coldly impassive as
7 6 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
before ; he raised his brows slightly as he
replied.
" Indeed ! I did not see you there."
Then, after a pause, he added, " Your
return was very sudden, was it not ? I
thought you intended staying away for
some time."
" I changed my mind. I thought you
would have been glad to have me back
again."
Then, swept on by a wild impulse,
which she could not possibly restrain,
she added slowly, but tremulously
" Charles, are you sorry I have
come ? "
The clergyman started, flushed, then
quickly recovered himself, as he added
" Sorry, my dear Edith ? What a
question ! Why of course I am not
sorry."
Then, why not say that you are glad ?
CHURCH BELLS AND A DISCORD. 77
Why not let me know it ? Don't you see
you are breaking my heart ? "
Santley paused, and looked at her.
He did not flush this time, his face grew
white as marble, his eyes quite steel-like
in their coldness. He had dreaded a
scene, but this was so very much worse
than he had expected ; for by this time
Edith had lost all self-control, and was
sobbing violently. His face hardened
terribly. He must put an end once and
for ever to such unpleasant encounters.
" Edith, have you lost your senses ? "
he said ; and the bitterness of his tone
was like putting a knife into the girl's
heart. "If you wish to perform in such
scenes as this, you could surely find
some other time and place than the
public roacl and the broad daylight. If
you have anything to say to me, you
must come to me again in private. At
7 8 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
present I have no more time which I
can place at your service. I have
business with Mrs. Haldane, who is
waiting for me at the Vicarage ; and my
duties at the church will soon begin
again."
He raised his hat, and would have
moved away, but Edith laid her hand
upon his arm and forcibly detained him.
" Stop ! " she cried. " One word !
You shall not go. I must speak."
He turned upon her almost angrily ;
he attempted, but in vain, to shake off
lier detaining hand.
" Tell me," she cried ; " why are you
going to meet Mrs. Haldane ? " Then,
before he could recover from his as-
tonishment sufficiently to speak, she
added, " You need not tell me, for I
know. It is this woman who has come
between you and me. Oh, do you think
CHURCH BELLS AND A DISCORD. 79
I don't know that since she came to
the village you have been a changed
man ? What did I come home for ?
Because I knew it was not right that
you and she should be in the village
alone. "
This time the clergyman succeeded in
shaking off her hand. The face which
he turned towards hers was almost livid
in its pallor.
"You forget yourself," he said, with
a sternness which was even harder to
bear than bitter reproach. "Well, I
suppose you think you have a right to
insult me ; but permit me to remind
you that your right does not extend to
religious affairs, or to a lady who is the
most esteemed member of my congre-
gation."
" I have not insulted you, Charles ; I
am only warning you."
o FOXGLOVE MANOR.
" You are very kind," he interposed,
with a sneer, "but I am in no greater
need of your warning than is the lady.
Until you can learn how to control your
own words and actions, it would be
better for you that we should not meet."
Again he moved, as if about to leave
her ; again she put forth her hand, and
held him fast. The scene had become
more violent than she had intended. It
was now too late to pause.
" One more word," she sobbed,
" Promise me that you will not see
her, then I will promise never to
mention this subject again."
" Promise you what ? To discontinue
all communications with Mrs. Hal-
dane?"
" Yes, yes ; that is all. It is not much
to ask you."
" It is much more than you have any
CHURCH BELLS AND A DISCORD. 8 1
right to ask. You have chosen to
connect my name dishonourably with a
lady whom I esteem. Enough ! I
cannot control your actions, but I mean
to regulate my own. Good morning,
Edith. Since you have nothing more
important to say to me, I suppose I am
at liberty to go ? "
He raised his hat and walked away,
pausing a minute later to raise it again,
and to address some pleasant remark
to a member of his congregation, who
happened at that moment to be coming
along the road. It was the sight of
this stranger which prevented Edith
from following, which made her turn
and walk with rapid steps towards
her home. She felt cold and sick and
heart-broken, and she shrank from the
sight of any human face.
When she reached her home, she
VOL. II. G
2 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
found her aunt, who had been sur-
prised at her protracted absence, gazing
uneasily up and down the road. The
sight of the girl's pale, tear-stained face
alarmed her, but Edith silenced her
inquiries by declaring that she had not
been very well.
"It was foolish of me, but I could not
help crying at the service," she said.
" Dear aunt, do not be anxious. I
am better now, and only want rest."
" Shall I send you up some dinner,
darling ? "
" No ; nothing. I want to be alone
quite alone."
So, with a weary, listless look upon
her, the girl went up to her room, and,
having locked the door, she threw her-
self upon the bed, and cried as if her
heart were broken.
Meanwhile Mr. Santley went on his
CHURCH BELLS AND A DISCORD. 83
way, almost as much disturbed as Edith
herself. He was angry, terribly angry ;
for if scenes similar to the one through
which he had passed were allowed to
continue, he anticipated a storm of
troubles in the future. But how to
avoid them ? What would be the best
and safest course to adopt ? The good
man was terribly perplexed. To openly
defy the girl might cause her, in her
bitterness and pain, to expose herself
and him ; which would certainly be
awkward, since he wished, above all
things, to stand well with his congre-
gation. And yet to adopt any other
course, he must at least pretend to
subscribe to her conditions. He must
be content to renounce, or pretend to
renounce, his intimacy with Mrs. Hal-
dane. The man of God was justly
indignant.
$4 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
Such a course, he knew, must not
be thought of, and he resolved with
pious determination to continue Ellen
Haldane's conversion, for which he was
so zealous, and to leave matters between
himself and Edith exactly as they
were.
He knew the girl's disposition. She
would soon acknowledge her folly, and
make the first advances towards recon-
ciliation. Well, then he would be in-
clined to meet her half-way, but she
must be the first to move. If, on
the other hand, she chose to take the
unpleasant course of exposing him, why,
he would have but one alternative : he
would simply deny her statements, and
who would believe her? It would be
an unpleasant phase of experience to
have to pass through, and it would
compel him to sacrifice a fellow-creature.
CHURCH BELLS AND A DISCORD. 85
Nevertheless, he acknowledged to him-
self, with the air of a Christian martyr,
that if she pushed him to extremities
it would be necessary.
After all, he hoped that Edith, shut
up with her own grief, in the solitude
of her own room, would soon be brought
to see the error of her ways, and would
make that first advance towards recon-
ciliation which was necessary for the
peace of mind of both.
But, whatever might happen in the
future, Edith had succeeded for that
day at least in completely destroying
the good man's peace of mind. His
agitation was so great that he was
compelled to walk about the quiet lanes
until his tranquillity was somewhat
restored. Then he returned to the
Vicarage, where Mrs. Haldane was com-
fortably seated with his sister, and
6 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
enjoyed her society until the hour of his
labours returned.
When he entered the church that
afternoon, all the congregation thought
he was looking more seraphic than ever.
Many a young heart fluttered with
holiness, and many an eyelid drooped
reverently, before the calm serenity of
his gaze. As he stood facing his people,
he cast his eyes around the church.
Edith was not there.
He turned the leaves of his gold-
clasped volume, and as his rich voice
filled the church, and the congregation
rose, he gazed once more about him.
This time his cheek flushed slightly,
and a soft sigh of relief and happiness
escaped his parted lips. Mrs. Haldane
was again in her place, calmly joining
in the prayers.
That afternoon the clergyman preached
CHURCH BELLS- AND A DISCORD. 87
like one inspired ; all were impressed,
but none were cognizant of the cause.
Though the clergyman's eyes wandered
continually around the church, he saw
only one face, was conscious only of one
presence. So engrossed was he, and so
wrapped up in his fervour of admiration,
that he did not notice what was going
on around him. Had he done so, he
would have seen that there was another
member of the congregation besides
Mrs. Haldane who attracted a certain
amount of interest. Seated in the
gallery, calmly joining in the service
and watching the minister, was the
foreign "gentleman with the eyes."
88 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
CHAPTER XIX.
" HE IS BUT A LANDSCAPE PAINTER.''
AFTER Edith's departure from London,
Walter Hetherington thought long and
deeply over the mysterious change in his
cousin. The more he thought, the more
uneasy he grew. Of one thing he felt
tolerably sure that the girl had got into
the hands of a religious fanatic, who
either consciously or unconsciously was
completely destroying himself, his hap-
piness in this world at least. She was
fairly possessed by the fever of other
worldliness, he said to himself, and if left
alone she would, like many others before
BUT A LANDSCAPE PAINTER. 89
her, probably end her days in a mad
house.
Having arrived at this enlightened
conclusion, which was chiefly based on
what Edith had herself told him, Walter
determined that she should not be left
alone. What would be more rational,
he said to himself, than that he should
pack up his sketching paraphernalia and
pay a short visit to the picturesque little
village where his aunt and cousin lived ?
Surely Edith would be glad to see him,
and while he remained to watch over
her, his time would not be entirely lost.
When he told his mother of his deter-
mination to revisit the country, the old
lady was unfeignedly glad. She sus-
pected, from the unaccountable sudden
departure of the girl, that the two young
people had had a quarrel, and she was
glad to see her son was magnanimous
90 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
enough to make the first advances
towards reconciliation. So she helped
him to put a few things together, and on
the spur of the moment he started off.
He had written neither to his cousin
nor aunt to tell them of his coming.
He had intended sending a telegram
from the station, but at the last moment
he changed his mind, and as he sat in
the train which was rapidly whirling him
onward, he began to ask himself whether
it would be judicious of him to go to his
aunt's house at all. To be sure, he had
always made it his head-quarters ; but
now things were changed. Edith had
left his mother's house to avoid him;
would it be fair to either of them that he
should become his aunt's guest ? By
living in the house he would force from
her a communication which might be very
grudgingly given, and at the same time
BUT A LANDSCAPE PAINTER. 9 1
his lips must be inevitably sealed. He
finally decided that, during the visit at
least, it would be better for every one
that he should stay at the inn.
So on arriving at the station he drove
to the inn, secured at a cheap price a
couple of cosy rooms, and determined to
delay calling upon his relations until the
following day.
The next day was fine, a fit day for
an artist to lounge, dream, perhaps work.
Walter hung about the inn till midday ;
then he took his sketch-book under his
arm, and strolled forth in the direction
of his aunt's cottage. When he reached
the door, and was about to knock, it was
suddenly opened by Edith, dressed in
walking costume.
On coming thus unexpectedly face to
face with her cousin, she looked mani-
festly angry.
9 2 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
" Walter, you here ? " she said coldly ;
then she added quickly, " Is anything
the matter at home ? "
" Nothing whatever," said Walter,
quietly giving his hand, and taking no
notice whatever of the irritation so
.plainly visible on her face. " I got tired
of London, that was all, and thought a few
days in the country might do me good.
I am not going to bore you. I have
brought my working tools down with me,
and mean to take some sketches back."
" But where is your luggage ? "
" Down at the inn."
"At the inn?"
" Yes ; I had it taken direct there last
night. I was fortunate enough, too, to
secure rooms a capital little parlour fit
for a studio, and a bedroom leading out
of it. I shall be able to do the host, and
entertain you, if you'll come."
BUT A LANDSCAPE PAINTER. 93
"You are going to stay at the inn?"
said Edith. " You always stayed with
us before ! "
" Of course I did ; but I am not going
to be so inconsiderate as to plant myself
upon you now!'
He laid the slightest possible stress
upon the " now," and Edith understood ;
nevertheless, she deemed it prudent to
affect ignorance and read a different
meaning in his words. She murmured
something about being very much occu-
pied, and having little time to attend to
visitors ; then led the way across the
hall to their sitting-room, and brought
him into the presence of his aunt.
Mrs. Russell welcomed him cordially,
but when she heard of his domestic
arrangements, her face went very blank
indeed. She used every argument in
her power to persuade the young man
94 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
to change his mind, and to have his
luggage brought up to the cottage.
Walter, eager to accept her kindness, was
listening for one word from Edith. It
never came, and he expressed his inten-
tion to remain at the inn.
But, although he abided by his former
decision and remained en garfon at the
inn, a very great part of his time was
spent at the cottage. The old lady,
anxious to atone for the inhospitable
behaviour of her niece, altered all her
household arrangements to suit the
erratic habits of the young painter. The
heavy midday meal was replaced by a
light luncheon ; while for the light supper
at six was substituted a substantial
dinner, to which Walter was always
bidden. On the afternoon of that day,
when the young man had first made his
appearance at the cottage, a rather
BUT A LANDSCAPE PAINTER. 95
unpleasant interview had taken place
between the aunt and niece, almost the
first which had come to ruffle the peace-
ful course of their evenly flowing lines.
The old lady had been indignant at the
coolness of Edith's reception, and had
accused the girl of inhospitality and
ingratitude ; while Edith had coolly
given it as her opinion that the young
man was much better located elsewhere.
"It is a tax to have a visitor always
in the house, aunt," said Edith, quietly ;
" and and I haven't the strength to
bear it, I think."
Mrs. Russell looked up, and was sur-
prised to find that the girl, after bearing
her reproaches so mildly, was now
actually crying. She noted again, too,
with a start of shocked surprise how
sadly she had changed. The fresh,
bright beauty which had once charmed
9 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
every eye had gone, leaving scarcely a
trace behind it, and the face was pale,
careworn, and sad. She got up and
kissed her, and that silent caress did
more than a dozen reproaches. It made
Edith hurriedly leave the room, to cast
herself, crying bitterly, upon the bed,
while Mrs. Russell sat down and wrote
a note to Walter.
" You shall have your own way about
staying at the inn," she wrote, " and you
shall also have every possible hour of
the day that you can make use of for
your work ; but surely you can spare
your evenings for us. I have arranged
to dine every day at six, and I beg of
you, for Edith's sake, to make one of the
party. Dear Edith is far from well, and
sadly changing. She sees so few people,
and the house is dull. Dear Walter,
come often, for her sake if not for mine."
BUT A LANDSCAPE PAINTER. 97
Thus it happened that every night,
when the little dining-room was laid out
for dinner, Walter made his appearance
at the cottage door, and that during
those evening hours the family party
was increased to three. Sometimes they
left the dinner-table to lounge in the
pretty little drawing-room, where Walter
was permitted to smoke his cigar, while
the old lady worked at wool-work, and
Edith played to them in the slowly
gathering darkness. Sometimes they
strolled out on to the lawn, and had the
tea brought out, and laughed and chatted
while they watched the stars appear one
by one in the heavens. Was it fancy,
or since these social evenings com-
menced was Edith really changed for
the better ? Walter fancied that her
eye was brighter, her cheek less
pale, and that her manner towards him-
VOL. II.
9 8 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
self was sometimes very tender, as if
she wished in a measure to atone for her
past coldness. This was particularly
noticeable one night when the two sat
alone in the drawing-room.
Mrs. Russell, murmuring something
about household affairs, had left them
together. Walter was reclining in an
armchair, smoking his cigar and watch-
ing his cousin, who was busily engaged
embroidering crosses upon a handsome
altar-cloth, intended for the decoration of
the church.
" These have been pleasant evenings/'
he said " pleasant for me, that is. I
shall be sorry enough when they come
to an end."
Edith looked up and smiled sadly.
"If we always had pleasure it would
become a pain," she said. " Though we
rebel against pain and suffering, it is,
BUT A LANDSCAPE PAINTER. 99
after all, a very great boon to the
world."
" Humph ! Perhaps so, if it were
better distributed. What about the
poor creatures whose portion is only
pain ? who, to put it vulgarly, get
all the kicks, and none of the half-
pence ? "
" In this world, you should have said,
Walter. Let us hope their measure of
happiness will be greater in the world
that is to come."
Walter was silent. The conversation
had taken precisely the turn which he
would have avoided, and he was won-
dering how to bring it to the subject
which was for ever uppermost in his
mind. For a time he remained in a
brown study. Edith stitched on. Then
he rose, took a few turns about the
room, and stopped near to her chair.
100 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
" Edith," he said quietly, " do you
know why I came down here ? "
Something in his tone rather than
his words made her start and flush pain-
fully. She did not raise her eyes or
cease her work. Before she could
answer, he had taken her hand.
" I came for you, Edith," he con-
tinued passionately. " Listen to me, my
darling. Do not answer hastily, if you
cannot give me a decided answer. At
least let me hope."
Decidedly yet tremblingly the girl put
his hands from her, and half rose from
her seat. His words had frozen her to
ice again.
" Why did you come here ? " she said,
" Do you call it manly or kind to per-
secute me ? I tell you I shall never
marry."
As she spoke her eye fell upon the
BUT A LANDSCAPE PAINTER. 1OI
altar-cloth, which she held in her hand.
Walter saw the look, and as he was
walking back to the inn that night it
recurred to his mind again. The altar-
cloth ! There was the symbol of the
thing which had come between them
which was blighting his life and hers.
Edith was changing; but she was not
utterly changed. He resolved to do the
only thing which now remained to be
done. He determined to appeal to her
spiritual adviser.
All night his mind was filled with this
idea ; it troubled his sleeping as well as
his waking moments, and when he rose
in the morning it was the one thing
which possessed him. Now, he had
never seen the clergyman, but he had
pictured him as a middle-aged, benevo-
lent-looking man, perhaps with spec-
tacles ; a gentle fanatic in religion,
102 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
willing, through the very bigotry of his
nature, to sacrifice everything for the
good of the Church, but still, perhaps,
amiable. He might be open to reason,
and an appeal made directly to him
might be the means of putting an end
to all the trouble.
Breakfast over, the young man issued
from the inn, and strolled deliberately
through the village in the direction of
the Vicarage. It was early in the day
to make a call, so he walked very slowly,
meditating as he went on the nature of
his errand ; and the course he was about
to take, after what had passed between
him and his cousin, was, perhaps, a little
unwarrantable, and Edith might be in-
clined to resent it if she knew. But
then, he reflected, she need never know.
Mr. Santley would surely grant him the
favour of keeping the matter a secret ;
BUT A. LANDSCAPE PAINTER. 103
and afterwards, when the shadow of the
Church had ceased to darken her life,
and she was happy with him in her
married home, she would be glad to
hear that it was he who had saved her.
These were the kind of rose-coloured
visions which filled his brain as he
walked on towards the Vicarage, and
by the time he had reached the hall
door and pulled the bell, he had even
converted Mr. Santley into the good
fairy of the tale, or rather a sort of
Father Christmas, in a surplice, smiling
benevolently upon them and pairing
their hands. A trim little servant came
to the door, and, in answer to his in-
quiries, informed him that Mr. Santley
was not at home. He was expected in
immediately, however, if the gentleman
would like to wait. Yes ; Walter would
wait. So he followed the little maid
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
across the hall, into a somewhat chilly
but sufficiently gorgeous room, which
was reserved solely for the comfort and
convenience of Mr. Santley' s guests.
As Walter sank down into an easy-chair,
the arms of which seemed to enfold him
in a close embrace, and looked about the
room, he acknowledged that Mr. Santley
at least did not give all his substance to
the poor. Here at least there was no
appearance of penury, or of sackcloth
and ashes ; all was comfortable and
luxurious in the extreme. He walked
about the room ; examined the books
upon the tables, which were all works
of education, elegantly bound ; noticed
the engravings on the walls one or
two of Raphael's Madonnas (coloured
copies), and an old engraving after
Andrea del Sarto. Mr. Santley did not
come. He rang the bell, gave the little
BUT A LANDSCAPE PAINTER. IO5
maid his card, told her he would call
again, and left the Vicarage.
This time he walked in the direction
of the schoolhouse. He had his sketch-
book under his arm, and in it a half-
finished sketch of the schoolmistress's
picturesque home. He would fill up
his spare time by adding a few touches
to the sketch before he returned to the
Vicarage.
In this matter fortune favoured him.
It being Saturday afternoon, there was
no school, and the schoolmistress was
leaning in a listless attitude upon the
low trellised gate. She welcomed the
young painter with a nod and a bright
smile, and readily assented to his pro-
position that she should stand for the
figure in the picture. He took out his
book and set to work.
Dora meanwhile chatted and laughed
106 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
to make the time pass pleasantly, and
sometimes, in answer to an invitation
from him, she would run round the easel
to take a peep at the figure of herself,
which was gradually growing under his
hand. At last their pleasant interview
was brought to an end. Walter re-
membered the appointment which this
chattering lady had made him forget.
He put up his sketching materials, and
prepared to take his leave. Then
Dora stopped him.
" Surely, Mr. Hetherington, you will
do me one favour," she said : "you will
honour me by stepping for a moment
into the cottage which you have trans-
ferred so beautifully to paper. I have
some cream and milk, some fresh straw-
berries from our garden, if that is any
inducement to you."
The invitation was tempting. Never-
BUT A LANDSCAPE PAINTER, IO 7
theless, Walter, while wishing to accept,
was about to refuse, pleading an en-
gagement at the Vicarage when another
voice broke in
"Good day, Miss Greatheart ! " it
said.
The schoolmistress smiled, made a
prim curtsey, and answered, " Good day,
sir ! " Then she waited to see if her
visitor had anything more to say.
The new arrival was a man, and
Walter, who was looking at him, thought
he was the handsomest man he had ever
seen in his life. He was dressed as a
clergyman, but the cut of his garments
was elegant and eminently becoming.
As his eye fell upon Walter he raised
his hat, and discovered a head beau-
tifully shaped and slightly thinning at the
temples. Walter remained fascinated,
staring at the man, who moved here and
108 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
there with easy grace, and whose face
grew singularly handsome with every
varying expression which flitted across it.
He had not much to say to the school-
mistress ; and as he moved away his hat
was again swept off to Walter, and the
clergyman's eyes rested upon him for a
moment with a look one might love to
paint in the eyes of a saint.
Walter turned to Miss Greatheart.
" A handsome fellow," he said - t4 a
very handsome fellow ; and a clergyman,
I see, by his dress. Who is he ? One
of Mr. Santley's curates, I suppose ?"
The schoolmistress stared at him for
a moment in amazement.
"One of Mr. Santley's curates!" she
said. " Why, my dear sir, that is our
vicar himself!"
109
CHAPTER XX.
IN THE GLOAMING.
IT was now Walters turn to look
amazed.
" That Mr. Santley ! " he said. " Why r
he is quite a young man ! "
" Of course he is and handsome as
good, and good as handsome. But
won't you come in, Mr. Hetherington r
and have some refreshment ? It is two
hours quite since you opened out your
sketch-book at the gate ! "
This time Walter accepted her invi-
tation, and followed her into the quaint
little parlour, where most of her days
HO FOXGLOVE MANOR.
were spent. The little maid who at-
tended to the house had got a holiday
with the children, and Dora was left to
attend to herself that day. Walter was
glad of it, since he was left free to sit by
the window and follow the train of
his thoughts, while Dora busied herself
spreading the snowy cloth upon the
table, and setting forth her simple fare.
When it was ready, he came to the table
and ate some strawberries and drank
some milk, thinking all the while of Mr.
Santley. Presently he spoke of him.
" You have known Mr. Santley some
time, Miss Greatheart ? " he said.
"I was schoolmistress here when he
came."
" He is a very good man, you said ? "
" Yes, indeed. But it stands to reason
that a man with Mr. Santley's gifts must
be very good indeed not to get spoiled.
IN THE GLOAMING. I I I
In justice to at least half of his congre-
gation, he ought to marry."
" Why, pray ? "
" Why ? If he had arrived here with
a wife, many a young girl in the village
would have been saved a severe heart-
ache. He is a prize in the matrimonial
lottery well worth striving for. He is
idolized by every female in the village.
Now, it is certain he cannot marry them
all, and on the day when the happy one
is chosen, fancy the hearts that will
break ! "
" Yours amongst the number ? "
" No, sir ; I am happy to say I am
free. But I take no credit to myself on
that account. If I had been idle like
some of the young ladies here, there
might have been another victim added
to the list; but I have so much to do in
the school, I have no time to think about
112 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
the vicar," she added. ." Have you
heard him preach, Mr. Hetherington ? "
" No, not yet."
"Ah, you must go to the church to-
morrow. He speaks magnificently, and
looks a picture in his robes ; besides,
his sister, Miss Santley, told me he will
wear for the first time to-morrow a new
surplice and a magnificent embroidered
band, which has been worked for him
by Miss Dove ! "
At the mention of his cousin's name
Walter felt his face flush and his heart
leap ; but he made no direct reply. He
went on eating his strawberries, and
turned his face to the open window, as
he said
" What have you made for him, Miss
Greatheart ? "
" I ? Oh, nothing ! He has so many
beautiful presents from the young ladies
IN THE GLOAMING. 1^3
in the village that he has no need of
them from me, even if I had the time to
make them, which I have not ; all day I
am teaching in the school, and all the
evening I am busy preparing lessons for
the following day."
" Have you always lived here ? "
" Not always. My mother was a
prison matron at Preston, and we lived
together until she died, several years
ago ; then, through the influence of some
friends, I got this place, and have lived
here ever since ! "
" Working and striving," added
Walter ; " finding pleasure in things
which to some would mean only
trouble and irritation. During the
holidays do you ever come to London,
Miss Greatheart ?"
" No ; I generally remain here."
" From choice ? "
VOL. II. I
114 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
" Not at all. I should like a change ;
but then, to go alone to a city where you
have no friends, and to parade crowded
streets alone, is a holiday which I should
not enjoy."
Walter rose to go.
" You will come back and finish the
sketch on Monday, perhaps?" said Dora.
" I shall be glad to ; I should like,
above all, to finish the figure leaning on
the gate,"
" Then you must come in the evening.
I promise to give you an hour after
school hours."
Then Walter shook hands with her
and left, taking the way to the inn
instead of to the Vicarage. He would
make no appeal to the clergyman. The
sight of Mr. Santley, so different to the
benevolent, elderly gentleman of his
imagination, had decided him on that
IN THE GLOAMING. 1 I 5
point ; it had also brought with it other
trouble, for it threw an entirely new
light on Edith's religious fervour.
Was it, then, the man or the church,
infatuation or fanaticism ? He asked
himself the question for the first time.
Was Edith among the mass of simple
girls who were breaking their hearts for
his sake ? Probably. It remained now
for him to watch her, and ascertain the
truth.
He went up to the cottage that
evening, and regarded Edith with quite
a new light in his eyes. She also
seemed changed. Her manner was
restless and ill at ease ; her cheek was
flushed. All through the dinner she
scarcely touched any food, but glanced
furtively at her aunt and cousin.
When the dinner was over, they all
retired to the drawing-room as usual.
Il6 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
Here Edith's restlessness asserted itself
more strongly. Instead of sitting quietly
to her work, as was her usual custom r
she flitted restlessly about the room.
Presently she declared that she had a
terrible headache, and wished her cousin
"good night."
" I have been trying to bear it," she
said, " but it gets worse instead of better. .
You will excuse me for to-night r
Walter, will you not ? "
As he took her hand and held it for a
moment in his, he felt that it was trem-
bling and very hot. He scarcely believed
in the headache, but he deemed silence
the most prudent course ; so he wished
her " good night " without more ado.
Her aunt rose to go with her to her
room, but permission to do so was firmly
refused.
" You will stay and keep Walter
IN THE GLOAMING. I I 7
company, or else you will make me
regret I did not bear the pain without a
word. Indeed, dear aunt, all I want is
rest and quietness. I shall be quite well
to-morrow."
So she went. Mrs. Russell sat down
again to her wool-work, and Walter sub-
sided into his chair.
There was not much talking done
after that, and Walter, as soon as his
cigar was finished, rose to take his leave.
The old lady looked at him tenderly
and sadly, but she said nothing. Instinct
had told her the true state of. things
between the cousins ; she was sorry, but
helpless. It would be better, she
thought to herself, if the poor boy would
resign a useless courtship, since Edith
had evidently no affection to give, and
take to himself some pretty little wife
who would make his home happy.
n8
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
He did not returrf directly to the inn r
but with head bent in deep thought he
strolled on, he knew not whither. He
was wondering whether or not this hope-
less quest should end. If Edith had de-
ceived him if, indeed, it was the man,
,and not religion, which held the girl so
entranced why, then his task of regene-
ration would surely be a very difficult
one. It was strange, he thought, that
Edith, knowing his mistake, should have
allowed it to remain. He had repeatedly
spoken to her of Mr. Santley as an
elderly man ; and, although she knew the
truth, she had never corrected him. It
looked black, very black ; the more he
thought over it, the more complicated
matters became.
He had been so engrossed in his own
thoughts, that he had been almost
unaware of his own actions. He was
IN THE GLOAMING. I 19
only conscious of strolling idly on and on,
he knew not in what direction. Sud-
denly he paused, looked helplessly about
him ; then took a few stealthy steps
forward, and paused again. Where he
was he did not know. The night had
grown quite dark and chilly, for heavy,
rain-charged clouds were covering both
stars and moon. But his quick ear
had detected what his eyes could not at
first perceive the close neighbourhood
of two figures in earnest conversation
a man and a woman. The darkness
shrouded their figures, but the breeze
brought to him the sound of their voices.
Walter hated to play the spy, yet for
once in his life his feet refused to move.
For he had recognized one of the voices
as belonging to his cousin Edith.
Yes, the voice was Edith's.
Having wished her aunt and cousin
120 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
"good night," she had hastened to her
room and locked the door ; but instead of
throwing herself on the bed, she had lit
the candles, sat down near the dressing-
table, drawn forth a letter from her
pocket, and begun to read.
The letter was as follows :
" MY DEAR Miss DOVE,
" I am very sorry to hear that
you have been suffering. You will find
what you require at Dr. Spruce's surgery.
You are right about the time nine
o'clock will do very well.
" Yours faithfully,
" CHARLES SANTLEY."
This letter had come through the
post in the ordinary way. It had been
handed to Edith in the morning; and
the very sight of it had sent the hot
IN THE GLOAMING. I21
blood coursing through her veins, and
kept her in a state of feverish excite-
ment the whole day. It was the
knowledge of this piece of paper in
her pocket which had rendered her so
uneasy during the dinner ; it was the
knowledge of this letter also which had
caused her excitement after dinner,
and which finally had made her wish
her cousin a hasty " good night." And
now, as she read it again, the flush
remounted to her cheeks and her heart
beat pleasantly. She had not seen
Santley alone since that Sunday morn-
ing, nearly a week past, when the two
had parted in anger an anger which
to Edith meant utter misery and pros-
tration. And now, at the eleventh
hour, he had written to her appointing
a meeting, and she was ready to fly
to him with open arms.
122 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
She sat for some time looking at
the letter, reading it over and over
until she knew every word of it by
heart ; then she kissed it, returned it
to her pocket, opened the window,
and looked out. It was a cloudy but
fine night, and the welcome darkness
was gathering quickly.
If it would only rain, she thought, they
would be sure to have the road to them-
selves in that case ; and for herself, why,
what did it matter so long as she felt her
i
lover's arms about her again, and knew
that he was true ? But now her first
care was to effect her escape stealthily
from the house. She had decided upon
her course of action ; the great difficulty
which remained was to carry it through.
She hastily put on her walking boots,
took up a cloak of sombre colour,
fastened it round her, drew the hood
IN THE GLOAMING. . 1 23.
over her head, and stood ready to
set forth to the place of meeting
which she knew, by old experience,
well.
She opened her bedroom door and
listened. She could hear nothing.
Perhaps her cousin was gone, perhaps
he was still sitting in the drawing-
room, quietly smoking his cigar. In
any case, it seemed, she need not fear
interruption ; the way was clear. She
hastily blew out her candles, locked
her door, and slipped the key into her
pocket ; then noiselessly descending the
stairs, she left the house unseen.
In the garden she hesitated, curious
to know what they could all be doing ;
so she crept round the house and
peeped in at the drawing-room window.
Walter was still there, but he stood
near the door, holding his aunt's hand.
^24 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
and evidently taking his leave. Edith
turned, and without more ado fled
quickly in the darkness.
Even as Edith was leaving the cot-
tage, Santley was already at the meeting-
place, walking with impatient strides
up and down the lonely lane selected
for their interview, and wondering as
-every minute passed away why Edith
did not come.
A week's reflection, and the frequent
sight of Edith's pale, careworn face when
they met in public, had brought him to
this pass. He saw that she was suffer-
ing, and for the sake of what she had
been to him he felt really sorry. Be-
sides, he looked at the matter philoso-
phically, and he asked himself, why
should they quarrel ? After all, she had
been very patient and forbearing ; and
for that little fit of jealousy about
IN THE GLOAMING. 125
Mrs. Haldane she had been sufficiently
punished.
But perhaps there was another and
a stronger motive for this sudden wish
for a meeting and a reconciliation. So
long as this absurd quarrel continued,
it was evident Edith had no intention
of visiting the Vicarage ; and this fact-
alone subjected him to a series of
unpleasant questions from his sister.
Santley therefore decided that it would
be better for him in every possible way
to send the letter, which would be
certain to effect a reconciliation.
" Is it you, Edith ? Quick ! Is it
you?"
His quick ear had caught the rustle
of her dress on the grass. Even as the
words left his lips came the eager
answer.
" Yes, Charles ; I have come ! " And
!2 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
the girl, forgetting all their quarrels,
leapt with a glad cry into his arms.
For a time no words were spoken.
After that one cry of joy, Edith had laid
her head upon his shoulder and sobbed
as if her heart would break. At this
manifestation of hysteria, Santley was
not altogether pleased ; but he could say
nothing, so he clasped his arms firmly
about her, and tried to soothe her sorrow.
When at last Edith lifted her head from
his shoulder he kissed her lips, and whis-
pered to her so gently that the girl's
heart beat as gladly as it had done the
first day that words like these had been
spoken.
" There, there," said the good man,
kissing her again, and patting her head
like that of a spoilt child. " You are
better now, my darling; and remember
you must not quarrel with me again.
IN THE GLOAMING. 127
You were breaking your little heart for
nothing at all."
Part of the girl's emotion had com-
municated itself to him ; and for the
time being, while he stood there holding
her to him, feeling her breath upon her
cheek, her clinging arms about his neck,
he felt almost as passionately disposed
as he had done the first day that he told
her of his love. As for Edith, a serene
happiness and peace seemed to enter
into her soul. They stood thus for some
time, exchanging whispered words and
fond embraces ; then the clergyman told
her she had better go. A spot or two
of rain had fallen, and the sky was
clouding over as if for a storm.
" Will you play the organ to-morrow,
Edith ? " he asked, as they moved away
together.
"Yes, if you wish it"
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
" I do wish it, Edith ; for when you
are playing, it seems as if you were
helping me with my work."
Sweet words ! She said nothing, but
the hand which lay in his pressed his
fondly, and he knew that she was
pleased.
" And will you come to the Vicarage
to-morrow afternoon, and have tea with
us ? I shall be so glad if you will ! "
He did not add that his sister, won-
dering all the week at Edith's non-ap-
pearance, had threatened repeatedly to
call at the cottage, when she would
doubtless have elicited something of the
truth.
" No, I cannot come ! " she said ; " my
cousin, Walter Hetherington, is staying
in the village, and so long as he remains
here he is to spend the evenings with
us. As to-morrow is Sunday, and no
IN THE GLOAMING. I 29,
work can be done, my aunt has invited
him up for the day."
Santley was relieved, very much re-
lieved indeed. He could now give his
sister a tangible reason for Edith's ab-
sence from the Vicarage, while he him-
self would be perfectly free to spend the
afternoon with Mrs. Haldane. He tried
to suppress the delight w r hich he could
not help feeling, and said quietly, " Let
us hope the young man will make a
speedy departure, if he means to mono-
polize you so much. But that reminds
me, Edith, a young man, a Mr. Walter
Hetherington, called upon me to-day
and left his card. I suppose it is the
same ? "
" Of course it is," returned Edith.
" But what could he want with you ? "
" I don't in the least know. Nothing
of very great importance, I suppose,.
VOL. II. K
13 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
since he promised to call again, and
never reappeared."
The clergyman paused.
They had come now to within a short
distance of Edith's home. Again, after
a furtive look round, he clasped her
fondly to him, pressed her lips, and mur-
mured, " Good night, my Edith ! "
" Good night," returned the girl, with-
drawing herself reluctantly from his em-
brace. " Oh, I am so happy now ! You
were quite right, dear ; another week
like the last would have broken my
heart ! "
Thus they parted Edith, happy as a
child, creeping quickly to the cottage ;
the good man smiling celestially, and
well pleased to have made everything
comfortable 'at little personal inconve-
nience, walking back to his holy hearth,
and thinking of his Sunday sermon.
CHAPTER XXI.
IN THE VICARAGE PARLOUR.
NEARLY the whole of this interview had
been witnessed by Walter Hetherington.
He had heard, yet he had not heard ;
for, though instinct told him that the
voice was Edith's, he could only catch
fragments of what she said. Neverthe-
less, as he remained crouched in the
shadow of the trees, he was conscious of
sobs and tears, of stolen kisses and softly
murmured words. He remained until
the interview was over ; then, when the
two walked together back towards the
13 2 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
village, he still very stealthily followed
them. When they stopped again, he heard
the passionate words of parting. His
suspicions were, in his own despite, fast
becoming certainties ; they were soon
established certainties beyond a doubt.
, He followed [the girl after she had left
her lover, and saw her stealthily open
the door and disappear across the thres-
hold of Edith's home.
Then Walter turned, and feeling like
one who has had a terrible nightmare,
he walked back to his lodgings at the
inn. He was sorry he had not had
time to follow the man, for he remained
completely in the dark as to who he
might be. He got little sleep that night.
The next morning he awoke sadly un-
refreshed. After breakfast he strolled
out among the meadows ; and when he
heard the bells ring, calling the villagers
IN THE VICARAGE PARLOUR. 133
to prayer, he entered the church with
the rest.
When the congregation had assembled
.and the clergyman was in his place,
Walter looked about for Edith. He
felt almost a sense of relief when he
saw that she was present ; it repulsed
him to think of her calmly joining
in the service after the events of last
night. He looked at the gallery where
the school children bestowed them-
selves, and saw Dora, quiet, unobtrusive,
and happy, sitting serenely amongst
her flaxen-haired flock. How cosy,
how comfortable she was ! but the
very bitterness of his heart compelled
him to ask himself the question : was
she as bad as the rest ? At one
time, yes, even so late as the preceding
night, he had possessed so much blind
faith in genuine human nature as to
^34 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
believe that the face indicated the soul,.
Now, however, he felt that such a belief
was puerile and false. No woman on
earth could possess a more spiritual
countenance than his cousin Edith yet
his eyes had assured him of the black-
ness and impurity of her soul. Disap-
pointment was turning his heart to
gall.
At last the service was ended : the
congregation streamed forth, Walter
amongst the rest. The crush was so-
great he could hardly get along for
Mr. Santley was a popular preacher.
Once outside the edifice, Walter paused
to draw his breath and look about him..
He started, turned first hot, then cold,
for not many yards from him was Edith
herself, calmly leaving the church with
the rest. Almost before he could re-
cover himself she saw him, and ad-
IN THE VICARAGE PARLOUR. 135
vanced with a bright smile and out-
stretched hand.
" I saw you in church," she said, " and
thought you looked dreadfully pale.
Are you not well, Walter ? "
He murmured something about late
hours and a sleepless night ; then he
had to confess he had been looking
about for her, for he added
" I did not seejx<?& in church."
"No, you would not. I was in the
organ-room. It is my Sunday for
playing, you remember!"
To this he made no reply. He was
wondering how it was that Edith
could manage so effectually to play
such a double part. He expected at
least a downcast eye, and a blush of
guilt upon her cheek ; with this he
might have been tolerably satisfied.
But Edith's face looked brighter than
it had done for many a day.
136 J 'OX 'GLOVE MANOR.
" I forgot to ask you," he said sud-
denly, " if your headache was better."
" My headache ? " she replied. She
had been so engrossed with happy
thoughts at the reconciliation, that- the
question took her completely by sur-
_ prise. " Ah yes," she added, suddenly
recollecting herself ; u it is so much
better, that I had quite forgotten it.
You see what a good night's rest will
do!"
Walter uttered an impatient sigh, and
turned on his heel ; while Edith
added
" You are coming up to dine with us
to-day, you know. Shall we walk to-
gether ? "
" I am not coming ! "
" Not coming ? I thought
" Yes, I did accept your aunt's invi-
tation ; but I feel upset to-day, and am
IN THE VICARAGE PARLOUR. 137
not fit company for any one. Will you
make my excuses at home ? "
" Yes, certainly I will ; and I hope
that to-morrow you will be so much
better. Good-bye."
She shook hands with him, and tripped
.away.
For a time Walter made no attempt
to move, but gazed after her with eyes
full of sadness and despair. Although
he said to himself that henceforth Edith
must be nothing to him, he felt pained
at the curtness with which she could
dismiss him. He had noticed that she
had never once attempted to persuade
him to alter his decision ; indeed, she
had not been able to hide from him her
delight at hearing it, and he felt very
bitter.
He turned from the church, walked
-away, and, after strolling about for some
138
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
time he knew not whither, he raised his
head and found himself quite close to
the schoolmistress's cottage. Dora stood
in the doorway, surrounded by her
flowers.
She came forward when she saw him,
and, after giving him a bright smile and
a warm handshake, stood by the gate
and continued to talk. She was a wise
little woman, and knew exactly what to
say and what to leave unsaid ; she had
been a witness of the interview between
the cousins in the churchyard that morn-
ing, and her woman's instinct had divined
something of the true state of things.
So she chatted pleasantly to the young
man, and took no notice whatever of his
pale cheek and peculiarity of manner;
and when he said suddenly, " Are
you not going to ask me in to-day,
Miss Greatheart ? " she threw open
IN THE VICARAGE PARLOUR. 1 39
the gate at once, and said that she
was sadly neglectful and inhospitable,
and that if Mr. Hetherington would
like to come in, he would be more than
welcome. So he followed her again
into the quaint little parlour, and again
took his seat by the open window, to
gaze with strange, meditative eyes upon
the little garden where the sun was
shining. It was a ragged little garden
enough, and by no means well cared
for, since Dora was not rich enough to
pay for labour, like her more fortunate
neighbours in the village.
During her leisure hours she worked
among the flower-beds until her plump
hands ached again ; but, after all, her
leisure hours were very few, and the
grass and weeds grew so quickly.
Walter saw that the grass was many
inches too long, and that it was scattered
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
thickly with withered rose-leaves ; that
here and there a rose tree was sadly in
want of the pruning knife. But that did
not make the scent of the flowers any
the less delicious ; nor did it take from
the quiet beauty of their place. There
was plenty of light and colour every-
where, and there was beauty.
While looking at the garden, Walter
began to think of the garden's mis-
tress quiet little Dora, living so con-
tented among her children ; and in the
winter still living here alone, when the
flowers had faded, when withered rose-
leaves were scattered profusely on the
grass, and the leafless branches of the
trees bent before the biting breath of
the bitter winter wind. It was a pretty
picture of Dora he loved it as we love
the creatures of our imagination ; it
seemed to make Dora belong to him,
IN THE VICARAGE PARLOUR. 14*
artistically, as it were, and bring him
consolation. Then his reflections took
another turn, and he began, for the first
time, to think it strange that the little
woman should be so much alone.
He said something of this to Dora ;
and she laughed and blushed, and
answered frankly enough.
" Yes, I am a good deal alone. You
see, I am in an equivocal position. I
am too good for the servants, and not
good enough for their mistresses. I am
only the governess ! "
"At any rate," said Walter, "you
have contrived to brighten up what
would otherwise have been a very cheer-
less visit. As a token of my gratitude,
will you accept a little present from
me?"
" I want no present, sir ; your friendly
words are quite enough."
I4 2 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
11 Nonsense ! I should like to give
you some of the sketches I have made
of the village."
" To me ! give them to me ? " said
Dora, with wide-open eyes. " Why, Mr.
Hetherington, I thought you wanted
them to to
" To what ? "
" Well, to remind you of this
visit!"
" Perhaps when I began them I had
some notion of that kind in my head ;
we are all fools sometimes, you know.
But I have changed my mind ; I don't
want to be reminded of this visit. Yes,
I shall give you the sketches that is
to say, if you will accept them ; and
when I have taken my departure and
I shall do so soon I shall try to forget
that such a village as Omberley ever
ousted at all."
IN THE VICARAGE PARLOUR.
"And the people," said Dora; " of
course you will try to forget the
people ? "
" That is the first thing I shall try to
do ! "
We are most of us selfish in our grief,
and Walter was no exception to the rule.
Mortified and suffering himself, it never
once entered his head that he might be
impolite, and even rude, to another. But
the knife entered Dora's little heart,
and made her wince. She had been
happy in the knowledge that she had
met a fellow-creature who could treat
Tier exactly as an equal a man whom
she could call a friend; and lo ! when her
interest is strongest, when she has been
telling herself that the memory of the
few days which he has brightened for
ever will linger in her memory and
never die, he came to tell her that his
144 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
first effort would be to forget the place
and her.
u I will take the pictures, if you like,.
Mr. Hetherington, but merely as a
loan. You will change your mind again.
I am convinced that some day you will
ask me for them back again, and when
you do they shall certainly be yours.
But the sketch of the cottage is it
finished already ? "
" The sketch of the cottage ? Oh, I
should like to keep that. It contains
the picture of a lady whom I should
certainly not like to forget."
Then, while the glad light danced in
Dora's eyes again, he rose and took her
hand, as he said
" Good-bye, Miss Greatheart. When
I said I should forget the village and
the people I was wrong. Your kind-
ness and hospitality I shall always re-
member."
IN THE VICARAGE PARLOUR. 145
So he crossed the threshold of the
happy little schoolhouse, to stroll out
again into the sunshine ; and again he
thought very bitterly of the woman who
had effectually taken all the sunshine
from his life.
He need not have thought so bitterly
of her. If she had wounded him she
was receiving her punishment.
Having left Walter in the churchyard,
Edith flew home like one walking on
air. She had accepted his decision
gleefully, never attempting to alter it
by word or look, for she was thinking
all the time of the invitation she had
received from Mr. Santley, and which
had cost her such a pang to refuse.
Walter's sudden determination left her
free free to spend a few hours in the
company of the man who was more to
her than the whole world. Light-
VOL. II. L
146 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
hearted and happy, she hurried home,
gave Walter's message to her aunt,
and then sat down and made a very
hearty meal. After it was over, and
a reasonable time had elapsed, she again
put on her hat, and told her aunt she
was going down to the Vicarage.
" I shan't be back till late, aunt," she
added, " for, as I have to go to the
Vicarage, I may as well walk to evening
service with Miss Santley. If Walter
changes his mind and comes, you will
look after him well, won't you ? "
And Mrs. Russell, promising implicit
obedience, kissed her niece fondly, and
watched her go down the road. On
reaching theVicarage, Edith was admitted
at once. There was no necessity to
take her card and keep her waiting
while she ascertained if master or
mistress was at home. She was known
IN THE VICARAGE PARLOUR. 1 47
to the servants as a visitor who was
always welcome at any rate to the
mistress of the house. So, without any
preamble at all, she was shown into the
sitting-room, and into the presence of
Miss Santley.
The room was as luxuriously furnished
as any in the Vicarage, and charmingly
decorated with the choicest of hothouse
flowers. The lady sat in a low wicker
chair, with a book in her hand, and at
her elbow a little gipsy table, holding a
tea-service of Dresden china. The
opening of the door disturbed the lady.
She let her book fall upon her knee, and
looked up dreamily ; but the moment
her eye fell upon Edith she rose, smiling
brightly, gave the girl both her hands,
and kissed her fondly.
" My dear Edith, I am so glad ! " she
exclaimed ; and there was a ring of
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
genuine welcome in her voice. " Why,
you are a perfect stranger. Jane, bring
a cup for Miss Dove. Now, dear,
select your chair, take off your hat, and
make yourself comfortable."
Edith did as she was bidden. She
placed her hat on one of the many little
tables with which the room abounded,
stood before one of the glasses for a
moment to rectify any disarrangement
of hair and costume ; then she drew forth
a little wicker chair similar to that occu-
pied by her hostess, and sat down. By
this time the teapot was brought in, and
the tea poured, so Edith sat and sipped
it, talking and laughing meanwhile like
a happy child.
"Well, dear," said Miss Santley, "and
what have you been doing with yourself
all the week ? Charles tells me you
have a cousin in the village, who com-
IN THE VICARAGE PARLOUR. H9
pletely monopolizes you. By the way,
he told me that he had tried to persuade
you to come to tea to-day, but that you
had positively refused. That could not
have been true."
" Yes, it was true," returned Edith.
" I did refuse when he asked me, because
I thought I could not come. I thought
my cousin would dine with us as usual ;
but I met him at church this morning,
and he said he was rather unwell and
could not come. So I thought it would
not matter if I came after all."
" Matter ! My dear, I am delighted."
And so, having thus satisfactorily ar-
ranged matters, the two sat chatting to
their hearts' content.
It was very pleasant, exceedingly
pleasant at any other time Edith would
have enjoyed it hugely ; but as the
hands of the bronze clock on the
15 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
chimneypiece travelled so quickly
round, she began to grow uneasy, and
to wonder at the protracted absence of
her lover. Miss Santley was a very
pleasant person indeed, and Edith was
very fond of her ; but it had been a
^ stronger inducement than Miss Santley
that had brought her to the Vicarage that
afternoon. Santley must know she was
in the house, thought Edith ; it was
strange he did not come.
Suddenly Miss Santley glanced at the
clock. In a moment she was on her
feet.
" My dear," she exclaimed, " how the
time has flown ! Do you play again
to-night ? "
" Yes."
The lady nodded.
" We'll walk to church together, dear,"
she said. " Amuse yourself by looking
IN THE VICARAGE PARLOUR.
at the books, while I run away to get
my bonnet and mantle on."
Ere the lady had reached the door of
the room, Edith spoke. Prolonged dis-
appointment had given her courage.
" Mr. Santley is busy, I suppose?"
she said.
" Mr. Santley Charles ? Oh, my dear,
he's not at home ! "
"Not at home?"
"No. If he had been, do you suppose
for a moment, my dear, he would have
allowed you to be all this time in the
house without coming out to say ' How
do you do ' ? If he had known you had
been coming, of course he would have
stayed in ; but he didn't know, so imme-
diately after afternoon service he went
to Foxglove Manor. He wanted to see
Mrs. Haldane, and he said he should go
straight from there to the church."
I5 2 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
Miss Santley was near the door. The
moment she had finished speaking she
passed out of the room, and left Edith
alone.
It was not a pleasant task to her, this
mentioning of Mrs. Haldane. She knew
that people had already begun to speak
somewhat unkindly of the relations be-
tween that lady and her brother. But
since this was so, it was well that she
should show to the world that she, his
sister, thought nothing of it. Therefore
she had made up her mind that, when-
ever it was necessary for her to mention
that lady's name, she would do so with-
out reserve of any kind. It was the
only way, she thought, to prevent such
absurd rumours from taking root.
A very few minutes sufficed to make
her toilet. At the end of that time she
returned to the room where she had left
IN THE VICARAGE PARLOUR. 153
Edith, to get her Prayer-book and the
handkerchief which had fallen from her
hand, and lay beside her chair.
" Ready, dear ? " she asked brightly ;
then she paused, amazed.
There sat Edith, pale as a ghost,
reclining in an easy-chair, with her head
thrown back, and her forehead covered
by a handkerchief soaked with eau-de-
cologne.
"Why, my dear!" exclaimed Miss
Santley. " Whatever is the matter ?
Has anything happened ? "
" No, nothing," said Edith, faintly.
" I have got a very bad headache, that
is all ; and and I cannot go to church
again to-day, Miss Santley."
" Go to church," echoed Miss Santley.
"Why, my dearest girl, of course you
can't go to church ! I will send Jane
with a message to Charles, and stay and
take care of you."
I 54 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
But this Edith would not allow. She
pulled the handkerchief from her fore-
head, and declared her intention of
going home.
Miss Santley kissed her kindly. At
this exhibition of tenderness Edith fairly
broke down. She threw her arms
around the lady's neck, and burst into
tears.
" I I am so sorry," she said at last,
when her sobs had somewhat subsided ;
" but I could not help it. I I am such
a coward when I am ill ! "
Miss Santley said nothing ; she knew
she could do nothing. There was some
mystery here which she could not fathom,
so she yielded to the girl's solicitations
and allowed her to go home.
( 155 )
CHAPTER XXII.
AT THE VICARAGE.
ONE evening about the middle of the
week, as the Rev. Mr. Santley sat alone
in his study a card was brought to him,
on which was printed
Mr* Walter Hetherington*
The clergyman raised his brows as he
read, and asked the maid, who waited
respectfully at the door, if the gentleman
had not called upon him before.
" Once before, sir ! "
" Did he state his business ? "
"He did not, sir; he only said he
would not detain you long."
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
" Well, ask the gentleman to be good
enough to walk this way."
The maid retired, and a moment after-
wards Walter entered the room.
The two men bowed to each other.
One glance had assured Santley that any
attempt at a warmer greeting would be
injudicious ; the other might not respond,
and it would never do for the vicar of
the parish to be snubbed by an itinerant
painter whom nobody knew besides,
under the circumstances, a bow was
ample greeting. He infused into it as
much politeness as possible, welcomed
his young friend to the Vicarage, and,
pointing to a chair which he had drawn
forward, begged him to be seated.
Decidedly the clergyman was the most
self-possessed of the two. For Walter
took his seat in nervous silence ; while
Santley, wondering greatly in his own
AT THE VICARAGE. 157
mind what could possibly have procured
him the honour of that visit, kept the
scene from flagging by that wonderful
gift of small talk with which he was
possessed.
He was very pleased indeed to meet
Mr. Hetherington. He had done him
the honour to call upon him once before
he thought yes, he was sure of it ; and
he had also had the pleasure of meeting
him once before, when he had not had
the honour of his acquaintance. Was
Mr. Hetherington thinking of making
a long stay amongst them ?
" Not very long," said Walter.
" I suppose you have made some
charming sketches ? " continued the
clergyman. " There are pretty little
spots about the village, spots well
worthy of a painter's brush. I used to do
a little in that way myself when I was a
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
youngster at college ; but the vicar of
a parish has onerous duties. I suppose
at the present moment I should hardly
know how to handle a brush. Are
you thinking of leaving us soon, Mr.
Hetherington ?"
" I am not quite sure ! "
" Ah ! well, if you stay and would like
to make use of my library, I should feel
greatly honoured. It is the only thing
I have to offer you, I fear ; but I shall be
very pleased indeed to put it at your
service. It contains a few books on
your own art, which might interest you."
'You are very kind, Mr. Santley."
" Not at all, my dear sir ; I am merely
neighbourly. Life would be dreary
indeed if one could not be neighbourly
in a place like this ! "
" Mr. Santley, I have come to you
for your advice."
AT THE VICARAGE.', 159
The clergyman, nervously dreading
what was to follow, looked at his visitor
with a calm smile, and answered
pleasantly enough.
" My advice ? My dear sir, I place
it freely at your service, and myself also
if I can be of the slightest use to you."
" You can be of very great use to
me."
The clergyman merely bowed this
time and waited, so Walter continued
"You know my cousin, Miss Edith
Dove ? "
As he spoke he fixed his eyes keenly
upon the clergyman's face, but the latter
made no sign ; he neither winced nor
changed colour, but answered calmly
enough.
" I have the pleasure of the lady's
acquaintance. She is one of the most
esteemed members of my congregation."
160 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
" It is about Miss Dove I wished to
speak to you."
Again the clergyman bowed ; again
he found it unnecessary to make a
reply.
Walter, growing somewhat ill at ease,
continued
" I don't mind confessing to you, Mr.
Santley, that at one period of my career
I hoped most earnestly, and indeed
confidently believed, that at no very
remote date I should have the happi-
ness of making her my wife. I was
sincerely attached to her ; I believe she
was attached to me. But recently all
has changed. She is wasting her life ;
throwing aside all chance of happiness,
through some mad infatuation about the
Church."
" Some mad infatuation about the
Church ! " returned the clergyman, me-
AT THE VICARAGE. l6l
thodically. " Really, my dear sir, I am
afraid you forget you are speaking to a
clergyman of the Church. As to Miss
Dove, she is a lady whose conduct is
without reproach ; she is one of the
Church's staunchest supporters ! "
" Then you approve her present mode
of life ; you uphold it ? You will not
advise her to shake her morbid fancies
away ? to accept an honest affection and
a happy home ? "
Santley seemed to reflect.
"As a clergyman of the Church, I
should advise her the other way, I think.
Surely the fulfilment of religious duties
points to a more elevated mode of exist-
ence than mere marrying and giving
in marriage. I am sorry for you, since
I believe that any man possessed of that
lady's esteem might deem himself for-
tunate ; still, I could not advise her to
VOL. II. M
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
act against her conscience and the
promptings of religion."
"And me, what do you advise me
to do ? "
The clergyman shrugged his shoulders.
" It seems to me that there is only
one thing that you can do. If the lady
finds your attentions disagreeable, surely
the most honourable course for you to
adopt would be to leave her in peace."
Walter rose, and the clergyman
breathed more freely, believing that the
interview had come to a satisfactory end.
Neither of them spoke for a minute or
so, till the clergyman looked up, and said
quietly
" You have something more to say,
Mr. Hetherington ? "
" Yes," f answered Walter ; " I have
something more to say." Then, going
a few steps nearer to the clergyman,
AT THE VICARAGE. 163
he added, " You are a hypocrite, Mr.
Santley ! "
The clergyman's face grew pale. He
rose hastily from his seat ; but before
he could speak Walter continued, vehe-
mently
" Do you think I don't know you ?
Do you think I haven't discovered that
it is you, and not the Church, who has
taken my cousin from me ? You talk to
me of religion, of religious duties, and
yet you know that you are playing the
hypocrite to her, as you have done to me,
and that you are breaking her heart."
He paused, flushed, excited, and angry.
The clergyman stood calm and very
pale.
" You do well to seek this interview
in my house, sir," he said. " Now you
have insulted me with impunity, perhaps
you will take your leave."
164 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
But Walter made no attempt to move.
" Before I go," he said, " I wish to
know what are your plans regarding- my
cousin ? "
" And I should like to ask you, sir,"
returned the clergyman, " what authority
you have for interfering in my private
affairs ? "
" I have no authority ; your private
affairs are nothing to me. I speak in
the interest of my cousin ! "
" Really ! I should fancy your inter-
ference would be hardly likely to do
her much good."
" Mr. Santley, I shall ask you one
more question. Do you, or do you not,
mean to marry my cousin ? "
" And if I refuse to answer ? "
" I shall make it my duty, before to-
morrow night, to expose you."
" Really ! " returned the clergyman,
AT THE VICARAGE, 165
with an exasperating smile. " You will
draw your cousin's good name through
the mire in order to throw a little mud
at me. I should think, young man, you
must be a treasure to your family. Good
evening. I will ring for the servant to
show you out."
And he did ring at the most oppor-
tune moment too ; for Walter, stag-
gered by that last thrust, perceived that
his enemy was on the side of power. So,
when in answer to her master's summons
the servant appeared, Walter followed
her ; he was afraid to utter another
word, for Edith's sake.
When he was gone, all Santley's
calmness deserted him, and he walked
up and down the room in a fit of un-
controllable rage. When he had grown
calmer, he sat down and wrote one of
his neatly worded epistles to Edith,
1 66 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
making an appointment for the following
day.
He half believed that Walter had
come to him, as Edith's authorized mes-
senger, to attempt to force upon him
those bonds which he was so very
reluctant to wear. The clergyman could
not in any other way account for his
knowledge of the relations existing be-
tween the two. It was well for Edith
that at that moment she was not near
her lover well for her, also, that no
meeting could take place between them
until the following day.
The next day Santley was very much
more composed, and when he walked
towards the trysting-place none would
have known, from his outward appear-
ance, that anything was materially
wrong. He had made the appointment
in daylight this time ; since embraces.
AT THE VICARAGE. 167
\
could be dispensed with, so also could
darkness and night. There was really
nothing in this meeting after all ; nothing
but what might have been witnessed by
a dozen pair of eyes, Those who did
see it would see only an event of
ordinary everyday life.
Miss Edith Dove, walking leisurely
towards the village, was overtaken by
the clergyman, who paused to shake
hands with her, and to walk with her a
part of the way. Had any one looked
closely at these two, he would have seen
that the clergyman, though calm, was
very pale ; that Edith, pale too, had a
weary, listless look about her face ; that
after she had shaken hands with her
pastor, she quickly turned away her
head, for her eyes grew dim with tears.
If Santley saw the tears he 'did not
care to notice them. He had found,
368 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
directly they met, that she was suffering
from one of those deplorable fits of
temper which had more than once caused
trouble between them ; but that could
not be taken any notice of now. If she
chose to wear herself to a. shadow, it
was her own affair ; he had something
more important on hand. The interview
could not be a long one, therefore he
must reach the heart of the matter at
once.
So he began abruptly
44 Edith, this new course you have
adopted is a dangerous one, and had
better be abandoned without loss of
time."
The girl raised her eyes to his face,
and asked wearily
" What do you mean ? What have I
done ? "
" I suppose you are responsible for
AT THE VICARAGE. 169
your cousin's visit to my house ; you
must have instigated it, if you did not
actually advise him ! "
Again she raised her troubled eyes to
his face, and said sadly -
" I don't know what you mean."
" Then I will tell you, Edith. Your
cousin, a hot-headed, ill-mannered youth,
has thought fit to take upon himself the
part of protector, or guardian, of your
happiness. In this capacity he paid me
a domiciliary visit yesterday, and treated
me to some most violent abuse. He
threatened to make known to the public
the relations between us. I advised
him to think it over, for your sake ! "
" My cousin --Walter Hetherington,
do you mean ? "
" Most certainly."
" But how does he know ? how has
he learned ? "
17 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
" From you, I suppose."
" No ; it is not from me," returned
Edith, whose listlessness was fast dis-
appearing. " I have said nothing ; I
have never even mentioned your name
to him. It must be known ; it must be
talked of in the village. Oh, Charles,
spare me ! Keep your promise to me,
for God's sake ! Any open disgrace
would be more than I could bear. I
should die."
The girl, overcome by her emotion,
had forgotten for the moment that their
present interview was a perfectly public
one. The clergyman coldly reminded
her of the fact. Then, after she had
forced upon herself a composure which
she was far from feeling, he continued
" You had better understand, Edith,
once and for ever, that whatever my
conduct may be, I do not choose to have
AT THE VICARAGE. T? 1
it questioned by this exceedingly officious
young man. A repetition of the scene
of yesterday I will not bear. And as it
is evident to me that my actions are
under surveillance, I must refuse either
to see or hear from you again, until that
young man has removed himself from the
village."
" Charles, you surely don't mean
that ? " exclaimed the girl.
But he certainly did mean it, and
though she pleaded and argued, he
remained firm. At last she resolved
that she would speak to Walter, resent
his interference, and, if possible,, induce
him to return home.
Then the two shook hands and
parted.
That evening Walter dined at the
cottage. During the dinner Edith
scarcely looked at him ; while he him-
I7 2 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
self was silent and distrait. But after
dinner, when they had all retired to
the drawing-room, when the old lady
had settled down to her wool-work,
and Walter had lit his cigar, Edith
threw a light shawl over her head, and
asked him if he would come with her
into the garden.
Wondering very much at the request,
Walter rose at once, and offered her his
arm. She took it; but the moment
they were alone she withdrew her hand
and turned angrily upon him. Walter
listened, and he found that he had some
chance of being heard. He acknow-
ledged that she had spoken the truth ;
he had interfered ; he had deemed it
quite right that he should do so for her
sake.
" For my sake ! " returned Edith.
"It seems to me there is more of selfish-
AT THE VICARAGE. 173
ness than benevolence in what you have
done. What is it to you if I am en-
gaged to Mr. Santley ? and if we choose
to keep our engagement a secret, what
is that to you ? I am my own mistress ;
I can act just as I think fit, without the
fear of coercion from any one. You, at
any rate, have no right to regulate my
actions or to dictate them. I suppose
you think I have no right to marry
any one, simply because I refuse to be
coerced into marrying you ! "
It was a cruel thing to say ; but
Edith was simply dealing him, second-
hand, some of the stabs which she
herself had received from her beloved
pastor in the morning. The stabs went
deep into his heart, and the wounds
remained for many a day. When Edith
had uttered a few more truisms with the
characteristic selfishness of love and
l?4 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
hatred, Walter coldly suggested that
their pleasant stroll in the garden might
be brought to a termination.
They returned together to the house.
As the old lady, beaming with delight
at what she believed to be the sudden
and happy reconciliation of the cousins,
had prepared the tea, Walter pleased
her by sitting down to take some before
he said good night."
But the next day he returned to town.
( 175 )
CHAPTER XXIII.
DR. DUPRE'S ELIXIR.
GEORGE HALDANE retufned home in the
best of spirits. His paper had been
received with enthusiasm by the savants
of France, and his life in Paris had been
one pleasant succession of visits, learned
conversaziones, and private entertain-
ments. Thanks to his happy pre-occu-
pation, he scarcely noticed that his wife's
manner was constrained, nervous, yet
deeply solicitous; that she looked pale
and worn, as if with constant watching ;
and that, in answer to his careless
questioning as to affairs at home, she
made only fragmentary replies.
I? FOXGLOVE MANOR.
On entering his dressing-room to
change his apparel, he found Baptisto,
who was quietly undoing his port-
manteau and selecting the necessary
things with a calm air, as if his services
had never been interrupted.
"So, my Baptisto," he said, clapping
that worthy on the shoulder, " you are
not dead or buried, I see ? Ah, you
may smile, but I am quite aware of the
trick you played me. Well, you have
been the loser. You would have had a
pleasant time of it in Paris, the best of
entertainment, and nothing whatever
to do."
" I am glad you have returned, sefior,"
replied Baptisto, with his customary
solemnity.
" I hope you have given satisfaction
to your mistress during my absence ? "
" I hope so, seiior."
DR. DUPRE'S ELIXIR. I 77
" Humph ! we shall see what report
she has to make concerning you, and if
that is favourable, I may forgive your
freak of laziness."
" I have not been lazy, senor," said
Baptisto, quietly preparing the toilette.
" Indeed ! Pray, how have you been
employing yourself ? "
Baptisto did not reply, but smiled
again.
" How is your inamerata and her
family ? I saw the little woman curtsy-
ing as I passed through the lodge-
gates."
Baptisto shook his head solemnly.
" Ah, senor," he said, " you are mis-
taken. The woman of the lodge is a
stupid person ; and for the rest, I put
no faith in women. Ciierpo di Baccho,
no ! They smile upon us when we are
near ; but no sooner do we turn our
VOL. II. N
I 7 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
backs, than they smile upon some other
man."
" Pretty philosophy," returned Hal-
dane, with a laugh. '" Why, you are
a downright misogynist, my Baptisto.
But I don't believe one word you say,
for all that. Men who talk like you are
generally very easy conquests, and I
would bet twenty to one on the little
widow still."
" Ah, senor, if all women were like
your signora, it would be different. She
is so good, so pure, so faithful at her
devotions. It is a great thing to have
religion."
As Baptisto spoke his back was
turned to his master, so that the extra-
ordinary expression of his face was
unnoticed, and there was no indication
in his tone that he spoke satirically.
Haldane shrugged his shoulders and
DR. D UP RES ELIXIR. I 79
said nothing-, not caring to discuss his
wife's virtues with a servant, however
familiar. Presently he went downstairs
to dinner. All that evening he was
very affectionate and merry, talking
volubly of his adventures in Paris, of
his scientific acquaintances, and of such
new discoveries as they had brought
under his notice. In the course of his
happy chat he spoke frequently of a new
acquaintance, one Dr. Dupre, whom
he had met in the French capital.
"The French, however far behind the
Germans in speculative affairs," he ob-
served, " are far their superiors, and
ours, in physiology. Take this Dupre,
for example. He is a wonderful fellow !
His dissections and vivisections have
brought him to such a point of mastery
that he is almost certain that he has
discovered the problem poor Lewes
l8o FOXGLOVE MANOR.
broke his heart over how and by what
mechanism we can't think. I don't quite
believe he has succeeded in that great
discovery, but some of his minor dis-
coveries are extraordinary. Did you
read the account in the papers of his
elixir of death ?"
Ellen shook her head. The very
name seemed horrible.
" His elixir of death ? " she repeated.
" Yes. A chemical preparation, the
fundamental principle of which is mor-
phine. By its agency he can so produce
in a living organism the ordinary
phenomena of death, that even rigor
mortis is simulated. I saw the experi-
ment tried on two rabbits, a Newfound-
land dog, and, to crown all, on the human
subject. They were all, to every ap-
pearance, dead ; the rabbits for twenty-
four hours, the dog for half a day,
DR. DUPR&S ELIXIR. l8l
and the woman for an hour and a
half."
" Horrible ! " exclaimed Ellen, with a
shudder. " Do you actually mean he
experimented on a living woman ? "
" Yes ; on a strapping wench, the
daughter of his housekeeper ; and a
very fine thing she made of it. We
subscribed together, and presented her
with a purse of a thousand francs."
" I think such things are wicked,"
cried Ellen, with some warmth. " Mere
mortals have no right to play, in that
way, with the mystery of life and
death."
"My dear Nell," cried Haldane,
laughing, " it is in the interests of
science ! "
" But I am sure it is not right. Life
is given and taken by God alone."
" Your argument, if accepted, would
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
make all mankind accept the religion
of the Peculiar People, who will cure no
diseases by human intervention. As to
this business of suspended animation, it
is merely a part of our discoveries in
anodynes. Dupre's experiment, I know,
is perfectly safe."
" But that is not the question."
" How so, my dear ? "
" What I mean is, that death is too
solemn and awful a thing to imitate as
you describe. Such experiments are
simply blasphemous, in my opinion."
" Come, come," cried the philosopher.
tk There is no blasphemy where there is
no irreverence. According to your
religious people, your priests of the
churches, there was blasphemy in cir-
cumnavigating the globe ; in discovering
the circulation of the blood ; in ascertain-
ing the age of the earth ; and, still later,
DR. D UP RE'S ELIXIR. I3
in using chloroform to lessen the pangs
of parturition."
" But what purpose can be served by
such experiments as that ? "
" A good many," was the reply. " For
example, it may help us to the discovery
of the nature of life itself, which has
puzzled everybody, from Parmenides
down to Haeckel. If we can by a
simple anodyne suspend the vital
mechanism for a period, and then by a
vegetable antidote restore it again to
action, the resurrection of Lazarus will
cease to be a miracle, and the preten-
sions of Christianity-
Ellen rose impatiently, with an ex-
pression of sincere pain.
' l My dear Nell, what is the matter ? "
cried her husband.
" I cannot bear to hear you discuss
such a thing. Oh, George, if you would
184 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
leave such wicked speculations alone,
and try to believe in the mystery and
sovereignty of God ! "
"You mean, burn my books, and go
to hear your seraphic friend every
Sunday ? "
Had he not touched, unconsciously,
on another painful chord ? Why, other-
wise, did his wife flush scarlet and
partially avert her face ? Conquering
herself with an effort, she went over to
him, and bending over him, looked
fondly into his face.
" You are so much cleverer than I, so
much wiser, and do you think I am not
proud of your wisdom ? But, all the
same, dear, I wish you did not think as
you do. When life becomes a mere
experiment, a mere thing of mechanism,
what will be left ? If we knew every-
thing, even what we are, and why we
DR. D UP RE'S ELIXIR. 185
-exist, the world would be a tomb with
no place in it for the Living God."
Touched by her manner, Haldane drew
her down by his side and kissed her ;
then, with more earnestness than he had
yet exhibited, he answered her, holding
her hand in his own and pressing it softly.
" My dear Nell, do me the justice to
believe that I am not quite a materialist ;
simple agnosticism is the very converse
of materialism. There is not living a
scientific philosopher of any eminence
who does not, in his calculations, postu-
late a mystery which can never be solved
by the finest intellect. Even if we had
fully completed, with the poet
' The new creed of science, which showeth to man
How he darkly began,
How he grew from a cell to a soul, without plan ;
How he breaks like a wave of the ocean, and goes
To eternal repose
A tone that must fade, tho' the great Music grows ! '
1 86
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
even then, we should know nothing of
the First Cause. That must for ever
remain inscrutable."
" But how horrible it would be to
believe in annhilation ? Can you believe
in it ? "
" Certainly not," replied the philo-
sopher.
Ellen's face brightened.
" Oh, I am so glad to hear you say
that!"
" My dear Nell, annihilation is
absurd."
" Now, isn't it ? " she cried trium-
phantly.
" It is refuted, on the face of it, by the
doctrine of the conservation of force.
Life is eternal, in one shape or another ;
no force can be destroyed, be sure of
that ! "
" I wish Mr. Santley could hear
DR. DUPR&S ELIXIR. 187
you ! He wouldn't call you an atheist
then!"
Haldane's face darkened angrily.
" What ? Does the man actually
" Don't misunderstand," cried Ellen,
flushing scarlet. " I do not mean that
he really calls you an atheist, but he is
so sorry, so deeply sorry, that you do
not believe. He does not know you,
dear, and takes all my bear's satirical
growling for solemn earnest. Now,
when I tell him
" You will tell him nothing," exclaimed
Haldane, with sudden sternness. " I
will have no priest coming between my
wife and me ! "
" Mr. Santley would never do that,"
she returned, now trembling violently.
" Mr. Santley is like all his tribe, I
suppose a meddler and a mischief-
maker. That is the worst of other-
i88
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
worldliness ; it gives these traders in the
Godhead, these peddlers who would give
us in exchange for belief in their super-
stitions a bonus in paradise, an excuse
for making this world unbearable. Well,
my atheism, if you choose to call it so,
against his theism. Mine at least keeps
me a man among men, while his keeps
him a twaddler among women."
Haldane spoke with heat, for the word
"atheist'' had somehow stung him to
the quick. This man, who rejected all
outward forms of belief, and whose con-
versation was habitually ironical, was in
his inmost nature deeply and sincerely
religious ; humbly reverent before the
forces of nature ; spiritually conscious
of that Power beyond ourselves which
makes for righteousness. True, he
rejected the ordinary forms of theism ;
but he had, on the other hand, a deep
DR. DUPR&S ELIXIR. 189
though dumb reverence for the character
of Christ, and he had no sympathy with
such out-and-out materialists as Haeckel
and hoc genus omnc. For the rest, he
was liberal-minded, and had no desire
to interfere with his wife's convictions ;
could smile a little at her simplicity, and
would see no harm in her clerical pre-
dispositions, so long as the clergyman
didn't encroach too far on the domain of
married life and domestic privacy.
His indignation did not last. Seeing
his wife greatly agitated, and fearing that
he had caused her pain, he drew her
forehead down and kissed it ; then,
patting her cheek, he said
" Forgive me, Nell. I did not mean
to scold ; but one does not like hard
names. When any one calls me
' atheist,' I am like the old woman whom
Cobbett called a ' parallelogram ; ' it is
19 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
not the significance of the epithet, but
its opprobrium, that rouses me. Besides,
I do not like any man to abuse me to
my own wife."
" No one does that," she cried. " You
know I would not listen."
" I hope not, my dear." He added
after a little, looking at her thoughtfully
and sadly, " Man and wife have fallen
asunder before now, on this very question
of religion. Well, rather than that should
happen, I will let you convert me. Will
that satisfy you ? "
" I shall never be quite satisfied till
I know that you believe as / do."
" What is that, pray ? "
" That there is a just God, who made
and cherishes us ; and that, through the
blood of His Son we shall live again
although we die ! "
"Well, it is a beautiful creed, my dear."
DR. DUPRS ELIXIR.
" And true ? "
" Why not? I will go with you thus
far. I believe that, if there is a God,
He is just, and that we shall certainly
live again, if it is for our good."
The emphasis with which he spoke
the last words attracted her atten-
tion.
" For our good ? " she queried.
" I am quoting the saddest words
-ever written, by the saddest and best
man I ever knew.* He, too, believed
that a God might spare us, and give us
eternal life, if mark the proviso eter-
nal life were indeed for our good. But
suppose the contrary suppose God
knew better, and that it would be an
evil and unhappy gift ? Alas ! who
knows ? "
He rose from his chair, still encircling
* J. S. Mill.
I9 2 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
his wife's waist, and moved towards the
door.
" Come to the drawing-room," he cried
gaily. " After so much offhand theology,
a little music will be delightful. Ah,
Nell, one breath of Beethoven is worth
all the prosings of your parsons. Play to-
me, and, while the music lasts, I will
believe what you will."
( 193 )
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE EXPERIMENT.
THE next morning Haldane was busy in
his laboratory. When he came in to
lunch, looking disreputable enough in
his old coat, and smelling strongly of
tobacco, he said to his wife
" By-the-by, Nell, do you remember
what I told you last night about Dupre's
wonderful elixir ? I forgot to tell you
that I have brought some of it with me,
for purposes of private experiment."
Ellen looked horrified.
" Don't be afraid," he continued,
laughing ; " your cats and dogs are safe
VOL. II. O
IQ4 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
from me. I have found a better subject,
and mean to operate on him this very
afternoon."
" Whom do you mean ? "
"As a sort of penance for his sham-
ming illness, I shall kill Baptisto."
She uttered a cry, and raised her
hands in protest.
" For heaven's sake, George, be
warned ! If you have any of that
horrible stuff, throw it away."
" Now, my dear Nell," said the philo-
sopher, " be reasonable ; there is not the
slightest cause for alarm. You will see
this experiment, and it will, I hope,
treble your faith in miracles."
" I will not see it. I beseech you,
abandon the idea. As for Baptisto
At this moment the Spaniard entered
the room, carrying certain dishes.
" I have been telling your mistress,
THE EXPERIMENT. 1 95
Baptisto, that you are ready to be a
martyr to science. At four o'clock pre-
cisely, you will be a dead man."
Baptisto bowed solemnly.
" I am quite ready, senor."
But here Ellen interposed.
" It is ridiculous ; your master is only
joking. He would not do anything so
foolish, so wicked. As for you, I forbid
you to encourage him."
Baptisto bowed again, with a curious
smile.
"It is for the senor to command. As
he knows, he has saved my life, and he
may take it whenever he pleases."
Haldane nodded, in the act of drinking
a glass of wine.
"Don't be afraid, Baptisto. After
death, there is the resurrection."
" That, senor, is your affair," returned
the Spaniard, phlegmatically, shrugging
196 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
his shoulders. "You will do with me
as you please."
And so saying, he glided from the
room.
Ellen again and again entreated her
husband not to proceed in his experi-
ment; but he had long made up his
mind that it was perfectly safe, and he
could not be persuaded. To her gentle
spirit, the whole idea seemed horrible in
the extreme ; but her greatest dread was.
that it might be attended with danger to
the subject. Haldane, however, assured
her that this was impossible.
All the afternoon Haldane and Bap-
tisto were together in the laboratory. A
little after four o'clock, as Ellen was
walking on the terrace, Haldane came
to her, smiling and holding up a small
vial.
"It is all over," he said, "and the
THE EXPERIMENT. 197
'experiment is quite successful. Come
and see."
Not quite understanding him, she
suffered him to lead her into the labora-
tory ; but, on crossing the threshold, she
uttered a cry of horror. Stretched on a
sofa, lay Baptisto, moveless, and, to all
seeming, without one breath of life. His
eyes were wide open, but rayless ; his
jaw fixed, his face pale as grey marble ;
a peaceful smile, as of death itself, upon
his handsome face. The light of the
sun, just sinking towards the west,
streamed in through the high window
upon the apparently lifeless form. In
the chamber itself there was a sickly
smell, like that of some suffocating
vapour. The whole scene would have
startled and appalled even a strong man.
" Oh, George ! " cried the lady, clasping
her hands. " What have you done ? "
198 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
'" Don't be alarmed," was the reply.
-It sail right!"
" But you said the experiment
" Was successful ? Perfectly. There
lies our poor friend, comfortably finished."
" But are you sure, quite sure, that
he is not dead ? He is not breath-
ing."
" Of course not. The simulation is-
perfect. Place your hand on his wrist
you will detect no pulse. Turn his
pupils to the light you see, they do not
contract. The case would deceive a
whole college of physicians."
As he spoke, he suited the action to
the word placed his finger upon the
pulse, gazed at the glazing pupils ; raised
one of the lifeless arms, which, on being
released, fell heavily as lead.
" Horrible, horrible ! For God's sake,,
recover him ! "
THE EXPERIMENT. 199
"All in good time. He has only
been dead a quarter of an hour ; in half
an hour precisely I shall say, ' Arise
and walk.' Feel his forehead, Nell; it
is as cold as marble."
But Ellen drew back, shuddering, and
could not be persuaded to touch the
sleeper.
" Well, go back to your promenade.
I will call you when he is awakened."
Sick and terrified, Ellen obeyed her
husband. Standing on the terrace, she
waited for his summons ; and at last it
came. Haldane appeared, and beckoned ;
she followed him to the laboratory, and
there, seated in an armchair, comfort-
ably sipping a glass of wine, was the
Spaniard a little pale still, but other-
wise not the worse for his state of
coma.
" Thank God!" cried Ellen. "I
200 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
thought he would never recover. But
it must have been a horrible ex-
perience."
Baptisto smiled.
"Tell the signora all about it," said
his master. " Did you feel any pain ? "
" None, sefior."
" What were your sensations ? Plea-
sant or otherwise ? "
" Quite pleasant, sefior. It was like
sinking into an agreeable sleep. If
death is like that, it is a bagatelle."
"Were you at all conscious ? "
" Not of this world, sefior, but I
had bright dreams of another. I
thought I was in paradise, walking in
the sunshine ah, so bright ! I was
sorry, senor, when I came back to this
world."
" You hear ! " cried Haldane, turning
to his wife. " After all, death itself
THE EXPERIMENT. 2OI
may be a glorious experience ; for ' in
that sleep of death what dreams may
come ! ' It is quite clear at least that
all the phenomena of death, such as we
shrink from and shudder at, may be
accompanied by some kind of pleasant
psychic consciousness. Bravo, Baptisto !
After this, we shall call you Lazarus the
second. You have passed beyond the
shadow of the sepulchre, and returned
to tell the tale."
Despite the resuscitation, Ellen still
revolted from the whole proceeding.
" Now you are satisfied," she said,
" promise me never to use that dreadful
elixir again."
" I think you may make your mind
easy. The experiment is an ugly one,
I admit, and I am not anxious to repeat
it at least, not on the human organism.
For the same reason, my dear Nell,
202 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
pray keep the affair to yourself, and
make no confidences, even to your con-
fessor I should say, your clergyman.
Will you promise ? "
" Most certainly. I should not like
any one to know you did such things.
As for Mr. Santley, he would be shocked
beyond measure."
So saying, she left the two men
together. In the mean time, Baptisto
had finished his wine and risen to his
feet. While his master regarded him
with an approving smile, he walked over
to the door, softly closed it, and return-
ing noiselessly across the room, said in
a low voice
" There is something, senor, I did not
tell you. I had dreams."
" So you said, my Baptisto."
"Ah yes, but not all. While I was
lying there, I thought that you were the
THE EXPERIMENT. 203
dead man, and that the sefiora, your
widow, had married."
" Married ? "
" The English priest."
Haldane started, and looked in amaze-
ment at the speaker.
" What the devil do you mean ? "
"Ah, senor, it was only my dream;
a foolish dream. You were lying in
your winding-sheet, and they were
kneeling at the altar smiling, senor.
I did not like to speak of it to the
sefiora ; but it was very strange."
Haldane forced a laugh, while, with
a mysterious look, Baptisto crept from
the chamber. Was it in sheer sim-
plicity or in deep cunning that the
Spaniard had spoken, touching so
delicate a chord ? Left alone, Haldane
paced up and down the laboratory in
agitation. He was not by temperament
204 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
a jealous or a suspicious man, but he
was troubled in spite of himself., The
words sounded like a warning, almost
an insinuation.
" What -could the fellow mean?" he
asked himself again and again. " Could
he possibly have dreamed that ? No ;
it is preposterous. There was malice
in his eye, and mischief. . . . Ellen
married to Santley ! Bah ! what am I
thinking about ? The fellow is not a
prophet ! "
In this manner, whether in innocence
or for some set purpose of his own,
Baptisto contrived to poison all the
sweetness of that successful experiment.
When Haldane again joined his wife
that evening, he was taciturn, distraught,
nervous, and irritable. All his buoyancy
had departed. Ellen saw the change,
and puzzled herself to account for it.
THE EXPERIMENT.
She played to him, sang to him, but
failed to drive the cloud from his
brow.
When she had retired for the night,
he still sat pondering over Baptisto's
words.
2O6
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
CHAPTER XXV.
" BEWARE, MY LORD, OF JEALOUSY ! "
IF Baptisto's object in describing a
dream so ominous was to attract his
master's attention to the intimate rela-
tions between Mrs. Haldane and the
clergyman, he certainly succeeded.
Once assured in this direction, Haldane's
perceptions were keen enough. He
noticed that the mere mention of
Santley's name filled Ellen with a sort
of nervous constraint ; that, although the
clergyman's visits were frequent, they
were generally made at times when
Haldane himself was busy and pre-
occupied that is to say, during his well-
"BEWARE OF JEALOUSY!" 207
known hours of work ; and that, more-
over, Santley, however much he liked
the society of the lady, invariably avoided
the husband, or, if they met, contrived to
frame some excuse for speedy parting.
Now, Haldane trusted his wife implicitly,
and believed her incapable of any in-
fidelity, even in thought. Still, he did
not quite like the aspect of affairs. Much
as he trusted his wife, he had a strong
moral distrust for anything in the shape
. of a priest; and he determined, therefore,
to keep his eyes upon the clergyman.
A few days after that curious physio-
logical experiment, he had the following
conversation with Baptisto. It was the
first day of the week.
" Baptisto, I thought you were a good
Catholic ? "
"So I am, seiior," returned the
Spaniard, smiling.
208 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
" Yet you went to an English church-
yesterday, I hear ? "
" Yes, seiior. I go there very often."
" Why, pray ? "
" Simply out of curiosity. Mr. Sant-
ley is a beautiful preacher, and has a
silvery voice. While you were away, I
went once, twice, three times. There is
a young senora there who plays sweetly
upon the great organ ; I like to listen, to-
watch the congregation."
" Humph ! By-the-bye, Baptisto, I
have been thinking over that dream oi
yours, when when you were lying
there."
" Yes, seiior ? "
" Pray, what put such a foolish idea in
your head ? "
" I cannot tell, senor ; all I know is, it
came. A foolish dream, do you say ? I
suppose it is because the clergyman was
"BEWARE OF JEALOUSY!" 209
here so often, when you were away.
And madame is so devout ! I trust,
senor, my dream has not given you
offence ; perhaps I was wrong to speak
of it at all."
Haldane's face had gone black as a
thunder-cloud. Placing his hand on the
other's shoulder, and looking firmly into
his face, he said
" Listen to me, Baptisto."
" I am listening, senor."
" If I thought you would come back
to life to tell lies about your mistress, I
would have let you lie the other day and
rot like a dead dpg, rather than have
recovered you at all. You hear ? Take
care ! I know you do not love your
mistress, but if you dare to whisper one
word against her, I will drive you for
ever from my door."
Baptisto bowed his head respectfully
VOL. II. P
210 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
before the storm, but retained his usual
composure.
" Seiior, may I speak ? "
" Yes ; but again, take care ! "
" You should not blame me if I am
jealous for your honour ! "
Haldane started, and uttered an ex-
pletive.
" My honour, you dog ? What do
you mean ? "
" This, seiior. I would rather die
than give you offence ; and as for the
senora, I love her also, for is she not
'your wife ? But will you be angry still,
when I tell you, when I warn you, to
beware of that man, that priest ? He is
a bad man, very bad. Ah, I have
watched and seen ! "
"What have you seen?" cried Hal-
dane, clutching him by the arm. " Come,
out with it ! '
" BEWARE OF JEALOUSY!" 211
" Enough to show me that he is not
your friend that he is dangerous."
" Bah ! is that all ? Now, listen to
me, and be sure I mean what I say. I
will have no servant of mine spying
upon my wife. I will have no servant of
mine insinuating that my honour is in
danger. If I hear another word of this,
if you convey to me by one look the fact
that you are still prying, spying, and
suspecting, I shall take you by the collar
and send you flying out of my house.
Now, go ! "
Baptisto, who knew his master's,
temper perfectly, bowed and withdrew.
He had no wish to say one word more.
He had thrown out a dark hint, a black
seed of suspicion, and he knew that he
might safely let it work. It did work,
rapidly and terribly. Left alone, Hal-
dane became a prey to the wildest fears
212 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
and suspicions. He remembered now
that his wife had been acquainted with
this man in her girlhood ; that there had
even been some passage of love between
them. He remembered how eagerly
she had renewed the acquaintance, and
with what admiring zeal the clergyman
had responded. He pictured to himself
the sympathetic companionship, the
zealous meetings, the daily religious
intercourse, of these two young people,
each full of the fervour of a blind super-
stition. Could it be possible that they
loved each other ? Questioning his
memory, he recalled looks, words, tones,
which, although scarcely noticed at the
time, seemed now of painful significance.
The mere thought was sickening..
Already he realized the terrible phrase
of the poet Young " the jealous are the
damned. '
"BEWARE OF JEALOUSY.'" 2 *3
Haldane was not habitually a violent
man. Though passionate and head-
strong by temperament, he had schooled
himself to gentleness after a stormy
youth, and the chilly waters of philo-
sophy, at which he drank daily, kept his
head cool and his pulses calm. But the
stormy spirit, though hushed, was not
altogether dead within him, and under
his habitual reticence and good-humoured
cynicism, there lay the most passionate
idolatry for his beautiful wife. He had
set her up in his heart of hearts, with a
faith too perfect for much expression ; and
it had not occurred to him, in his re-
motest dreams, that any other man could
ever come between them.
And now, suddenly as a lightning flash
illumining a dark landscape, the fear
came upon him that perhaps he had
been unwary and unwise. Was it
214 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
possible, he asked himself, that he had
been too studious and too book-loving,
too reticent also in all those little atten-
tions which by women, who always love
sweetmeats, are so tenderly prized ?
Moreover, he was ten years his wife's
elder was that disparity of years also a
barrier between their souls ? No ; he
was sure it was not. He was sure that
she was not hypocritical, and that she
loved him. Wherever the blame might
be, if blame there were, it was certainly
not hers. She had been in all respects
a tender and a sympathetic wife ; en-
couraging his deep study of science, even
when she most distrusted its results ;
proud of his attainments, and eager for
his success ; in short, a perfect helpmate,
but for her old-fashioned prejudices in
the sphere of religion. Ah, religion!
There was the one word which solved
"BEWARE OF JEALOUSY.'" 215
the enigma, and aroused in our philo-
sopher's bosom that fierce indignation
which long ago led Lucretius into such
passionate hate against the Phantom,
" Which with horrid head
Leered hideously from all the gates of heaven ! "
It needed only this to complete his
loathing for the popular theology, for all
its teachers. Yes, he reflected, religion
only was to blame. In its name, his
wife's sympathies had been tampered
with, her spirit more or less turned
against himself; in its name, his house
had been secretly invaded, his domestic
happiness poisoned, his peace of mind
destroyed. It was the old story !
Wherever this shadow p of superstition
crawled, craft and dissimulation began.
Now, as in the beginning, it came
between father and child, sister and
brother, man and wife.
2l6 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
It so happened that when George
Haldane came forth from having his
dark hour alone, he rather avoided
meeting his wife at once, and, taking his
hat, stepped out from the laboratory on
to the shrubbery path. He had scarcely
done so, when his eye fell upon two
figures standing together in the distance,
upon the terrace of the house. One
was Mrs. Haldane, wearing her garden
hat and a loose shawl thrown over her
shoulders. The other was the clergy-
man of the parish.
Haldane drew back, and watched. In
that moment he knew the extent of his
humiliation ; for never before had he
been a spy upon his wife's actions.
Their backs were towards him.
Santley was talking eagerly ; Ellen was
looking down. Presently they began
to move slowly along the terrace, side
by side.
"BEWARE OF JEALOUSY!" 2 *7
Haldane watched them gloomily. The
sunlight fell brightly upon them, and on
the old Manor house, with its brilliant
creepers and glittering panes, while the
old chapel, with the watcher in its
ruined porch, remained in shadow. It
seemed like an omen. In the darkness
of his hiding-place, Haldane felt satanic.
Yes, there they walked children of
God, as they called themselves in
God's sunlight ; and he, the searcher
for light, the unbeliever, was forgotten.
Presently Santley paused again, and,
with an impassioned gesture, pointed
-upward. Ellen raised her head, and
looked upward too, listening eagerly to
his words. Haldane laughed fiercely to
himself, with all the ugliness of his
jealousy upon him.
Presently they disappeared into the
house. A little afterwards Santley
2 l FOXGLOVE MANOR.
em-erged from the front door, and came
walking rapidly down the avenue. His
manner was eager and happy, almost
jubilant, and Haldane saw, when he
approached, that his face looked posi-
tively radiant.
He was passing, when Haldane stepped
out and confronted him. He started,
paused, and a shadow fell instantaneously
upon his handsome face. Recovering
himself, he held out his hand. Haldane
did not seem to see the gesture, but,
nodding a careless greeting, said, with
his habitual sang froid
" Well met, Mr. Santley. Here I am
again, you see, hard at work. Have
you come from the house ? "
" Yes," answered Santley.
" On some new message of Christian
charity and beneficence, I suppose ?
Ah, my dear sir, you are indefatigable.
"BEWARE OF JEALOUSY r 219
and the old women of the parish must
indeed find you a Good Shepherd. Did
you find my wife at home ? "
"Yes."
" And zealous, as usual, I suppose ?'
Ah, what a thing it is to be pious ! But
let me beg you not to encourage her too
much. Chanty begins at home ; and
what with soup-kitchens, offertories, sub-
scriptions for church repairs, and societies
for the gratuitous distribution of flannel
waistcoats, I am in a fair way of being
ruined."
Santley forced a laugh.
" Don't be afraid. My errand to-day
was not a begging one, I assure you."
" I am glad to hear it."
" I was merely bringing Mrs. Haldane
a book I promised to lend her. To tell
the truth, she finds your library rather
destitute of works of a religious nature."
220 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
" Do you really think so ? " exclaimed
Haldane, drily. " Why, I thought it
unusually well provided in that respect.
Let me see ! There are Volney's ' Ruins
of Empire/ Monboddo's ' Dissertations,'
Drummond's ' Academical Questions,'
excellent translations of Schopenhauer
and Hartmann, not to spea'k of thirty-
six volumes of Diderot, and fifty of
Arouet."
Santley opened his eyes in horror and
astonishment.
" Arouet!" he ejaculated. "Do you
actually mean to call Voltaire a religious
writer ? "
" Highly so. There is religion even
in ' La Pucelle,' but it reaches its culmi-
nation in the ' Philosophical Dictionary.' '
"And you would actually let Mrs.
Haldane read such works as those ? "
"Certainly; though,! am sorry to say,
"BEWARE OF JEALOUSY!" 221
she prefers 'The Old Helmet' and the
' Heir of Redclyffe.' May I ask the
name of the work you have been good
enough to lend her ? "
"It is a book from which I myself
have received great benefit Pere
Hyacinthe's 'Sermons/' 1
" Pere Hyacinthe ? " repeated Hal-
dane. " Ah ! the jolly priest who
reverenced celibacy, and proclaimed
himself the father of a strapping boy.
Well, the man was at least honest. I
think all clergymen should marry, and
at as early an age as possible. What is
your opinion ? "
Santley flushed to the temples, while
Haldane watched him with a gloomy
smile.
" I think I am sure," he stammered,
"that the married state is the happiest
perhaps the holiest."
222 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
"With these sentiments, of which I
cordially approve, why the deuce are
you a bachelor ? "
The clergyman winced at the ques-
tion, and his colour deepened ; then, as
if musing, he glanced round towards
the house a look which was observed
and fully appreciated by his tormentor.
" I am sure my wife would encourage
you to change your condition. Like
most women, she is by instinct a match-
maker."
Santley did not seem to hear ; at any
rate, he made no reply, but, holding out
his hand quickly, exclaimed
" I must go now. I am rather in
haste."
Haldane did not take the hand, but
put his arm upon the clergyman's
shoulder.
"Well, good day," he said. "Take
"BEWARE OF JEALOUSY 7" 223
my advice, though, and get a sensible
wife as soon as possible."
Santley tried to smile, but only suc-
ceeded in looking more pale and nervous
than usual. With a few murmured
words of adieu, he moved rapidly away.
Haldane watched him thoughtfully
until he disappeared down the avenue.
" I wonder if that man can smile ? "
he said to himself. " No ; I am afraid
he is too horribly in earnest. I suppose,
the women would call him handsome
spiritual ; but I hate such pallid, waxen-
featured, handsome dolls. A pretty
shepherd, that, for a Christian flock to
follow ; a fellow who makes his very
ignorance of this world constitute his
claim to act as cicerone to the next.
Fancy being jealous, actually jealous, of
such a thing as that ! "
He turned back into his laboratory
224 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
and tried to dismiss Baptisto's suggestion
from his mind ; but it was impossible.
He could not disguise from himself that
Santley, with his seraphic face and sad,
earnest eyes, was the kind of creature
whom the weaker sex adore, and that
he was rendered doubly dangerous to
women by the radiant mesmerism of
a fascinating and voluptuous celestial
superstition.
( 22 5 )
CHAPTER XXVI.
FIRST LEAVES FROM A PHILOSOPHER'S
NOTE-BOOK.
I AM about to set down, in as concise
a manner as possible, and at present
solely for my private edification (some
day, perhaps, another eye may read the
lines, but not yet), certain events which
have lately influenced my domestic life.
Were it not that even a professed
scientist might decline to publish experi-
ments affecting his own private happi-
ness, the description of the events to
which I allude might almost form a
chapter in my slowly progressing
" Physiology of Ethics," and the de-
VOL. II. Q
226 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
scription would be at least as interesting
as many of Ferrier's accounts of vivisec-
tion on dumb animals. But, unfortunately,
I am unable, in this case, to apply the
dissecting knife to my neighbour's heart,
without laying bare the ugly wound in
my own.
To begin then, I, George Haldane,
recluse, pessimist, moral physiologist, and
would-be moral philosopher, have dis-
covered, at forty years of age, that I am
capable of the most miserable of all
human passions ; worse, that this said
ignoble passion of jealousy has a certain
rational foundation. For ten years I
have been happy with a wife who
seemed the perfection of human gentle-
ness and beauty ; who, although unfortu-
nately we have been blest with no
offspring, has shown the tenderest
solicitude and sympathy for the children
LEAVES FROM A NOTE-BOOK. 227
of my brain ; and who, in her wifely faith
and sanctity, seemed to be the sole link
still holding me to a church whose history
has always filled me with abhorrence,
and a religion whose infantine theology
I despise. Well, nous avons changt tout
cela. My mind is no longer peaceful,
my hearth no longer sacred ; and the
woman I love seems slowly drifting
from me on a stream of sensuous spirit-
ualism another name for a religious
rehabilitation of the flesh.
If any other man were the victim, I
should think the situation highly absurd.
Here, on the one hand, is a fanatical
Protestant priest, with the face of a
seraphic monk, the experience of a
schoolgirl, and the gaucherie of a coun-
try chorister who has never grown a
beard ; a fellow whose sole claims to
notice are his white hands, his clean
228
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
linen, and his function as a silly shep-
herd ; a man fresh from college, ignorant
of the world. Here, on the other hand,
am I, physically and intellectually his
master, knowing almost every creed
beneath the sun, and the slave of none ;
indifferent to vulgar human passions,
and disposed to disintegrate them one
and all with the electric current of a
negative philosophy. Between us both,
trembling this way and that, is that fair
thing of flesh and blood, my wife, zealous
to save her own soul alive, and fearful
at times, I fancy, that I have sold mine
to the Prince of Darkness. It is
another version of science against super-
stition, common sense against a lie ;
and Ellen Haldane is the prize. A
fiery Spaniard, like Baptisto yonder,
would end the affair with a stiletto-
thrust ; but I, of colder blood, am not
LEAVES FROM A NOTE-BOOK. 2 29
likely to do anything so courageous
or so foolish, but am content to watch
and watch, and to feel the sick contami-
nation of my suspicion creeping over
me like an unwholesome mildew. A
stiletto thrust ? Why, the mere tongue,
a less fatal weapon, would do it all. If
I could only summon up the courage to
say to my wife, " I know your secret ;
choose between this man and me, be-
tween his creed and mine, between your
duty as a wife and your zeal as a
Christian," I fancy there would be an
end to it all. But I am too timorous ;
I suppose, too ashamed of my suspicions,
too proud to acknowledge so contemp-
tible a rival As a Spaniard covers his
face with his mantle, I veil my soul with
my pride ; and, under the mantle of
unsuspicion, rest irresolute, while the
thing grows.
230 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
Once or twice, I have thought of
another way of taking my wife by the
hand and saying, " To-morrow, my dear,
we shall leave this place, and return to
Spain or Italy some quiet place
abroad." I could easily find an excuse
for the migration, which, once effected,
would make an end of the affair. But
that, in my opinion, would be too
cowardly. It would, indeed, be an
admission that the danger was real and
imminent ; that, in other words, the
fight for honour could only be saved by
an ignominious retreat. No ; Ellen
Haldane must take her chance. If she
is not strong enough to hold out against
evil, then let her go au bon Dieu or au
bon diable, as either leads.
Yet what am I saying ? It is precisely
because I have the utmost faith in her
purity of heart that I watch the struggle
LEAVES FROM A NOTE-BOOK. 231
with a certain patience. I believe there
will be a victim, but not my Ellen.
Surely, if there is a good woman in the
world, she is that woman. As for the
other, every day, every hour, brings
the cackling creature further and further
into my decoy. Even if he tried to turn
back now, I do not think I should let
him. No ; let him swim in and on, and
in and on, till he reaches the place
where I, like the decoy man, can catch
him fluttering, and wring his neck ?
Perhaps.
It is quite clear that the man takes
me for an idiot. At first he used pre-
cautions, invented subterfuges ; latterly,
certain of my stupidity or indifference,
he comes and goes without disguise.
When I meet him driving side by side
of my wife in the phaeton, on some
pretended errand of mercy, he gives me
23 2 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
a careless bow, a nod. As he goes by my
den, on his way to invite her out to visit
his sister or his church, he makes no
excuse, but passes jauntily, with a con-
versational pat for the stupid watch-dog :
that is all. It would be amusing, I say,
if it were not almost insufferable.
This afternoon, as Ellen was going
out, I blankly suggested that she should
stay at home.
" But you are busy," she said "always
busy with your books and experiments."
"Not too busy, my dear Nell, for a
tete-a-tete with you. Where are you
going ? To the Vicarage ? "
" Yes."
" To see the parson, or his sister ? "
" Both. We have a great deal to
discuss, about the designs for the new
stained-glass windows, which have just
come from London."
LEAVES FROM A NOTE-BOOK. 233
" Very interesting ; but they will keep
for a day. I fancy I could show you
something quite as interesting, in my
laboratory."
" I hate the laboratory," she cried,
" and those horrible experiments."
" My dear, you should not hate what
your husband loves."
" I don't mean that I hate them, quite ;
but I think them so useless ! "
" More useless than stained-glass
windows ? "
" It is certainly not useless to beautify
the House of God. Oh, I do so wish
you could feel as I do about these
things ! What is the world without
them ? "
" Without stained-glass windows ? " I
suggested sarcastically.
She flushed impatiently.
" George, why have you such a dislike
2 34 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
for religion ? Why do you hate every-
thing I love ? "
" Pardon me, my dear Nell, it was
you, not I, that spoke of hating. Philo-
sophers never hate."
" But you do worse ; you despise it.
Thank God we have no children. It
would be horrible to tell them that
their father forbade them to go to
church, or pray ! "
It was like a stab into my heart of
hearts, that cry of thanks to God.
Despite myself, I lost my composure.
She saw it instantly, and in the manner
of her sex, encroached.
" Oh, George, do try to think
sometimes of these things, for my
sake ! You would be so much
happier, you surely would have so
much more blessing, if you sometimes
prayed."
LEAVES FROM A NOTE-BOOK. 235
" How do you know that I do not
pray ? "
" Because you do not believe."
" I do not believe precisely as your
priest believes, that is all."
She looked at me eagerly ; then, after
a moment's hesitation, cried--
" George, if I asked a favour, would
you grant it ? "
" Try."
" Let Mr. Santley come sometimes,
and speak with you about God ! "
This was too much, almost, for even
me to bear with equanimity. I am
afraid I did not look particularly amiable
as I answered, sharp and short, turning
from her
" After all, I think you had better go
and look at those designs."
" There, you are angry again ! " she
cried; and I knew by the sound of her
236 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
voice that her throat was choked with
tears. " You are always angry when I
touch upon religion."
" You were not talking of religion/ I
retorted ; " you were talking of that
man."
" Why do you dislike him so ?
Because he is a preacher of the Word ? "
" Because he is a canting hypocrite,
like all his tribe," I cried.
She saw that I had lost my temper, as
was inevitable, and, sighing deeply, moved
to the door. I followed her with my
eyes. I would have given the world to
call her back ; to clasp her in my arms ;
to tell her my aching fears ; to promise
her I would worship any God she choose,
in any place, in any way, so long as she
would only be true, and answer my eager
impulse with a little love. But I was
too proud for that.
LEAVES FROM A NOTE-BOOK. 237
" Then you are going ? " I said.
She turned, looking at me very sadly.
" Yes, if you do not mind."
I shrugged my shoulders, and after
another sad, reproachful look, she left the
room. A minute afterwards, she drove
her ponies past the window, without
looking up.
Thursday, September 15, A golden
autumn day, so warm and still that it
reminded me of the Indian summer.
Not a leaf stirred, but the insects in the
air were like floating blossoms, and
seemed to sleep upon their wings.
Even all round my den the shadows
were sultry, and intertangled with slum-
berous shafts of light.
This fine weather rather disappointed
me, for I had arranged for a day's
recreation. In my youth, before I was
caught myself in the tedious snares of
238 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
speculation, I used to be an ardent
fisherman, and I still retain sufficient
knowledge of the gentle craft to cast a
fly tolerably. So, tired of work, and a
little weary of my own thoughts, I deter-
mined, for the first time, to take advan-
tage of the permission my neighbour,
Lord , has given me, and spend a
day upon the river banks.
Despite the sunshine, and the absence
of even a breath of wind, I shouldered my
basket, lifted my rod, and set off. Ellen
was already out and about ; so I did not
see her before I started. Taking a
short cut through the shrubberies, I soon
came to the banks of the Emmet as
pretty a little stream as ever rippled
over golden sands, or reached out an
azure arm to turn some merry water-
mill. Arrived there, I soon saw that it
would be useless to try a cast till there
LEAVES FROM A NOTE-BOOK. 239
was a little wind ; so, without putting
my rod together, I strolled on along the
river-side, till I was several miles away
from the Manor house.
The stream was rather low, but here
and there were good deep pools, but so
calm, so sunny, that every overhanging
tree, every finger of fern, every blade
of grass, was reflected in them as in
a mirror. Still, as the time was, the
waters were full of life. Over the pools
hung clusters of flies like glittering
spiders' webs, scarcely moving in the
sunshine ; and when, from time to time,
a trout rose, he leaped a full foot into the
golden air above him, and sank back to
coolness beneath an ever-widening ring
of light. Sometimes from the grassy
edge of the bank a water-rat would slip,
swimming rapidly across, with his nose
just lifted above the water, and his tail
240 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
leaving a thin, bright trail. Water-ouzels
rose at every curve, following swiftly the
winding of the stream ; and twice past
my feet flashed a kingfisher, like an
azure ray.
The way lay sometimes through deep
grassy meadows, sometimes by the sides
of corn-fields where the sheaves were
already slanted, oftentimes through thick
shrubberies and woods already yellow
with the withering leaf. From time
to time I passed a farm, with orchards
sloping down to the very water's edge,
or pastures slanting down to shallows
where the cattle waded, breaking the
water to silver streaks and whisking their
tails against the clustering swarms of
gnats. It was very pleasant and very
still, but, from a fishing point of view,
exceedingly absurd.
By-and-by, however, a faint breeze
LEAVES FROM A NOTE-HOOK. 2 4 l
began to touch the pools, and putting
my rod together, and selecting my finest
casting-line and two tiny flies, I tried a
cast. Fortunately the wind was blowing
sunward, and as I faced the light, the
shadow fell behind me ; but, neverthe-
less, the shadow of my rod flitted about
at every cast, and threatened to spoil my
sport. My first catch was an innocent
baby-fish as big as my thumb, who came
at the fly with a rush, and fought des-
perately when hooked. When I had
disengaged him, and put him back into
the water, he simply gave a flip of his
little tail, and sailed contemptuously and
quite leisurely out of sight, making me
call to mind, with unusual humiliation,
the well-known definition which Dr.
Johnson gave of angling "'a fish at one
end of the line, and a fool at the other."
I had tried a good many casts before
VOL. II. R
242 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
I took my first respectable fish a trout
of about half a pound. I caught him in
a nice broken bit of water, just below a
quaint old water-mill ; and just as I put
him into the basket, the portly miller
came out to the granary door, and looked
at me with a dusty smile. He evidently
thought me a lunatic, to be out with a
fishing-rod on such a day.
Half a mile further on I landed
another glittering picture of at least a
quarter of a pound ; after that, another
of half a pound ; then my luck ceased,
the wind fell, and it was full sunshine.
By this time I had wandered a good
many miles from home, and reached the
spot where the river plunges into the
Great Omberley woods. Here the stream
was so rapid and the boughs so thick,
that it was useless to think of cast-
ing ; so I put up my rod, and, leaping
LEAVES FROM A NOTE-BOOK. 243
-over a fence, rambled away into the
woods.
How strange and dark and still it
was, passing out of the sunshine into
those shadows, deep and cool as the
bottom of the sea ! The oak trees
stretched their gnarled boughs into the
air, and all around them were the lesser
trees of the wood-willow, elder, black-
thorn, ash, and hazel. The ground
beneath was carpeted with moss and
grass as thick and soft as velvet,
-with thick clusters of fern and blue-
tells round the tree roots, and creepers
dangling from every bough. And the
wood, like the river, was all alive !
Conies tumbled across the patches of
light, and flitted in the shadow, like very
^elves of the woodland ; squirrels ran up
the gnarled tree trunks ; harmless silver
snakes glided along the moss ; but here
2 44 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
and there, swift and ominous, ran a
weazel, darting its head this way and
that, and fiercely scenting the air, in one
eternal glutter and hurry of bloodthirsty
emotion. Thrush, blackbird, finch, birds
without number, sang overhead ; save
when the shadow of the wind-hover
or the sparrow-hawk passed across the
topmost branches, when there was a
sudden and respectful silence, to be
followed by a precipitate hurry of exul-
tation, as the enemy passed away.
If I had been a moralist, I might have
seen in this wood a microcosm of the
world, with its abundant happiness, its
beauty, and its dark spots of moral ugli-
ness and cruelty. In you, Signor
Weazel (who came so near that I
touched you with my rod, which you
snapped at ferociously, before bolting
swiftly into the deep grass), I might have
LEAVES FROM A NOTE-BOOK. 245
seen the likeness of a certain sleek
creature of my own sex and species,
who dwells not very far away. Never-
theless, I let you go in peace ; which
was no mercy to the conies, I suppose.
So I entered the Forest Primaeval
or such it seemed to me, as the blaze of
sunshine faded, the boughs thickened,
the air became full of dark shadows and
ominous silence. My steps were now
deep in grass and fern, and the scent of
flowers and weeds was thick in my
nostrils, but I chose a path where the
boughs were thinnest, and quietly pushed
through. While thus I rambled, I sup-
pose that I fell, philosopher like, into a
dream ; at any rate, I seemed to lose all
count of time.
" The world, the life of men, dissolved away
Into a sense of dimness,"
.as some poet sings. I felt primaeval
246 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
archetypal so to speak, till a sudden
shifting of the vegetable kaleidoscope
recalled from thoughts of Plato and the
Archetype to a cruel consciousness of
self.
I was moving slowly on, when I heard
the sound of voices quite close to me.
I paused, listening, and only just in time,
for in another moment I should have
been visible to the speakers. Well
shrouded in deep foliage, I looked out to
discover what sylvan creatures were dis-
porting themselves in that lonely place ;:
and I saw what shall I say ? A
nymph and a satyr ? a dryad and a goat-
footed Faun ?
Just beyond me, there was a broad
green road through the woodland, deeply
carpeted with soft grass, but marked
here and there with the broad track of
a wood-waggon ; and on the side of this
LEAVES FROM A NOTE-BOOK. 247
solitary road, on a rude seat fashioned of
two oaken stumps and a rough plank,
the nymph was sitting. She wore a
light dress of some soft material,
a straw hat, a country cloak, and
gloves of Paris kid a civilized nymph,
as you perceive ! To complete her
modern appearance, she carried a closed
parasol, and a roll which looked like
music.
How pretty she looked, with the
warm light playing upon her delicate
features, and suffusing her form in its
delicate drapery ; with the semi-trans-
parent branches behind her, and flowers
of the woodland at her feet !
248 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE NOTE-BOOK CONTINUED NYMPH
AND SATYR.
AND the satyr ? Ah ! I knew him at a
glance, despite the elegant modern boots
used to disguise the cloven foot.
He wore black broadcloth and snowy
linen, too, and a broad-brimmed clerical
hat- His face was seraphically pale,
but I saw (or fancied I saw) the twinkle
of the hairy ears of the ignoble, sen-
sual, nymph-compelling, naiad-pursuing
breed.
He was talking earnestly, with ges-
tures of eager entreaty ; for the nymph
NYMPH AND SATYR. 249
was crying, and he was offering her
some kind of consolation.
Presently he sat down by her side,
and threw his arms around her. She
disengaged herself from his embrace,
and rose trembling to her feet.
" Don't touch me ! " she cried. " That
is all over now. I cannot bear it ! "
He rose also, and stood regarding her,
not with the rapturous eyes of a lover,
but with a dark and gloomy gaze. Then
he said, in a low voice, something which
I could not catch. But I heard her
passionate reply.
" No, it is all over," she cried; "and
I shall never be at peace again. Even
if you kept your word, it would be the
same. You do not love me ; you never
loved me never ! "
I crept a little closer, for I was
anxious to hear his answer.
250 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
" I do love you, Edith ; and after
what has passed between us
She shrank away with a faint, de-
spairing cry, and put her hand to her
face.
"After what has passed between us,
do you think that my love can change ?
But you are unjust to me, to yourself;
too violent and too hard to please. I do
not like to be suspected, to be watched ;
and it is painful to me, very painful, to
be constantly called to an account by
you. It is not reasonable. Even as
your husband, I would not bear it ; it
would poison the peace between us, and
convert our married life into a simple
hell ! "
He paused ; but her only answer was
a sob of pain. So he sermonized on :
" Between man and woman, Edith,
there should be solemn confidence and
NYMPH AND SATYR. 251
trust. When that ceases, love is sure to
cease. Why, look at me ! My trust in
you is so absolute that no action of
yours could shake it ; no matter how
peculiar were the circumstances, I should
be certain of your faith, your goodness.
That is true love absolute, implicit
faith in the beloved object. I wish I
could persuade you to imitate it,"
" You know that you can trust me,"
sobbed the poor child, " because I have
proved my love."
" Have I not proved mine ? " he cried,
with irritation. " Have I not made
sacrifice upon sacrifice for your sake ?
Have I not remained here, in this
wretched country place, when I could
have been promoted to other and greater
spheres of action ? Have I not made
you my companion, my confidante, my
nearest and dearest friend ? Edith,.
252 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
why do you persist in such accusations ?
What must \ do to signify our attach-
ment ? Shall I marry you at once ?
Speak the word, and although, as you
know, it would involve the ruin of
all my worldly projects, I will do as
you desire."
I had heard enough to convince me
that the affair under discussion was no
affair of mine, and that I had no right
to continue playing the spy ; so I was
drawing back as gently as possible, and
about to return the way I came, when I
was suddenly arrested by the next words
spoken.
. " Give up Mrs. Haldane ! "
The nymph was the speaker. She
stood with her wild eyes fixed upon the
other's face, which did not improve in
beauty of expression. For myself, I
started, stung to the quick ; then I
NYMPH AND SATYR. 253
returned, trembling, to my place of
espionage.
" Give up Mrs. Haldane ! " repeated
the girl. " I ask nothing more than that.
I will not force you to marry me, Charles,
till it is for your good ; indeed, if I did,
I know that we should be unhappy, and
that you would never forgive me. But
you can at least cease to be so familiar
with Mrs. Haldane."
He had discovered by this time, I sup-
pose, that the pleading mood availed
him little ; at all events, he suddenly
changed his tone, and with a cry of
angry indignation, he exclaimed
" Edith, take care ! I have told you
that I will not suffer it ! How dare
you suspect that lady ! How dare
you ! "
And he stood towering over her (the
satyr !) in the fulness of his snowy shirt-
254 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
front and the whiteness of his moral
indignation.
" It is no use being angry," she
returned, with a certain stubbornness,
though I could see that she was cowed,
in the manner of gentle women, by
his violent physical passion. " After
what you have told me, after what I
have seen
" Edith, again, take care ! "
" You are always with her," she con-
tinued, " night-time and day-time. I
am amazed that Mr. Haldane does
not notice it. It is the talk of the
place."
With another exclamation, he turned
his back and walked rapidly away.
" Come back ! " she cried hysterically.
" If you leave like that, I will drown
myself in the river."
He returned and faced her.
NYMPH AND SATYR. 2 55
" You will drive me mad ! " he said.
" I am sick of it. I am more like a
slave than a free man. You will not
suffer me even to have a friend."
" She is more than a friend. You have
told me yourself, that you loved her."
"And so I did," he answered, "though
of course she is nothing to me now."
" Why are you always with her ? "
" I am interested in her, deeply
interested. She is unhappy with her
husband, and as a minister of the
gospel
With her tearful, truthful eyes, fixed
so earnestly upon him, no wonder he
paused and blushed.
" Charles, do not be a hypocrite !
At least be honest. She is more to
you than a friend."
He raised his hands heavenward, in
pulpit fashion, and protested.
FOXGLOVE MANOR.
" Edith, I swear to you before God r
that there is nothing whatever between
us. She is a stainless lady, her husband
does not understand her, I am her
spiritual friend and guide."
"Yes, Charles ; I understand," she
said, still earnestly watching him..
" Just as you were mine ! "
I think it worth while to put that
little sentence in italics. It was a home
stroke, and took away the satyr's breath.
" Edith, for shame ! " he cried. " You
know you do not mean what you say.
If I thought you meant it, I should
break with you for ever. I tell you
again, Mrs. Haldane is above reproach,
and it is simply disgraceful to couple
her name, in such a manner, with mine.
And you would infer, now, that I have
influenced your own life for evil ; you
would mock at my spiritual pretensions,
NYMPH AND SATYR.
and brand me as a base, unworthy
creature. Well, Edith, perhaps you are
right. Perhaps I have given you cause.
I have shown you that I love you,
beyond position, beyond the world,
beyond even my own self-respect, and
this is my return."
I could have sprung out and strangled
the fellow, he was so cruel and yet so
plausible, so superbly selfish and yet
so completely self-deceiving ; and I saw
that with every word he uttered he
gained a fresh hold over the heart of
the pretty fool who was listening.
While he spoke, she sobbed as if her
little heart was ready to break ; and
when he ceased, she eagerly held out
her arms.
" Oh, Charles, don't say that ! Don't
say that my love has been a curse to
you!"
VOL. II. S
2 5 8 , FOXGLO VE MANOR.
" You drive me to say it," he
answered moodily ; " you make me
miserable with your jealousy, ycur
suspicion."
, " Don't say that I make you miser-
able don't ! " she sobbed.
" You used to be so different," he
continued, still preserving his tone of
moral injury ; " you used to be so
interested in my work, my daily duties.
Now, you do nothing but reproach me ;
and why ? Because I have found an
old friend, who happens to be of
your own sex, but who is far above the
folly of a meaningless flirtation, and
who little deserves the cruel slur you
cast upon her. Am I, then, to have
no friends, no acquaintances ? Is every
step I take to be measured by the un-
reasoning suspicion of a jealous woman?"
By this time she had put her arms
NYMPH AND SATYR. 259
about his neck, and was sobbing on
his breast.
" Oh, Charles, don't be so hard with
me ! It is all because I love you
ah, so much ! "
" But you should conquer these wicked
feelings-
I try ! I try ! "
"You should have more confidence,,
more faith. You know how much I
care for you."
" Yes ; but sometimes I feel afraid.
Mrs. Haldane is so much cleverer,
so much more beautiful, than I am,
and she was your first love. They say
men never love twice."
" That is nonsense, Edith."
" But you do love me, dear ? you
do?"
Ugh, the satyr ! He answered her
with kisses, straining her to his heart ;.
260 FOXGLOVE MANOR.
and she, sobbing and clinging round
him, was quite conquered. I felt sick
to see her at his mercy. Then their
voices sank, and he whispered, and
I saw the bright blood mount to her
cheek and brow. But, alas ! she did
not shrink away any more.
Thus whispering and kissing, with
eyes of passion fixed upon one another,
they moved away, taking a lonely path
into the woods beyond me. My first
impulse was to follow them, and to
tear them asunder. But after all, I
reflected it was no affair of mine, and
I knew now, moreover, that nothing
in the world would save her from
him or from herself.
KND OF VOL. II.
K1NTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
LONDON AND BECCLES.
v.
Buchanan, Robert Williams
Foxglove Manor
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